Her Assassin For Hire (Stealth Series Book 3)

by Danica Winters

  “We are proud at H&K to design clothing that meets everyday needs for all. We don’t simply create clothing for high-profile events and celebrities, but we also want to protect those who are just like us—those out there risking their lives for the greater good.”

  Several models followed the woman as the crowd jostled in their seats for a better view. People were slipping in from the back entrance and, as there were no longer any seats available, standing room became a premium.

  As the last model disappeared, the crowd moved to their feet with applause.

  “Thank you,” Zoey said, glancing over to her guards, who now looked more nervous than ever. “We appreciate your support in our continuing effort to bring safety to those who most need it.”

  A woman’s scream pierced through the air.

  Zoey turned to her right. There, just a few yards away, one of her guards raised his gun. He didn’t hesitate as he pointed it straight at her center mass and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet struck true.

  She crumpled to the ground as pain flooded her senses. “It’s okay, everyone. He works for me.” She struggled to catch her breath.

  Her hands moved to her chest. A trickle of blood seeped between her fingers.

  We should have done more testing.

  Or maybe Trish is calling me out for using her death to profit. If she was still here, I would tell her this was for her...all for her...

  The world spun as Zoey tumbled downward and darkness swallowed her whole.

  Chapter Two

  What in the hell was that woman thinking, having her man shoot her to demonstrate one of her products?

  Eli raced to the front of the tent and elbowed his way through the throngs of people who had rushed to help Zoey Martin.

  Damn that woman.

  He couldn’t believe she would ever do something so foolish, so brash. Then again, should he really be surprised? All she ever cared about was being at the center of everything—attention, plans, a firefight—it didn’t matter. It was Zoey Martin’s way or no way at all.

  Damn her.

  And damn himself for thinking he could come here and walk away from her unscathed. Whenever he was near Zoey, he should know something bad was bound to happen.

  If she was dead...he’d kill the man who’d pulled the trigger.

  Who would have ever gone through with such a stupid publicity stunt?

  Zoey lay in a fetal position as he got to her, her pink dress pulled up high on her thigh and exposing a little pair of black shorts. Her side rose and fell as she breathed, and aside from her lying there, and him having watched her being shot, she didn’t look too much the worse for wear.

  He pushed the crowd back from her, yelling at them to give her some space. He knelt down in front of her. “Zoey?”

  Her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed as though she were trying to Lamaze her way through the pain. Even doing that, he’d be damned if she still wasn’t one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. And that dress...

  He held his chuckle as he realized once again he had found himself in trouble because of the perfect dress...and once again it was on Zoey, the woman his world had revolved around just two years ago.

  Oh, how the mighty fall.

  Zoey’s eyes fluttered open, revealing her caramel-colored eyes. If only she were half as sweet as those eyes looked.

  “Eli?” she said, her voice ragged with pain. As she moved to sit up he could see the blood on her fingers.

  His heart dropped. She was really actually hurt.

  His anger morphed into panic. “Zoey, we need to get you out of here and to the hospital. Do you think I can move you?” He leaned in and moved her hand.

  There was a crushed slug embedded into the fabric of her dress.

  Though he had heard rumors about the bulletproof capabilities of her new clothing line, he hadn’t truly believed it until now. It seemed unfathomable that something like this was possible.

  “Holy crap, Zoe...” he said. His breath escaped him as he reached down and pulled the slug from her dress.

  The pink fabric was still in place, with not even a single tear. Where the bullet had impacted, there was a bit of blood seeping up and through the fabric. How could something stop a bullet, but then let blood through?

  He stared as he tried to make sense of it until he finally pulled himself back to the task at hand.

  “Zoey, are you okay? Can you move?” he asked.

  She stared at him. “Eli, what in the hell are you doing here?” She moved to sit up. “You... You shouldn’t have come.”

  “And you shouldn’t have done what you just did.” He gave her a hand and she pulled herself to standing. As their fingers touched, he couldn’t help but be a little surprised that she had taken him up on his offer of help. She must have been hurting.

  She pulled her hand from his. With a nod of acknowledgment, she made her way back up to the podium.

  “Everyone,” she said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to stand straight. “Everyone, please quiet down,” she said over the manic cacophony of sound. “Excuse me.”

  The room silenced.

  “As you can see, our new Monster Wear has the capability to stop a bullet at close range, all while being cool, comfortable and stylish,” she said, stepping out just slightly so all could see her dress. “I am fine.”

  “You’re bleeding!” someone in the crowd yelled.

  “I said our clothing was bulletproof, I didn’t say being shot would be pain-free.” Zoey laughed, the sound tight and high like it hurt for her to breathe. “Like I always say, if you can’t handle a bee sting then you need to stay out of the nest.”

  Eli shook his head.

  Once again, he felt as if she had played him for a fool. Why did he have to be so stupid when it came to Zoey Martin?

  He turned, about to walk out.

  “Can we all give my assistant who was willing to pull the trigger, at my request, a big round of applause? And can we also please do the same for Mr. Eli Wayne for coming to the rescue of a lady?” She motioned in his direction and gave him her perfect, sexy smile...the one that always drew him back into her nest.

  Applause filled the tent. Heat rose in his cheeks as men came up and patted him on the shoulder. He wasn’t a hero. And though Zoey put on one hell of an act, she definitely wasn’t a lady...at least not in the bedroom.

  Almost as if she could read his mind, Zoey reached up and unzipped her dress. The fabric gripped her body and she had to roll it down in order to get it off her. Beneath the dress were those little black shorts and a black sports bra and nothing else.

  His mind went to the last night they had spent together. What had it been, two years ago now? Sometimes their breakup seemed like a lifetime ago and then on days like this, it seemed like only yesterday.

  He could still recall the way she smelled after her runs, a mixture of fresh air, sweat and strength. And when she was happy, her voice always took on a special lilt as though whatever she was saying was just for him. That was one thing he missed the most, the way she had always made him feel like he was the only man she had ever loved. And yet, he was left with nothing but a broken heart and fantasies of what could have been.

  Oh, Zoey... Why did she do this to him?

  She turned and smiled at him as her hand moved down her waist and rested gently on her hip.

  His body disobeyed his mind and he could feel himself stirring to life in all the wrong places at the sight of her half-naked body.

  The last time he had seen her this unclothed, it hadn’t taken but a matter of seconds to get her into nothing at all. He could still remember the way she had tasted of salt and sweat on his lips as they made love. They had been on a takedown outside Tikrit, working a small village where a group of high-grade mercenaries, or mercs, had been hole
d up.

  As he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the sand that had stuck to her skin as he worked his fingers down to her navel.

  He stiffened further.

  No.

  He couldn’t think of anything sultry about Zoey. No. She had watched his heart break and left him standing alone, without a job, without a home, without a family and completely adrift.

  No matter what, he couldn’t forgive her for all she had done to him and the wreckage she had left in his life.

  “If you look,” she said, motioning to her midsection, “the bullet left a bruise and an abrasion, but nothing more.” She wiped her hands together in a feeble attempt to hide the blood that stained them.

  She was swarmed by questions and she took her time answering each one.

  He was relieved as a guard brought her a robe and she pulled it on over her body.

  She was fine. She would always be just fine. She was the epitome of resilience.

  He turned to leave, but Zoey waved to him as she ended the questions and bid goodbye to the crowd. He turned away, not wanting to once again do her bidding, but his resolve weakened. At the very least, before he left, he could make sure that she really was okay.

  She could get up there and say she wasn’t hurt all she wanted, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of internal damage from taking a hit like that. She was all show.

  And he had always been the one to make sure that she wasn’t faking things so much that she couldn’t find her way back to reality.

  Which made him wonder if that was part of the reason she had chosen this conference to unveil her new gear. She had to have known he would be here, hoping to catch sight of her. She had probably even known he would come to her rescue.

  Maybe she missed him just as much as he missed her.

  Wait. No. He didn’t miss her or her stupid pink hair, or her wide-set dark-lined eyes, or her watermelon-colored lips that usually tasted of her mint sugar-free gum. And he definitely didn’t miss the way she had loved to fall asleep in the crook of his arm, making his arm go to sleep and then later throb with pain when she finally rolled to her side in their bed.

  Yep. He didn’t miss her at all.

  Damn it.

  As the crowd started to dissipate, she made her way over to where he stood at the back of the tent.

  She tugged her robe tighter around her body, like she was suddenly self-conscious in his presence.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, fully aware from the slightly pursed look on her face that the last thing she wanted to say to him was thank you.

  “I didn’t tell you to come here.” She brushed her pink hair out of her face. Up close, he couldn’t help but notice it was dyed the same shade of Barbie pink as her dress.

  “Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “You and I both know Billings is my territory.”

  “I thought you were out working for a new crew. I don’t keep tabs on you, Eli.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but as she moved her arm over the place she’d taken the hit, she winced with pain and lowered her arms.

  “Why did you do such a stupid thing? What would have happened if your guy had missed? What if he’d shot you in the neck?” He reached over and put his finger against the place that the bullet had struck. “You could have died, Zoey.”

  She moved away from his touch. “This was hardly the first time, or the last, that I stood at the edge of death, Eli. This is our life—dealing with pain. And you know it just as well as I do.”

  And perhaps that was one of the main reasons he was glad they really were no longer together.

  “It doesn’t mean it’s okay to make stupid choices.”

  “Doing my job isn’t making a stupid choice.” She leaned against the back of a chair. “I believe in the H&K products and its people.” Her tone made it clear he didn’t make her short list.

  “Why did you want me to stay, Zoey?” He wasn’t about to stand there and continue to be her whipping boy. “Is it just so you can tell me all the reasons we don’t work anymore?”

  Some of her antagonism seemed to seep out as she dropped her shoulders and sighed. “I...” she began. “Actually, I was hoping you would give me the slug. You know. For marketing and such.” She stuck out her hand like a child asking for a quarter.

  “Yeah, right.” He reached into his pocket where he had dropped the spent bullet. With it came his business card.

  He stared at the card in his fingers, but before he could think about tucking it back into his pocket, Zoey reached out and took them both.

  “I... Uh...” She paused, collecting herself. She pulled out her phone. “I guess I should thank you properly for what you did back there.”

  She opened up her phone and punched in his number, then moved to her calendar like she was thinking about finding a time that would work for them to go out. On her schedule he could make out the words Therapy appointment set for tomorrow, and beneath was an address.

  He looked up at her as she tapped through her schedule.

  Was she really interested in going out with him? And was she really going to a therapist?

  Did it have something to do with what had happened to them?

  He was glad she was seeing someone, but Zoey had never been the kind to open up. Maybe she had changed since she had left him.

  “Hey,” he said. “By the way, I’m sorry to hear about your sister. She was always wonderful to me. If I had it to do all over again, I would happily work by her side.”

  Zoey stopped with her phone and looked up at him, staring at him like she was looking for some kind of meaning to what he’d just said. “Are you saying you want to come back to STEALTH?” Her voice was choked.

  “No. It’s just... I meant...” Now, he was the one stammering. It wasn’t that he hadn’t missed his old job and the STEALTH family, but she didn’t want him there and they both knew it.

  Why was any interaction between them so awkward?

  “I meant that I just wish nothing had happened to Trish. We lost a good one with her.”

  She nodded, but her gaze stayed locked on his face.

  A blonde woman wove through the chairs over toward them, and Zoey finally looked away.

  “I have to go, Eli.” She handed him back his card. “But maybe...someday, we could catch up.”

  Catching up? Was she for real? They both knew after this moment it was unlikely they would ever see one another again.

  And the thought, just like the woman who was walking away from him, threatened to rip out his heart.

  Chapter Three

  The ride back to the Widow Maker Ranch seemed even longer than she had remembered. She had driven through entire countries faster than she had driven across the state of Montana. The conference had gone well, and she was getting texts and alerts about new orders that were coming through the doors, but her mind kept circling back to Eli. Maybe it was his fault that the drive had seemed to take so long.

  He had a way of making everything in her life more complicated. It was a good thing that she was putting hundreds of miles between them.

  But it had been stupid of her to take his phone number. She had excised him ever so precisely from her life already, and now she had allowed him to slip back in. What was wrong with her?

  She’d always stuck to the Band-Aid breakup model—one quick rip and throw it away. She was too old to make such a stupid mistake and let him reappear. His coming back would only open up all those old wounds. Not that everything had been bad between them. Some days had been incredible, while others—especially at the end—had been pure hell.

  One time, when they had been in the belly of Italy, they had taken a contract on a set of twins. The brothers they had been hired to kill had been members of a notorious terrorist organization, in so deep that they had helped establish the group’s core documents and constitution. Thanks to
their work, the group had grown to over five thousand international members and was responsible for the deaths of over two hundred civilians—men, women and one child.

  During the strike, she and Eli had been forced to camp out under the stars while they waited for the brothers to return to their compound. While she had tracked the brothers’ phones, she and Eli had started out talking about throwaway things—the weather, locations and food preferences. After a few hours, however, something changed and they began talking about those things in life that make a person unique—family, beliefs, culture. He had even told her about growing up in rural Idaho, near Boise, where he had learned to shoot a BB gun and take care of his family’s bevy of animals.

  The number one rule of their occupation as hit men was that everything was a secret. To open up, even the tiniest bit meant death.

  But as they had talked, she forgot that rule. She was surprised to learn that he was such a sucker for animals. Maybe it was the thought of him holding a puppy, but whatever reservations she had about their growing intimacy quickly disappeared.

  Everything between them changed. They became a team. And then that team mentality had taken another turn, and taking aim at killers and thieves had turned into taking aim at each other’s hearts.

  She had been a fool to get involved with him. When she kissed him she had stripped her life of one of her best friends and one of just a select few that she had trusted.

  The only other person she had trusted in the same way had been her sister. When Trish had been alive, Zoey had been able to turn to her, to talk to her a bit about the things that were going on in her life. Their lives were so unique and challenging that it took someone who had the same lifestyle—one of long nights in bunkers and days spent in the mud—to completely understand what it meant to fall in love.

  As she pulled down the road that led to the ranch, her headlights bounced as she hit the obstacle course that had been carved into the dirt by the summer winds and fall freezes. The rhythmic back and forth motion of the car comforted her, knowing that the Widow Maker Ranch was protected by the grounds around it. With potholes and ruts this deep, few would venture down their road; the fewer the people, the better.