Interpol really went all out.
I step onto the mat, pulling my jacket off. Rhett looks up at me as I slide my gun holsters off and set them atop my jacket. A smile spreads across his face as he removes his jacket and weapons as well. He jogs over, taking a place beside me and faces the rest of the team.
I meet Dresden's gaze, a slow, sinister smiling forming on my lips. "Let's have some fun."
Dresden removes his weapons and nods to Vlad. They both make their way to the center of the mat.
"You take, Vlad?"
Vlad chuckles.
"Be sure to kick Dresden's ass," Rhett whispers back.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
6
~Lily~
I lean on the railing of the living room balcony, the breeze billowing around me. It's rather peaceful here.
"Beautiful view isn't it?"
I turn my head as Blake leans his back against the railing next to me. There's less than two inches between his hand and my arm. I scoot away.
He raises his eyebrows.
"It's nothing personal, Mr. Mason." My eyes never leave the skyline.
"You don't seem to have an issue touching people when you're kicking the shit out of them," he says, turning to mimic my stance.
I glance at him briefly. "No, I don't."
"How come?"
A sigh escapes my lips, my fingers wrapping around the railing as my arms tense. "I don't know."
“You don’t know or you aren’t willing to tell me?”
I chuckle. “The latter.”
Movement over my shoulder catches my attention and I do a double take. Jax stands in the living room, an unreadable expression on his face. Blake turns around and Jax's eyes dart to his. Neither of them blinks. My cheeks heat in agitation, tension pulsing in the space between us all.
Jax shakes his head and walks toward his office. Blake turns back around and huffs, looking out over the city. We stand in silence for a while. I have a hard time relaxing around people in general, but slowly, the tension dissipates from my shoulders. Being around someone for a long period is going to take some getting used to.
"So . . . you're rather pretty for an assassin," Blake says, studying my face.
I take a stiff breath. "Have you met many assassins?"
"No, I can't say I have." He chuckles.
"Then how can you know they aren't all pretty?"
"I doubt any of them could be as pretty as you." His voice is deep and husky as his lips curve up at the corners.
My face heats.
What is it about his voice? Damn it!
I clear my throat. "How'd you get into the human trafficking stuff?"
"Unhappy circumstance," he grumbles.
"That's a rather evasive answer."
"I dealt with a situation a while back. It opened my eyes. I couldn't stand by, after learning what I did, and do nothing."
"Trying to be every slave's white knight?"
"You go undercover. Don't you think they deserve someone to save them?" He turns toward me, his gaze penetrating right through me.
"Some people are beyond saving." I look down at my hands.
"Like you?"
I bring my eyes to his, my chest tightening. "What makes you think that?"
"You're probably the most smart-mouthed and guarded person I've ever seen. The walls you have up are damn near visible."
"Your point?"
"Who's your white knight?"
A dark, sinister laugh escapes my lips. "I don't need a white knight, Mr. Mason. I can ride a horse my damn self. For some, it's better to be alone anyway."
"No one should be alone," he says, briefly biting his bottom lip.
That's hot.
"I should."
"Why?"
"No one wants something that's already broken." I push off the railing and move into the house, my hurried steps echoing off the wooden floor.
I all but run to my bedroom and shut the door, putting my back against it. People like him will never understand. Blake scatters my wits and it's pissing me off. White knights and all that bullshit are nothing but fairytales told to little girls so they don't know how cruel the world really is.
Reality is something I learned young. Other women may find love, but not me. No, men only want one thing from me, and it has nothing to do with my intelligence. My hands shake and I fist them in my hair, trying to calm my nerves. Even if being with someone was an option, it wouldn't take long for him to give up.
I'm only good for one thing— auctions. Jax knows that. He's the only one who sees me for what I really am— empty.
†††
I needed some distance after my conversation with Blake, so I came down to the training room, again. Forty-five minutes on the treadmill and three rounds with Rhett and Jameson has me feeling normal. Training with them is a bit easier than doing so with Dresden or Vlad. If I’m being honest, and I’ll never admit it out loud, my teammates are my family. They’re the closest thing I’ve got. Even though I keep them at arm’s length for obvious reasons, we’d die for each other.
That being said, Rhett and Jameson are closer to my age and a little more carefree than Dresden and Vlad. Plus, they never get butthurt if I best them, and sometimes, taking out Dresden ends with a man-tantrum. While I could use the laugh, it’s probably unwise to piss off that man while we’re still getting settled.
I tap my foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator doors to open. Rhett and Jameson left an hour ago, so I stayed in the training area and busted my ass on the treadmill until my legs felt like jello. Blake's apartment is on the twenty-third floor, so taking the stairs really isn't an option, especially not after training. I step out as it halts, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Unlocking the front door, I'm surrounded by voices from the kitchen. Blake and my team are standing around, drinking beer and talking.
Why the fuck are they being so chummy?
I make for my bedroom.
"Hey, Viper, come join us," Dresden says.
"Viper?" Blake says, confused.
I stop and turn toward them, staying in the foyer. "It's my codename."
"Suits you," he says, smirking.
"Thanks. So glad you approve." Sarcasm is a language I'm fluent in.
"Hey, don't go hide in your room. Come have a beer," Dresden says.
"No thanks, Dres. I'm tired."
"Where you been anyway? Rhett and Jameson been back forever and looked like they got beat with an ugly stick when they came up." He pushes off the counter and walks toward me, stopping inches from my body.
I put my hands behind my back, keeping my head down, trying to hide the way my muscles tense at his close proximity. He notices though, and takes a step back.
"Hit the treadmill after they couldn’t take anymore." My voice is low, keeping the conversation strictly between us.
Dresden runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "Lily, seriously. Come hang out with us. We don't get many chances to . . . you know, chill."
"I can't, Dres."
Sadness pools in his green eyes and my lips press into a thin line. I walk away, my chest tightening. This isn't the first time he's tried to include me in down time with the team. Someone always slips up and touches me, ruining the entire night. I gave up on hanging out after the first two times. Dresden hates how much time I spend alone. I glance over my shoulder, stopping on the stairs as my gaze locks on Blake's.
'Are you okay?' he mouths.
I nod, moving up the stairs. Once in my room, I push the door closed, more forcefully than intended. Something red catches my attention while making my way to the bathroom. Sitting on the table near the balcony is a vase filled with red roses and a white card.
My hands shake as I pick up the card. My name's on the front and hesitantly I open it.
Lily,
I thought you needed something pretty to brighten up your room, though these pale in comparison to your beauty. I hope you like them.
-Blake
I
stare at the card, reading it several times.
What the hell?
No one’s ever bought me flowers and I can't accept them. They're beautiful, but I pick up the vase, keeping the card in my hand. I breathe deeply, trying to settle my nerves as I walk back to the kitchen. Stopping next to Blake, I set everything in front of him.
"I can't accept these." It's hard trying to sound like an authority figure without being rude.
"Why not?" His brows pull together, confusion littering his face.
"I just can't . . . thank you for the thought, though."
"You don't like flowers?"
Everyone's staring at me. "I’ve no issues with flowers, Mr. Mason. I just don't need so many."
"It's a dozen roses, Lily. I could’ve had half the floral shop delivered . . . which I thought about." He smirks.
I shiver as he says my name and sigh, trying to fight the odd sensation it brings on. Reaching over, I pull one rose from the vase. Despite myself, I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells wonderful.
"This is enough."
I give him a sly grin and turn on my heel, walking as fast as possible back to my bedroom. Shutting the door, I huff.
Why the hell did I just do that?
I look down at the rose and inhale its scent again. A normal girl would appreciate something like this . . . far more than I can. Shaking my head, I toss the rose on my pillow and stalk into the bathroom.
Not going to happen.
7
~Lily~
Who in the fuck set my alarm for 5:00 AM?
I grab one of the spare pillows and put it over my head trying to drown out the buzzing. I swear, I remember setting the damn thing for 7:30. Blake doesn't have to be to his office until 8:30. If I find out who came in here and reset my shit, I'm punching them in the balls.
Growling, I throw the pillow down on the bed, jump up, stalk over, and rip the clock's power cord out of the wall. Jameson and I will accompany Blake to work today, though he's getting the better deal out of this. He gets to stay in the car for the day, while I have to sit in Blake's office.
The fact my hormones have decided to wake up, after being asleep my entire life, over this guy, has me seriously irritated. Blake Mason is an assignment and even if he wasn't, it's not as if I can do the dating thing anyway. Men don't generally dig women who go into convulsions from being touched.
I strip out of my nightclothes as I walk into the bathroom. The shower is amazing. It could fit the entire team. More importantly, it has four shower heads— hot water everywhere. It's wonderful.
I let the heat calm me, saturating my hair, turning my skin a light red color. My hands skim over my scars, wincing as I rub the new brand on the lower part of my left leg. It's scabbed over and hurts like a motherfucker.
Sighing, I turn off the shower, step into the main area of the bathroom, and wrap myself in a towel. I slide my bra and panties on and sit on the edge of the queen size bed. This room is bigger than anything I've ever stayed in before.
My door opens and Jax steps in, closing it quietly behind him. He's the only person I don't hide my body from— it's nothing new to him. I look over my shoulder and briefly meet his eyes. His glare is icy.
"Everything okay?" I slide my pants on. Facing away from him, I slide my shirt over my head.
"You need to watch yourself around Mason." His voice is soft and full of concern.
I raise my eyebrows. "Why?"
"Lily . . . he's attracted to you. It's pretty obvious. This is an assignment. A relationship with a client is against protocol and will get you fired."
"When have I ever been in a relationship? You know it isn't something I'm capable of."
"I know," he says, giving me an affectionate glance, his voice softening. "I just don't want you getting hurt anymore."
"Jax, you're the only father I've ever known. You mean more to me than anything. But, you should know something like that isn't going to happen." I move to stand in front of him."Jax, please relax. He gave me roses, not an engagement ring." I reach out with trembling hands and run my palms up and down his arms.
"I just want to make sure you can guard yourself, Lily."
"I'm the most guarded woman you know. Thank you for warning me. I'll keep it in mind, and I'll be fine."
Jax's eyes meet mine for a brief moment before he nods and takes his leave.
Pity.
That's the only thing in his eyes during conversations like this. Men have made passes at me before. I ignore them or scare them off with threats. Jax should know better, but his concern is endearing.
No one's ever made your heart race like Blake does.
It doesn't matter. I'm broken. There's no putting me back together. Not even a man like Blake could succeed there. Love isn't in my future. No kind of relationship is. Not an emotional one and certainly not a physical one.
I walk over to the desk and pick up the long chain holding a small silver charm of the Romanian flag. My cover story goes so deep sometimes even I forget the truth. I slide the chain over my head, hiding it inside my shirt. This is my only reminder. Of whom I am— where I come from, my past, and how no amount of therapy or effort will ever make me normal again. I'll never feel the touch of a man and enjoy it.
No matter how tempting Blake might be, he'll never be that guy.
Ten minutes later, I walk to the kitchen, fully dressed in my Interpol regulars— weapons and all. Blake's seated at the counter. He looks over his shoulder as I approach, quickly takes a sip from his coffee, and stands, turning to face me.
Good God Almighty . . .
His hair is styled in purposeful disarray. He's clean shaven, making his jawline and cheekbones more prominent, his lips fuller, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black and white striped tie.
I bite my bottom lip to keep my mouth from hanging open.
"Good morning, Lily," he says in a husky voice.
I blow out the breath I'm holding, making my cheeks puff. "Good morning, Mr. Mason."
"I hope you don't mind leaving early. I'd like to stop and get breakfast before heading to my office."
I walk forward, pulling my jacket off one of the kitchen chairs and sliding my arms through. He eyes my guns and whip, letting his gaze move over my chest and up to my face.
"Of course not. Shall we?" I gesture to the door.
He shakes his head slightly and turns without another word. I have a feeling I disarm him, though for some strange reason, I actually enjoy his wit. He's the only person I've met who knows what I do and doesn't look at me with pity and sadness in their eyes. I follow him to the elevator, a smile playing on my lips.
The smile fades. Don't Lily. Jax would flip and you'd lose your job.
I love Jax as much as a person with my issues can love another person . . . but sometimes, I can't help but wish I could be normal for one day . . . just to know what it's like . . .
8
~Lily~
Jameson pulls into a Denny's parking lot fifteen minutes from Blake's office building. I roll my eyes. The dude's probably got a bank account as big as Bill Gates and he chooses Denny's for breakfast.
You've got to be kidding me.
Jameson nods to Blake in the rearview mirror. I raise my eyebrows as he glances over at me.
"What?" He sounds like a kid who got caught stealing cookies.
"What’re you up to?" I narrow my eyes.
"Nothing. Go enjoy your breakfast."
“Jameson, you know our friendship won’t keep me from kicking your ass, right?”
He chuckles. “Lily, you’d have to catch me first, and we both know I’m the fastest thing on this team.”
I shake my head and climb from the front seat. The back door opens as I reach for the handle. Blake steps out and slams the door, looking down at me. I sigh and roll my eyes.
"Mr. Mason, for security purposes, please wait until one of us opens the door before jumping out of the vehicle." I try to keep my voice pleasant.<
br />
He raises his eyebrows. "Seriously?"
"Yes."
He shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath."Shall we?" He glances from me to the restaurant.
I nod and keep pace next to him as we walk to the building. Opening the door, I hold it, allowing him to enter before me. He strolls to the podium where a young girl is organizing menus. She looks up, her eyes going wide as she gives Blake the once over. A flirtatious smile spreads across her face.
"Good Morning, Mr. Mason."
"Good Morning, Andrea. Table for two."
Her eyes narrow and she glances around him, meeting my gaze. She purses her lips together and pulls out two menus.
"Follow me, please."
I follow Blake to an isolated booth in the back corner. He slides in gracefully, and I attempt to do the same, but have to readjust my gun holsters to sit more comfortably.
"You'd probably be more comfortable if you carried fewer weapons." He smirks, holding a menu out to me.
I take it and set it down in front of me, not bothering to look at it. "You'll end up dead if I carry fewer weapons."
He chuckles. "I doubt that. For some reason, I don't think you even need those to hurt people."
"That's a nice way of putting it." I try to keep the smile off my face.
"How would you put what you do?" He sets his menu down, lacing his fingers together in front of him.
I meet his eyes, sending a round of uneasiness through my body."I wouldn't call it anything. I don't generally talk about what I do."
Stop looking at him . . .
I try to pull my gaze away but can't. It's like being trapped in some kind of vortex, drawing all my attention toward him. Involuntarily, I lean forward on the table, the proximity sending a round of trembles through my hands. His eyes never leave mine, so he doesn't notice.
A loud bang and the shattering of glass shock me out of the moment, and I sit straight, shaking my head before scanning the room. Blake chuckles and shakes his head as well.
The Auction Block Page 4