Read Online Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) by S Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S Anderson
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that there is a reason I’m assigned to protect you, don’t you?”
He shoves my hand away, sniffing when the faintest line of blood drips from his right nostril. “You do get that we just fuck each other, yeah?”
His words are meant to be harsh, but I have thick skin. “No, we don’t. You do, but I have a job to do. And you willingly killing yourself isn’t going to happen on my shift.”
He makes a sound that I assume is a laugh. He’s so stoned that nothing I say will bring him down to reality. He’s untouchable. I hate him like this. “You take your job too seriously. You have it easy. Stand guard and carry a gun and no one cares.”
He’s rambling, and it’s grating my nerves. I remind myself he thinks I’m just a security guard for the government. He thinks I’m a step down from Secret Service. He doesn’t know my codename is Nightshade.
He doesn’t know I kill people for a living.
I know how easy it would be for someone to slip in and end his life.
“No one is going to kill me, Penelope. I’m not worth the bullet.”
I wish I could agree with him. His father is more the political target, but the best way to get someone to do what you want is to use the ones they love against them.
Nikolai taught me that.
“That doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to keep you alive.”
“Alive,” he shouts, waving his hands around like a lunatic. “That’s the point. I live . I have a life that you’re not a part of. This shit,” he says waving toward the sinks, “is nothing. I’ve been using since I was sixteen. You know that. You’ve seen me do it before. Why are being such a bitch about it tonight?”
I honestly don’t know. His addictions aren’t a secret to me—or to anyone else in the world, really. Maybe that’s why. I’ve seen him snort and smoke just about everything he can get his hands on, true, but he’s always done it in the privacy of his hotel room and with just me in attendance.
He’s never been this openly reckless before on my watch.
“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. Part of me hopes someday he shoves shit up his nose that someone poisoned. It would certainly prove my point. “I’m just on edge and… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
His lips vibrate as he exhales. His shoulders are slack, and his eyes are glassy as he steps toward me. He takes my hand, pushing the end of his sleeve up to reveal the purple bruise settling into his skin. “I like getting hurt,” he whispers in my ear.
Warmth spreads along the base of my spine.
That settles it.
I’m sick.
“You know what would be awesome?”
We’re in Marko’s limo, heading back to his hotel. The party ended an hour ago, but Marko convinced the band to keep playing so he and I could dance privately for a while.
There’s seriously nothing the man can’t get if he wants it bad enough.
“What would be awesome?” I ask, slurping from my twenty ounce soda. He made his driver find the closest Burger King and order us burgers and fries for dinner.
We sit on the floor of the limo, the food spread out between us like a picnic.
He chows down on his second Whopper while I dip some fries in buffalo sauce. “If they remade King Kong.”
I choke on my fries. He slaps my back, laughing at me more than helping.
“They remade it a few years ago, remember? That horrible version that the guy who made Lord of the Rings directed.”
He steals my buffalo sauce and gives me a look. “How does a woman like you have time to keep up with movies?”
I shrug. “I spend a lot of time in hotel rooms. I can charge my rentals to work.”
“And you waste time watching that garbage and not porn?”
I throw two fries at his face.
He picks them up and eats them before polishing off the rest of his burger.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say. “Why would remaking a movie that’s already been remade be awesome?”
He steals my soda and gulps some down before answering. “Because we just
He shoves my hand away, sniffing when the faintest line of blood drips from his right nostril. “You do get that we just fuck each other, yeah?”
His words are meant to be harsh, but I have thick skin. “No, we don’t. You do, but I have a job to do. And you willingly killing yourself isn’t going to happen on my shift.”
He makes a sound that I assume is a laugh. He’s so stoned that nothing I say will bring him down to reality. He’s untouchable. I hate him like this. “You take your job too seriously. You have it easy. Stand guard and carry a gun and no one cares.”
He’s rambling, and it’s grating my nerves. I remind myself he thinks I’m just a security guard for the government. He thinks I’m a step down from Secret Service. He doesn’t know my codename is Nightshade.
He doesn’t know I kill people for a living.
I know how easy it would be for someone to slip in and end his life.
“No one is going to kill me, Penelope. I’m not worth the bullet.”
I wish I could agree with him. His father is more the political target, but the best way to get someone to do what you want is to use the ones they love against them.
Nikolai taught me that.
“That doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to keep you alive.”
“Alive,” he shouts, waving his hands around like a lunatic. “That’s the point. I live . I have a life that you’re not a part of. This shit,” he says waving toward the sinks, “is nothing. I’ve been using since I was sixteen. You know that. You’ve seen me do it before. Why are being such a bitch about it tonight?”
I honestly don’t know. His addictions aren’t a secret to me—or to anyone else in the world, really. Maybe that’s why. I’ve seen him snort and smoke just about everything he can get his hands on, true, but he’s always done it in the privacy of his hotel room and with just me in attendance.
He’s never been this openly reckless before on my watch.
“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. Part of me hopes someday he shoves shit up his nose that someone poisoned. It would certainly prove my point. “I’m just on edge and… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
His lips vibrate as he exhales. His shoulders are slack, and his eyes are glassy as he steps toward me. He takes my hand, pushing the end of his sleeve up to reveal the purple bruise settling into his skin. “I like getting hurt,” he whispers in my ear.
Warmth spreads along the base of my spine.
That settles it.
I’m sick.
“You know what would be awesome?”
We’re in Marko’s limo, heading back to his hotel. The party ended an hour ago, but Marko convinced the band to keep playing so he and I could dance privately for a while.
There’s seriously nothing the man can’t get if he wants it bad enough.
“What would be awesome?” I ask, slurping from my twenty ounce soda. He made his driver find the closest Burger King and order us burgers and fries for dinner.
We sit on the floor of the limo, the food spread out between us like a picnic.
He chows down on his second Whopper while I dip some fries in buffalo sauce. “If they remade King Kong.”
I choke on my fries. He slaps my back, laughing at me more than helping.
“They remade it a few years ago, remember? That horrible version that the guy who made Lord of the Rings directed.”
He steals my buffalo sauce and gives me a look. “How does a woman like you have time to keep up with movies?”
I shrug. “I spend a lot of time in hotel rooms. I can charge my rentals to work.”
“And you waste time watching that garbage and not porn?”
I throw two fries at his face.
He picks them up and eats them before polishing off the rest of his burger.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say. “Why would remaking a movie that’s already been remade be awesome?”
He steals my soda and gulps some down before answering. “Because we just
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