“It’s too public,” he said, fingers punching in the numbers even as he struggled to think. “It makes us too public. I haven’t made it this long by standing in spotlights.”
“It’s the only way to flush them out. Besides, you shouldn’t worry. You’re the hero now, remember?”
He laughed drily, but didn’t say no again.
“Do you want a mask?” she teased, pulling the glasses from her hair and sliding them back onto his face. “Or will these do?”
Eli ran his thumb over his phone, hesitating for one last moment. And then he connected the call.
XI
LAST FALL
UNIVERSITY OF MERIT
SERENA Clarke lived alone. Eli could tell from the moment they walked in, when she slipped her shoes off by the door. The place was clean, calm, and unified. It had one cohesive taste, and Serena didn’t look around for anyone before turning on him and raising the gun.
“Hold up,” said Eli, shrugging his coat off. “This is my favorite. I’d rather not have holes in it.” He took a small cylinder from the pocket, and tossed it to her.
“Do you actually know how to use a gun?” he asked.
Serena nodded as she screwed the silencer on. “Years of crime dramas. And I found my father’s Colt once, and taught myself. Cans in the woods, and all that.”
“Are you a decent shot?” Eli unbuttoned his shirt and took that off, too, draping it over the entry table with his coat. Serena gave him an appreciative head-to-toe-and-back look, and then she pulled the trigger. He gasped and staggered backward, red blossoming against his shoulder. The pain was brief and bright, the bullet passing straight through and lodging in the wall behind him. He watched Serena’s eyes widen as the wound instantly began to close, his skin knitting back together. She gave a slow clap, the gun still in her grip. Eli rubbed his shoulder, and met her eyes.
“Happy now?” he grumbled.
“Don’t be so sour,” she said, setting the gun on the table.
“Just because I heal,” he said, reaching past her for his shirt, “doesn’t mean that didn’t hurt.”
Serena caught his arm in one hand and his face in the other, and held his gaze. Eli felt himself falling in. “Want me to kiss it?” she asked, brushing her lips against his. “Will that make it better?”
There it was again, in his chest, that strange flutter, like want, dusty and a decade old but there. Maybe it was a trick. Maybe this feeling—this simple, mortal ache—wasn’t coming from him. But maybe it was. Maybe it could be. He nodded once, just enough to bring their lips together, and then she turned and led him toward to the bedroom.
“Don’t kill me tonight,” she added as she led him into the dark. And he never even thought of it.
*
SERENA and Eli were lying together in a tangle of sheets. They faced each other, and she ran her fingers down his cheek, his throat, his chest. Her hand seemed fascinated with the place where she’d shot him, now only smooth skin shining in the near dark of the room. Her hand wandered, then, over his ribs and around his back, and came to rest on the web of old scars there. She drew in a small breath.
“They’re from before,” he said softly. “Nothing leaves marks anymore.” Her lips parted, but before she could ask what happened, he added, “Please. Don’t ask.”
And she didn’t. Instead, she drew her hand back to his unscarred chest and let it rest over his heart.
“Where will you go, after you kill me?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’ll have to start again.”
“Will you sleep with that one, too?” she asked, and Eli laughed.
“Seduction is hardly part of my method.”
“Well, then, I feel special.”
“You are.” It came out in a whisper. And it was true. Special. Different. Fascinating. Dangerous. Her hand slid back to the bed, and he thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep. He enjoyed watching her this way, knowing he could kill her, but not wanting to. It made him feel like he was in control again. Or closer to it. Being with Serena felt like a dream, an interlude. It made Eli feel human again. It made him forget.
“There must be an easier way,” she wondered sleepily. “To find them … if you could access the right networks…”
“If only,” he whispered. And then they slept.
*