Chapter 75: Codename: Aconite Chapter Twenty-Five

Rubbing my eyes, I shuffle my feet across my carpeted living room and laminated dining room, coming to a halt in my kitchen doorway. My tired eyes become completely alert along with my fuzzy brain as I rake in the sight of the 6’2” muscular work of art whisking a bowl of eggs at my kitchen island. Shirtless, I might add.

He looks right at home, humming to himself while his muscles flex with every minute movement he makes. His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, but from here, the kitchen island is blocking my view of the goods I was hoping to ogle. However, I can't help the pang of guilt I feel when I take in the ugly knife wound to his abdomen. The bruising around the wound looks ghastly and the edges don't look as healthy as they should for over a month's worth of healing. But deadly poisons will do that to you. Despite that, he looks right at home. The sun streaming in through the Venetian blinds dances across his muscular frame, putting a spotlight on his many tattoos. I find myself examining each of them eager to understand their deeper meanings. He turns around and adds the whisked eggs to a heated pan as I now let my eyes dip down the curves of his back.

I lean against the door frame, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I admire his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and firm ass. I’ve felt it but haven’t had the pleasure of admiring it up close. At least not yet. If you’d told me a month ago the man I was sent to kill would try to kill me and then become my roommate, I’d have said you needed to get off the pipe. But here Silas stands, and it truly is bizarre how perfectly he fits.

Up until the invasion of my relatives, I was the only one to ever cook in here. Now there’s my new roommate who seems to be earning his keep by cooking me meals. Not a bad trade all things considered.

“Are you going to stand there all day staring at my ass?” Comes Silas’ voice, pulling me to my senses.

“I have nothing else to do,” I say nonchalantly.

He smiles back at me. “Pull up a stool; breakfast is almost ready.”

“And what is on the menu this morning?” I ask, walking over and taking a seat at the island.

He turns and proceeds to plate up scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and pours us two red-looking smoothies. “Enjoy,” he announces, sitting beside me.

I eye the plate of food hungrily and begin to eat, savouring each warm mouthful. I stare down at the eggs on my plate. They’re delicious, but there’s something different about them. “What did you do to the eggs?”

“I didn’t poison them if that’s what you’re wondering,” he jokes while taking a sip of his smoothie.

I snort. “You’d be an idiot to try that on me.”

“It’s siracha.”

I stare at him in surprise. “You put siracha in the eggs?”

“I think it gives it a little sweetness and bite,” he says proudly.

“I’ve never tried that until now, but I like it,” I say in approval while taking another bite.

“Praise from you? I’m honoured,” he teases.

“I give praise where praise is due,” I say as I take a sip of my drink. Mmm, strawberry. We slip into a comfortable silence as we enjoy our breakfast, but it’s not long before Silas is breaking it.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t had any visitors while I’ve been here.”

“I’m a private person.”

“Just surprised I haven’t seen a boyfriend showing up,” he tries to say offhandedly, but he’s not as sly as he thinks he is.

“Whether I have or do not have a boyfriend, is none of your concern,” I say curtly.

His jaw ticks ever so slightly. “As much as I might want you, I’m not keen on helping someone cheat. I have to draw a line to how many sins I’ll commit in a lifetime, and being an assassin means I’m pretty maxed out. I don’t take what belongs to someone else.”

I point my fork at him, “Firstly, I do not belong to anyone. I’m not a piece of property or a slab of meat. The only person who owns me is me, so get that straight. Secondly,” I begin before sighing in surrender. It’s stupid to snap at him for being against infidelity. It’s one of my button issues too. “I’m not in a relationship, okay? Infidelity has never sat right with me,” I admit before returning to my food.

“Can I ask why?”

“That kind of betrayal leaves someone with a lasting pain they’ll never forget. I’d rather just kill someone and get it over and done with.”

“Said by the woman who has one of the most painful killing methods known to man,” he snorts.

I shrug. “Some people deserve a bit of pain. At least from my experience.”

He nods as if accepting my words. “We were probably both supposed to die, you know,” he says offhandedly. I look up at him. “Come on, two assassins sent to kill each other, but their identities kept from one another. It’s a well-plotted-out double murder. We’re just lucky to be alive.”

“I think that’s why I was attacked in my hotel room,” I add.

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly, we were meant to kill each other. I returned to the hotel and reported in that I had completed the mission because I believed I had. Then a few minutes later there’s a knock at the door and another assassin is trying to cut off my head,” I say, gesturing to the ugly wound around my neck.

Silas reaches up and slides his hand around the back of my neck, gingerly tracing his thumb along the wound causing me to suppress a shiver. It’s amazing how someone so deadly, can have such a gentle touch.

“It’s healing nicely. But you’re right, the timing isn’t a coincidence. Chances are your client had this guy on standby and when you called him, he gave him the green light,” he says in agreement.

“The question is, why didn’t anyone come after you? I was a loose end they tried to clean up and failed at. You survived and shot me. So why didn’t anyone come after you to finish the job?” I ask curiously.

“I never reached out to my contact,” he admits, surprising me. He notices my face and responds accordingly. “I was clearly set up and nearly offed because of it. I wasn’t going to call the person involved in the plot to let them know I’d survived. It was better to play dead, and since I’m still alive and no one apart from you has tried to off me, I think my plan is working,” he says smugly. “I did, however, try to track down my contact in secret and I couldn’t. It was like he was a ghost, he just completely vanished.”

“That’s pretty much the same for me. I tried to run background on Armand, and while I found all your basic stuff, that was all I found. No dirt, no nothing, it was all so…”

“Superficial?”

“Yeah! Like someone went to great lengths to create a fake identity in case it was ever looked into, but not enough to prove to anyone digging deeper that this person has a real life. They’re just a name in the system, really, and those aren’t hard to fake.”

“They have to be working for the same guy. The question is, how the hell do we find them and, in turn, find the guy behind all of this? I mean, we’ve been going over past contracts, and so far none of them overlap, so it can’t be a disgruntled client,” he says dubiously.

I nod. “I agree with you there.”

When we finish eating, I get up and rinse our plates and put them in the dishwasher when an idea dawns on me.

“Credit Suisse,” I say.

“What?” he asks in confusion.

“I refused to complete our transaction in cash, and instead, requested a wire transfer through Credit Suisse. If we follow the transaction trail, that could lead us back to Armand, and back to the mastermind behind our murder plot,” I say with excitement.

“You want to hack into the most secure bank in the world?” he asks in disbelief.

I wave my hand at him, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He relaxes. “Good, because I was going to say–”

“I have a contact who works at the bank. I’ll just call in a favour,” I say, casually interrupting him.

“How many contacts do you have?” he asks incredulously.

“How many contacts do you have?” I ask back.

He purses his lips. “Good point. Okay, call your contact and let’s see if they can get us those account details. I’m going to go and shower.”

“Don’t you dare use all the hot water. I had a freezing cold shower yesterday,” I grumble.

“I know. I enjoyed the after-effects poking through the fabric of your shirt,” he smirks, getting up and walking out of the kitchen.

I take a calming breath and eye the knives sitting patiently in the knife block on the bench. Just one of those thrown right at his back would solve all my problems, and no one would ever know. He’d make a wonderful fertiliser for my plants. He’d also make good fertiliser for my ovaries, but let’s not go there.