Assassin's Game

by Ella Sheridan

  I knew the thought made me a bastard, but fuck that. They were multiplying like tribbles. And now a dog?

  Fuck. No.

  “Fuck yeah, I did.”

  Eli’s response shattered the tightness in my chest. Only problem was, without it holding me together, I scattered into a million pieces of absolute panic I knew would never come back together again. I was on my feet in an instant, turning to blast Eli with every way I knew of to say, Hell no.

  Then I looked down at myself.

  “Why am I soaked?” I took a deep breath, the scent of wet dog doing nothing to ease the jackhammering of my pulse. “What—”

  “He needed a bath.”

  Eli crouched near the corner of the room to my left. The light from the bathroom barely reached there, though it illuminated the trail of water and suds leading that way just fine. I strode to the wall and flipped the light switch up.

  “Don’t— Damn it!” Eli got on his hands and knees, ass in the air, and inched closer to the corner. “He’s spent too much time hiding in the dark,” he crooned, his tone the direct opposite of his words. “Light means danger.”

  Light means danger. How many times had I said that to them growing up? Light meant predators could find you. Well-meaning citizens would report you. Your victims could sure as hell get a bead on you before you managed to get a bead on them. We’d known how to hide in the dark, but in the daylight...

  My finger pushed the switch down without conscious permission from my brain.

  Eli had rescued this dog off the streets; I knew it down to the core of my being. And I hated knowing it because I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t take on the responsibility for one more soul. It was the family I had now, or him.

  “Get rid of him, Eli.”

  The whites of my brother’s eyes showed when he jerked a look at me over his shoulder. “No way in hell, bro.”

  “I mean it.” Despite the water chilling my skin as it trickled down the front of my body, I planted my legs and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not having a dog in this house.”

  Eli turned his back on me, all his focus on the huddled black mass in front of him. “In case you don’t remember, this isn’t just your house; you split the deed between you, Remi, and me. And I’ve got a dog in my house. It’s a done deal.”

  Not if the heartbeat threatening to choke me had any say in the matter. “No, Eli. There are too many people here as it is.”

  “Dogs are great with kids. We just have to introduce them slowly.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Absolutely not. That’s final, dickhead.”

  Eli was on his feet and in my face before my next pounding heartbeat. “You may be the big brother here, Levi, you may control things when we’re in the field, but you don’t dictate my life. I”—he jabbed a thumb against his breastbone—“decide my life. And he”—this time the thumb pointed toward the creature whining behind him—“is part of my life. So deal with it.”

  “No!” I yelled. “No no no no!” Every word got louder as the panic inside me ratcheted up until the last nearly shredded my vocal cords. “I can’t, Eli! I just can’t.”

  “It’s not about you, fucker. It’s about me.”

  I lunged forward, fistfuls of Eli’s wet T-shirt caught in my hands before I even realized what I was doing. “Look, I—”

  The low growl I’d barely noticed under the chaos in my head morphed into a sharp bark. Out of the shadows a black-and-gray muzzle snapped toward me. I jumped back, letting go of Eli’s shirt more out of instinct than necessity.

  “Hey.” Eli dropped back to his knee, fearlessly wrapping an arm around the dog’s neck to hold the snarling fucker back from me. “Hey, D, it’s all right, buddy. It’s okay. He wasn’t really gonna hurt me, I promise.”

  “Don’t bet on that.”

  Eli ignored me. I rubbed a hand down my face, grimacing at the mingled scent of pink soap and dirty dog I’d picked up from Eli’s shirt.

  I’d reached the silent count of twenty before Eli looked up at me again, eyes shining in the dark. “I’ll pack in the morning.”

  And I thought the dog had been a throat punch. “What? No! That’s not what I—”

  “I know it’s not,” he said quietly. Resolve sharpened his face until I no longer saw the boy he’d been so long ago, the boy I’d tried so hard to take care of on the streets. The boy that was constantly superimposed over the face of the man he now was. Not the Eli who was always first to crack a joke or horse around with little Brooke. This was the look I’d only seen a handful of times, the deadly serious look he wore right before he killed someone.

  He was a man, and he was telling me where he’d drawn the line. “I know what you’re saying, Levi.”

  I stared down at him, wishing I was different, wishing I was anyone but the man life had made me. “I can’t take it, E. Not one more thing I can’t—”

  “Control?” A ghost of his easygoing smile, the one I envied too much, crossed his lips. “When are you gonna learn that control is a myth?” One hand stroked hard, over and over, down the dog’s head to his tense back. “You make the best plans you can, and then the universe laughs as it smashes through them like a child throwing a fucking tantrum. I’m not going to give up the good times just to prevent bad ones that might not ever come.” He glanced down at the dog, eyes soft. “So...I’ll pack in the morning.”

  Over a dog. Was I willing to lose him, to create a permanent rift between us, over a dog?

  I eyed the mutt leaning against him. Eyes dark with both determination and resignation stared back at me. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, just like my brothers and I hadn’t been wanted by our uncle. We’d ended up running, living on the streets, battling to survive. The knowledge that that same battle was creeping closer with every breath I took filled those unblinking eyes.

  Fucking A.

  I couldn’t make myself say the words, but Eli and I both knew that, when I turned away from him and Diesel, I’d given in. And another brick was added to the load I already carried. I didn’t tell Eli that, simply walked away. I’d almost reached the stairs when his voice stopped me.

  “Abby—”

  I tripped over the first step. “What about Abby?”

  “She’s scared out of her mind.”

  Scared? Pissed, I would’ve guessed, but not... “Why would she be scared?”

  “Because you’re the same dipshit you’ve always been. You need to spend less time worrying about what I’m doing with my life and wandering off to wherever the hell you wander off to, and more time making certain your woman knows she’s got nothing to worry about.”

  If only it were that simple. Unfortunately I couldn’t flip the switch inside me as easily as I could a light switch, and make thirty years of fucked-up programming disappear. I couldn’t explain it either. Which was why Abby was in the dark—and scared.

  I didn’t respond, simply walked up the stairs, knowing what was waiting for me up there. Accepting it. Hating it.

  Because Abby’s pain was heavier than all the other bricks combined.

  Chapter Six

  Nix —

  The man walking ahead of me along the Buckhead area sidewalk caught my attention the minute I rounded the corner. Tall, sexy dark blond hair just a touch too long, forceful stride that said he knew where he was going and wasn’t taking his time getting there. But it was his shoulders that snagged and held my attention. They filled out his expensive-looking tailored suit better than the Rock filled out a tight T-shirt.

  Why I noticed, I didn’t know. Maybe my long-neglected libido and the smooth slide of my thighs against each other in their silky stockings were to blame. It had been a long time since I’d worn anything but fatigues, possibly a decade since I’d had on a skirt, thigh-highs, and stiletto heels—but the chic Italian restaurant I was headed to had a dress code, even for lunch.

  Bram Sullivan was meeting a client here, making it the best time to tiptoe into physic
al surveillance of him. And that meant someone from our team had to be in the dining room.

  Lucky me.

  I focused on those shoulders and not the pinch of my pointy-toed shoes. I’d always had a thing for wide shoulders. Something about the way a man could dwarf you with the width of his body, either standing or in bed. Always being the one in charge, it was nice to be dwarfed by a man occasionally, to feel small and fragile. It might be a lie—the fragile part, anyway, since I was built on the smaller side—but I enjoyed pretending, at least for a little while.

  The way Suit Guy was built, I might not have to pretend. He was almost as big as Titus, which was saying something. I’d definitely be fragile in the grip of those muscles. Which made the excellent fit of his jacket a minor miracle.

  “Nice fumble, Titus.”

  Monty’s sarcastic shot jerked me out of fantasy and back into reality. I shifted a couple of steps left, and the front door of the restaurant came into view. Titus, wearing a black-and-gold valet’s uniform that was on the snug side for his body, was already circling the back end of Sullivan’s car, keys in hand. Monty must’ve seen Titus bump into the target as he handed off the keys, an intentional move Titus had executed to get close enough to drop a tiny bug into Sullivan’s pants pocket. Their target seemed oblivious as he walked through the stained glass doors at the front without a backward glance toward the man settling behind the wheel of his hundred-thousand-dollar BMW with the custom cherry-apple red paint job.

  “Don’t forget to bug the car too,” I murmured, knowing the mic attached to the earbud covered by my long, loose hair would pick up the words. Suit Guy, just ahead, glanced to his left, almost as if he’d heard me, and my breath caught in my throat as I drank in his profile. That longish hair swept back from his forehead, leaving the strong lines of his face bare. A sharp nose was balanced by thick blond brows and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee combo. A quick smile at a passerby revealed even white teeth behind his full lips and the barest dimple below the cheekbone that slashed across his face.

  He was gorgeous...and distracting, especially combined with that body.

  Get your head in the game, Nix. I couldn’t afford distractions, now or any other time.

  I was a few yards behind Suit Guy as he entered the doors of the restaurant. Not close enough to hear his request for a seat, but close enough to catch a glimpse of the folded bill that passed between his hand and the maître d’s before he was led away from the front reception desk.

  When my turn came, there was no need for a bribe—Maris had hacked the reservation system earlier to find Sullivan’s regular table, positioning me at an angle to his. Still I passed the maître d’ a crisp fifty after he held my seat for me to settle at the table. I tucked myself closer, tilted my menu up for perusal, and glanced over the gilded top edge.

  Right into the amber-colored eyes of Suit Guy.

  The gut-punch feeling that hit me with his direct stare forced me to suck in a ragged breath. And then he winked. So quick I had to wonder if I’d imagined it, one eyelid fluttered down and up. His gaze dropped to the heat I felt slowly creeping up my neck to my cheeks, and one side of that full mouth twisted up in a smile so smug it made me want to smack him.

  A throat clearing at my elbow pulled my attention away. By the time I’d ordered, Suit Guy was inspecting the wine menu and carrying on a heated debate with his waiter about the selections, thank fuck. I turned my attention, not without some relief, to Bram Sullivan’s table, directly between us.

  Maris and Monty had hacked Sullivan’s calendar last night. The man was our only direct link with X, and we were hoping he’d lead us to our blackmailer. It didn’t hurt that, in the meantime, our actions looked like compliance. We had zero intention of complying, but whatever it took to buy us time.

  “Anything interesting?” Monty asked in my ear.

  “Only if you think oysters for lunch are interesting,” I said, hiding the movement of my lips behind my raised water glass.

  “Aphrodisiac?” Monty suggested.

  I eyed the man across from Sullivan at his table. “Possibly.” The man didn’t look like he would enjoy playing nursemaid, though, and from the images we’d found last night on Sullivan’s cloud account, that’s what he was into. Which reminded me...

  “Any sign of our watcher?” I asked before sliding a bite of chicken parmigiana into my mouth, refusing to let my eyes roll back in my head at the delectable taste, no matter how much they wanted to.

  Maris and Monty’s poking around had revealed more than Sullivan’s questionable proclivities in the bedroom. They’d also revealed a tracker embedded in the man’s computer. Since it hadn’t been there the first time Monty took a peek, we figured X was keeping watch to be sure we were handling our end of his “bargain.” And if he was watching online, it stood to reason he might be watching in person. We were counting on it, in fact.

  “Nothing yet,” Rhys replied. I knew he’d arrived well before Sullivan and I had. The man’s emotionless words helped settle the roller coaster of my own reactions this afternoon. He’d always done that, even when he’d been a new recruit in my father’s unit. Rhys Bryant hid his emotions better than any soldier I’d met, and I’d met thousands in my lifetime. If it weren’t for the man’s reactions to Maris, I’d swear he’d been born devoid of feelings, but no man with that kind of anger was emotionally barren. If only I could figure out what it was about my sister that sparked his deeply buried feelings...

  I caught the subtle shifting of Sullivan’s hips in his seat, a sure sign that all the wine he’d consumed was hitting his bladder. “Pit stop imminent.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw a tall man in a gorgeous navy suit stand and make his way across the room. “Monty, remind me to tell Maris she is a goddess.” The color she’d chosen perfectly set off Rhys’s ginger coloring, drawing every feminine eye in the place. Exactly the opposite of what a watcher would expect—mercenaries didn’t deliberately draw attention. Rhys, however...the man was deadly. Attention or not, he was firmly in control of every encounter.

  My teammate shot me a frown as he passed. Moments later Sullivan stood and excused himself from his table.

  I relaxed back into my chair and forked up another bite of cheesy chicken and pasta, secure in the knowledge that my charge was in good hands. I’d barely swallowed when Suit Guy stood from his table and walked toward the restrooms at the rear of the restaurant.

  One man in the vicinity walking back there, sure. But two? Suit Guy hadn’t been squirming in his seat like Sullivan—yes, I’d noticed. His water glass was half-full, and he’d barely sipped from the wine he’d debated with the waiter over.

  Suspicion narrowed my eyes as I followed the man’s progress across the room. “Guys?”

  Monty responded with a questioning grunt. Rhys would stay silent, unwilling to risk being overheard in the echo chamber of the tiled restroom.

  I raised my napkin from my lap to dab at my lips. “Incoming, Rhys. Seems suspicious.”

  “Our watcher, you think?” Monty asked.

  “Maybe.” I settled the cloth on the table and stood. “Titus, keep your ears open.” The women’s bathroom was directly beside the men’s; I knew from the blueprints Maris had downloaded last night. “Rhys, big blond guy in a suit. Longer hair.” It was the only thing that made him stand out, that and his size. Most of the men here were gym muscular, not naturally bulky, and their hair was cut professionally short, but not this guy.

  A soft hum reached my ears—Rhys acknowledging my words. I stopped in the narrow hall outside the restrooms and leaned against the wall, pulling my cell from the clutch hanging on my shoulder, for all appearances waiting casually for my man to exit.

  “On my way,” Titus said through the earbud.

  I made a quick noise of assent as Rhys came into the hall. Without hesitation he stepped close, his body blocking me from view, hands on the wall on either side of my head. His body language screamed aggression, possessiveness, bu
t his face remained emotionless.

  I smiled, flattened my hand against his rock-hard chest, playing my role. Seconds passed as we waited. I consciously relaxed my muscles in succession, keeping myself alert, ready.

  The door behind Rhys opened. He leaned closer, his head tucking against my ear. I breathed in the reassuring heat of his body even as I exchanged the cell in my hand for the knife in my clutch.

  Over Rhys’s shoulder I caught a glimpse of Sullivan’s raised eyebrows as his gaze glided over us before he moved toward the end of the hall and the dining room. A light pat of my hand told Rhys the coast was clear. His body tensed against mine, and then he was turning ahead of me, pushing through the door of the restroom. I followed without hesitation.

  If I’d thought I might be wrong, the intent look on Suit Guy’s face as he stepped toward the now blocked door wiped the doubt away. The narrowing of his eyes on Rhys, the recognition—one badass acknowledging another—made my gut tighten. “Titus,” I whispered.

  Suit Guy’s eyes flicked to me. There was no surprise, only caution. He knew who we were, or maybe what we were. I could tell. Only when the door opened again and Monty entered, his fingers flipping the lock on the door, did those amber eyes widen the tiniest bit.

  Rhys took advantage of the moment of inattention by slamming his palm against the man’s chest, forcing him backward a step. Monty and I moved forward to flank Rhys.

  “You’ve got ten seconds,” Rhys growled. “Tell us where X is before I cut your dick off and shove it up your ass.”

  Any other man on the receiving end of a threat like that from Rhys would be—you guessed it—wetting his pants. Not Suit Guy. In fact, that smug smile he’d graced me with earlier made a reappearance, bigger this time. Ignoring the tensing of the three bodies in front of him, he slid his hands into his pockets and jiggled what sounded like change or keys. “Now that would be a complete waste of a great dick, dude; it really would. Especially since I have no idea who X is, or who you are.” His amber gaze grazed me before returning to Rhys. “How about we talk first before we skip to dismemberment?”