Spy to Die For (Assassins Guild)

by Kris Delake

  He had searched his entire life. That was why he had chosen the last name Hunter. He had arrived at Tranquility House with no last name at all.

  He used to say that his name wasn’t Jack Hunter. It was Jack, hunter, the hunter being a descriptor, not a designation.

  He hadn’t lost that feeling; he was still hunting, for his identity, for his work, for everything.

  Only at this very moment, he felt like he had found something.

  Someone.

  She was right. He fit perfectly. More to the point, she fit perfectly.

  And it frightened him.

  He had never let his guard down this far, particularly not on Krell.

  And he had never felt so confused. He honestly didn’t know what to do next. Should he get up and leave? Should he wake her? Should he make love to her again?

  He wanted to make love to her again. And again. And again.

  He gave in. He kissed the spot where her lovely neck met her well-sculpted shoulder.

  She sighed and squirmed against him.

  He slid a hand away from her breast, across her flat belly, and through that small shock of black hair that he had explored in depth the night before. She was wet.

  So he slipped inside her and cupped her against him, gently rocking them both. She moaned as she came awake—literally coming and waking up at the same time. Which made him come too—faster than he ever had in his life.

  He hadn’t thought he had anything left in him, but apparently he did.

  She shifted, then pulled away from him, startling him. She hadn’t done that before.

  Was she angry? Did she dislike being awakened like this? Did she feel taken advantage of?

  He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad.

  She rolled over and faced him. The pillow had creased one cheek, making her look just a little dangerous. Her black hair was tousled, her lips swollen.

  She smiled at him, and to his relief, the smile reached her eyes. She put a hand on his jaw, holding him in place, as she kissed him thoroughly.

  “Good morning to you too,” she said and leaned back. “Although I’m not sure it’s morning.”

  “Me, either,” he said.

  She ran a hand through his hair, finger-combing it. “This room has its own water shower,” she said.

  He felt a shock run through him. Something in her tone made that comment dismissive, not suggestive. He couldn’t tell what it was, since she still looked soft and kissable.

  “Do I need one?” he asked.

  Her eyes became distant, even though her expression didn’t change. “I just figured you’d appreciate the luxury, especially here on Krell.”

  “I worry what the water’s got in it,” he said, “especially here on Krell.”

  Her smile widened, and she came back to those eyes. “I’ve used it for two days and I haven’t melted yet.”

  He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Maybe he could spend more time with her. Maybe he could meet her somewhere else, just for a day. (A night.) Or just a few hours. (Or another evening in bed.)

  “You haven’t told me who you are yet, either,” he said in the most unthreatening tone he could muster.

  Her smile changed. Her lips moved ever so slightly, so that the smile didn’t seem pleased, it seemed like it was tinged with an apology. He’d never seen anyone whose smallest expressions conveyed so much.

  Or maybe he never noticed such things before.

  “You know who I am,” she said. “I’m the woman you spent the night with.”

  “I’d love to spend another night,” he said, stroking her hair.

  “Me, too,” she said, and his heart actually leaped.

  Then she rolled away from him, and got out of bed, all in one quick movement.

  “Unfortunately, we agreed this was a one-time thing.”

  And she, clearly, was going to enforce it.

  He sighed. “We did. I enjoyed myself so much”—which was a hell of an understatement—“that I was hoping we could renegotiate.”

  “Maybe,” she said, and that leaping feeling returned. “If we meet again on some other crappy space station.”

  And the feeling fell away. He was more than disappointed. He felt… well, he didn’t want to think about how he felt. He would have to use words he never used, like heartbroken. He didn’t believe those words meant anything, especially to a man like him.

  “Would you like the shower first?” she asked.

  Normally, he would let her have it. After all, she was already out of bed. But he needed to get out of here. He couldn’t spend any more time with her, not if she hadn’t felt the way he had.

  And she clearly hadn’t.

  “Yes, I’ll experiment with that shower first,” he said, getting up slowly. He was sore, but in unexpected places. His elbows were scraped. The muscles on his thighs complained, probably from that unexpected joining near the couch, where his legs finally gave out.

  He smiled at her, hoping the smile didn’t look as fake as it felt. Then he walked, back straight, to the bathroom, amazed at the effort it took not to grab her and hold her against him one last time.

  Chapter 6

  Skye watched Jack walk around the bed. The top of his head brushed against the ceiling here as well, yet he was in perfect proportion. She wouldn’t have thought tall would be so appealing, and it was.

  He was.

  A shiver ran through her. She had been alone for her entire life, and she had just guaranteed that she would remain alone.

  What would it cost to meet him occasionally on some space resort somewhere or in some hotel in an out-of-the-way city on some distant planet?

  But she knew the answer to that. She had stayed awake most of the night thinking about it, and had finally dozed off maybe an hour or two before he woke her up again. Pleasantly. Sex had never been exciting and pleasant and addictive all at the same time.

  The answer, she thought, forcing herself to concentrate, was that she had too many obligations to the Assassins Guild and had made too many enemies. She didn’t know who Jack was or who he worked for. He might actually be someone she should have avoided.

  She hadn’t checked, and she wouldn’t. She would do her best to forget him when she left Krell later today.

  It would take a hell of an effort, but she’d made hellish efforts before.

  She could do it again.

  The shower squealed on. He was more trusting than she was. She had actually tested that water for contaminants before stepping into it naked. The water had been remarkably clean, probably something else she was paying for in this hugely expensive suite.

  She shivered again, then yanked a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. The problem wasn’t with the environmental controls. It was with her decision, and she knew it.

  She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to see if she could make him as addicted to her as she already was to him.

  And maybe he was. He had asked exactly what she had been thinking: he had asked to meet her again.

  She had to say no. Maybe she would find him when she was no longer part of the Guild, but right now, she didn’t dare involve anyone else in it.

  Especially someone she didn’t know.

  She needed armor. She trailed around the bed and found the clothes she barely remembered discarding. She slipped them on, leaving the sheet crumpled on the floor.

  Then she picked up his clothes and cradled them against her. They smelled like him, all warm and safe and sexy. She hadn’t realized just how erotic scents could be. Yet his was.

  She made herself set the clothing on the side of the bed, then went into the living room so she wouldn’t see him naked again. She would say the coldest good-bye she could, and hope he wouldn’t give her that look again—the one that mixed desire with sadness. She had barely been able to stand up to it the first time.

  She doubted she could stand up to it again.

  Chapter 7

  Skye stood in the ticket line
for transport off Krell. The line wound all the way around this part of the station, with people standing patiently. Everyone knew they’d have a seat, although she couldn’t say the same for folks who arrived much later.

  She hated ticketing here. No early tickets because people would resell them and gouge whoever bought the seat. The transport companies had inflicted this policy on Krell, not the other way around, because too much forgery had happened and too many people ended up with matching tickets for the same seat.

  She always forgot about this inconvenience until she waited in line. Usually she didn’t mind. The ticket station had food and drink vendors, entertainment vendors, and everything else she could think of. All kinds of music competed for her attention, and the air smelled strongly of beer and fried foods.

  But she wasn’t paying any attention to any of that. Instead, she found herself looking at the door frames and ceiling, wondering if Jack could even stand in this area as long as she had. He would have to hunch.

  And she would have to stop thinking about him.

  Now.

  Not that such internal commands had worked so far. She had barely allowed herself to look at him when they said good-bye in her suite. She had given him a cold smile, and a brief wave of the fingers, as if he hadn’t mattered to her at all, as if the time they shared hadn’t been the most amazing time in her entire life.

  For his part, he hadn’t said another word about another meeting. Instead, he had smiled at her and thanked her for the shower. If he had thanked her for anything else, she would have come unglued.

  She had no idea what he thought of her. Did he think she did this at every port with a different guy every time? And did it matter if he did think that way?

  She tugged on the sleeves of her sweater. She had put it on, as well as a pair of leggings because she couldn’t get warm. Leaving him did send little shivers through her, and a hot shower hadn’t helped.

  Nothing would help. She was letting a good man walk away from her, and she was doing it for all the right reasons.

  Although she had no guarantee he was good except for that inexplicable sense she got about people, the way she could see right down to their core. She liked his core. She liked the parts jutting out of his core. She liked everything about him, including the way his eyes darkened when he had an orgasm. She wondered how many women had seen that.

  And then she had to remind herself—sternly, forcefully—that it was none of her business.

  Jack Hunter, whoever he was, was no longer someone she needed to concern herself with. He was already a memory, albeit a very, very, very good one.

  She was so preoccupied she almost missed a familiar form skirting the transport line. The form belonged to Liora Olliver, one of the toughest, hardest assassins to go through the Guild.

  Skye should know, since she and Liora had tested together. Liora aced every assassin test. Skye rarely passed them. Often Skye forfeited them, unwilling to stalk someone and kill him in what she believed was cold blood.

  The depth of her belief and that talent of hers which enabled her to see people clearly convinced the heads of the Guild to let her be a spy and nothing more. The Guild’s director, Kerani Ammons, actually told Skye that she was unusual, that they’d never had anyone like her before.

  Skye felt good about that for a few days after it happened, and then she encountered the taunts of the other trainees. Assassins in training, like Liora, had made fun of Skye in ways that still carried pain whenever she thought of them.

  Liora had no reason to be here. Skye always checked to see which assassins were nearby before she arrived anywhere. That way, she wouldn’t have one of those awkward “hello” moments that could derail a job—hers or the assassin’s.

  It was common courtesy, and it was a routine that Skye followed religiously.

  So did Liora. Or at least, that was what it seemed like. But as Skye thought about it, she realized that she hadn’t seen Liora’s name on a manifest in months. Liora had either been out of the game or stalking very big prey.

  Or both.

  Yet, if it were big prey, then Skye should have known about it. Shouldn’t she?

  She slipped out of the line almost without thinking about it. She had discovered a lot of disturbing material in the last few months, things that pointed at some kind of plot against the Guild itself. She had sent some of the information back to the Guild and hadn’t received any response.

  Of course, they didn’t owe her a response. They might have simply sent out some of their best operatives to investigate the threats.

  Liora was one of their best operatives.

  Liora was small and slender with short cropped black hair. One of Skye’s constant irritations growing up was that instructors—particularly early in a course—would confuse them. Apparently they looked enough alike that the instructors couldn’t see past the physical. If they had, they would have seen just how different both women were.

  Both got good grades, but Liora always scored well on weapons use, hand-to-hand fighting, and willingness to go after an opponent. Skye’s hand-eye coordination wasn’t that good, so she and weapons didn’t always get along, and she would back off if she didn’t think she had a good reason to fight someone.

  She had only fought Liora once, and had lost miserably. Liora didn’t have any empathy for her opponent, even though the fights were in class, and she had known her opponents for much of her life. Liora fought to win.

  Skye would back down, which always got her poor marks. In mock fights, assassins were supposed to recognize that their lives were often on the line, just like their targets’ lives were. Skye couldn’t make that mental leap. She wasn’t sure if she could make it if her life really were in danger. So far, in all the years she had been working off her debt to the Guild, she hadn’t had to find out.

  Skye wove through the crowd, careful to keep someone between herself and Liora. She wasn’t sure why she felt it imperative that Liora didn’t see her, but Skye trusted her gut. Her gut had gotten her into and out of serious situations before, often without harming anyone.

  Something about Liora seemed off to her, but she wouldn’t be able to describe what that something was.

  Liora made her way to the central concourse of Krell, doing her best to remain out of sight just like Skye was. Skye had no idea whom Liora was trying to avoid, but she thought someone else might be around. Or maybe she was trying to avoid the surveillance cameras which everyplace—including Krell—had in abundance.

  The difference between Krell and most other places was that Krell never released its footage to the authorities—any authorities. Krell sat in the NetherRealm, the neutral space between several jurisdictions, and resolutely refused to join any of them for any reason.

  Liora headed to the very bar that Skye and Jack had frequented the night before. Only Liora ducked inside.

  Skye wasn’t sure how she could follow—Liora would recognize her after all. Then she saw where Liora sat, toward the back, facing the wall, obviously thinking more about going unseen and unrecognized than worrying about her own safety.

  Odd. That went against training. But sometimes just acting on training alone allowed others to find Assassins Guild members. Maybe the improper position was more of Liora’s cover.

  Skye elbowed her way to the bar. She ordered that same lemon fizzy thing she had ordered the night before. Only this time, she sat at the very edge of the bar, just behind an obese man who seemed to be a regular here. He had been in the very same spot nursing a different drink the night before.

  Liora sat alone. Skye scanned the area including the concourse, looking for another familiar face. Through the open door, she saw one, but not one she expected.

  She saw Jack.

  He didn’t look inside the bar. Instead, he headed away from it, his movements furtive and odd. Her heart pounded. She both wanted him to look in her direction and she didn’t want him to. Her cheeks flushed.

  She felt like a vulnerable teenager—o
r what she thought a vulnerable teenager must have felt like, because she had never been one. All those crushes, all those sleepless nights thinking about attractions and the opposite sex—she left all of that to girls like Liora. Skye had had secret crushes, but she had never acted on them and had always ignored them.

  In some ways, she continued to do that now. She didn’t want to see Jack again. The night before, that marvelous night, had to become a memory. She couldn’t lose focus or she would make mistakes.

  And mistakes would cost too much—either she would lose her life or she would lose her freedom, at least for another few years. She worried about that more than dying; she’d either be imprisoned, or demoted within the Guild and forced to stay there.

  Jack had stopped just outside the Starcatcher. He looked a little lost. Was he searching for her?

  She took a deep breath and made herself look away from him. What he thought no longer mattered. She was done with him. She had to be.

  She focused on Liora. A beer sat in front of her, untouched. Then a man put his hand on her back in a familiar way as he sat across from her. He grinned as if he knew her—and he must have, because Liora hadn’t jumped when he touched her. Nor had she reacted in any other way.

  He was slight with scruffy brown hair, and a jacket that he kept pulled around him. Among the shady characters who made their way around Krell, he looked shadier than usual. Or maybe Skye just thought that because he was with Liora.

  Skye hoped Liora would continue to disregard protocol. Because if she did, then Skye could find out what was happening. She had an enhancement that allowed her to focus her hearing the way she could focus her vision. But the Assassins Guild had jammers that blocked such equipment.

  Apparently Liora wasn’t using her jammer, because her voice became stronger as Skye focused on it.

  “You’re late,” Liora said to the man.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think you cared.”

  “My time is precious,” she said.