Agent 34 (Book 1)

37. Who the hell is this?

Lydia's POV

I had a long list of shit I needed to deal with. However, in the course of a day, that list had changed drastically. Now at the top of that list, was a man by the name of Connor Emerson. I could physically kick his ass out. Problem was, I still couldn't even figure out how the hell he got in, in the first place, which meant he would just keep coming back.

If there was one person on this earth who was even more stubborn than Henri himself, it was Connor. And that was saying something since Henri could be so stubborn it was ridiculous.

It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours and he'd already made himself right at home. Of course, that was no surprise to me. The most irritating thing of all of that, however, was that he decided to make himself at home in my room.

If he'd picked any other damn room, I could just ignore him and pretend he didn't exist. But with him in my room, he made sure I didn't forget he was there.

"As if my life wasn't fucked up enough," I muttered as I pulled the tank top on over my head, shooting a pointed look Connor's way.

Connor, either completely ignored me, or was too consumed in his own little world to even realize I'd spoken.

My bet was on the latter. I was proven right when he finally spoke.

"I'm going to need some of your blood," He said as he took the pen out of his mouth and jotted something down on the notepad on his lap.

I stared at him blankly, waiting for him to look up at me.

Instead, he continued looking down at the notepad with a frown. He tilted his head and strands of his long black hair fell into his face slightly, but he didn't even seem to notice. Finally, when he realized I hadn't responded, he looked up from the notepad to me.

"What?" He questioned.

"I'm not giving you my blood."

"I don't actually recall asking you for it."

I laughed mockingly. "I'd love to see you try and take it."

Connor tossed the notepad and pen on the coffee table and let out a sigh. "Do you want my help or not?"

I pretended to ponder over the question. "Hmm," I finally replied. "I think I'd rather die."

He shot me a deadpan look before rolling his eyes. He removed the pair of glasses he'd been wearing since this morning and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I have more sedatives you know."

I glared at him. "If you think I'm letting you get within three feet of me again, you're sorely mistaken."

He rolled his eyes. "You act like I cut off your arm and stole a kidney while I was at it. It was one little syringe. One little needle."

I continued to glare at him. "Yesterday a needle, tomorrow a bullet."

Connor rolled his eyes once again and shook his head. "Don't take your trust issues out on me. And there's a flaw with your twisted logic."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what would that be?"

"If it's not a water gun, I don't know how to use it."

I stared at him for a beat before anger flared up inside of me. "Are you kidding me?!" I practically shouted. "You still don't know how to use a gun?"

He scoffed and waved me off. "What use do I have for a gun?"

"Seriously? The number of stupid situations you get yourself into-"

"Here's a better question," He interrupted as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. There was a very smug smile on his face. "Why does it sound like you're angry I don't know how to use a gun?"