Page 39 of Her Dom's Secret Past

“Agent?” All kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head. I gave a little laugh and said jokingly, “Like James Bond.”

“Yes, kind of like James Bond.”

I stared at him, stunned, and pulled my hand away. Shit.

“Anabelle, I’ve retired, honestly. My badge and gun have been handed in, never to be picked up again.”

“Badge? Gun? A spy? You were a spy?”‘

“Not actually a spy. I can’t tell you exactly what I did, but yes, I was an agent, a type of secret police officer.”

All I could think of were James Bond movies with him killing everyone in sight and blowing up things.

“You’ve killed people,” I whispered, disturbed.

He nodded.

Fuck!

“If it makes it any easier, they were not nice people. They were criminals, murderers,horridpeople.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was this gorgeous man in front of me was a killer. I started biting and sucking on the side of my index finger, something I did when I was really nervous. John purposely took my hand and pulled it away from my mouth. I kept my eyes downcast.

“Anabelle, I’ve never killed anyone in cold blood. It was always either their life or mine. I’ve always drawn the line at assassination.”

Assassinations? Oh my God!

All I could say over and over in my head was,he’s a killer!That was all I could think about. What he said a few moments ago simply didn’t get through. I had fixated on him killing.

He’s killed people. He’s a killer!

“Anabelle. Look at me.”

I raised my eyes, my heart racing.

“I was a type of policeman, an agent, but I was undercover most of the time.”

Suddenly, his injuries made sense. I’d always thought the scars seemed odd for a car accident. I realized he’d never actually said it was a car accident. He’d always skirted around when I mention them. I’d made a stupid assumption and now I understood what they truly were.

“You were shot.”

“Yes, I was. I was in hospital for four weeks, unconscious for the first two and a half.”

A tear was tracing its way down my cheek. I was so in love with him and now he was telling me he killed people for a living.

“Who did it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

I fell silent, trying to come to some sort of terms with what he was telling me. The wordskillerandassassinationskept rolling around my head. It didn’t make sense. I had no idea how much time passed until John took my hand again.

“Talk to me, Anabelle.”

“I don’t know if I can. You’re a professional killer.”

“No!” he said roughly. “Yes, I’ve killed people, but so have many policemen. I wasn’t purposely ordered to go out and find a certain person and shoot them down. My first directive was always to bring them in. I always tried to arrest them, tried to take them in and let them stand trial.”

I couldn’t find any words to say. John considered me sadly and let my hand go. I pulled it onto my knee.

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