Andrew Britton - The Assassin

She nodded once, but didn’t respond. He realized she was distracted, lost in thought. “Ryan, what’s going to happen tomorrow? What am I supposed to say to Rudaki?”

“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “This is not how I pictured things working out.”

“Why would he talk to me? What could I possibly say to make him give up the truth?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been thinking about it for hours, but we’ll just have to see how it plays out. Honestly, I’m too tired to think anymore.”

“I feel the same way.”

She moved up next to him and leaned against the headboard. They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither finding anything to say. Eventually, he heard her voice in the dark. “I stayed downstairs when you came up.” She hesitated. “You know, talking to Julie.”

Kealey instantly went on guard, but he didn’t speak.

“She told me about the last time you were here. With Katie, I mean.”

She waited for a reaction, but it didn’t come. “Did you ever-”

“Naomi, what do you want from me?”

She froze at the bitter, angry tone of his voice. His mood had changed without warning, like the flip of a switch. As the shock wore off, she realized she had made a huge mistake. She swung her feet to the floor, intent on getting out of the room, hoping she could make it to the door without embarrassing herself further. Before she could take the first step, though, she felt his hand reach out to lightly grip her arm.

“Wait… I’m sorry.” He was instantly repentant. “I didn’t mean that. Don’t go.”

She paused, unsure of her next move. Finally, she retook her place at his side, her mind racing, body trembling. Something told her it would be better to stay quiet, so she sat back and struggled to restrain her many questions.

“I’ve never talked about it,” he said. “Not with anyone. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she assured him softly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, I want to tell you.” He hesitated, then said, “I need to tell you.”

She waited for what seemed like an eternity, staring at her hands, too nervous to look at his face. Finally, she heard his voice in the dark. From his distant tone, she could tell he was no longer there by her side, but instead reliving that terrible night on the coast of Maine.

“It was late when I got back. There was a hell of a storm, and the roads were…”

He trailed off inexplicably. “After everything that happened, all I could think about was seeing her. I mean, it was finally over. I knew Vanderveen wasn’t dead. We all knew that, but we stopped him in Washington, and that seemed to be good enough at the time. I thought we’d get a second chance, you know? That he’d show up in Africa or Europe and we’d go after him and finish it. But then I walked in that very same night and saw him standing there, with the knife to her throat, and I just… I just couldn’t believe it.”

He fell silent, and after another lengthy pause, he said, “I’ve never seen her grave, Naomi. I killed her, and I’ve never even seen her grave.”

She finally looked up, aware of the bottomless pain in his voice. She knew he couldn’t say anything more. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his face damp. Seeing this, she felt a sudden ache in her chest, and she couldn’t stop herself. She gently wiped away his tears with the back of her hand and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t try to stop her, but he didn’t respond, either.

They stayed that way for a very long time. Naomi couldn’t be sure of what she was seeing; she didn’t know how much was grief and how much was guilt. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that he was finally letting it go. His shoulders were shaking, the tears running free. She felt a strange sense of pride that he had chosen her, that he was willing to show her the things he had buried inside for nearly a year. Eventually, though, he lifted his head and looked away, as though embarrassed by his show of emotion. She desperately tried to think of something to say, anything to fill the silence. She didn’t want him to feel ashamed of the tears he had shed. They were a long time in coming.

“It’s not your fault, Ryan. You didn’t kill her, and you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I couldn’t protect her,” he mumbled. “I failed her when she needed me most. The look in her eyes at the end was just…”

Naomi was shaken by his words, but she tried not to show it. She released him and pulled away, resting a light hand on his arm. “Ryan, look at me.” He kept his head down for a long time, obviously struggling with some inner turmoil. Finally, he looked up, and their eyes met.

“I know how much she meant to you, but you’ve suffered enough. You’ve made mistakes in the past… I understand that, but everyone makes mistakes, and you’ve made up for yours a thousand times over. How many lives did you save last year? How many times have you saved my life?” She reached up and touched his face, her expression softening. “You’ve never let me down, and I know you never will. I trust you completely.”

She looked away and let her hand fall to her side. Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious. “I don’t know if that means anything to you, but-”

“Of course it means something, Naomi.” She lifted her gaze and saw that something had changed in his face. “It means more than you probably know.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, the tension building steadily. Then she found herself shifting forward. Her body seemed to be moving of its own accord as she rested a hand on his bare chest, her heart thumping wildly. He put his hand over hers as their lips met, his left arm sliding around her waist. She moved forward and straddled his hips, kissing him harder, digging her fingers into his chest. Naomi knew she was being too aggressive, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She had wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening.

She forced herself to slow down, to prolong the moment. She brushed her fingertips over his bare skin, careful to avoid the closed wound on the left side of his abdomen. Ryan sat up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her lips to his, aware of him rising beneath her. He lifted the T-shirt over her head, easing the fabric over the bandages on her left shoulder. She closed her eyes as his hands drifted down to her lean waist, moving around to the curves of her back. She sucked in her breath as his head dipped to her small, firm breasts, his left hand touching her inner thigh, his right sliding under her hair, stroking the base of her neck.

They finished undressing each other. Naomi lay back and closed her eyes, lost in the moment. She let out a long, low moan when he entered her, lifting her hips to his body. It was the first time in a long time for both of them, and it couldn’t last; they came quickly and in unison, their limbs intertwined, fingers wrapped in each other’s hair. When it was over, she rested her head on his shoulder and let out a slow, shaky sigh. She was pleasantly out of breath. She had never felt happier, more content, but as the minutes passed, her brain kicked back into gear. She couldn’t help but wonder what was coming next. Like it or not, everything had just gotten a lot more complicated.

As if reading her thoughts, Ryan said, “This could be tricky.”

“Mmm.” She was still trying to catch her breath. “I always…”

“What?”

“Wondered if you had an interest,” she finished lamely.

By way of response, he lifted her chin and kissed her softly. She responded immediately, and they made love for the second time, their bodies moving in slow, simple harmony. The act carried less urgency than it had the first time, but no less desire. Twenty minutes after they started, Naomi couldn’t hold on any longer. She cried out, then caught herself and tried to restrain her passion, aware of the thin walls that surrounded them. When they were done, they were both too tired to consider things further. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and for the moment, the trials that awaited them the following day were forgotten entirely.