Then again, I was a woman with one foot in the grave. Hating him only added strife to the situation. I was a roll-with-the-punches kinda girl, and that had paid off thus far. But I also knew I wasn’t the woman I was almost five weeks prior.
Even after the time we’d spent together, he continued to be sexy, mysterious, and alluring. Dark things that attracted me, for better or worse.
Being a real secret agent also added to the appeal.
It was chilly out, so I put on jeans, my boots, a T-shirt, and the leather jacket Six picked up the other day. The jacket almost matched his. If he put in his blue contacts or I put in my brown, we would look like a matchy-matchy couple again or twins.
I threw my hair up into a ponytail, stuffed my lip balm in my pocket, and then picked up a bottle of water before heading for the door to a waiting Six.
We loaded into the car and peeled out as good as one can on gravel.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I pulled on my sunglasses.
“Atlanta.”
It was going to be about an hour and a half drive to get to Atlanta, depending on traffic.
“Why?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
I shrugged. “Curiosity. I like to know things.”
“I’m meeting Jason.”
“Jason the handler, Jason?” I asked, surprised that I’d be going along. He turned to glare at me, and I held my hands up. “Just trying to clarify. Do you know how many people have the name Jason? I’m also just surprised you’re meeting him in person.”
“It’s necessary right now.”
My mind started spinning with visions of what Jason looked like. To me, he was a faceless person Six talked to. He might as well have been a computer for all I knew.
Reaching out, I pressed the power button to the radio and fiddled around until I found a good station. Six didn’t stop me and didn’t seem to mind my pop/rock choice. I bopped around in my seat to the songs, some familiar, some new, and hummed to a few.
It was nice, relaxing.
Normal.
It was as normal as we could get. Two people driving down the road, music playing, and looking out the window with a smile as I actually got to enjoy the scenery. It was beautiful, wooded, and I half expected to see a zombie lurking in the woods or on the side of the road.
That might be one of the things that pissed me off the most since my capture—I was missing The Walking Dead.
I reached over and smacked Six’s arm.
His head snapped to me with a very much what the fuck look that made me laugh.
“What are you doing?”
“Reprimanding you.” I gave him another light whack.
He looked down at his arm, his brow quirking up. “For?”
“Kidnapping me.”
He shook his head. “It’s been five weeks. Get over it.”
“No. You’ve made me miss my show! I only watch one show religiously. Everything else is on Netflix.”
“What is Netflix?”
I stared at him open mouthed. “Seriously? It wouldn’t hurt you to take a break and merge into the world for a little while. You’re like a hermit.”
He gave a chuckle. “One said the same thing.”
I groaned. “I don’t want to know about your sexcapades with her.”
He made a hmph sound, and the corner of his mouth twitched. What I wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking. What amused him?
Was it my…jealousy? No, that couldn’t be the right word, but that was a bit what it felt like when talking about that cunt rag.
Not ten minutes with her and I wanted to scratch her eyes out, which was weird. I was a laid back person, but she rubbed me wrong from the moment we walked in. Then her little show that she was on his dick first…
Once again, I was asking myself why I cared. He was a sadistic bastard killer. What was there to like?
I threw my head back into the headrest. There was nothing redeeming about him, but there was something between us. I couldn’t doubt that. As much as I didn’t want it, as disgusting as it should have been, I’d developed some sort of liking for the man.
Fuck me.
Walking down the streets of Atlanta hand in hand was a bit strange. Good strange or bad strange, I wasn’t sure. There were plenty of times he’d held my hand before, but it’d been with an iron grip compared to the more relaxed one he had.
It was midday on a Friday at noon, the streets bustling with people. We ducked into a small coffee shop and walked to an alcove in the back.
There was a man sitting with his face in his phone, but Six stopped in front of the table and waited.
He looked up and gave us a smile that lit up his face.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Jason,” Six said.
Jason?
The man before us was not what I was expecting. Truth was, during the drive I’d painted a picture in my mind. I expected a pudgy guy with a friendly face and glasses who spent all of his time locked up in a dark, soundproofed room. He’d be pale as the only light he saw was from the computer monitors he stared at daily.
“You’re early, Six.” He stood and held out his hand.
Jason, handler to the CIA’s secret assassin squad, was the opposite of that. First, he was black. Second, he was gorgeous—tall, lean, with bright eyes and a brilliant smile. He stood out.
I should have known not to cliché him based on Hollywood.