“I am nothing like you.”
“You’re right. You’re at the house of the future first lady, fucking her because you think you have the right. Not even I have balls that big.”
He’s baiting me. I’m not playing that game. I give him a smirk in return. That’s all. I smirk and say nothing.
He laughs. “Ah, son. You are something else. Why don’t you come out to Fort Sam and show me how you handle a scalpel these days?”
I close the space between me and him. “I’m not going anywhere with you, but let me be clear: if you speak one word about me being here—”
“You’ll kill me?” he challenges. “Yes, I heard you became a killer.”
He’s the fucking killer, and there’s a part of me that wants to ram him against the banister and punch him. But we’ve been there. I let him get to me and I went there. I’m not giving him that control again. “Glad we’re clear then,” I say, and I turn for the door.
My hand is on the handle when he says, “No threats. No harsh words.”
I rotate and glance at him. “There’s a difference between you, a surgeon, and me, an assassin. Your patients live to sing your praises. Mine do not.” I open the door and enter the house, shutting the door behind me.
Candace is waiting, stepping in front of me, her hands on my hips. “What happened?”
“He’s gone.”
“I know that, but—”
“He’s gone. Leave it at that.”
She swallows hard. “Right. Shut up and let you deal with it your way. Which is always leaving.” She tries to turn away and I catch her arm and turn her to me. “Don’t do that. I just need to process.”
“And I need to figure out what my father knows about Gabriel. Let go.”
“Candace—”
“It’s okay. I learned a long time ago that you process without me.” She pulls away and walks off. I let her, turning to the door, pressing my hands on the wooden surface, chin dropping to my chest, memories pounding at my mind. I did leave because of my father, but I came back because of her. He doesn’t get to divide us again. I’m doing a good enough job of that myself. I push off the door and walk into the living room to find Candace back in her chair across from Adam. She doesn’t look at me, but Adam damn sure does, arching a brow in question.
I ignore him, walk around the couch, catch Candace’s hand, pull her to her feet and then kiss her hard and fast. When I’m done, I sit her back down, walk to my chair, grab my MacBook and sit down next to her on the chair. “Let’s talk about the documents I found in your father’s office.”
She leans in and kisses my cheek and I swear I can feel the ice in this big bad piece of shit assassin’s heart melting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Candace
The moment Rick walked into the living room after seeing his father, he kissed me, and I’d melted. The minute he’d sat down next to me, closing hours worth of space we’d endured, I’d felt hope. Hope I’d lost last night. Hope that helps me control my anger at his father and my own.
Now, hours later, the rain and early evening hour have darkened the room to the point that the lamps have been flipped on. Adam and Smith sit on the couch with open bags of chips, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey adorns the coffee table. Rick and I lay down in the middle of the floor, exhausted by file after file that does nothing to tell me what turned Gabriel against my father.
“What if it’s nothing my father did at all?” I ask, rolling to a sitting position and leaning on one hand to look down at Rick. “Gabriel’s running for office. Maybe he just sees my father as a problem.”
“I don’t buy it,” he says. “Marrying you should control your father.” He raises up on his elbows. “He thought he was under control. That text message you found says that he no longer believes that to be true.”
“Then I have to find the proof we need to take him down and protect my father. I’m close enough to Gabriel to do that. I’m the one who can find what we need.” My cellphone rings on the coffee table and my lips purse. “That’s going to be him.”
“Hand me the phone,” Rick suggests. “I need to find out where he wants me to mail his balls when I cut them off.”
“That’s not funny,” I chide.
“It wasn’t a joke,” he assures me.
I grab my phone, glancing at the screen to confirm Gabriel is my caller, but not before the call drops. “Damn it,” I murmur. “I need to call him back.” I move to the chair where I was sitting earlier. The ringing begins again and I glance at Rick’s handsome, scowling face. “You know I have to take it,” I say in earnest, and I don’t wait for a reply. I answer the call. “Hi,” I say, my gaze landing on a bag of Cheetos, while I feel Rick’s stare like a sunburn blistering my skin, willing me to look his way. I can’t. Not and play this game with Gabriel. “How are things?” I ask him, somehow sounding half normal.