Authors: Maya Banks
“What’s wrong, Jules?” he asked. “What are you thinking over there?”
“I-I’m just afraid to get my hopes up.” It was the first truth she’d uttered in a while. “What if the senator doesn’t come through?”
Manny’s eyes steeled in determination. “If he doesn’t, then we’ll find another way. I’m not letting you go.”
Her chest tightened at his possessive statement. She shivered lightly. How good it made her feel to know someone loved her so much. How awful she felt to know what she was going to do to that love.
Manny picked up a dish towel and wiped his hands. Then he reached across the bar and cupped her chin. “I need you to trust me, baby. I won’t let you go.”
She met his gaze. “I do trust you.”
His eyes glinted in satisfaction, and he let his hand slide from her face. He returned to making the hamburgers, and she tried to still the flood of panic flowing through her veins.
She’d made her plans while he’d met with the senator. She knew when and how she would leave the townhouse. The rest—proper credentials, the right clothing and other items necessary to complete her mission—Northstar had given her instructions on how to collect. It was all there in the damning e-mail she’d received.
The only thing she didn’t know was how she would live with herself when it was all said and done.
“Want to eat at the bar or the table?”
She blinked as Manny’s question invaded her thoughts.
“The table is fine.”
“Want to set it for me?”
She slid from the barstool and circled around to retrieve plates and silverware from the kitchen.
“You know, I could get used to this,” Manny said.
“What’s that?”
“You and me in the kitchen. Making meals together. It hints at a rather normal existence.”
She heard the hope in his voice. The hope that they would indeed lead a normal life together. She forced a smile to her lips. “Just don’t get used to the idea of me cooking.”
He laughed. “I’ll do the cooking. You can make it up to me in bed.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She turned away before her expression betrayed her. She busied herself setting the round glass table in the small dining area off the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Manny set a platter with the burgers in the middle of the table. “The buns are by the sink. Can you get them?”
She retrieved the buns, then reached for glasses out of the cabinet. “Want ice?” she called.
“Sure.”
She set the buns down long enough to open the freezer and fill the glasses with ice. To her surprise, a tear trickled down her cheek. She hurriedly dashed it away, but another slid down to take its place.
She drew in deep steadying breaths in an attempt to compose herself, but they came out in stuttered rasps. God almighty, she was a walking disaster. She was cracking. After three years of being a veritable automaton when it came to her job, she was finally losing it. When it mattered the most.
Her hands shook so hard one of the glasses slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.
Manny was beside her in an instant. “Careful. Don’t cut yourself.” He pulled her away from the shards of glass littering the floor.
She stumbled, her movements stiff and awkward. Tears ran in unending trails down her cheeks.
“Jules, what’s wrong?” he demanded.
She stared up at him, knew he was there, but it just didn’t register. She was numb from head to toe except for feeling the dampness of the tears slipping over her cheeks. And worse, she was powerless to stop them.
He grasped her by her shoulders and shook her gently. “Jules, snap out of it. What’s going on?”
She tried to speak, but her voice caught on a sob, and somewhere deep inside, she splintered. So this was what it felt like when you went crazy. Somehow she expected more violence. Some insane outburst. Not this quiet breakdown.
Manny pulled her into his arms and swayed back and forth as he murmured something unintelligible against her ear. Then he lifted her. Carried her up the stairs. She felt the softness of the bed. God, she was so tired.
He left her for a moment. She heard his voice seemingly miles away. He was on the phone with someone. He sounded concerned.
A moment later, the bed dipped, the covers pulled back. Manny’s hard body wrapped protectively around her, his arms sheltering her. She found herself settled against his broad chest.
She lay there for a while, cognizant of the fact that her tears still fell. And yet the most peculiar, wonderful thing had happened. She no longer felt the overwhelming pain she had carried around for so long. She probed inward, trying to rediscover the anguish, the guilt and the fear she lived with. The truth was the only thing she felt was bone-deep fatigue.
She closed her eyes, fully expecting to see the nightmarish visions that had haunted her existence for the last three years. But all she saw was a black void, just what everyone else saw when they closed their eyes.
Relief filtered through her mind. A reprieve from the weight of a million emotions felt to her as if she’d left prison after a long stint in solitary confinement. She liked this weightless floaty feeling.
She snuggled deeper into Manny’s arms, arms that tightened protectively around her. Then she simply let go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
She’d been sleeping for eighteen hours, and Manuel was worried. He slouched further into the too-small chair he’d carried up so he could keep watch on Jules. She’d slept all yesterday afternoon, all of last night and through this morning. Without so much as a twitch.
He’d talked to Tony about taking her to a hospital, but their hands were tied until he knew for sure Jules would be safe. He couldn’t take her out in public. Too many people were after her. His own agency for one.
So he’d sat and waited. Now they were just a day away,
one
day, from a meeting that could change their lives for the better. Or the worse.
He sighed and scrubbed his face tiredly with one hand. He hadn’t slept a damn wink all night. How could he when the woman he loved was falling apart and he was powerless to help her?
More and more he was giving thought to taking Jules out of the country if the senator didn’t come through. He couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer for crimes she’d been forced to commit, even if it meant turning his back on everything he believed.
Somewhere warm, carefree, and more importantly with no extradition agreement with the U.S.
He hoped like hell it didn’t come to that, but he had to face reality. It could. And if it did, he needed to be prepared. He needed to talk to Jules about it, but he wasn’t sure how much she could handle right now. She could break at any moment. She
had
broken.
He jerked his head up when he heard her stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and he surged forward out of his chair.
“Jules?” he said softly. He didn’t want to alarm her.
She blinked a few times then stared at him with empty eyes. “How long have I slept?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s nearly nine a.m.”
“You mean I slept the entire day? Yesterday I mean.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion, and her eyes grew cloudier.
He smoothed a hand over her forehead, trying to ease the tension ingrained there. “How do you feel?”
She pursed her lips and appeared to consider his question. “I don’t feel much of anything.”
Alarm shot through him. She wasn’t there. Jules was there on the bed in front of him, but she simply wasn’t there. She was someplace else, and damned if he knew where. It scared the hell out of him.
“Want a bath?” he asked softly.
She didn’t say anything for a long while, then finally she nodded.
“Wait here. I’ll go run the water.”
He walked into the bathroom, panic swelling in his chest. How could he reach her? Get past the fog and shadows surrounding her? And what had pushed her over the edge?
When the tub was filled, he went back into the bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side. She looked lost. And extremely vulnerable. Not even when she was lying in a hospital bed had she looked so defeated.
He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “Jules, are you okay?”
Her blue eyes focused on him. She blinked rapidly as if banishing cobwebs. Then she offered him a tremulous smile. “I’m fine.”
He put a finger to her forehead and gently rubbed across her head. “What’s going on in there, baby?”
Quiet despair was reflected in the soulful pools of her eyes. “I don’t know. I feel so…so
disconnected
.”
He cupped her shoulders in his hands. “Why don’t you go take a long hot bath? I’ll make breakfast and bring it up. You can eat in bed. It might be a good idea for you to take it easy today.”
She rose unsteadily to her feet. He slipped an arm around her waist to anchor her then walked her into the bathroom.
She managed a half smile. “I’ll be fine now.”
“You sure?”
She nodded and began to shrug out of her T-shirt. His T-shirt. He leaned forward and kissed her on the top of her head. “I won’t be long.”
He watched long enough for her to step into the water and settle down, then he headed downstairs.
Jules slid further down into the water and closed her eyes. Whatever had happened yesterday had done a real number on her. She’d never felt so completely empty in her life. Was this what death was like? Complete and utter disembodiment?
Her hand made swirls in the water as she dragged her fingers along the surface. She wasn’t complaining. A break from the overwhelming pain and guilt was welcome. She felt about a hundred pounds lighter. And the truth was, she had little to no chance of pulling off her job in the condition she’d been in.
Emotional wrecks didn’t make for good assassins.
Her head lolled to the side, the strain of holding it up too much. She studied her toes, the only portion of her lower body above the surface of the water. She wriggled them then continued to stare stoically at them.
Manny’s return surprised her. Had she been lying in the tub that long? Concern was engraved on his face as he studied her. Did he expect her to run screaming from the bathroom? Pull her hair out or start frothing at the mouth?
The thought amused her, and she heard herself laugh. Manny only looked more concerned.
Snap out of it, Jules. If you keep this up, he’s going to put you on a one-way bus to the funny farm. Then how will you protect him?
“Breakfast ready?” She was proud of the normal tone of her voice. At his nod, she shoved herself up, water running in rivulets down her body.
He took her hand and helped her out, promptly wrapping a towel around her. As if she were a piece of precious porcelain, he dried her and guided her out of the bathroom.
She sat on the bed while he rummaged for her clothing, then she pondered the absurdity of a grown woman having her lover dress her. But doing it herself promised to take more effort than she was willing to expend.
He helped her into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt then set about drying her hair with the towel. When he was finished, he urged her into bed and retrieved the tray he’d set on the dresser.
A plate piled high with biscuits, eggs and bacon wavered in front of her, but the idea of food didn’t remotely appeal. Still, she forced a few bites down in an effort to ease the worry she saw on Manny’s face.
When she’d had all she could stand, she shoved the plate away and sank back into the pillows behind her. She closed her eyes wearily, wondering how she could possibly be tired when she’d just woken from an eighteen-hour sleep-fest.
Manny tucked the covers around her then lay beside her, pulling her tightly into his arms. She rested her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes. No pain. No horrible oppressive guilt. She’d forgotten what it was like to just sleep.
The beating of Manny’s heart and the up-and-down motion of his hand on her back lulled her into a comfortable void. She let it suck her in, gave herself over to the blackness. Damn, it felt good.
She opened her eyes, a peculiar sense of purpose tightening every one of her senses. Manny was gone, and a quick check of the bedside digital clock told her it was time to prepare.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was alert, her senses heightened. She probed inwardly, wondering what she would find. The assassin. One who had a job to complete in a little over twelve hours.
She strained her ears for any sound of Manny. The vague clinking of dishes told her he was in the kitchen. She stood up and retrieved her bag. Inside the lining of the bag, she withdrew a small vial. A potent drug designed to render the victim senseless for at least eight hours. She’d give it to Manny before bed.
She strode into the bathroom and smoothed her hair behind her ears. Examining herself in the mirror, she was relieved to see a cool, poised woman, not a scared, witless waif.
She bent and splashed cold water on her face then patted her cheeks dry with a hand towel. She tucked the vial in her underwear and smoothed the sweats. A quick look in the mirror reassured her that nothing was visible. Now to go find Manny and put to rest any fears he’d need to commit her.
As she thumped down the stairs, she marveled at how composed she felt. Not being a victim to her raging emotions was exceptionally freeing. She had no idea why she’d snapped, but she was grateful she had. Maybe she was going insane. Maybe she was already there. It didn’t matter. As long as she could complete her task.
Manny turned around when he she entered the kitchen. “Jules!” He put down the plate he held and enfolded her in his arms. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she replied. No lie there. She felt positively wonderful. Who said being a cold, calculating bitch didn’t have its plusses? It sure beat the hell out of the alternative.
He pulled away, and relief shone starkly in his eyes. “Glad to hear it. Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.”
“Starving,” she lied. But how better to convince him she was a-okay than to shovel down a decent meal?