The Accidental Assassin
Page 51
I picked the room Owen had used earlier and slammed the door.
I’d like to say it made me feel better, but it didn’t. I could go open and slam shut the door another forty times and I still wouldn’t feel better. I wasn’t pissed at Owen.
No, I was sort of pissed at Owen. I was pissed at how he and Mavis seemed to have a connection I’d never understand. I wasn’t stupid. I knew they’d slept together. That wasn’t why I was mad at him.
Was it? No.
I was pissed at this whole situation. Every single bit of it. I hated feeling lost and out of my element. I didn’t even have the gun Owen had given me anymore.
I stomped back to the door and flung it open.
“And I want my damn gun back!”
I slammed the door again.
I was really tired of feeling helpless. I kicked the little table next to the bed.
It fell apart as if it was made of paper. The lamp and picture frame fell to the floor with a crash, the glass scattering across the old carpet.
“Oh, shit.” I stepped carefully through the glass and tried to pick up the table. One of the legs fell back to the floor. “Well, fuck.”
“Ava?” Owen knocked on the door.
“What?” I leaned the rest of the table against the wall and kicked some of the glass under the bed.
“Are you okay?” It sounded like he was leaning against the door and listening.
“I’m having a discussion with the furniture.” I picked up the remains of the picture frame and set it on a shelf. I picked up the lamp and sighed. It was in three pieces all held together by the cord that ran through the center. It was a lost cause. There was nothing to do for it but sing some hymns and bury it. If only I had a roll of Owen’s duct tape.
He cleared his throat outside the door. “I brought your gun.”
I walked over to the door and pulled it open with my free hand, letting the lamp dangle from the other.
He was standing in the little hall, both hands by his side. A smaller gun was in his left hand, his larger version in his right.
“And you brought yours. Are we dueling? Pistols at sunset?” I held out my hand and took my gun.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I looked at him. How was I supposed to explain that I’d just thrown a spectacular temper tantrum without sounding pathetic? I’d broken some sick old man’s lamp.
“I’m sorry, Ava.” He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I looked down at the floor. Damnit. Now was not the time to angry-cry.
“I’m not mad at you.” I took a breath and tried to will away the tears.
“You were rather convincing downstairs.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
I turned around and put the lamp on the table and it crashed back to the floor. I stared at the mess on the floor and sniffed.
“Stupid table.” I covered my face with my free hand.
“Are you crying?” Strong hands closed on my shoulders and turned me around. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m not stupid!” I meant I wasn’t stupid enough to hurt myself, but at this point I wasn’t so sure. I might win a stupid award tonight.
“Of course you aren’t.” Owen’s voice took on a soothing tone. It should have been weird to hear it come from his mouth, but it wasn’t. He took my gun out of my hand and set it on the dresser next to his.
“I mean, I didn’t hurt myself. I broke the lamp.”
“I noticed.” His hands rubbed my shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said downstairs.”
“Don’t be. I’m not mad at you. You just made a good target.” I wiped at my face. “I’m scared. I’ve been in scared mode for days now and it’s starting to wear on me. And I’m worried about Tessa. And Mavis’s friend that I’ve never even met. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the email, but it was killing me to feel like I was doing nothing. I feel like dead weight. I’m useless.”
“You are not useless.” He lifted my chin and I hoped there wasn’t any snot on my face.
“Don’t patronize me. I can’t contribute. I have no money. I can’t kill people. Well, unless it’s with a car. My last job was as a receptionist at a place where they build planes. Knowing how to deal with rich customers and answering the phone isn’t exactly helpful right now. I can make a killer pair of earrings but they aren’t going to actually kill anyone.” I sniffed. “I’m just trying to stay alive. You—you got shot because of me. And now—now I’m crying which isn’t helpful either.”
The tears were coming now and there was no stopping them. He pulled me against his chest and tucked my head under his chin. He didn’t say anything, just held me while I cried.
When I finally got myself under control I pulled back and scrubbed at my face with the palms of my hands.
“I’m sorry I unloaded on you.”
“I think you’ve earned it.” He pulled me over to the bed and sat down. I sat next to him and stared at the broken glass on the dirty carpet. “You shouldn’t have sent that email and I should have understood why you did it. I’ve been in tight spots before, but this is… pretty bad. I’ve been in worse, but this one isn’t a cake walk either.”
“You’ve accidently run over a man, been shot at by strangers for no reason, run away with a hot assassin, and let someone shield you from bullets like a pathetic non-warrior before?” I glared at him.
I’d like to say it made me feel better, but it didn’t. I could go open and slam shut the door another forty times and I still wouldn’t feel better. I wasn’t pissed at Owen.
No, I was sort of pissed at Owen. I was pissed at how he and Mavis seemed to have a connection I’d never understand. I wasn’t stupid. I knew they’d slept together. That wasn’t why I was mad at him.
Was it? No.
I was pissed at this whole situation. Every single bit of it. I hated feeling lost and out of my element. I didn’t even have the gun Owen had given me anymore.
I stomped back to the door and flung it open.
“And I want my damn gun back!”
I slammed the door again.
I was really tired of feeling helpless. I kicked the little table next to the bed.
It fell apart as if it was made of paper. The lamp and picture frame fell to the floor with a crash, the glass scattering across the old carpet.
“Oh, shit.” I stepped carefully through the glass and tried to pick up the table. One of the legs fell back to the floor. “Well, fuck.”
“Ava?” Owen knocked on the door.
“What?” I leaned the rest of the table against the wall and kicked some of the glass under the bed.
“Are you okay?” It sounded like he was leaning against the door and listening.
“I’m having a discussion with the furniture.” I picked up the remains of the picture frame and set it on a shelf. I picked up the lamp and sighed. It was in three pieces all held together by the cord that ran through the center. It was a lost cause. There was nothing to do for it but sing some hymns and bury it. If only I had a roll of Owen’s duct tape.
He cleared his throat outside the door. “I brought your gun.”
I walked over to the door and pulled it open with my free hand, letting the lamp dangle from the other.
He was standing in the little hall, both hands by his side. A smaller gun was in his left hand, his larger version in his right.
“And you brought yours. Are we dueling? Pistols at sunset?” I held out my hand and took my gun.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I looked at him. How was I supposed to explain that I’d just thrown a spectacular temper tantrum without sounding pathetic? I’d broken some sick old man’s lamp.
“I’m sorry, Ava.” He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I looked down at the floor. Damnit. Now was not the time to angry-cry.
“I’m not mad at you.” I took a breath and tried to will away the tears.
“You were rather convincing downstairs.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
I turned around and put the lamp on the table and it crashed back to the floor. I stared at the mess on the floor and sniffed.
“Stupid table.” I covered my face with my free hand.
“Are you crying?” Strong hands closed on my shoulders and turned me around. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m not stupid!” I meant I wasn’t stupid enough to hurt myself, but at this point I wasn’t so sure. I might win a stupid award tonight.
“Of course you aren’t.” Owen’s voice took on a soothing tone. It should have been weird to hear it come from his mouth, but it wasn’t. He took my gun out of my hand and set it on the dresser next to his.
“I mean, I didn’t hurt myself. I broke the lamp.”
“I noticed.” His hands rubbed my shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said downstairs.”
“Don’t be. I’m not mad at you. You just made a good target.” I wiped at my face. “I’m scared. I’ve been in scared mode for days now and it’s starting to wear on me. And I’m worried about Tessa. And Mavis’s friend that I’ve never even met. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the email, but it was killing me to feel like I was doing nothing. I feel like dead weight. I’m useless.”
“You are not useless.” He lifted my chin and I hoped there wasn’t any snot on my face.
“Don’t patronize me. I can’t contribute. I have no money. I can’t kill people. Well, unless it’s with a car. My last job was as a receptionist at a place where they build planes. Knowing how to deal with rich customers and answering the phone isn’t exactly helpful right now. I can make a killer pair of earrings but they aren’t going to actually kill anyone.” I sniffed. “I’m just trying to stay alive. You—you got shot because of me. And now—now I’m crying which isn’t helpful either.”
The tears were coming now and there was no stopping them. He pulled me against his chest and tucked my head under his chin. He didn’t say anything, just held me while I cried.
When I finally got myself under control I pulled back and scrubbed at my face with the palms of my hands.
“I’m sorry I unloaded on you.”
“I think you’ve earned it.” He pulled me over to the bed and sat down. I sat next to him and stared at the broken glass on the dirty carpet. “You shouldn’t have sent that email and I should have understood why you did it. I’ve been in tight spots before, but this is… pretty bad. I’ve been in worse, but this one isn’t a cake walk either.”
“You’ve accidently run over a man, been shot at by strangers for no reason, run away with a hot assassin, and let someone shield you from bullets like a pathetic non-warrior before?” I glared at him.
