Assassin Games (Tarnished Heroes)

by Bristol, Sidney

  Carol flattened her palm against his groin, curling her fingers around the bulge of his erection. He hummed against her skin but made no move to help her. She wanted the fantasy of being finger fucked and he’d give it to her, enjoying every moment, every squeeze of her internal muscles around him, all of it.

  She made a frustrated sound and stood, pushing her pants down.

  This was what he liked about her. Carol might be distant and rigid at first, but when she knew what she wanted nothing stopped her. She was a force to be reckoned with.

  She kicked off her shoes and pants, then pulled off her shirt and bra.

  “Andy, take your clothes off.”

  “Bossy, aren’t we?”

  “I know what I want.” She grasped his shirt, working it up over his head.

  “I like that about you.” He stood, and she undid his belt, then his jeans.

  Relinquishing control wasn’t something he did in work or play, but with Carol all the rules were different. He’d do whatever she wanted, even if it damned him. She had him wrapped around her finger, and she probably didn’t even realize it. She’d stolen a piece of him, and without her he’d never again be whole.

  He kicked off his boots and clothing, the cool air of the bunker skating over his heated skin.

  Carol stretched up, her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him.

  He pulled her toward him and sat. She yelped and landed, sprawled ungracefully, across his lap. He chuckled and reached for her, pulling her upright.

  “You’re so fucking frustrating sometimes.” Her voice was a growl and her gaze narrowed. She straddled his lap and held his face in her hands.

  “I could say the same about you.” He grinned and gripped her hip, pulling her closer.

  His cock slid against her. She rocked her hips, teasing him with her body, the feel of her skin on his.

  She was so damn amazing. He wished he could hold her forever.

  Andy grasped his cock, guiding it through her labia. She eased down and he slid the head of his erection to her entrance. He tipped his head back, staring at her face, the way she bit her lip and watched his hand. Her body lowered and he slid into her. She sucked in a breath, swallowing a groan, and dropped her head back, eyes closed in bliss.

  He’d studied her for too long. He knew that this was special, that she was not careless about her body or who she let into her life. He’d grown to care for her, probably even love her.

  Love was dangerous in their world. It made people weak, but it also reminded him that there was hope and beauty in the world still. Something worth fighting for.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her hips toward him. She eased down and he lifted, joining their bodies completely.

  Andy sat up, finding her lips with his. He couldn’t tell her how he felt, what was going on inside of him, but he could show her. He could love her body and keep his secret.

  Carol moaned into his mouth, rocking her hips. She was close, he could feel it in the way she hugged his cock and the wetness that eased his penetration. He lifted his hips, grinding against her, deepening her strokes.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  She gripped his shoulders, nails digging in.

  He braced his feet on the ground and thrust up into her. He gripped her hips, guiding her body.

  Fuck, he’d never forget this, how beautiful she looked. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, it was something inside of her. A thing that couldn’t be quantified or measured.

  “Andy…”

  “I’ve got you. Come on.”

  She leaned forward and her lashes fluttered. Their gazes locked.

  He felt her pussy clamp down and her body ripple with orgasm.

  “Fuck.” He thrust up, harder, the velvet vise of her sex spurring on his own pleasure.

  He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight, as he came.

  This was not an encounter he would come out of whole. Carol had wrecked him, and he’d been completely unprepared for it. There was nothing he could have done to defend himself against her innocence, the way she saw through everything to the heart of the matter. And that was dangerous.

  How long until she began to want to name these feelings? Talk about them?

  Andy stroked her back and hair. He wished they could stay down here forever, but that wasn’t who they were. They couldn’t run away together and simply be in love.

  “We should sleep,” he said. The bed was only a few feet away.

  “Bathroom, then bed.” Carol kissed his cheek, a sweet gesture she wouldn’t have done days ago, but now felt normal.

  He helped ease her to her feet, then watched her retreat to the bathroom.

  This was where the danger began for them. Caring, loving, they were ill-advised at best.

  He pushed to his feet and grabbed his discarded shirt. Later, he’d shower. He wiped himself off and stumbled the few feet to bed, lying down.

  Why couldn’t he simply enjoy what they’d just shared?

  Because Carol didn’t yet realize the change. And it was his job to take care of her.

  He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Carol in the small bathroom. What he wouldn’t give to offer her a better life, something more. He was doing the best he could, but was it enough?

  The bathroom door opened, and Carol padded forward. He’d learned her every way, could decipher even this sound. The slight hesitation. Her care to be as quiet as possible. She was timid. Maybe because things weren’t one-sided, as he feared.

  He held his hand out to her and was rewarded by sure, purposeful steps. Her little hand wrapped around his, their fingers threading together.

  She was his biggest weakness, more so than his family, who didn’t much care if he lived or died. Carol was his pressure point.

  “There’s a shirt there.” He flicked his fingers at the foot of the bed. A small dresser held a limited wardrobe of shirts, pants, socks, and underwear.

  “Thanks.” She squeezed his hand, then let go.

  He peered up at her, not in the least ashamed of looking. He hadn’t been kidding when he said Carol was beautiful and unobtainable. She grabbed the first shirt from the top drawer and pulled it on, wearing it like a dress, and flipped her hair back.

  They had time. Until the files downloaded, the best thing to do was rest. Once they made a plan it could be a while before they had the chance to sleep again. Make love.

  Carol turned toward him. He held out his hand and she took it, a hesitant smile curling her lips. She put one knee on the bed and he pulled. She pitched forward, eyes going wide. Andy caught her by the waist and turned, depositing her into the space between him and the wall, where she belonged, where he could better protect her.

  She huffed and muttered something that wasn’t likely very kind, but she also curled up against his side.

  They were getting comfortable with each other. Maybe too comfortable, but he didn’t care. They’d charged past the point of no return some time ago, and his mind was now operating in a future where two lives mattered.

  “Andy? Do you really think we could work together, like you said?” There was a hopeful note in Carol’s voice. It just went to show that she was truly one of the good ones. She didn’t want to leave behind everything she believed in. And maybe a small part of her cared about him as he was growing to care about her.

  “Possibly. It’s a solid idea, but reality is full of unknowns.” He didn’t want to get her hopes up. If he had to put her somewhere and cut all ties to ensure she remained alive, he’d do it.

  “Like?” She pillowed her head on his shoulder and slid her arm around his waist.

  “You would remain at risk. We’d have to set you up with your own…bunker. Your movements would be limited. You would never be free to come and go as you wish, do what you want. It would be a heavily restricted lifestyle.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to talk to my mother? Friends?”

  “No.”

&
nbsp; He would become her whole world.

  In a selfish way he liked that, but he also recognized that while it would give him a partner, someone to talk to when before he’d had no one, for her it would be losing all of her freedom.

  “My alternative is cutting out everyone I know and truly being alone. If I could still contribute, still do good, I’d want to. If I get a say in what I do after this.”

  “I will do whatever keeps you alive, and I might not ask for your input.”

  “Who are you to make decisions about what I do?” She lifted her head from his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve been making them since we met. You’re just now taking offense at it?”

  “Yeah, but that was temporary. This is the rest of my life.”

  “Maybe not. If we expose the moles we could clear your name.”

  “Do you believe that’s going to happen? Maybe if this was just one or two people, I could see that being the case.” She propped her chin in her hand and stared off into space. “What we’re talking about is an organization within the Company. It won’t be easy, and there will be casualties.”

  Andy couldn’t find fault in her thinking. In a perfect world, she got to go back to her life and he’d fade into the shadows. In reality, that wasn’t likely to happen. He was proud of her for coming to that realization on her own. He’d already crushed enough of her dreams.

  “Your plan is still a possibility. I don’t care about the probability.” Carol laid her head back on his shoulder.

  He couldn’t argue with her, because deep down he wanted to keep Carol. She’d imprinted herself on him, stamping him with her mark for the rest of his life. She might be the only person on earth who could possibly care for him the way he cared for her, but if she had a chance to have freedom, he’d give it to her. Because a life in hiding, on the fringe, in the shadows, changed a person, and he didn’t want Carol to ever stop being a beacon of light.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carol had a big, glaring problem with Andy’s plan.

  Her.

  This idea of working together, of getting to continue working for the Company even in an off-the-books fashion, was in theory great. Until it put her and Andy in the same room.

  With no barrier, no reason why an emotional attachment to this man was a bad idea, Carol would fall in love with him. Had fallen in love with him. Was somewhere in the middle.

  Fuck.

  He was more Mark than he realized, which meant—Andy had been Mark all along. It wasn’t an alias, just a part of him he didn’t show often. But she’d seen glimpses of him in kind gestures, tender moments. Mark wasn’t a lie, he was just misnamed.

  She buried her face deeper into the crevice between Andy’s shoulder and the pillow, blocking out the world.

  How was it she’d go on dates, do the whole song and dance, and not find a man she’d truly fall in love with until he kidnapped her? He was supposed to have killed her, not saved her. Her life wholly depended on Andy continuing to believe in her. What if that changed? What would happen to her then?

  Then there was the small voice that whispered doubts to her. That she wasn’t the only woman who warmed his bed. That he traded partners like he traded identities.

  Feelings aside, what was best for them both?

  Carol needed a protector. She had little faith in her ability to survive beyond a few days left on her own.

  Andy didn’t require her assistance.

  It was a lopsided relationship without her misguided emotions playing into things. But were they misguided? Or was this something greater? Something better?

  Nate had said Andy was jealous. Did he actually have feelings for her that went beyond the intensity of the situation?

  If she wasn’t scared of the answer, she might just ask him. But her life depended on him, especially now that they were back in the States.

  “I need to check the download.” Andy’s hand slid down her back. “It’s probably close to finished by now.”

  “Already?” She rolled to her side, giving Andy enough space to push up.

  “Possibly.” He stood up, the athletic shorts he’d put on hanging low on his hips.

  The bandage from the bullet was coming off. It would need to be re-dressed.

  She glanced down at her own wound.

  They could both do with a little medical care.

  Carol rolled to her side and watched Andy sit at his rig, tapping at the keys. The world was bearing down on them, but for now, she just wanted to watch him. Enjoy his presence. The simplicity of the moment.

  “Got it.” Andy frowned.

  “You don’t sound happy.” Carol pushed up. So much for stopping to smell the proverbial flowers.

  “It’s…hundreds of case files. And this is just what I could get. It doesn’t include the heavily classified documents.”

  “What?” Carol stood and crossed to peer over his shoulder. Her mouth dried up and she stared with growing trepidation at the number of files. “Okay…”

  “They won’t all be related, but how to tell which ones are and aren’t?” Andy spread his hands.

  “Are there identifier tags? A way to sort by who was involved?”

  “Kind of.”

  “If we can create an index of which agents were involved with each case it would give us a list of people.”

  “That’s going to take hours, and even then it won’t be comprehensive.” Andy turned to face her. “The program will have to scan each file, pick out the names and create one index at a time.”

  “But it would create the index?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Okay, let’s start that.” Carol paced toward the bathroom, then back again, while Andy began typing. “We don’t need to identify everyone in their ranks. We just need a few of them to question, pit against one another. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Irene hasn’t replied or smoke signaled us or anything, has she?” Carol bit her lip.

  “No. Noah hasn’t heard from anyone, either.”

  “He works with Hector, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  And last they’d heard Mitch was in custody, for who knew what. Time was running out. They had no idea what Mitch might say, what was happening behind the scenes, or if the noose was tightening around their necks.

  “Even once we have that list, we still need personnel files. We need to know how people are connected on the outside.” She kept pacing, back and forth.

  “That’s only if your theory about Charlie’s brother being a key part of the process is correct.”

  “True.”

  The way Carol saw it, there was too much happening for there to not be non-agency people involved. Family members were often overlooked after they were cleared. It would be easy to pass things along via those who appeared innocent and harmless.

  Look at Sarah after all. The former courier hadn’t raised a single flag in all the years she’d worked for the Company, until someone leaked her information, and that was what sent them down this rabbit hole. She just hoped there was a way out at the end of this tunnel that didn’t involve them all dying.

  …

  Mitch blinked at the cinder block wall across from him.

  He could no longer count the individual blocks rising to the ceiling.

  His left eye was nearly swollen shut and his right stung like a motherfucker. For all he knew, he was going blind.

  The butterfaced asshole didn’t want to work too hard roughing Mitch up. So far, he was untouched below his shoulders, which was a mild relief. Until he factored in what he knew.

  The Company condoned torture interrogation.

  Whatever this facility was, it wasn’t one of the CIA locations.

  He’d seen the faces of a dozen people. Some he recognized, others he didn’t.

  They didn’t mean for him to come out of this alive. It should probably scare him. Terrify him a little. But all it did was make Mitch more resolved than ever to ke
ep his mouth shut.

  Between the questions about Charlie, they asked about Carol, Irene, Rand, Sarah, and who else Mitch might be working with. It wasn’t the others that gave them away. It was the too-detailed questions regarding Charlie’s last few gigs and his manner of death that indicated these people knew more than they should.

  Mitch had never filled in the holes about why they’d doctored Charlie’s medical files. They’d never breathed a word about the mole theory. These people acted as though Mitch had bellowed it out in the hall several times a day.

  Whoever these people were, they weren’t CIA, and he’d be damned before he gave the others up. He just hoped that Irene and the others were pulling together an avalanche of evidence to bury these fuckers.

  …

  Kristina stared through the two-way glass at the bloodied form of Mitch McConnel, the golden boy of the CIA.

  There was no coming back from this. She’d seen too much, done too much; her place in things was solidified. She should be overjoyed, but instead she couldn’t get rid of the sick sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Carol, Andy, and Irene were still out there, not to mention Rand and Sarah. The latter two were inconsequential. Their value had expired. It was the remaining three that left Kristina unable to enjoy the unfolding events.

  They needed all three dead. That was the only way this ended well.

  She turned and strode down the hall, turning ideas over in her head.

  First, she’d call her two assets for an update. It was highly unlikely that a trained asset like Andy would allow Carol—or himself—to go home. Perhaps it was time to make a move. Force Carol out of hiding. If her mother died, Carol wouldn’t be able to stop herself from coming home. Grief made people do stupid things.

  It could work.

  The last proactive call she’d made had caused this circus. Kristina didn’t dare do something on her own again.

  “Where are you going?”

  That voice made ice trickle down her spine. Kristina stopped in her tracks and turned.

  The Shadow Man stood in a darkened room, one lamp on, a file in hand. It would seem that he had a foothold in every location she’d glimpsed these last few hours.