I focus on the target instead, slipping into the skin I’m most comfortable in.
The Academy is located in a quiet part of Bloomsbury, several miles away from the posh Kensington neighborhood where Arnoff goes to school. It’s still early and the city is full of evening traffic, making the trip longer than it should be. The night is crisp, the city lights a mosaic of colors brightening the sky. For a moment if I pretend I’m somewhere else, doing something else, I feel free.
We stop at a traffic light.
Luke turns around, focusing on a point over my shoulder. “We have company.”
I can barely hear his voice over the loud roar of the bike’s engine, but his words send a chill through my body. “Where?”
“Sedan. Black. Five cars behind us. It pulled out from the street in front of the Academy right after we did. It’s been there ever since.”
I turn. He’s right; the sedan sits a few cars back from us. Maybe it’s a coincidence, a product of London’s heavy congestion. The tone of Luke’s voice tells me otherwise. He’s too good of an asset to make that mistake. A thin thread of panic settles inside me, slithering through the ice filling my veins. I’ve never been in this situation before. None of my missions have ever involved someone chasing me.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Lose them.”
The light changes and we race through the intersection. Luke switches lanes in between a cab and a large SUV. The cab driver honks angrily at us. My heart pounds.
I tighten my arms around his body, no longer caring about anything other than not falling off. We’re taught evasive driving at the Academy although we’re usually never close enough to being caught to need these skills. Whatever Luke’s been doing in the two years since he left, he’s kept his driving skills in shape.
Luke weaves in and out of traffic, narrowly missing the front of a Mercedes. We’re no longer headed to Kensington. I peer over my shoulder, loosening my death grip on Luke’s waist. The sedan is still behind us in traffic, farther back than before.
The light in front of us turns red.
Shit.
Congestion is too heavy for Luke to risk it; even with the bike’s easy maneuverability, London traffic is insane.
I turn back around, just in time to watch the sedan’s doors open. Three men step out of the car, dressed in black. Our gazes meet.
Shit.
They know we’ve made them, and they’re definitely professionals.
I jab Luke in the stomach. “Three men. Armed. Headed this way. Go.”
“Fuck.” He maneuvers the bike around the rows of traffic, cutting in between lanes of cars. He floors the bike through the intersection, almost hitting a car turning in front of us. I look back—
They’re still there.
Something whizzes past me, hitting the car next to us. My mind goes blank, and then I realize—
“They’re shooting at us,” I yell, crouching low over the bike.
Gun violence in the U.K. is rare—nearly nonexistent—and though we receive firearm training at the Academy, I’ve never had to use one on an assignment.
Luke cuts down an alley, the bike tilting to the side, our bodies moving in tandem with the turn. We race down another street and I instantly recognize the bright lights of one of the busiest sections of London—Leicester Square. It’s the perfect place to escape and get lost in a crowd.
I turn back, the wind whipping against my face. I no longer see the black sedan in pursuit or the men on foot, but I can’t shake the memory of being shot at. In all my time as an asset, I’ve never been on the receiving end of a bullet.
Until tonight.
Luke pulls the bike to a stop, turning to face me.
“Go to the movie theater on the corner. Buy a ticket for whatever romantic comedy is playing. Sit in the back. Wait for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to figure out who they are.”
“Alone? Let me help. You’ll have better odds if there’s two of us.”
“Can you do what you’re supposed to for once? Get off the bike. Wait for me.”
I hesitate for a beat.
“Go.”
Chapter Five
I sit in the rear of the crowded movie theater, my gaze glued to the entrance, my back against the wall.
Groups of girls surround me, chattering with anticipation for the coming attractions. I chose my movie wisely; it’s one of those splashy romantic comedies. The girls giggle, eating popcorn and talking about their plans for the evening. My hands shake.
I check my watch again, the numbers glowing in the dark. It’s been thirty minutes since Luke dumped me in Leicester Square, each minute creeping by with agonizing slowness. There’s a procedure for these situations. If we’re in trouble, we’re supposed to call a special number within the Academy and a team will be dispatched to assist us.
“Hot guy incoming,” a girl in front of me whispers, her friends breaking out into nervous giggles.
Relief fills me at the sight of Luke climbing the theater steps. I temporarily forget I’m angry with him, that things are fucked up between us. In that instant, he’s the same Luke he’s always been. And most importantly, he’s alive.
“Babe, sorry I’m late.” Luke slides into the seat next to me. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I stiffen. The scent of his cologne hits me—and something else—a metallic smell I know all too well.
His lips brush my ear, teasing a shiver out of me. “Play along,” he whispers.
“What happened?”
“They’re in Leicester Square. I got one, but there are more out there. It wasn’t just one car.”
“How many?”
“Six guys. Two cars.”
“We need to call the Academy.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s procedure. We can’t handle six guys on our own.”
Luke sucks in a deep breath. I pull back slightly, putting several inches between our bodies. Something sounds off about Luke’s breathing.
“What’s wrong?”
“One of the guys got me.” He pulls his jacket to the side. Even in the dark theater, the flickering lights from the screen illuminate where the fabric has been sliced, blood seeping through his T-shirt. Pain slashes across his face. “He had a knife.”
I put pressure on the wound, shuddering at the wetness there. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We have to get you to a doctor.”
It’s a fight to keep the panic out of my voice. I’m out of my depth here, and more than anything, I need him by my side to get out of this safely. And despite everything between us, I hate to see him in pain.
“It’s fine. I just need to get out of here. The guy barely grazed me.”
“It’s not fine. You could die.” Most of my assignments don’t require first aid; if a man’s bleeding, it’s usually because I caused it. I have no idea what to do next. “You’re in no condition to fight if they find us.”
Luke hesitates for a beat. “I have a flat. Not far from here.”
It’s not ideal, but I can’t think of a better plan right now. Not with Luke bleeding and men searching for us.
“Okay.”
We walk out of the theater, our arms wrapped around one another, me struggling to help Luke walk. His jacket is zipped up, covering his wound. He staggers slightly, but otherwise we look like a couple out on a date. My body is tucked against his, my hair down around my face. My mind races—planning, plotting, revising. We need an exit strategy. Fast.
We step outside of the theater, blending into the crowd. It’s a busy time of night in one of the busiest parts of London; we couldn’t ask for better cover. I scan the square, searching for any sight of the men. The crowd is thick tonight, but I don’t see our pursuers.
“Come on. Let’s get a cab.”
We make our way to the street corner, all of my instincts on high alert. I pray we blend in with the thr
ongs of tourists and couples.
After a minute of waiting that feels like an eternity, a black cab pulls up in front of us. Luke pushes me in, exchanging a few words with the driver.
“What about the bike?”
“I dumped the bike. I’ll get it later.” Luke pulls me against him. His breaths sound even shallower, his face pale. “Pretend we’re a couple making out. If someone looks at the window, I want them to think we’re out on a date.”
I lean in closer to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne filling my nostrils. It sends a tingle down my spine and a memory rips through me—of his body against mine, our flesh joining; of heat, and desire, and kisses that blow my mind. He moves closer, his big body invading my space, sucking all the air around me. It’s hard to remember what’s real and what’s just smoke. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the chase or the man beside me, but my world tilts a bit before sanity returns.
“Don’t kiss me,” I warn. “Injured or not, I’ll kick your ass.”
Luke laughs, the sound weaker than normal. His lips tickle my skin and a shiver rips through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man whose mouth ghosts over my skin. Luke wraps his arm around me, pulling me against his body.
“Whatever you do, don’t look out the window,” he whispers.
I’m too afraid to look anywhere. It’s tough for someone like me to admit it, but I’m starting to realize how little I actually know about my role at the Academy.
“Did you find out anything about the guys who were after us?”
Luke hesitates for a second too long. “No.”
Lie.
The Academy’s location, its very existence, is a closely guarded secret. How would someone know to follow us? Why would they follow us? Were they looking for anyone leaving the Academy gates? Or was it Luke that caught their attention?
The memory of someone following me rushes back to me now.
Is it me?
The cab pulls down a dark street.
“We’re here.” Luke leans forward, dropping a twenty-pound note in the driver’s hand. He turns to me, his face far too pale. “Ready?”
I hesitate. I don’t know who sits next to me—the boy I grew up with or the man who has spent the last two years turning into someone who frightens me. What if this is an elaborate ruse to get me back to his place? What if this is his revenge, his attempt to make me pay for trying to kill him? My hand sneaks into my pocket, closing around the knife’s handle.
Something flickers in Luke’s brown eyes. “You’re the one with the advantage here. Do you really think I’d try to kill you? I’m bleeding in the back of the cab; I’m trusting you with my life.”
They’ve taught us from the beginning—
Trust no one.
“Are you coming?”
Pain is etched across his face; his injury grows worse with each moment that passes. I can help him or I can leave him here to die, the irony not lost on me. I’m getting a chance to undo one of my greatest regrets, to banish the dreams that have plagued me for two years.
I don’t entirely trust him, but I don’t know what I believe anymore.
I get out of the car.
###
Luke’s flat isn’t large, but it’s nice. The style is modern—lots of glass and wood. It’s the kind of place that makes me afraid to touch things.
“There are bandages in the cabinet in the loo.” Luke gestures toward a long hallway.
“We should call a doctor.”
“No doctors. It’s not that bad. I just need something to stop the bleeding. Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed.”
Life is definitely different outside of the Academy.
Luke sinks down onto a dark leather couch, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. A lock of hair falls forward onto his face. A thin sheen of sweat covers his brow.
I don’t understand why he’s being so difficult. The Academy has doctors trained in this sort of thing. Besides if the Academy is being watched, we need to warn them. I want to push him, make him tell me the things I fear he’s holding back. I don’t. Each moment that passes is another moment he loses blood.
“Just get the stuff out of the loo.” He’s silent for a moment before playing his trump card. “You owe me.”
Damn. In a way he’s right, I do.
The loo is small, but modern like the rest of the flat. A cabinet reveals an impressive collection of gauze and bandages. I grab some ointment from the top ledge along with a bottle of antibiotics.
“I’ve got it,” I call out, making my way to the living room. I stop in my tracks. In the short amount of time since I left, he looks even worse. “We have to call a doctor.”
“No.”
“Why? You’re not making any sense. If you’re injured, the Academy needs to know about it. It’s procedure.”
“Fuck procedure. Don’t call the Academy.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t. Promise.”
“I can’t promise you anything. You aren’t giving me anything to go on. Blind trust isn’t going to work here. Not between us. Give me one reason to listen to you. I could get into serious trouble with the Director for not reporting this. Give me one good reason not to.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“What do you mean, it isn’t safe? That’s ridiculous. The Academy is the safest place I can think of right now. They’re the only ones who have the kind of manpower needed to take on six guys.”
“You don’t know everything.”
He’s right, I don’t. I’m sick of living in the dark. I kill for them, they’re months away from sending me out on my own, but seeing Luke and hearing slices of his life outside of the Academy is enough to make me wonder just how prepared I really am.
“Then tell me.”
He opens his mouth to speak and a gasp escapes instead. I sit down beside him, setting the bandages and ointment down next to me. He looks terrible. Part of me wants to leave. I have no business here, taking care of him.
Show no weakness.
But another part of me, the part that ultimately wins out, can’t leave him in pain.
There’ll be time for talking later.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against his T-shirt. He must have unzipped his jacket while I was in the loo. I lift up the edge of his shirt, and for a moment I can’t speak. His body is a patchwork of scars and tattoos, harsh jagged white lines and thick swirls of black ink covered by the top of his shirt. My hands itch to trace the shapes, to stroke the smooth skin over tight, bunched muscle…to soothe. I curl my fingers into a fist.
“It looks like most of the bleeding has stopped.”
“Just wrap it. The ointment will help.”
I refuse to meet his gaze, my eyes cast downward as I go through the motions, my fingers brushing against his bare stomach. His skin is warm to the touch. A noise escapes his throat.
I freeze. “Did I hurt you?”
His eyes close; his head falls back onto the couch. “No.”
I hesitate, turning my attention back to his stomach. Muscles ripple along his abs, proving once again that he isn’t the boy I remembered. Back then his body was beautiful, but now it’s a fucking work of art. The scars just make him more; he has a warrior’s build.
I return to cleaning the wound, struggling to keep my hands from shaking. He’s right; the gash is relatively shallow, but I bet it hurts like hell.
I finish the job quickly, grateful I at least paid some attention during our meager medical lessons. I twist the top off the antibiotic bottle, scanning the label and pulling out two pills. I hand them to Luke.
“This should help.”
He swallows the pills with a gulp.
“You need to rest.”
“I will.” He leans back on the sofa, studying me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I rise, moving to grab my bag from the counter. “I’m going to head out. If you nee
d anything—”
“Stay. Just stay with me for a bit. Please.”
I want to go home—back to Grace, far away from him. Whatever this is, whoever attacked him tonight, I want no part of it. There are still answers he hasn’t given me and questions I’m afraid to ask.
I’m getting a rare look at a different Luke tonight. One I knew when we were younger, but haven’t seen in years. The cockiness, the attitude, the flashy veneer he presents to the world is gone. Replaced by something else, something vulnerable. He looks so different sitting there on the couch. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he’s about to collapse.
I sit next to him, careful to keep some space between us. It’s the last thing I should be doing—
I watch him fall asleep.
Chapter Six
He only sleeps for an hour. I spend the whole time on the couch freaking out, my mind racing, heart pounding. Whoever was with him tonight saw me, too. Like it or not, I’m involved now.
Part of me still wants to report this; I’m afraid of what will happen if we don’t. But at the same time, something feels off. The fact that the Director has welcomed Luke back to the fold makes it clear that he was never the traitor they accused him of being.
So what else have they lied about?
Finally Luke wakes, his eyes fluttering open. He seems surprised to see me, but he doesn’t speak. I give him a minute before my impatience gets the best of me.
“What was that back there? Who were those guys and what do they want?”
He sighs. “Have you felt like someone was following you lately?”
“Yeah. Last night. And today.”
“Me too. For weeks now. It’s why I came back. At first, it was just little things. Footsteps I would hear behind me, cars that seemed to be following me. But two gunmen chased me in Venice.”
“Who do you think it is?” I swallow, my fear a boulder in my throat. There’s one thing scarier than men with guns. “Do you think it’s the Academy?”
We’re so tethered to the Academy; it’s unlikely they would need to spy on us even more. And yet—
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