Assassin's Game

by Ella Sheridan

  “I told you I wouldn’t, Sis, as long as you stay in the car.”

  “I still don’t like the idea of staying behind,” Titus said.

  “We need the two of you on the outside in case something goes wrong,” I said, my gaze flicking to Maris. And I need you here guarding the most precious thing in my life, I added silently.

  Maris frowned. She knew what I wasn’t saying, but she also knew not to fight it in the middle of an op. “They have jammers,” she pointed out. “How will we know if something goes wrong?”

  It was a likelihood we couldn’t avoid. Getting a hard line through the gates would be impossible. We’d managed to place surveillance cameras half a mile from the perimeter fence of the estate, facing all directions, but that was the extent of our sight. There was no satellite surveillance available here for Monty to hack, and we hadn’t had time to get our hands on a drone.

  “Car,” Monty said from the back seat.

  “Visual on driver?” Rhys asked. We knew an earlier departure had been Leah Marrone, the middle brother’s fiancée, and her little girl. A bit of hacking had told us the child attended a nearby elementary school, and Marrone had a nursing shift at Fulton County Memorial today. Ideally we’d like the other female who lived on the estate, Abby Roslyn, to also exit before we approached. Nothing in her background suggested she had the training or personality to be a mercenary, and we needed all our attention on the enemy, not on keeping civilians safe. I said ideally because, after a certain point in time, we had to make contact or risk Marrone and the child returning.

  There was a pause as we waited; then Monty grunted in satisfaction. “It’s her.”

  A part of me relaxed, knowing the woman was away and safe. We would be alone with our targets.

  That part had me tensing my gut. I reached for the door handle. “Let’s go.”

  Rhys, Monty and I took the two-mile jog easily. Even as a teen I could have doubled the pace and added a seventy-five-pound backpack and still not be breathing heavy as we approached the entrance to the estate; with our basic weapons and the clothes on our backs, it was a breeze. Rhys and Monty stood back slightly, alert, hands on their thigh-holstered guns, and waited as I approached the keypad and video screen. When I was squarely in the camera’s sights, a faint buzz sounded and I knew I’d gotten someone’s attention.

  I waited.

  A computer-generated voice finally asked, “How may I help you, Ms. Nixon?”

  Shock jolted up my spine. Ms. Nixon.

  It was a common courtesy, right? The fact that they called me “Ms.” didn’t mean they were working with X. Or so I told myself.

  “I think you know what I want,” I replied. My fingers stroked the butt of my gun, and I wondered if Elijah was behind that camera, watching me, noting every movement. Did I want him to be?

  Several minutes passed, but I refused to so much as twitch. Finally the voice returned.

  “Just one moment.”

  “Isn’t that what I’ve been giving you?” I asked, one brow rising without my permission.

  The computer voice’s laugh was damn eerie. “A moment more, then.”

  I waited more.

  Finally a low whistle from Rhys got my attention. Turning to look, I saw him and Monty closing the distance between us, their gazes on the house. I joined them in front of the gate.

  An offshoot of the main drive circled around the left wing to disappear behind the mansion. A massive truck zipped along the offshoot, headed toward the gate. And us.

  “Is that an armored vehicle?” Monty asked under his breath.

  The question was rhetorical. We’d all seen Humvees just like the one approaching us on battlefields and bases all over the world. We just hadn’t expected to encounter one in the middle of bumfuck, Georgia.

  As it neared the gate, the vehicle completed a three-point turn so its rear faced us.

  “Think it’s trying to tell us something?” I asked. Rhys snorted.

  The back doors opened, revealing an empty space ideal for transporting prisoners. The gates blocking us from entering creaked as they swung wide, coming to rest in a vee against the open doors of the vehicle.

  Sunlight filtered through the cab, illuminating Elijah Agozi’s grin behind what had to be bulletproof glass. That grin did funny things to my belly. So did his, “Hello, Beautiful. Want a ride?”

  I shoved the butterflies away and glanced at Rhys and Monty. There was no doubt, with our training, that fighting our way out of the estate was a viable and likely winnable option—depending on what was waiting for us inside. Seeing the question in my eyes, they both nodded, then walked forward.

  I followed.

  “Excellent,” our driver said, shades of Bill and Ted coloring the word. “Let’s go have a chat.”

  The doors clanged shut behind us.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eli —

  I glanced down at Diesel where he sat on the floorboard, ears up and alert, eyes fixed on the window separating us from the back. Intermittent growls left him as if he knew a potential enemy waited there.

  “Loyal, aren’t ya, boy?”

  His gaze shifted to me, and I swore when his muzzle dropped before rising again that he was nodding in response.

  “Smart too.”

  “We just sitting here, or do you plan to move anytime soon?” came from the back, from whichever guy was sitting closest to the window. Didn’t matter which one. I didn’t bother looking back. Raising a middle finger toward the voice, I took my foot off the brake and let the vehicle roll forward. Despite the instinct to creep along at a snail’s pace just for spite, we didn’t know how long Abby would be at her appointment this morning, and I wouldn’t take a chance on this business dragging out.

  “Lost the beard, Agozi?”

  My name in Mikaela’s husky voice knotted up my lower stomach. And things even farther south. “Figured you’d notice, Beautiful.”

  My chuckle didn’t sit well if the noise she made was any sign. Diesel jumped onto the seat and stuck his nose to the window, his growls turning to curious sniffs.

  “You think she’s gorgeous too, don’t you, boy?” I asked him, not bothering to lower my voice. He snorted his agreement.

  “Got that playboy thing down pat, don’t you?”

  I wasn’t a boy and this was the farthest thing from play, but let her underestimate me if she wanted.

  For now.

  I pulled the Humvee up to the rear entrance of the bat cave, turned in my seat, and met Mikaela’s piercing green gaze. “Drop your weapons in the vehicle,” I said, glancing at the holsters visible on each of them. “They’ll be returned when you leave.”

  Short of a pat down, which would probably go over like a cattle prod to the nuts, there was no way to ensure Mikaela’s team was free of weapons. We could only reduce the risk. The six of us might be matched in strength, but we knew we were facing a tight mercenary team with excellent skills—our few foreign contacts had given us prime examples. So when Mikaela’s face appeared in front of the security camera, I hadn’t been surprised. We’d let them come to us. Meeting them on our own turf gave us only a slight advantage, but we’d need any advantage we could get this time.

  We had one more—if they weren’t working for X willingly, he likely hadn’t shared our secret with them any more than he’d shared their existence with us. They might know something wasn’t on the up-and-up, but not what, exactly. They’d underestimate us just like they’d underestimated me the first time, and we could use that.

  “And if we don’t?” the redhead asked.

  I put the truck in reverse, looked back over my shoulder, and shrugged. “Then a trip back to the gate won’t take long.” They were locked into the rear remotely; short of a bomb in their tightly confined space—not a good idea—there’d be no escape before I had them well away from the mansion. And my family.

  Silently they began to unstrap their weapons. I grabbed the keys from the Humvee and stepped out, Diesel follow
ing closely. Three scowling faces stared down at me as I opened the rear doors, sweeping my hand out in invitation. “Welcome to our home.”

  The word choice was deliberate. A reminder that this wasn’t a military base.

  Without responding, all three stepped out. I closed the doors and led the way inside, Diesel at my heels, the heat of Mikaela’s stare—okay, probably three stares, but hers was most important—searing my back. A sense of unreality swept through me as I watched her walk into the bat cave.

  Remi and Levi waited inside. I moved directly to flank my oldest brother, noting with amusement that Mikaela and her teammates mirrored our positions exactly.

  “Brothers,” I said, “may I introduce Montgomery Wolfe”—I pointed to the dark-haired man on Mikaela’s left, then the redhead on the other side—“Rhys Bryant, and Mikaela Nixon.”

  The trio showed no reaction to my knowledge, but they did wince when I said Mikaela’s name. “Just Nix,” she snapped.

  Call her Nix? From my research I knew it had been her father’s call sign in the military, so I could understand the connection, but I wouldn’t use it, not when her real name fit her perfectly. And not when it irritated her for me to use it. “I’ll stick with Mikaela, thanks.”

  Montgomery growled under his breath. I smirked, keeping my eyes on my woman. That’s how she felt to me. Every woman I’d slept with, sex had been my goal—that and nothing else. This woman, this drive went so much deeper than that. So deep it scared me to think about it.

  And fear wasn’t a good look in the middle of a showdown, so I’d stick with cocky. Plus, the way the green of her eyes darkened to forest when she got pissed fascinated me.

  Levi crossed his arms, the bulge of them showing off that he was just as strong as the two men facing us. The swirl of tatts filling every inch of skin said he wasn’t afraid of pain. “Former Delta Force,” he said, eyeing Rhys and Montgomery. “Serving honorably your entire military careers, according to all records, until five years ago.” His gaze snapped to Mikaela. “When you went AWOL just before your arrest for the murder of your commanding officer, Jay Nixon.”

  Mikaela’s lips tightened, but she didn’t shoot out a denial. She didn’t need to—that expression told me what I needed to know, and the knot in my gut softened the slightest bit. Whatever the story was, they weren’t guilty.

  When Levi gave a slight nod, I knew he’d seen it too.

  “You disappeared without a trace, officially, right around the time Nixon’s daughters also disappeared,” he continued. “Makes sense your team would’ve stuck to Europe and the Middle East given how hard it would be to stay hidden here in the US.”

  Mikaela lifted a brow. “How do you know we weren’t here and simply undetectable?”

  “Because if you’d been in the US,” I pointed out, “we’d have heard of you.”

  “Doubtful,” Rhys said. “Unlike you, we know how to keep a low profile.”

  I outright grinned. “Is that right?” They’d had a good look at the Atlanta social pages, then. But if they knew anything about the Assassin, I’d eat Diesel’s dog food. “You think you know who we are? Mikaela?”

  Remi’s grunt on the other side of Levi was amused.

  Mikaela’s eyes narrowed at her name, but she took her time responding. I could feel her taking our measure, weighing the odds. Whatever she saw, she finally spoke. “You look like three rich boys playing at being tough, but you hacked highly classified military records no one on the outside should have access to. When I mentioned X at the restaurant, you knew who I was talking about,” she said, gaze fully trained on me now. Meeting her eyes was like getting zapped with a live wire. “You have to be working for X.”

  She didn’t believe that, no matter what she said. If she did, they’d have come in guns blazing. “Don’t kid yourself, darlin’.” I deliberately drawled the endearment just to get under her creamy skin. “There’s no playing about it. I don’t need X’s help—or anyone else’s—getting into records. I could hack ‘highly classified’ in my sleep.”

  And practically had.

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and I tried not to notice how they plumped beneath her T-shirt. “Then what are you after? And why?”

  “The why isn’t up for discussion,” Levi finally answered. Remi and I stepped closer to him, giving our silent support. “But I suspect the what is the same thing you’re after.”

  Silence ticked between us for a long moment before she spoke. “This seems like a heavily one-sided deal. You know things about our history, things that could be used against us. And yet we know nothing about you, really.”

  “We haven’t offered you a deal,” Levi pointed out. “You know what you need to know. Take it or leave it.”

  Mikaela’s gaze sought mine too briefly; then she shrugged. “Fine.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the door.

  “You walked in that door for a reason, Mikaela,” I told her back. She stopped with her hand on the door handle, Rhys and Montgomery flanking her, their eyes on me. Both men tensed when I stepped closer. “You need help. My guess is, X is threatening you just like he’s threatening us.” I could give her that. They wouldn’t have come to us if that puzzle piece was still a mystery.

  Levi stepped up to me, protest in the tight lines of his body. My hand stopped him.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she murmured without turning around. “What are you proposing?”

  “We work together,” I said. It was as simple and complex as that.

  She turned then, looked to her teammates. A silent conversation passed between the three of them.

  “Eight heads are better than three,” I coaxed. “Or five.” Especially if one of those heads could hack as well as I could.

  Mikaela’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know there are five of us?”

  I chuckled. “Besides the fact that we have eyes on your SUV?” I waved toward the bank of computers at the other end of the bat cave. “Because you’d never leave your sister behind alone. I figure Valet Boy pulled guard duty.”

  Maris Nixon was likely trained well enough to hold her own in a fight; these guys would make sure of it. But she hadn’t been with them in the restaurant, nor here. It was a guess, but it seemed obvious that Mikaela was protective of the woman who was a decade younger than her.

  And Maris wasn’t the only one a decade younger than Mikaela. I was too. Instead of turning me off, the fact that this woman had plenty of experience—in fighting and life—had me itching for a battle. In the ring or in bed, or both, although I might need a cup either way if the look she was giving me right now was any indication.

  I moved into her space, absorbing her warmth as I lowered my voice. “We can help each other, Mikaela. You know it. We’re not the enemy here.”

  She shook her head. “We don’t know that.”

  “You don’t always have to be in control, you know.” And I didn’t just mean in the field.

  “Is that right, pretty boy?” she scoffed.

  “You both heard her,” I threw over my shoulder to my brothers, a little louder now. “She said I was pretty.”

  “And ridiculous,” Rhys growled. “Nix—”

  “You came to us for a reason,” I said again. “Give us the chance to prove your instincts were right. What have you got to lose besides X?”

  She opened those sweet pink lips—probably to deny me—but hesitated. Diesel brushed against my thigh as he came to stand beside me, and her gaze drifted to him, to the hand I automatically tangled in his fur. She stared for a moment, considering every aspect of my proposal, I knew.

  Then she nodded.

  “Nix.” Montgomery’s tone held warning.

  Mikaela shook her head. “One day, Monty.” Then to me, “One day. That’s all—for now.”

  “Works for me.” I clapped my hands together. “How about we go get the rest of your team?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nix —

  I was not noticing h
ow good his ass looked in his tight black fatigues. Or the way the hot summer breeze ruffled his dark blond hair. The way his fingers, thick and strong, constantly sought out the big black dog that never strayed far from his side.

  Definitely not noticing all that. At all.

  And yes, I was rolling my eyes at myself.

  I didn’t get it—I was a good ten years older than Eli Agozi. I shouldn’t be any more interested in him than I was in a Hollywood star on the cover of a magazine in a checkout line. Those men had always been too “pretty” to me, a fantasy, not reality. Eli was gorgeous. And young. There shouldn’t be a powerful tug in the pit of my belly drawing me to this particular man. He was a flirt trying to distract me. Given the amount of information we didn’t have about him and his brothers, he was quite possibly the enemy.

  And I was on the verge of becoming that sad cliché, the older woman fooling herself into thinking a younger man might actually be interested her.

  My irritation burned brighter at the thought, a powder keg waiting to go off.

  We moved toward the Humvee, which the two of us—and the dog—would take to alert Titus and my sister and have them follow us in. Levi had refused point-blank my request to turn off the jammers. Apparently they were set to ignore certain signatures, since I’d seen the asshole on his own cell a few minutes ago, but not ours, so a drive it was.

  Eli reached the truck just ahead of me. Instead of going around to the driver’s side, he grabbed the passenger door handle.

  Powder keg, meet spark.

  He’d barely cracked the door open before my outrage burst from my lips.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I circled around him, noting the strangest look crossing his face at my use of the word fuck. Shock? No, not shock, but I didn’t care to analyze further. If he was under the delusion that I was a pampered female whose lips had never been sullied by a curse word, then shock was the least of his worries.

  The look faded with a shake of his head. He pulled the door open wide. “Being a gentleman.”