Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY─ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY─TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY─THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY─FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY─FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY─SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY─THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY─FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY─FIVE
Copyright © 2018 Amy Brock McNew
Sleeper Rise of the Fianna Book One
Written by: Amy Brock McNew
Published by: Amy Brock McNew/ Amaeris Designs Productions
Cover Design: Susan Garwood of Wicked Women Designs
Cover Models: Gina Sevani and Connor Smith
Photography: Reggie Deanching of RPlusM Photography
Editing: Janeen Ippolito
Formatted by: Jaye Cox
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotes for review.
For Vickie.
My aunt, my second mom, and my best friend.
You’re the toughest broad I know.
Thank you for helping me find the warrior within myself.
CHAPTER ONE
Keep The Streets Empty For Me
Being an assassin had perks.
Three sipped the fruity drink in her hand, paid for with the boss's credit card. An expensive, perfectly cut, black dress clung to her in all the right places and showcased her ample cleavage. Also paid for by her boss, and gaining her plenty male attention. But she had no time for men. No time for pleasure.
Her mission was all. As much as she enjoyed the benefits that sometimes came with her life, there was work to do.
She turned her attention back to the task at hand. Her position was perfect. Near the emergency exit and close to the kitchen. Two avenues for quick escape if needed. They were the only places in the environment that would allow for a fast getaway. The dark club was packed with bodies, all either looking to get drunk or laid.
Except for her.
She watched her mark across the smoky, crowded room with his female companion. The man was handsome, though rough around the edges. Taller than every other man in the room. Long, dark hair cascaded down his back. The woman was easily as tall as Three, right at six feet. Her blonde waves fell around her delicate, yet strong, face. Both were muscular, looking like they could put up a good fight. But thoughts of a good row left her mind as their heads tilted together intimately. They laughed and cuddled without a care in the world. The female had her legs tossed over the male's thighs, all but sitting in his lap. They were happy. They were in love.
Blissfully unaware a vicious killer had them in her sights.
A moment's envy rippled through Three. She would never have what the couple did. Or anything resembling the mundane, wonderful existence the general population enjoyed. She didn't even have a name that she knew of. Only her designation. Since she had no memory before six months ago when she'd woken in the training facility, she knew nothing about herself. Everything before that six months was a murky pool, waving and laughing at her every time she tried to dive in for answers.
She didn’t have time for the longing or pang of heartache that washed over her. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the job she loved. Craved. Being an assassin filled her hunger for violence and blood that seemed to be a ravenous beast, always starving. She thrived on the action, the danger. The accomplishment found in victory. The thrill of a nasty fight won.
Who cared if Three didn't know who she was? She knew what she was and what she was meant to do.
Kill.
She eliminated every target given to her in spectacularly savage fashion. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. There was no place for innocence or regret. No room for a desire to be more. It was all she knew, and it was enough.
The mark stood and Three tossed back the rest of her drink before setting the empty glass on the bar. She reached into the dangerously low cut back of her dress and surreptitiously palmed the flat throwing knife hidden there. Another perk of the job was cool the awesome weaponry, and the means to hide it. The slim belt that held her knives fit nicely inside the snug dress, giving no clue to its presence.
Edging her way along the wall to keep clear of the crowd, she followed the mark and his date out the door and into the sticky night air. Her boss was adamant about not drawing attention. She didn’t understand why, but orders were orders.
Once outside, she tucked her knife away again and allowed instinct to guide her through the busy tourist crowd filling up the French Quarter. The stale scent of beer and the stench of sweaty humans assaulted her nose, but still didn’t take the edge off her predatory senses.
Not being human had its benefits as well.
Bumping her way through fanny packs and garish outfits, drunks and sightseers stopping every few feet, she kept every sense she had focused on her target. His scent locked in her brain. Woodsy, musky. With a hint of animal wildness. Her bloodhound nose could follow it a mile away.
Someone slammed into her from behind. Lukewarm liquid spilled down her back. She whirled, grabbing the drunk girl and throwing her into the crowd. With gasps and wide eyes, the tourists back away from Three, shooting curious looks filled with fear. She ignored them and turned back to the mark.
Shit. He was gone. She growled, sending the crowd stumbling farther away from her. She’d never lost a mark and wasn’t about to now.
Frustrated her abilities were being hampered, Three parted the crowd with a vicious glare and took off in the direction her target had headed.
She'd never lost a mark before and didn't intend to start now.
She scanned the sea of laughing, yelling people. Not finding the pair in the crowd, she stopped in the middle of the road, thankful the street was closed to vehicle traffic. Sometimes the endless festival in the city came in handy.
Except for the throngs of people when you didn’t need them for cover.
Closing her eyes, Three reached out with her mind. She sifted through various odors and sounds, the auras of the crowd, searching. It made her job so much harder when marks chose congested areas to hang out in. Couldn't the couple be normal and find some dark, private place to go screw like rabbits? Isn't that what humans were always doing?
Sighing, she continued her tedious task, rapidly coming to the end of her patience. Then her eyes flipped open and her head swung to the right. There they were, ambling down an alley, attached at the hip. With her senses in high gear, she picked up a faint vibration in the air, almost a melody. It seemed to be
coming from the couple.
Strange.
She slipped off her high heels and tossed them behind her, not caring about the grunt of the drunk she’d hit with them. She pushed through the mass of sweaty partygoers and worked her way to the mouth of the alley. Staying close to the brick still warm from the oppressive Louisiana heat, she edged deeper into the lane that looked more like someone’s back patio. It was full of potted trees and lights strung between the buildings. The male turned sharply and pressed the female against the wall. Three slid behind two of the leafiest plants, blending into the shadows.
She'd never been this close to this particular mark before. Hadn't been given any information on him other than his name, what he looked like, and where he'd be. She'd wondered, but now she was sure.
Her mark and his date were not human.
Then again, neither was she.
It was one of the few things she knew about herself. Inhuman power popped and sizzled in her blood. Three didn't remember being without it. She couldn’t help her smirk. Hell, that wasn't saying much, but she knew the power was a part of her. She just wasn't sure what kind of creature she was. And like the other four assassins in her group, no one was telling them.
She closed her eyes again, training her senses on the mark and his female. Trying to figure out what they were. Not that she had much of a frame of reference. And there was that sound again. Like a hum in her ears, but quiet, barely audible. It was one of the most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard. It reverberated from them in waves, wrapping around her mind. Opening her eyes, she almost sucked in a breath but caught herself.
The passion rolling off of them put off heat she swore she could feel.
The couple were locked together in a deep kiss. The man's hand clenched the woman's left buttock, causing her skirt to rise up her thigh. They were intertwined like a vine around a lamppost, floating in a haze of lust that burned dark red and pulsed around them. An actual cloud of red mist that seemed to envelope them and originate from them at the same time.
She was used to seeing emotions as clouds of color. She’d just never seen anything like this.
Yeah, her world was strange.
Three accidentally grabbed a branch on the tree in front of her as she leaned forward, drawn by the pull of something she’d never known. The couple broke apart at the sound she made. Both shot glances in her direction. They stood shoulder to shoulder, alert and tense.
Dammit. She was better than that. Not once had she revealed herself until she intended to. There was a first time for everything, though. This was a shitty time to say the least. She huffed out an irritated breath.
“Who's there?” the mark called.
Three remained quiet, hoping they'd dismiss the sound and go back to their make out session. There was no way he could see her. Of course, she could be wrong. She could see in the dark. While she had no idea what she or the mark were, she had to admit there was a good chance he had enhanced senses as well.
Either way, it was pointless to remain hidden. She stepped from behind the bush and rose to her full height. She planted herself in the center of the dark alley. Time to get to work.
“I am Three. And you are dead.”
The female's eyes narrowed. She growled while the male straightened. A hard look settled in his sharp, green eyes as he reached into his sports jacket, retrieved a blade, and tossed the coat aside.
“I wondered when they'd come for me.”
They? Who the fuck were they? Three’s heart sped up. Did he possibly know who or what she was? Excitement flared and she tried to stuff it down. Maybe he simply referred to those who commanded the training grounds. There were a lot of people around the facility. People, monsters, whatever they were. He could be talking about any of them. Or none of them at all.
Not that it mattered.
Despite her confusion, three's blood boiled with the need for a fight. No mark had ever talked to her like this. Of course, with the other three she'd either caught them sleeping or was able to come at them from behind and gain the upper hand. None had been anything other than human. Though now, she was second guessing that. Maybe she hadn't been paying enough attention.
This one had been hard to find. And she’d had no idea where he resided, unlike the others. She’d had to wait until he showed his face in public.
Three shook her head and refocused. She couldn’t let him distract her from her job. She slid the narrow, double-edged dagger from her boot. “Sorry to disappoint. There's only me.”
“I highly doubt that.” He settled on the balls of his feet, looking quite comfortable with the blade in his hand. A warrior's knowledge gleamed in his eyes. A confidence she knew well.
One forged in the fires of battle.
Three glanced at the female, who had produced her own weapon, the steel glinting in the faint light of a waxing moon. The woman took position beside her male, her earlier smile and easy demeanor gone. In its place, the same single-minded focus that resonated on the face of her companion.
So she’d been right. They were both fighters. Good. Then she didn't have to give a second thought to feeling bad about there being collateral damage. Not that Three would anyway. Empathy, regret, or guilt weren't in her emotional repertoire.
Finished with conversation and done with thinking Three struck first.
Fast and hard.
Leaping to the right, she silently speared into the man's side, tilting up with the tip of her longest blade. In and out in less than a heartbeat, she punctured a lung. His gasp and the hissing release of air only her heightened hearing could detect were confirmation.
Moving like the wind, Three circled behind the woman threw an arm around her chest. She dragged her small knife across the woman's body, aiming for the jugular. She needed to end this quickly. The target let out a pained cry and shoved Three back, jumping up and out to the left, reaching for her man. The knife missed its mark and instead sliced across the collar bone as the woman leaped, splitting the skin open like a ripe tomato. Blood sprayed.
Three whipped around and set her stance as the male catapulted over the woman, flying toward Three. That confirmed it. A human would be writhing on the ground, two seconds from knocking on hell's gates.
Time slowed like pouring molasses as he seemed suspended in midair, the savagery stamped into his features only highlighted by the smattering of his woman's blood. Three's psyche lit up in response. This was what she'd hungered for. What she'd trained for. A real fight. A worthy opponent. A true outlet for the venom coursing through her system, the bone deep, crushing desire with seemingly no origin.
As if it were imprinted on her DNA.
Reality came crashing back as she twisted to the left to avoid the full force of his assault. Still, she caught a majority of it. Pavement dented under her spine as the mountain of a man crashed into her, blasting the air out of her lungs. Her head smacked the street. Momentary blackness cascaded over her eyes as pain exploded up and down her back.
Shit, he was huge.
It took only a second to recover, but in that moment he was able to pin her shoulder with his knife, twisting as he roared. Three bit back the scream that clawed up her throat. Their eyes met, and he froze. Surprise, then sadness, then rage ran across his face.
But whatever it was didn't shock him enough to stop twisting that knife in her flesh.
Forcing the pain into a box, Three wedged her feet under his hips and thrust upward, flipping him over her head. Yanking the blade from her tissue, scraping bone on the way out, she tossed it to the side with a clatter. She didn't pause to cry out or analyze the injury. She was too far gone.
That soothing, familiar haze of battle had slipped over her like a cozy blanket.
Catching the floral, fresh rain scent of the female barreling in her direction, Three launched into a back flip, kicking the woman hard in the chin on the upswing. The blow sent her sailing backward as Three turned to deal with the man, who had regained his footing. Two more blades appe
ared in his hands.
Blood oozed from the wound on his shoulder and soaked his once-pristine dress shirt. They circled each other. Red life oozed from Three’s shoulder as well, and she was sure her face was black and blue, spattered with the blood she’d drawn. The woman joined them, her red drenched blouse in jagged tatters. Bruises bloomed on her jaw and forehead.
The group created a triangle. Two points against one. Against Three.
She smiled without humor. She'd been up against worst odds in training and her training partners never held back. They had no rules, spared no remorse for injuries inflicted. They didn't spar. They fought. Viciously.
The man's brow creased. Confusion and if she wasn't mistaken, a hint of awe shone in his eyes, deep as a murky river. “You probably won't give me the truth, but where do you come from? Are there more?”
Three halted in her movement, her mind sorting through his possible meaning. She kept her expression impassive. “I fight alone.”
“No, I don't mean now. I sense only you. Are you their only assassin or are there more?”
Three stared at him. She hadn't come to talk. Besides, he'd be dead in a few minutes, as would the woman, so there wasn't any point. Though his question raised a few in her own mind. The main one being, who were these beings she’d been taking out? She had some things to ask those in charge of the training facility.
If she ever met them.
The man rubbed his wrist across his forehead, shoving thick black hair out of his eyes and back over his shoulder. His gaze never left hers, his exasperation and rage boring into her. “They'll never win. We may be small in number but make no mistake. The kingdom is ours, and we will claim the throne.”
Had this guy hit his head when she flipped him? “I have no idea what fucking kingdom you're referring to. Don't care.”
All Three cared about was eliminating the marks. Though now she was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't keep one of them alive to question. The man raised concerns she didn't know existed, and sure as shit didn't understand. Then there was the fact they were like her. Whatever she was. Maybe they knew. It’d just been her for what felt like lifetimes. She didn’t even try to bond with her fellow assassins. Though they seemed to be the same as her.
Sleeper (Rise of the Fianna Book 1) Page 1