"I know. But I don't have to like it." She gives me a little smile but it doesn't reach her eyes.
I move even closer to her until she is pressed up tight against me and take her chin in my hand so I can tilt her face up. I rub my lips across hers in something that feels deeper than a kiss. "I'll come back."
"I'll wait up."
Nothing she could have said to me would have been more perfect. I never had someone wait up for me before. I never had someone make that promise to me and I like the fact that she's the one making it. Even as fucked up and dirty as I am she still gets whatever firsts I have left in life. I run the palm of my hand over her cheek before I pull her close and kiss her deeply. Then I break away and walk out the door. It's the only way I am going to be able to leave her.
I know what I'll see if I turn around but I do it any fucking way. My heart cracks at the sad look on her face. She's not an ice queen now. I can read her worry and fear and the pain of being left behind while someone you care about goes off to do dangerous necessary things. Her brown eyes swim with unshed tears but she doesn't let one of them fall. She gives me a little wave as we load up and drive away.
The pain this causes Kat is enough to make me furious. She should have never had to experience this. I made a fucking choice not to become involved in this life again and these fucking assholes pulled me back in. I'm madder and madder the longer I sit in silence thinking about the kind of life Kat deserves, the kind of life I want to be able to give her. The kind of life I can give her if these fuckers hadn't burst in on our lives. By the time the van stops to let us out I am one more pissed off Russian.
We all hop out and prepare to take action as quickly as needed. From the roof of the building next to the warehouse a shadow moves. Most wouldn't notice it but I'm not most. I see everything. On the shared com we hear a voice tell Archer how many men are in the building and what the weakest exit is. It also confirms that he will be looking for any of the men who might think of running. This hit has to be fast and hard for it to work. If Johnson gets any idea Starling is being picked up he's a dead man. Once everyone is in position Archer gives the command and we start closing in on the warehouse.
I go in with Ace. We break one of the skylights and repel in with guns drawn. I take out two guys before my feet hit the ground. Another of Jim's men take out a guy close to me and Ace that tried to sneak up on us while we released our clips one-handed. I spot Starling and his favorite lackey. He's one of the men that shot the café up.
I go straight for them. The right-hand man is mine. He sees me coming and meets me halfway. I hear Archer over the coms telling everyone to eye Starling so he doesn't try to call for help. The guy in front of me is good and just as fast as I am. He also has about fifty pounds of muscle and three inches on me. In height anyway.
He bars my arm so I have to either drop the gun or risk breaking my arm. When my gun hits the floor the smug son of a bitch laughs. He doesn't understand the mistake he just made. I excel at hand to hand. It's what kept me alive in prison. In hand to hand, you have to use what is right in front of you, constantly changing and adapting your plan of attack.
When I was in prison the first month there one of the harder higher-ups found out I worked for the government. The men who put me in thought with people knowing this the others in the prison would kill me and they wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. But you don't put dark things in the dark and not expect them to grow.
These men let this guy know who I was and what I used to do for a living and he came after me just like they thought he would. I was expecting something all month long and when I walked into the cafeteria that morning that same sense that told me something was off in the café moments before the shooting started told me today was the day.
The guards were worthless; they weren't going to risk their lives to break up an inmate fight. This was the place they put the worst of the worst. When the guy comes towards me he waited until the last minute to pull the makeshift knife he brought with him. I blocked his first attack with my food tray and then it was on. The guy had two friends that thought they were going to help him. I broke the first one's arm when he came running at me and used his broken arm to block the first guy's second attempt to cut me.
I distracted the other one by slamming his head down on the table hard enough to cause permanent damage, or so I was told later. The first attacker got me in the process right across the bottom of my back but not deep enough to make it matter so when I went after him I took out all of the rage and pain and grief I felt on him. I kicked my tray up off the floor and once it was in my hands I hit the guy so hard with it, it broke in two. Then I used the two pieces to fuck the guy up.
I was told later that the guy was unrecognizable by the time I was finished with him. Stupid fucker. That was the first time I spent time in solitary but it wasn't the last. The Bratva, the Russian mob, noticed and decided they could use a man like me and I could use the protection. It was a mutual arrangement that suited me just fine. They understood I wasn't going to be a part of their family and I understood their loyalty only lasted until someone better than me came along. But no one ever did. I was and still am the best.
The guy moves towards me and this time I let him come a little closer than last time. I use the time I take to play with the guy to also learn how he moves and how he thinks. By the time the guy is coming at me again with his little knife drawn I give him my back and feel the blade graze my skin, taking me back to that morning in the prison. I turn using the guy's own back to build momentum before I swing around and bust him in the nose. We separate but I have his knife now and he has tears in his eyes from the broken nose.
"Why do all this man? We looked you up; we know you are one bad day from being like us. Why not just walk away from all of this." I let him make another go for it taking the hit he gives me to the wound in my back and lean into the pain using it to fuel my anger.
"You should've just stayed gone. No one would have looked too hard for you, not with your reputation. Is the pussy really worth all this?"
And the cold red rage that fills me sometimes when I am fighting like this blinds me to everything but the shit bag in front of me, who is already dead for talking about my Kat like he has. I go for him and block his punch hard enough I break a couple knuckles. I grab him and pull him close to me so I can whisper in his ear.
"It's worth dying for." I use his own knife to make quick jabs into his eyeball, "She's worth dying for."
I say the words loud enough Starling, who has been watching all of this, can hear me. The guy's dead before he hits the floor.
I start walking towards Starling. I've had enough. This is time I could be home with my kitten. Starling is not a big guy. He may be just an inch under me and doesn't have nearly the muscle mass the last guy had. The dumb son of a bitch still pulls a knife and lashes out. I block it with my arm and say I prayer for thick bracers. I reach up and grab the wrist of the hand he has the knife in and twist and bend it back until I am met with a satisfying snap. Starling drops the knife and I hear yelling in my com.