Page 14 of Iron Princess
“I know. I’m not an idiot. Illegal jobs pay more than legal ones, so he takes those more often than not.”
“And that bothers you?”
“It’s not my life or my decision. That’s on Rafe.” I pause. “But if it were your brother, wouldn’t it bother—” I cut my question off because I realize it’s a ridiculous thing to ask a hit man.
Saxon pretends he doesn’t notice. “Ransom took a big job. What, exactly, we don’t know yet, but he fucked the wrong people over. The kind of people you don’t want to fuck over because you won’t live to tell about it.”
My brain races, and fear for Rafe takes up residence all the way to the marrow of my bones. “Why would he risk screwing someone over? He should know better. He told me it was big, so it’s not like he didn’t know.”
“Don’t know, but I’m hoping he had a good fucking reason.”
Quietly, I say, “He missed my birthday. He swore he wouldn’t miss it, and he did. He might not be the most upstanding person in the world, but he’s all I have. And he always keeps his word.”
Once again, I feel Saxon’s eyes on me.
“When was your birthday?”
Even though I can’t look down and see anything because of this dumb hat, my chin drops to my chest. “Today,” I whisper.
“Shit. You’re kidding.”
I shake my head. “No. Happy freaking birthday to me.”
I hate sounding like I’m throwing a pity party, but it can’t be helped. Other than Keira’s text this morning, not a single other soul on this planet has wished me happy birthday. How patheticis that?
“Jesus, I’m sorry, Temperance.”
“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does besides making sure Rafe is okay. So, whatever I need to do to make that happen, Saxon, I’ll do it.”
I stop for a moment and think.
“Is that even your real name?”
8
Kane
Saxon ... the alias I picked out of a damn history book in Jeremiah’s back room while I waited for the go-ahead to pull the trigger on my first kill not sanctioned by the US government. I thought it sounded cool at the time—thought all of it sounded like a good idea—but I was a twenty-one-year-old punk who didn’t know shit.
For the first time in a long time, I hate the name I chose. I don’t want to hear it on her lips.
Only two people who know I’m alive know my real name, and I didn’t realize until right now how much I want to hear someone say it after going so long without. I don’t want this woman calling me by the same name killers and criminals use. I sure as hell don’t want her saying it while I’m inside her.
“Kane.”
As soon as I say it aloud, I know I should want to take it back. She could use it against me. Somehow find out who I am. Dredge up my past and my true identity, which need to stay buried. She has her hacker friend, and telling Temperance the truth makes me a fucking idiot.
“Kane.” She tries it out, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like the wrong choice. It feels like the best choice I’ve made in a long damn time. “I like it.”
I don’t know why her approval matters to me, but that feels good too.
What the hell is wrong with me?I knew she’d fucked my world upside down before, just by walking into that office scene at the club, but I didn’t realize how much until now.
I like this girl.
The implications of that are inconceivable. I don’t get to have relationships like normal people. I’m not normal. I’ve never had that luxury. Sure, I could move onto a suburban block and wave to my neighbors as they leave for work in the morning, but after a while, they’ll ask too many questions and I’ll have to walk away and never look back, and that kind of disappearance raises too many questions. So I keep to myself. It’s safer. Easier.
“Where are you taking me, Kane?”
