Page 141 of Creep

“To kill him.”

I tensed, trying to make sense of his words. I understood each and every one of them individually, but together? Mael was trying to… I shook my head as the words bounced around in my head, feeling as if I was drifting up toward the ceiling. That wasn’t right. He was saying… Nope, it still didn’t make sense. He couldn’t have possibly said what I thought he just said, right?

“What?”

“To kill him,” he repeated as if that made it better. “I was hired by Leo Briggs to kill your father.”

I inhaled, then slowly let it out.

“I think—” I shook my head. “I can’t breathe.”

Distantly, I heard Mael let out a small curse before I felt his arms around me, and he helped me sit up on the bed. I leaned back against his chest, trying to seek out his strength, and focused on getting enough air into my lungs. It helped that I could feel his arms banding around me tightly, keeping me grounded.

“Focus on me, kitten. Just breathe.”

It was a little easier for me to get air inside. I turned my head to the side and looked at him. His blue eyes were clear, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

There was just so much to unpack from the statement alone. “Leo hired you to kill my dad?”

He nodded.

“Why would he do that? He and my dad are friends. Best friends.”

He gave me a look. I glanced down. I heard my own naivety in that statement—I did—but Mael didn’t grow up and witness the way Leo and my dad interacted with each other. They were close. But of course, that probably meant nothing, considering I had grown up trusting Leo completely. And my dad. And I wasn’t sure if Dad knew what Leo was doing to me, sending me to this cabin without cell service.

“I don’t know the reason. I usually don’t ask for it.”

“What do you meanyou don’tusuallyask?” I said, my voice reaching a high pitch. “How often do you do this?”

“Do you want to know the answer?” he asked.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“Often enough that I’ve made this into my profession.”

“You told me you were a freelancer.”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

“Close enough.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him, shaking my head. “A freelancer is completely different from… from…”

“Hitman. You can say it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Lots of things,” he answered. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”

I looked down at my still-tied hands and then back at him. He picked them up, and before I knew what was happening or could even stop him, he pressed a kiss on the back of one. I yanked my hands away.

“This is different from hurting you. I would never physically hurt you.”

My lips trembled, and I pulled the sheet further up my body. I didn’t know what to say to that, mostly because I could hear the truth in his words. He would never physically hurt me, but what about the other kind of hurt?

“My heart hurts,” I whispered.

“I know, kitten. And I’ll make it better.” Even I heard the tinge of desperation in his voice.

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