An Assassin’s Holiday Read Online Free PDF Page B

glass, no matter how much the siren calls.” I close the bottle and put it away, out of temptation’s reach.
    “Does the bottle call to you often?” Robin asks.
    “Sometimes,” I answer truthfully. Telling lies and weaving stories is part of my profession and my talent. But lying to Robin seems wrong. “The bottle will occasionally let you forget, but that’s temporary, and everything you want to forget will be waiting for you once the alcohol is gone. It’s better to remember and deal with it.”
    “So that’s how you manage.” Robin’s gaze flicks over his glass just before a dollop of the amber nectar of the gods slides into his mouth.
    “I never said I managed. Time dulls the memories and pain until it becomes a part of you. I’m sure you know that. You went through much of what I did, if only for a blessedly shorter time. The good and bad level out, and what’s left is an amalgamation of everything.” I stand and carry my glass into the kitchen and place it on the granite countertop next to the sink. “I’m going to go to bed. The apartment is alarmed to the hilt, so don’t touch any windows or exterior doors in the night.” I need some rest and time alone to work through all this.
    “What am I going to do about this contract stuff? I don’t think I can count on two people suddenly developing a conscience.”
    “Tomorrow is Friday. We’ll pay a visit to your boss and get him to straighten things out.” I approach Robin very slowly, like a cat stalking its prey. “I can be very persuasive.”
    “Do I want to know how?”
    “I don’t think so.” I curl my lips in my best approximation of an evil grin. “But I will take care of it.”
    “Why?” Robin asks for the millionth time.
    “I’m starting to think you’re actually a three-year-old.” I stand still, gazing deeply into Robin’s eyes. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you everything. But I can’t now. I haven’t told anyone, and there are places I don’t think I’m ready to go. Memories that are best left bottled up and out of sight.” I find I can’t move, and Robin’s eyes are shining up at me. I want to let myself wish that my Christmas present this year could be a single taste of his lips. I haven’t made a Christmas wish in years, decades. I never allow myself to wish for anything since the last one I made was so utterly ignored. But I make one anyway and then step away just enough so my record of unfulfilled wishes can remain complete and unblemished. “Good night,” I whisper and turn away before I do something I’ll regret.
    I feel Robin watching me the few steps to my room. I know heat when I encounter it, and Robin is practically burning with it—at least, I think so. He seems to be making me doubt and question many things right now. When it comes to matters that don’t involve guns or other forms of lethal force, my judgment is probably severely flawed, so it’s best to walk away in case what I’m thinking is heat for me is simply anger at the situation he’s been in.
    As soon as I close my door, I release the breath I’ve been holding and stand stock-still. After a few minutes I hear Robin go to his room and close the door. Then I get undressed, clean up in my private bathroom, and climb into bed, knowing I should get to sleep but figuring that would be the one thing I would get very little of in the coming hours.

Chapter 3
     
    I T SEEMS Robin didn’t get much sleep either. I must have eventually dropped off because I wake when I hear Robin moving around. The windows are still mostly dark, and snow has begun to fall once again. I push back the covers and pull on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before leaving my room.
    “What are you doing?” I ask Robin when I get into the living room.
    “I thought you could use a little holiday cheer. I couldn’t find any decorations—surprise, surprise—so I made some.”
    “You strung lights on my fake plant.” Damn, I have to suppress a smile. It really does