A man groaned.
It took him a while to realize the sounds were coming from him, and his eyes were closed. His defenses immediately kicked in, and he shot up in the bed.
His head ached, and the light hurt his eyes. Bits and pieces slowly came back. He’d gotten drunk. No, fucking wasted.
Back in Colombia, when he’d ruled some of the worst gangs, he attributed much of his success to the fact he never touched the shit he dealt. No drugs. No alcohol. It had been the downfall of so many others.
Last night he’d broken his own rule and had drunk way too much. It was a stupid move in his line of work, where a sharp mind was essential for survival. He scrubbed his hands over his face.
He remembered more. The girl with the slit throat. The guilt. Boss raking him over the coals for not following protocol. The blood soaking his shirt. Xavier looked down, moving the comforter aside. He was only wearing his boxer briefs. He remembered nothing after…
Fucking shit.
He bolted from the bed, nearly tripping in the blankets. Alesha. He couldn’t remember much, but she was there last night. What had he said? What had she seen?
“You better take it easy. You got a nasty bump on the head.”
He turned, completely off his game. Alesha sat on a chair near his dresser. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“I mean here. In my bedroom.”
“Do you remember anything from last night?” she asked.
“Not much. Except the fact I should never have stopped at the liquor store on the way home.” He massaged his temple, the throbbing growing stronger.
“Yeah, I got the sense you weren’t used to drinking.”
“Did anything else happen?” he asked with caution. Xavier hoped she’d caught him passed out or mumbling incoherent gibberish.
“Like what? The part where you said you liked my tits or the part where you said you killed for a living?”
Motherfucker.
He began to pace the room, back and forth, back and forth. Alesha was fucking innocent, and because of his stupidity, he’d have to put a bullet in her head. What more had he said? All he knew was that it was too much. Boss would never condone this breach of security. He was already on Boss’s shit list from last night.
Now he understood the danger of having a civilian working for him. One slip up and he had to clean up his mess.
But he’d promised to keep her safe.
“I’m sorry for whatever I said. You know, when guys drink they say stupid shit.”
“So, you’re not a killer working for a secret group of assassins?”
He scoffed, forcing a laugh. “That’s a good one. I must have a better imagination than I realized. Too many late-night movies.”
“And the blood on your clothes?”
He patted his chest. “Did you undress me, Alesha?”
“I didn’t have much choice. You knocked yourself out on the floor. I dragged you to bed, took off the bloody clothes, and washed you the best I could. You’ve slept like a baby all night.”
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“I told you. All night. I wanted to be sure you woke up okay. Some drunks die choking on their own vomit. I heard some horror stories when I waitressed.”
He cringed. “Trust me, the drinking part, that’ll never happen again. I’ve learned my lesson.”