He blinked and sat up, scanning the area as he woke. “An airport.”
It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway, “Yes. Come on.”
She moved to the door when his big hand fell on her shoulder. “What are you up to?”
She turned to face him. Time to let the cat out of the bag. “We’re going to Europe. I have it all arranged. I want you to see everything. To experience Amsterdam and see the Venice canals you described so vividly to me. I want you to lose yourself in the Louvre, to marvel at the beauty of the Crown Jewels, to sit in awe of Stonehenge and touch history. You know everything about all the wonderful places, but you’ve never been to them. We have time off work; I have more money than I can spend in two lifetimes, and I want you to have this. Please come with me.”
The driver, who’d exited the vehicle, was extracting their luggage from the trunk. “You packed clothes for me?”
“Yes, and I stole your passport out of your freezer.” She pulled it out of the pocket of her purse.
He took the blue folder from her. “Do I want to know how you knew where it was?” He nodded to the door, and she smiled. He’s going to come! That made her insanely happy, which would make Reaper laugh out loud. The assassin liked to tease her. So she would never tell Reaper about their journey. Far be it from her to give her friend ammo to volley in her direction.
She opened the door, stepped out, and waited for him to unfold from the car before hugging him. He patted her back but didn’t hug her. That was okay. She had time to work on that. “I may have poked about your kitchen and found it.”
“Poked about? Is that what you call searching someone’s home these days?” He lifted the handles on three of the four cases the driver sat on the curb.
“Meh, it’s all shades of the same color, and your apartment isn’t exactly huge.” She grabbed the handle of the last bag. “Thank you.” She spoke to the driver. The Guardian nodded and headed back to his car.
Val walked beside Smith as she pulled her suitcase behind her and directed their route to the ticket counter to check their bags. After getting through security, she put her arm through his and led him to the lounge where they’d wait for their flight. Smith took everything in, although he wasn’t obvious about it. She saw his eyes bounce back and forth, intent and scanning, clearly alert. Another reason she liked him. He was very present in his surroundings. He wasn’t one of those men who trudged through life expecting the world to shift to his whims. As the assassin in her would say, Smith assessed every situation, making him an even better travel companion.
“Air travel has changed since I last flew,” he mused as they sat down in the lounge. An attendant was with them immediately, and they ordered coffee and pastries.
“When was that?” she asked when the attendant left.
He drew a deep breath and let it out. “After I graduated high school.”
“Where did you go?” She turned to face him on the couch they were sharing.
“Home.” He shook his head, and his jaw tightened.
“Where’s home?” she asked as the attendant arrived with their coffee. Val took the saucer in her hand and leaned back, facing Smith again.
“Wherever I lay my head.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Where’s home for you?”
Val chuckled. “Touché.” Smith was a verbal sparring partner like no other. If he wasn’t in the mood to disclose anything about himself, he was a vault without a combination.
“What are you doing here, Val?” He put his coffee cup on the small table and turned to face her.
His jaw ground together, and she sensed the barriers she’d torn down start to go back up again. Damn it. She stopped with her coffee cup halfway to her lips and spoke before she took a sip. “What do you mean?”
Smith blinked at her question. What did he mean? Wasn’t it obvious? Okay, he’d spell it out for her. “Why are you doing this? Why me? What’s your endgame?” He gave a harsh laugh and rubbed his face with his hand. “Val, I’m not a dirty child that you can brush off, dress up, and teach manners, so you can parade him around polite society. I have a past I’m not proud of that has made me the man I am. You’re in a losing proposition if you’re betting on reforming me.” He sighed as the anguish of his past consumed him, lowering his eyes to his shoes and shaking his head. No, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He spoke clearly, but quietly. She needed to hear and understand him. “I won’t be used again.” Not even by the beautiful woman sitting next to him. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.
She sat her coffee cup down and stared at him. Her blue eyes narrowed a bit. “I’m not trying to change you or use you. I know about your past. About that son of a bitch Simmons and what he did to you.”
Smith’s head snapped up so hard his neck cracked. Hatred surged to the surface of his consciousness in a tidal wave. That fucking bastard. He glanced around and hissed lowly, “What do you know?”
Val’s whisper returned just as urgently, “That he made you do what you did. I don’t know what he was holding over your head to make you do it. I wasn’t told, and I don’t care. I’ve made my judgment about you from my interactions with you. You don’t scare me, Smithson. You can’t hurt me. I am dead certain I’d never let you place me in a position to be hurt, nor would I do that to you.” She moved closer to him, put her hand on his leg, and whispered, “I work for Guardian. You know that, but you’ve never asked what I do for them.”
Dear God. He swallowed hard. His mind raced, grasping at thoughts that flashed by, chased by others that he couldn’t prevent. At least she didn’t know what Simmons had used to blackmail him. He’d been able to bury most of those memories and all the evidence—he thought. He never questioned Dixon Simmons when he said he’d deleted the evidence. Perhaps he should have. He rubbed his face with his hands. That woman was of legal age when he had relations with her. Dixon Simmons’ father, that bastard, had fabricated documentation showing her to be too damn young. Criminally young. He closed his eyes. He would never, never take advantage of a child. That fucker Simmons had backed him into a corner with his morals and kept him there using a video of him having sex with the woman and made-up birth documents.
His stomach rolled as nausea lurched up his throat. “Simmons … I never want to talk about that time in my life. Ever.” No, he’d never asked what role she played at Guardian. His guess was she was in a high-ranking administrative position. “What you do for Guardian doesn’t matter.”
She shook her head. “It actually does. I do select jobs for Guardian in much the same way you worked for Simmons.”
What in the hell! He jerked back as if she’d slapped him and bit out in a whisper, “No. Guardian doesn’t do that.” He’d murdered people for Simmons. Innocent people who didn’t deserve to die.
She cast a gaze around the lounge and leaned in. “Come closer.” It took a long minute before he leaned forward. God, she had no idea what he’d done. What he’d been forced to do.
She whispered in his ear, “There’s an international entity that targets monsters like Simmons, but the demons they go after act on a far grander scale than that bastard ever dreamed of going. There are assets worldwide that hunt people who evade justice, who are responsible for genocide and unimaginable atrocities, and who cause the suffering of multitudes. Smith, I’ve experienced your blackness. I live in it. I’m not here to change you. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”