Page 12 of The Sniper
“I took the shot,” he said flatly.
His voice was low. Rough. Deep in a way that made my chest tighten.
“You killed him.”
His jaw ticked once. “I ended a threat.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.”
I shook my head. “You’re not a cop.”
“No.”
“You’re not military either.”
“Not anymore.”
“Then what are you?”
He didn’t speak.
I don’t know what I expected—an apology, maybe, or at least a hint of remorse. But there was nothing. Just that steady stare and the hum of tension between us.
“You’re not supposed to scare me,” I whispered.
But he did. Lord help me, he did.
Everything about him felt dangerous. Unforgiving. He looked like violence wrapped in a man's skin. And yet?—
Yet I didn’t move away.
“You should go,” I said, even though I didn’t mean it.
“I will.”
“Now.”
“In a minute.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he stepped forward, closing the space between us in one smooth motion. I inhaled sharply, caught the scent of rain and smoke and something earthy.
“I had you in my scope,” he said, voice low enough to make my skin prickle. “I watched you stand there when everyone else hid. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t scream. You looked him in the eye.”
I swallowed. “I had to.”
He shook his head. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t. But you did it, anyway.”
I should’ve stepped back.
Should’ve told him I was a Christian woman.
Should’ve said something about boundaries, about decency, about how I didn’t let strange men get this close?—
But I didn’t say a word. And then, without asking, without warning?—
He kissed me.
