10.
Did I mention I'm an assassin?
I speak seventeen languages. They are: Spanish, English, French, Italian, Swahili, Farsi, Greek, Russian, Portuguese, German, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Swiss, Celtic, Irish, and Swedish. My Finnish and Hungarian are also getting pretty good.
I'm an assassin.
I've trained since I was young to be an assassin. At Blackthorne, I always excelled. At first, it was to try to earn the approval of a dad that never cared for me, but it eventually turned into something I wanted to do. I wanted to succeed and be the best ever. I wanted people to remember my name.
I've killed people.
I still remember my first kill. He was the leader of a terrorist group, and he had looked so scared when I pointed the gun at him. I felt just as scared as him as I pulled the trigger and watched the life go out of his eyes. I felt even more scared for days afterward, but it eventually faded into a kind of numbing pain.
I'm a killer.
A murdered.
A liar.
A catastrophe.
A monster.
Do I like it? Do you want an honest answer? If you do –and even if you don't- the answer is: sometimes. Sometimes I like the feeling of power. I like the confidence that it gives me. I like fading into the night and virtually being invisible. That's why they send me. They could send anyone to blow him up, but they want the killings to look like accidents or like inside jobs. I'm sent to blend in and then strike when the time is right. And I'm good at what I do.
But, I hate watching someone die. I have to stay just to make sure they really do die, and I hate when I feel for their pulse and there isn't one. I hate when I find out –or know beforehand- that the person I'm killing has a family. I know, as I watch the life drain out of the person I've killed, that sometime later, someone else will be hurting for that person. Because they cared for that person and it hurt them.
Sometimes I wondered how many people I'd hurt, but it did no good. I always ended up thinking in circles until my head began to hurt and I had to stop. I didn't like to think about me being the cause of pain for –possibly and probably- hundreds of people. It wasn't a good feeling.
Katie stirred in my arms and brought me out of my train of thought. I looked down at her; she was still asleep, but her expression was pained, even in sleep. I disentangled myself from her and went to get her a pill and a glass of water. It had been three days since her accident, and it was her first night home. I had contacted Jonas as soon as he could and he fabricated another mission for me; one that was going to take me ten days.
I gently woke Katie up by kissing her forehead. "Katie."
She stirred and moaned softly. "What?"
"You need to take another pill."
She gratefully accepted the pill and the glass of water. "Thanks."
"Sure."
Her parents had been antsy about me staying the night, but Katie had begged and what were we going to be able to do while she had a broken arm, anyway? We had agreed to keep the door open, but even then her parents stayed up until almost ten-thirty before finally going to bed. I, on the other hand, had stayed awake. I had been on jobs where I had to stay awake all night, watching my target or doing a stake out. I was used to lack of sleep.
Katie handed me the glass of water and I put it on her bedside table. "How are you feeling?" Some times were worse than others.
She forced a smile for me. "Just waiting for the painkiller to kick in. It hurts pretty bad." She grimaced when she moved slightly and I flinched, feeling pain for her. I hated seeing her in pain and I wished more than anything in the world that there was something I could do for her. I wished that I could take her pain away. But, all I could do was stay with her like she'd asked.
"I'm sorry," I whispered as I stroked her soft hair gently. Her mother had helped her take a shower earlier, and even with help I could hear her scream occasionally from the pain. Her hair was soft and smelled as good as ever; one thing that hadn't changed. Another was her bright green eyes; they were as beautiful and luminous as ever.
"I know," she replied.
I stroked her hair and it was silent for a few minutes. I'd honestly thought that she'd fallen asleep until she said, "Grant?"
"Hmm?" I asked.
"Can you do something for me?"
Anything in the world. Whatever you want. Name it; I'll find a way. "Of course."
"Kiss me."
I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. "Are you sure?"
"Please?"
She's begging you to kiss her, idiot! Kiss her! "Will it hurt your arm at all?"
"I'll try not to move," she replied.
Careful to avoid any possible contact with her arm, I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft and eager against mine. I pulled away after a few seconds and asked, "Does it hurt?"
She shook her head. "It helps."
I kissed her again, lacing the fingers of one hand through her hair. She laid perfectly still, though she kissed me back. I pulled away and wrapped her in my arms carefully so that it wouldn't hurt her arm. She leaned her head up to kiss my neck and whispered. "I love you, Grant."
"I love you, too, Katie."
I love you, Grant.
Did I mention I'm an assassin?