Cute?
She stuffs the underwear back in the bag and zips it up.
“Guess I’m crazy too,” she mumbles.
“You’re not crazy.” I feel unreasonably angry hearing her say that about herself.
Flipping on my blinker, I turn into the parking ramp just before the hotel. They have valet parking, but I don’t let other people drive my truck.
Cassandra turns to me and lifts a brow. “No? I killed a man tonight.” She ticks the points off her fingers. “You have a room in your basement full of weapons and cameras aimed at my house. I watched you throw a dead body over a fence in the middle of nowhere. You’ve admitted to stalking me. You followed me to Mexico, where I saw you kill two men, but I know you killed more. Raging jealousy had me ready to fight more than one woman tonight. And now I’m happily going with you to a hotel for the night rather than calling the police, like I probably should have when I first shot that arrow.” I don’t like this list. “Oh, and I gave a fake witness testimony to the Mexican police.”
I glance at her as I drive through the rows of parked cars. “Fake testimony?”
Her fingers play with the strap of the backpack. “I said you had blue eyes and black hair.”
I back into an empty spot, then turn to look at her. “Why would you do that?”
She bites her lip in that way that makes my blood heat. “I wasn’t positive that it was you, but I was pretty sure. And… I didn’t want them to find you.”
I turn off the engine and stare at her.
It’s been twenty years since I’ve loved someone.
But I recognize the feeling.
It’s like hearing a song for the first time after years and years but remembering every lyric the second it starts.
It’s a heavy sort of comfort. But it also terrifies me.
I unbuckle my seat belt.
Cassandra was my obsession.
My Butterfly to love at a distance.
A pretty creature on the other side of the glass.
I never wanted her to know me.
Never wanted to take the chance of trying.
Because her rejection… It would crush me.
I’d known that much. Known that if she was afraid of me, it would smother the last bit of humanity I still held.
From afar, I could pretend. I could dream. I could fantasize and prepare. But never believe any of it could be real. Never think I’d ever have her close enough to touch.
I made a point to never get close enough to touch.
Cassandra reaches up and brushes her fingers along my jaw.
Not once, not ever, did I think she’d reach for me.
And now I’ll settle for nothing less than all of her.
CHAPTER 73
Cassie
There’s something going on behind his eyes. Something intense.
And I’m irritated that I don’t know his expressions well enough to know what it means.
But Hans doesn’t say anything, just reaches past me to grab the backpacks, lifting them easily up and over me.
As he flings his door open, I shift and slide out after him.
Of course he doesn’t let me just drop down to the ground—he catches me around the waist, lowering me slowly.
I expect him to start walking toward the hotel, but Hans moves to the rear door and opens it.
I’m on the other side of the door, so I don’t see what he’s doing until he slams it shut.
And then my jaw slackens.
Because he’s pulling on a worn leather jacket. Mixed with his boots, long hair, and shirt that’s not buttoned all the way to the top, he looks like a literal rockstar.
Unaware of my throbbing libido, Hans slings a backpack over each shoulder—which somehow doesn’t look out of place, then gestures for me to go.
I stop in front of the truck and hold my hand out for Hans.
His eyes snap down to my hand, and I watch him swallow before he grips my fingers with his own.
His hold is tight, like he’s worried I might say just kidding and pull my hand back.
I glance up at his profile.
He really is stupidly handsome. And vigilante killer or not, I can’t believe he didn’t have a woman in his life already.
But thank fuck he didn’t. If I’d had to witness a girlfriend coming and going from his place, I’d probably have moved.
Together, we step off the parking ramp and turn down the sidewalk.
The historic hotel is only a dozen yards away, and that’s when I remember what I’m wearing.
I halt, pulling Hans to a stop with me.
He looks down at me, but I just hold up a finger.
I use the toe of one shoe to pull off the other, then lift my foot and pull off the oversized sock I stole from Hans’s basement bunker. Shoving my bare foot back into my tennis shoe, I repeat the process with the other.