by A. K. Koonce
I growl quietly in frustration, and Tylin raises an eyebrow at me from his place by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. I’m surprised he’s letting me take the lead, but I’m also suspicious as fuck. Is he waiting on me to fail? Like hell.
“You’re parents hired us to find you. They’re worried.” Allison drops her hand a few inches, the magic in them faltering as her eyes flicker through emotions that aren’t dead inside of her yet. Good. I’m finally making progress. “Your friend. Cassie wouldn’t have wanted you to give up everything you’ve worked for… for this.” I wave toward the bed, and she knows that I know what she was about to accomplish just minutes earlier in the name of the League.
I wonder what petty thing this man did in his life to be on the hit list for the League.
She lets out a long, low breath and drops her hand back to her side, her eyes slightly watery. I’m a fucking genius. Should have taken a job on the stage. Or as a lawyer. I’m apparently amazingly persuasive.
I give myself a mental pat on the back and Tylin’s lips twitch as though he’s reading my thoughts, and suddenly I’m very freaking worried that he can. Is this a superpower he hasn’t shared with me yet? It’s not hard to imagine that Tylin’s been keeping pertinent information close to the vest, and now I want to analyze any thought I’ve ever had around him.
Tylin has a small dick. I shout mentally. When he doesn’t respond, I smile to myself. It’s not true. Tylin’s dick is impressive. Not scary big like Jameson’s, but perfectly sculpted in a way that makes me want to take it for a ride. If my panties have any say in the matter, they agree given their damp status.
I’ve got to get out of this club and stay focused.
I turn my attention back to Allison just as Tylin shoots me a wink.
The fucker.
“You’re not like the others.” Her suspicious gaze darts between us. “Why are you talking me out of this? Are you really assassins?” She waves a hand between the man on the bed and herself.
I look to Tylin, but he just stands on the other side of the room like a fucking statue. Waiting. For me.
I shrug. “We’re not part of the League anymore.”
“The Lost Five?” she whispers quietly to herself, but obviously we all hear her.
That’s not the first time I’ve heard the nickname for our crew. Derek said the same thing just the other day. The Three Amigos. The Fantastic Four. The Lost Five?
Eh. We’ll have to work on it.
An amused smile tilts one corner of my lips. “At your service. So, you’ve heard of us?”
“Who hasn’t. You know there’s a huge target on all of you, don’t you?” It’s almost a warning, no malice slices through the words.
Tylin, Rory, and Mason all wear a look of pride at being recognized, and I want to roll my eyes at the macho manliness—the sheer testosterone—that they’re emitting.
The one person who’s missing from our little group reminds me of that target that’s on our back. My heart sinks a little.
I wipe the painful thought of him from my mind and cling to the look of confidence I’m holding.
“We’re aware.” Short. Simple. Looks like I’m the only one who’s going to steer this conversation.
Her head shakes back and forth like she can’t quite understand how cavalier I’m acting about it, but when her amber eyes meet my blue ones something clicks in place. She hasn’t tried to kill us. Talking to us is a death sentence for her.
This man was probably her first assigned kill.
“You’re not joining them.” My eyes narrow and I cross my arms over my chest, channeling my best Tylin.
“I’m adopted. Did your research tell you that?” Her hands meet her hips and I decide I like this chick. She’s not easily intimidated. My kind of girl.
My gaze flicks to Tylin who offers me a near imperceptible shake of his head. One sharp movement to the negative.
“All right,” I tell Allison, “I’ll bite. No. We didn’t look into that aspect of your background. Want to tell me why it’s relevant?”
“My mother and father adopted me. I always wondered where I came from. I’m sure someone with your background can relate.” Her head tips to the side, her brown hair flowing off her shoulder. Her eyes are penetrating, and I’ll admit, she’s got my full fucking attention.
“Your point?” There’s a hardness to my voice now that would make Jameson proud. I wince from the thought of his name but keep my focus on the girl.
“My best friend died.” And her gaze hardens just like mine, going to stone. Sealing the emotions away.
“We’ve all lost people.” I want to say that it’s no reason to join the League, but each one of us in this room with the exception of the male version of sleeping beauty snoring away on the mattress behind us has fallen prey to the very ploy the League uses to recruit it’s new members.
Then she drops the very last thing I ever expected to hear.
“I saw who killed her. They just don’t know that.” Her hand smooths over the new tattoo on her neck. “The killer wore the same mark, and I’d seen it before. On my mother. Does the name Vanessa ring a bell to you?”
Twenty-One
Twisted History
Time is frozen, except everything is still moving around me. Why is the name of my mother coming out of this girls mouth?
“That’s enough.” Tylin’s smooth voice cuts through the room, halting anything Allison was going to say next.
I can’t respond. I’m not moving. I think I’m still breathing.
Mason silently slips next to me, and his hands gently grip my upper arms. “Alexa…” His voice is like a balm for the rawness on my soul.
“Nothing makes sense.” It’s the first thing I mumble, but it’s the truth. My mind is a jumble as I sort through everything I know. My mother is dead. I didn’t have a…
Anger surges through my veins and I break away from Mason, stepping around him as I get up in Allison’s face.
“Are you honestly trying to pass yourself off as my sister?” Barely controlled rage simmers in my chest, ready to be unleashed at my command. “That’s low, even for the League.”
My hand snaps out, wrapping around her wrist and I pull, siphoning some of her energy as her eyes widen.
“I’m… I’m not… “ She stammers, and it feels like the first true glimpse I’ve had of Allison since I walked into the room.
“Lex.” It’s Rory’s gruff tone that reaches me.
“I’m not lying.” Allison finally manages to finish with a wince of pain from the amount of energy I’m ripping from her. “We can prove it.” Her wide eyes slide to Tylin’s, looking for reason in someone who’s not as emotionally compromised as I am.
“Alexa. Release her.” The authority Tylin emanates through me, and I grit my teeth against the assault.
Mason sighs, stepping closer. I can feel his heat against my back. He speaks softly. “If you drain her, you’ll never get the answers you’re looking for.” In a stupid move, he places his hand on the bare skin of my arm, sliding his palm down my smooth skin until his hand cups mine. “Let her go, Alexa.” The gentle tone in his voice is what does it.
My power wanes, reeling back in little by little. I draw a deep breath, and calm myself down. He’s right. This whole time I’ve been trying to help Allison, and now I’m what? Trying to kill her? With the exception of Armond—and eventually Derek—I’ve left that life behind.
Allison let’s out a whimper of a sigh as I release her, stepping away with my hands up. Mouse moves me backward until we’re a safe distance away, pulling my back into the hard planes of his chest. The clean scent of him fills my lungs. It’s like coming home. It calms me. He calms me.
I can’t help but assess everything about her; her long dark hair, the bow of her upper lip that’s so familiar I force myself to look away. I open my mouth to confront the brunette one more time, but the look Tylin sends me has me shutting my lips.
I guess my time in the
limelight is over. Exit curtain left.
“What evidence do you have of your claim?” Tylin asks Allison.
“On me? None.” She purses her lips as she glances down at her scantily clad body, and the evil green monster in my chest rears its ugly head as Tylin takes notice.
Rory reaches for a scrap of silk on an armchair by the door and tosses the black flimsy robe to Allison. His gaze collides with mine, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his full lips.
“But I’ve heard about Hart. I did my research, and when I learned who her mother was, I connected the dots.” She slips into the robe, blessedly covered.
“That’s pretty weak evidence.” The rumble in Mason’s chest soothes me further. “There are also plenty of women with the name Vanessa. What makes you think the same woman was the biological mother for both of you?”
She looks at us like we’re idiots and her dark brows pull together, furrowing on her forehead. “She was the only Vanessa in the program…”
I tense, digging into memories I’d buried a long time ago. It’s like opening pandora's box. Fractured pieces of memories flood me, but none of them connect to make any real picture. I’d been a toddler when she’d died, afterall.
“All I have are glimpses of her. I don’t remember her… I don’t remember enough.” My throat feels raw from swallowing down the pain of my past. There’s a reason I keep all this shit locked away. It hurts to remember. To relive what I’ve lost.
What I never knew.
“You don’t know…” Allison looks at each of us in turn, trying to gauge our reactions. “You don’t know about the program?” Her voice wavers as she asks, unsure of letting go of the knowledge that she has. It’s her only leverage. Smart girl.
“What do you think you know?” Rory’s angry command makes her flinch, and her hand shoots back up, red energy playing along the tips of her fingers.
“Watch it. I’m the best connection you have to answers right now.”
Tylin scrubs a hand down his face, clearly wearing on this conversation that’s going nowhere.
“Why don’t you tell us what you think you know, and then we’ll decide how valuable you are and where to go from here.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks, and his jaw ticks in annoyance at the game we’re all playing.
“That doesn’t exactly sound fair.” She’s right. It’s not.
“You don’t exactly have an option.” Tylin looks pointedly at the rest of us. “You’re easily outnumbered. Even given your impressive power.”
Her shoulders sag in defeat and she drops her hand.
“The League started a program years ago, long before any of us were around. It was their attempt to create a weapon…”
“We know about the weapon.” Rory crosses his bulging arms straining the confines of the black suit he’s wearing.
“Good.” She looks relieved. “Then you know they were trying to create a more powerful assassin. The perfect deadly weapon. Our mother was one of the women they took and forced their DNA on.” A sneer curls her lips, and none us need elaboration on what she means. “Alexa is my older sister. Or half sister. I have no idea who our father or fathers are. But I’m going to find out.”
She radiates steely resolve but my mind is still stuck on one tiny fact.
“My mother died when I was a toddler. So how does that play into your little theory?” Sarcasm tinges everything I say as my brain tries to keep up, logging every word, every small reaction and facial cue for further examination.
“She didn’t die.”
My heart skips a beat. Then two.
“Excuse me?” I barely squeak it out. I’m not sure how she came to this conclusion but she’s… wrong.
“She ran away with you. When you were a baby. But eventually…” There’s sympathy in her eyes, and my breath is hanging in my lungs. “They re-captured her. And then there were two.” She motions between me and herself. “The rest is history.”
“A very convoluted, twisted, fucked up history.”
“Amen, sister.” A tinkling laugh escapes Allison’s lips but she quickly coughs to cover it and sobers. “Too soon?”
Ignoring her I turn to Tylin. “Is there a way we can tell if what she’s saying is true?” I hate the weak undertone in my voice. I hate the vulnerable feelings running through my chest. I hate that I didn’t know any of this. And most of all, I hate the League. Armond. Derek.
“A simple DNA test would easily link you and Allison as sisters if what she says is true.” Mason’s chest rumbles against my back, and I lean into him, borrowing his strength, my eyes on Tylin.
“We could call in Vale.” He glances toward Rory who nods in one swift movement.
“I’ll make the call.” Rory moves to slip out the door, but his eyes collide with mine before he pulls it shut. Like he cares about me. Like my feelings matter. Our tentative friendship grows stronger with every little nuance of emotion we give each other.
“Looks like you’re coming home with us.” Tylin’s gaze is trained on Allison. “One move against us, and I will end you… relation of Alexa’s or not.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows—hard—but Allison agrees. She studies me as I study her. Her gaze notes my hair just as I did hers. Except where I looked at her with suspicion, she looks at me with a weird sort of wonder.
Maybe she’s been searching into her family to find a place in life.
Hate to break it ot her, by I’m not that place. I’m not her sister, and I am definitely not her place in life.
Then Tylin is in my personal space, and his hand is cupping my jawline. The pad of his thumb traces over the curve of my cheek and the fact that he’s my boss doesn’t matter as I press into the warmth of his palm.
“You ok?” It’s barely audible, but I hear him. His gray eyes are like a storm, churning and powerful, and I stare back at him as I nod. For one brief moment, I think he’s going to move closer, press me firmly between himself and Mouse, whose breath tickles over the skin of my neck while his arms tighten around me. But Tylin doesn’t. Cool air flows between us as he steps back.
“Good. Let’s go home.”
Home.
That one little word out of Tylin’s mouth does funny things to my heart.
And I decide I’ve never heard a better four letter word in my entire life.
Unless you count the word dick, because let’s be real, that one might be even better.
Twenty-Two
Girl Talk
“Who’s she?” Allison’s big eyes follow Scarlett’s swaying hips as the beautiful assassin walks toward the couch.
Scarlett cocks a perfect brow at the girl but doesn’t comment.
“That’s Scarlett,” I say as we usher inside away from the cold.
The bathroom door opens with a cry and water drips across the hardwood floors as Jameson strides out in only a white towel. The lines of tattoo’s swirl down the side of his ribs draw attention to every hard muscle in his body.
“Shit, who’s that?” At the awestruck sound of her voice, I realize she’s like an eighteen year old me hormonally running around and not being able to keep focus the moment hard abs are in sight.
Okay twenty-one year old me might still be blindsided by Jameson’s abs too, I’ll admit it.
“Yeah, I think it’s a little early for some sibling confrontation so just don’t worry about who that is.”
My gaze meets Jameson’s and the moment our eyes lock, he stops walking. Everyone in the room is looking at him.
But all he’s focused on is me.
Silence drops.
And then it’s attacked.
“Just talk to her, you fuck jar.” Scarlett doesn’t even look at her brother as she curls up at the corner of the couch and opens a book. I can’t see the title but the sexy model splayed across the front catches my attention.
She has good taste.
Scarlett’s a confusingly alluring person. She holds a posture and eleg
ant beauty of pure sophistication. But then she has all these dangerous tattoos, reads smutty books, and says things like fuck jar.
She’s just like her brother, really.
My heart is this pounding erratic rhythm that spears further into my chest with each second that tics by without his response. Pale blue eyes shine with tense regret.
And then he looks away.
“I have to get dressed,” he finally says.
My eyes close hard as he makes his way up the stairs.
Mason’s hand slides into mine. A reassuring squeeze presses into my palm before he slips past me and trails after his friend.
“Don’t bother giving him your puppy dog eyes. He knows he fucked up.” Scarlet looks up from her page. Her half smile almost makes me feel better.
Almost.
“Come sit down. I’ve only had Jameson to talk to all day and god is he boring. It’s like talking to a one eyed minion some days.” She winces as she realizes she said one eyed. She closes her book and gives me all of her focus as I take a seat at her side. I pull my feet underneath me and try not to let the weight of the past few days completely crush me.
Allison talks quietly to Tylin in the kitchen. Rory makes himself the biggest sandwich I’ve ever seen. Seriously there’s only so many slices of ham you can pile onto a piece of bread before it’s considered a Thanksgiving dinner instead of a snack.
“So…” A taunting smile pulls against Scarlett’s full lips.
“So?” I hesitate on that small word. Something’s happening here and I don’t have a clue what it is.
“Are you dating all of them?” Her whisper is a hissing sound that lingers between us.
Oh no. She wants to girl talk me.
“I’m not good at girl talk, Scar.”
“Stop putting so much stress into it. It’s just a conversation between friends who happen to be girls. You can do this.” She gives a single nod that is somewhat reassuring.