He's death for hire...
Some people measure life in hours. Days. Weeks. I measure mine in kills. A covert military mission gone wrong robbed me of my memory and any link to my past. This is my existence now. I execute and survive. Nothing more, nothi...
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ISABEL
Rio de Janeiro
Carnaval saturates the streets like a thousand tiny rivers of excess and desire. Heat and music and the ebb and flow of revelers create an undeniable pulse of excitement. It exists in the balmy ocean air, settles on my skin, and sizzles against my nerve endings. I feel like I could drown in it.
"Do you want another drink?"
Kolt's American accent stands out in the cacophony of the open-air bar.
I don't need another drink. The alcohol from the few caipirinhas I've already had flows through my bloodstream, making me horny and impulsive. I meet his gaze and consider where I want the night to go.
"We have to work tomorrow." I'm not sure if that will discourage him, though.
"Then maybe we shouldn't waste all night here."
I smirk. "What are you trying to say?"
"I've been staring at you in that dress all night. And right now, I'm willing to do just about anything to have a couple hours alone with you."
With his soft brown eyes, he rakes me in, betraying his desire. He's smooth-shaven with lightly tanned skin. His short, dirty-blond hair has grown out just enough to curl naturally at the ends—as close to rugged as he'll ever look.
I swirl the ice in my glass. "A couple hours?"
He rests his hand on my lower back and presses his lips to my bare shoulder. "You know I want a lot more than that."
I tense. I care about Kolt. Deep down, I know he cares about me too. But every time I sleep with him, I feel his grip tighten on me as if I'm becoming more his. He doesn't understand I'm not his at all. I can't give him more.
But I can give him tonight. One more night.
"Let's go back to my place," I say, silently promising myself I'll indulge the physical attraction one last time.
His eyes widen a fraction before returning to normal. He gets the attention of the bartender with his broken Portuguese and pays him quickly. He makes no effort to fit in here. Most days he looks like he should be strolling the grounds at Harvard, the very place that shaped him through undergrad and another shaky year in grad school.
Kolt's on vacation from his life. It's been six months. In another six, he'll go back to it, and I know as surely as I know my own name that he intends to bring me back with him. I tick off all the boxes. We have chemistry. If we both ignored my inability to love him, I could fit into his life nicely. He's rich and driven, and every time he looks at me, I know what he sees. A pretty fuck. A prize to be won. A match.
But I'm not on vacation. I'm running away. The urge to thrust myself into a future unknown was so powerful, it landed me in Rio. In the center of this chaos is exactly where I want to be—until I can find the truth. But the truth is like this overwhelming place. It's much easier to get lost than to ever find what you're looking for.
