The Assassin

by SE Chardou

  It made no difference the piece of shit club had not only murdered his uncle and kidnapped his cousin, the President and VP at the time were wary of taking anyone who’d had any ties to other MC clubs.

  However Pyro had taken his Prospect position with all the importance and discipline as he had when in the military and his time spent as a mercenary. He did everything asked of him and even made a few bombs for the clubs. Nothing big that would arouse suspicion with the Feds but they did the job for their intended targets.

  After six months, he was voted into the club as a full member. Once leadership changed with the arrival of Hardy and Ronan, his position changed. They needed a new Sergeant at Arms, and although he’d been with the club for less than three years, he was given the position anyway. He was the most technically proficient when it came to firearms, bombs and all weapons of mass destruction. Cricket Henderson, Ronan’s best friend, joined the Vegas charter several months ago and had been given the title of Road Captain. It suited him just fine. When two more members of the Birch Tree chapter traded with two older members of the Vegas chapter, Chemist gave up his position as secretary, and the job was handed off to Bookie. Ronan’s twin brother, Quinn, had also left Birch Tree and soon, he was elected treasurer. Not only was he good with numbers but both men also were quiet, studious and did their jobs with cold-blooded precision but it was patently clear neither enjoyed murder or drama.

  The Vegas club ran smoothly because they had a President and VP who not only listened to their men but respected them too. They entered into new ventures with the Kitaev Bratva, and business was good. They kept club whores to a minimum, mostly because old ladies had taken their well-defined positions running the clubhouse. The members who were unattached usually either preferred to get their pussy from the strip club the club owned or, if they were flush with cash, they’d book an appointment with the extremely lucrative escort service the club had recently started.

  All the women were from Eastern Europe and although the situation could have easily been misconstrued for human trafficking, it wasn’t as black and white as that. The women had their visas in order and were paid for their services. They had the right to refuse clients and with the classy atmosphere, the escort service was one of their top moneymakers besides the meth they sold wholesale to other biker clubs, cartels and the Kitaev Bratva.

  Life was good for Pyro.

  He kept his girlfriends to a minimum, mostly because he didn’t want his sister getting the wrong idea. That, and as much as he enjoyed sex, his life would never be the same after his tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. He still had nightmares about the shit he’d seen and done—his life wasn’t and couldn’t be complicated by some cheap bimbo who wouldn’t understand that behind his sexy façade was a man damaged and fucked up beyond all recognition. Looks could be deceiving but he’d yet to find a woman he could completely be honest with about what being involved in combat, along with other nefarious activities while serving, had done to him.

  However, despite the nightmares, and the quiet suffering he endured day in and day out, it was worth it. He kept his family in prosperity, and his sister debt free while the club kept him occupied enough that most of his demons were kept at bay.

  That was until Mira showed up with her dark hair and ice-blue eyes—his eyes. Every time he glanced at her, he felt like he was staring into his own soul. She had the same gray-white flecks surrounding her pupils as he did, and the way he felt about her was indescribable.

  All the sudden, he didn’t want her to go on this mission and murder a man that might potentially cost her everything. The thought of Fernando putting his hands on her disgusted him to his very bones.

  She wasn’t like his cousin, Magnolia.

  Mira was strong, determined and she had a quiet disposition that fooled a lot of people. However, just one look into those eyes of hers, and he could glimpse the depth of her soul because in many ways, it was as damaged and broken as his own.

  Pyro didn’t believe in insta-love, and knew it was his dick leading him on. His cock wanted to make serious decisions that could fuck up this whole operation but he would follow his head. It was much more logical and furthermore, it would keep both Mira and him out of a world of trouble.

  Naomi Cox—old lady to Ronan Cox who also happened to be the Vice President of the Saints Vegas’ chapter—had ordered the hit. She’d contacted Magnolia and Max because they were former assassins, and knew how to do their jobs professionally without a hint of malice or passion. It was merely their occupations until a reversal of fortune had left them both with more than enough money to retire. Their daughter, Sophia Maksymilia, was spoiled with her own nanny, and they owned a beautiful mansion situated in the private, gated community of Lake Las Vegas.

  That didn’t mean they still didn’t participate in underworld activities. The insanely large amount of money Mags had inherited merely gave them the freedom to pick and choose what they wanted to be involved in versus what they would rather sub-contract out.

  Murdering Fernando Navarro would not be easy. He was now in command of Aztecas Infierno, one of the most feared and powerful Mexican cartels in the world. There was talk in the underworld he was now more vicious and blood thirsty than ever because he acted on behalf of several powerful governments with impunity. They needed the Intel he could provide on other cartels and although they were often smaller fish in a shark pond, any effort to destroy the cartels was good press.

  Pyro understood the danger he was putting Mira in because there was no way she would ever be able to get close to him without sleeping with him. She’d have to pull off the Jennifer Lawrence of performances because he had to believe she was a good girl who wanted to be corrupted by him, and then he would take her.

  This was where the problem of the situation became quite apparent. There were too many unknowns that could happen. He could fall for her and take her out of the country. He could play with her for a while and then dump her—however he would have his men dispatch of her brutally as opposed to allowing her leave unscathed. Hell, he might want to make her his wife and this last possibility sent chills running down Pyro’s spine.

  Yes, Mira was being paid handsomely but she had not agreed to sign her life away just to get one measly job done.

  His heart thundered in his chest as he bench pressed weights and went through his usual activities to keep in prime shape.

  There was a knock on the door before it opened and Mira walked in with a pair of black calf-length yoga pants and a cute blue sports bra that was quite modest and ended at mid-stomach.

  “Do you mind if I use your treadmill?” she greeted as she glared at the equipment with fervor and intense interest.

  “Help yourself.” He set the weight down on the bar and stood, grabbing a pair of jumping ropes.

  “You train like an MMA fighter or a boxer,” she observed as she started out at a brisk jog on the treadmill.

  “Yeah, I do but a lot of this shit we did in the military too. I like to keep fit and stay in top physical form. Doesn’t mean I don’t drink too much or smoke too much chronic but hell, you only live once.”

  Mira glanced at him as she sped up to a faster jog on the treadmill. “So you don’t smoke?”

  “Cigarettes? Nah, I started vaping about a year ago and never looked back.”

  “Cool. You know any shops around here. Estelle vapes too, and she told me about Pink Spot. She said they have some great products.”

  Pyro couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his face as he jumped rope. He could think of a particular hot pink spot on Mira, and it didn’t have shit to do with vaping. “Yeah, it’s where I usually go. If you want, after we finish up here, we can go together.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. It’s no big deal. Might as well enjoy the simple pleasures of life. God knows it’s too short to always worry about the small shit.”

  He glanced at Mira who had broken out into a full run on the treadmill. Her expression was stea
dy, serious yet completely relaxed and she ran as if her life depended on it. For five minutes she punished her body before she slowed down the machine to a brisk jog again.

  “I’m not worried about the small shit, Pyro. I’m concerned maybe this job is over my head. Hell, I haven’t even bothered to think about where I’m going to spend Christmas—can you believe that?”

  “You’ll spend it here with Estelle and me before we head over to the clubhouse. You’re not just some houseguest, sweetie. You’re family now, and I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I’ve let too many people down but there is no way in hell I would ever fail you.”

  Mira finally shut down the treadmill after a couple of minutes of brisk walking and wiped the sweat from her brow with a hand towel. Her stomach glistened with moisture, and he wouldn’t mind licking up every drop but those kind of thoughts didn’t exactly go with his whole “you’re family now” speech.

  It wasn’t the first time he cursed his cock for having a mind of its own. He desperately wanted to view Mira like he did Estelle. She was a young woman, and he would keep her safe if it was the last thing he did. However, Mira wasn’t family and he couldn’t pretend she was.

  Not when all he wanted to do was fuck her senseless while her husky yet feminine voice screamed out his name in orgasmic ecstasy.

  Christ, he could feel himself growing hard beneath the track pants he wore though they weren’t nearly loose enough to hide a full blown erection. Thank God she wasn’t paying attention. She’d climbed on board his Stairmaster and began a routine that had to be punishing to say the least. Her breath was even yet she breathed deeply through her nose. No doubt the sweat, which began at her hairline and continued across her ample chest and toned stomach showed the true strain she was under.

  “How long do you usually work out?” Pyro turned away from her and grabbed a hand towel to mop up his own sweat.

  “Forty-five minutes. I have to admit I’m a bit lazy but thanks to a pretty good metabolism, it’s enough to keep me in shape without me having to count calories,” Mira said in a husky voice. “Another twelve minutes on this punishing bastard and I’m done for the day.”

  “Well, that’s perfect timing.”

  Mira slowed down her climbing by a few paces. “Why is that?”

  “Well, there’s a Christmas Eve get together at the club. I thought you might wanna go.”

  “What about you training me for this job? Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve been less productive than I have ever been in my whole life. That’s not a good thing if Fernando Navarro is as dangerous as the information I’ve learned about him.” She wiped the sweat from her brow before throwing the towel on the machine and continued her never-ending climb.

  “Relax, babe. You get to meet your adversary up close and personal. You and Estelle have New Year’s Eve tickets at his club. Between now and then, believe me, you’ll be a well-honed killing machine. It’s the holidays so no work today or tomorrow but on the twenty-sixth, it all starts.” Pyro put away his equipment and readied himself for the shower he desperately needed.

  “Yeah, I got the itinerary. Two more days of learning how to make bombs. The twenty-eighth will be spent on testing how good I am with various firearms. The twenty-ninth and the thirtieth, you’ve saved for basic martial arts training.” Mira breathed through her mouth before she steadied herself and continued to climb. “Do you honestly think that’s enough time to prepare me for this monster?”

  He couldn’t help the chuckle as it eased out of his mouth. “Fernando is a lot of things but he’s no monster. I would say he’s a charming and extremely charismatic sociopath who has never had any problems with the ladies. I can teach you how to defend your outer body but your heart—that’s gotta be guarded by you, babe.”

  Mira’s face slowly turned crimson before she finished her workout and hopped off. “I’ve seen the photos, Pyro. Yes, the man is very good looking . . . if you like that type but you don’t have to worry about my heart. That, my dear, is under lock and key.”

  Pyro walked over to her now that he only had a chubby and was in no danger of giving his intense attraction to her away. “And whose got the key, sweetness?”

  She deliberately wiped herself down slowly before she turned lethal ice-blue eyes on him. “I’ll let you know when the time is right.”

  He laughed and shook his head as he watched her sway her perfect ass out of the gym, closing the door behind her.

  There was no way in hell he would send her on this mission before they got up close and personal. He usually wasn’t the jealous type and he couldn’t even fully explain why he was so attracted to Mira but if anyone should hold the key to her heart, it would be he and his alone.

  Chapter Four

  Mira

  There was a constant push and pull going on between Pyro and me, and I hated it with a passion.

  Despite my female hormones kicking in at full force and wanting nothing but one night in his bed with my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs circling his waist, I couldn’t dare show how much I was attracted to him.

  Being at his house made the job that much easier because we had different schedules and we weren’t always around one another but just knowing he was there filled me with a sudden peace. I’d never been so content in my whole life. I knew I was safe with him, and he would never hurt me like my real family had done to me.

  However, even after being around him, I wasn’t ready for a biker party yet let alone this operation with Fernando.

  There wasn’t much anyone could do to help me and deep down, we both knew that. The man was a live wire—completely unpredictable. All I knew is that I would play the innocent ingénue to the hilt looking to be corrupted by the perfect man and he would be it. He was a man after all, in his mid-thirties with dashing good looks, a voice like gravel and honey yet he was sex personified.

  Pyro was right when he told me to guard my heart but it wasn’t so much against Fernando as it was with him.

  I knew how biker parties usually played out, and I also was aware roughly half the club still didn’t trust me. Despite my background and all the awful memories I’d endured at the hands of my father’s club, there were Saints members who assumed I would turn on them in a dime. That couldn’t be further from the truth but then again, it wasn’t up to me to prove it with words—I would have to earn their trust and respect through my actions.

  Estelle knocked on my door around three in the afternoon before she barged in unannounced. “You ready for the party, sweetie?”

  “Hell yeah. I just find it hard to believe Pyro would allow you to attend.”

  “Well, it’s not like there’s much he can do to stop me. I am twenty-one you know, and this ain’t my first time at the rodeo, so to speak. I know all the guys and they wouldn’t fuck me if I was the last girl on earth—okay, in that case, maybe they would. Unless there’s some out of towners, I’ll get stuck hangin’ with the old ladies. Not that I mind it so much.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what you’re studying at UNLV.” I turned around to face Estelle.

  She looked stunning in a pair of midnight blue boyfriend jeans paired with a white cashmere sweater that ended just above her belly button. Her shitkickers were black and obviously Doc Martens. She wore just the right amount of makeup, her silky yet curly hair flowing around her shoulders and with her diamond earring studs, she pulled off the sexy skater-chick look perfectly.

  Her dark olive skin showed clear signs of embarrassment she attempted to play off as she said, “I’m studying to get my Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry.”

  “You want to work for a pharmaceutical company or is it about something else?”

  “Why do you assume it’s something else?” she bit out defensively.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “My dad and Brad should have graduated with degrees in Biochemistry. It’s hard as hell and certainly not a subject someone takes just to ‘make their way through college.’�
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  Estelle looked outside my door before she closed it and leaned against it. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to go blathering off to my brother?”

  “How bad can it be?” I joked.

  Her brown eyes hardened. “This isn’t a joke, Mira. I mean . . . Maarten and Colin are close but he might beat the guy half to death if he found out what was going on between us.”

  I had my “Ah-ha” moment and nodded my head. “This goes no further than here.”

  “Okay. Colin and I have always been good friends. He’s one of the reasons why I decided to study Biochemistry but . . . I also plan to help him with the club. We’ve been secretly dating for two years and even then, it still took us a year before we had sex. We basically heavy petted for twelve months—you know how humiliating that is for a guy like him? He’s twenty-five fuckin’ years old for Christ’s sake.

  “Anyway, we’re tired of hiding, and he’s gonna propose to me very soon. We know he’s gonna still get his ass kicked but at least I’ll have a ring on my finger. Maarten wouldn’t handle our relationship any other way.”

  I crossed my arms against my breasts. “Why?”

  “He doesn’t want me to have anything to do with the club. Not like that—not as someone’s old lady. He and Colin have been best friends forever but that doesn’t mean he wants him fucking me. The problem is I love him and he loves me. We didn’t mean to do it . . . and it’s not like I can bring some frat boy home. I fell for what I know and I would never do anything to hurt or betray the club. The same goes for Colin too.”

  “Sorry . . . I just know the guys by their road names. Colin is . . .”

  “Oh, yeah. No mention of real names at the party—you never know who could be listening. Just wanted to give you a head’s up. Colin’s road name is Chemist.”