Billionaire Games (Standalone)

by Kenya Wright

  Fuck this!

  I jumped back but not before gripping that mask and yanking it with me.

  She whipped her head out of it and leaped back.

  I drank in her face. “Who are you?”

  Gorgeous. Stunning. She looked straight ahead, presenting me with a sleek profile. She had an odd look. Her features would’ve made her at home on the streets of Tokyo or Osaka—exotic, almond-shaped eyes, sensuous lips, dark hair that streamed behind her. There was definitely a mixture in her conception—parents that came from different backgrounds, probably even different ends of the earth. She had these very light blue eyes against inky black hair. Hypnotizing. Breathtaking.

  That admiration cost me.

  She lunged at me, slamming my arm to the side like I was a little child that needed to be scolded. She jumped on me and not in the proper way someone fought. She hopped on me as if I were a little jungle gym in a kid’s playground, climbed on top of me and yanked my limbs around.

  I fell back with her weight and she pinned me to the ground.

  Goddamn it. She’s quick.

  I was too shocked to defend myself, not that I wanted to. If anything, it damn sure felt better to have her leaning her soft body on top of me, then launching some quick attack far away.

  I caught my breath. “Who are you?”

  Her legs clamped with mine. “Who are you?”

  “Your name?” I moved my hands to touch her.

  She smacked them away and held my right arm above my head, and my left between our bodies. “Your name?”

  “Caden.”

  “Lie.” She leaned forward and kept her face inches from mine as she wrapped me into a compliant package under her. “Name?”

  I couldn’t move. Maybe that was why I decided to tell her the name that many knew me as. I was embarrassed. She tossed me around like I was nothing and I wanted to boast about my kills, yell them at her.

  I lifted my head and pressed the tip of my nose against hers. “They call me Hundun.”

  Recognition and fear flashed in her eyes. “Very close, but that still is not your real name.”

  “That name died.”

  Her warm breath brushed against my lips. “Let’s bring it back to life.”

  “No.” I tried to twist away from her, but she just clamped me right there. The more I moved, the tighter her grip became until I couldn’t even turn or lift my arm. It was like fighting in a straightjacket made of steel. Good-smelling steel. Soft and sensual steel but hard and stubborn, just the same.

  It didn’t help that I was naked and her clothed. Our bodies warmed against each other. And there was no stretch in her. She was too well-trained for me to get out of it. I gave up after a few seconds and laughed. What would The Eight say to my being pinned down, butt-naked on the floor with a tiny woman over me?

  Hundun is done.

  She leaned her head to the side and studied me. “I like your laugh.”

  “What else do you like about me?”

  “A lot.”

  “My cock?”

  She widened her eyes and loosened her grip on me. It was just the opportunity I needed. I ripped my left arm out of her hold and slammed my elbow into her stomach. She gasped and fell to the side. I lunged for one of the daggers on her side, rolled her over, and sat on top of her, my knees pinning her arms, her own dagger pointing at her throat.

  She froze.

  I sat on top of this strange woman in no clothes. Of course, my cock hardened at the most inopportune time. Even more annoying was the fact that this crazy chick under me was the only other person beside Dawn that had made me erect in the past five years.

  Calm down. Fucking her is not even an option. I want fun and games in my bed, not to commit suicide.

  “Now it’s my turn.” I pressed the tip of her dagger into her throat but didn’t pierce it. “What’s your name?”

  “Lotus.”

  “Why did you come for me?”

  “Freddy asked for help.”

  Anger bubbled hot lava in my chest. As soon as I saw that motherfucker, I would erupt and burn his ass alive.

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  “Far away from here.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Far away from them.”

  It was like talking to my fucking self. Now I understood why Dawn would be so annoyed with asking me questions.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  “Information.”

  “That’s the one thing I won’t give you.”

  “Good. Then it will be fun getting it from you.”

  “Yet, I have your weapon and it’s less than an inch from your neck. You’ll be dead in a few minutes so make them count.” I clenched my teeth. “What’s your next move?”

  “This.” She jerked her arms out from under my knees, pulled me to her, oblivious to the dagger, and kissed me. Her tongue brushed my lips. Scorching heat rolled through my body.

  Why is she so sweet?

  Groaning, I dropped the dagger and caught her silky hair with my hand, running my fingers through the long strands. In a flash, I wanted more. I wonder how she tasted all over, not just her mouth, but her flesh, those breasts, the sweet center between her legs.

  She shuddered against me and I opened my mouth more, letting her in further.

  Fuck.

  The world exploded around me. Things that had been in my head disappeared within the heat of her. This woman was intoxicating. She was an expensive wine left in the cellars for a century only to be sampled by kings and queens. I sank against her, drunk on this taste. Inebriated on her jasmine scent. Taunted by her small, soft frame against my hard body.

  The dagger sliced my stomach.

  “Fuck!” I jerked away from her.

  She jumped off the floor, flipped into a blur of twisting and tumbling and then landed near the door. She was a fucking unpredictable tornado that had kissed and cut me within minutes.

  My head spun in insanity. I wanted to touch her and kill her at the same time. Fuck the shit out of her and put a bullet in her forehead. I wanted her unraveled and free, yet wrapped tight around my finger like a bow.

  Good pick, Freddy. You’re not as stupid as I thought.

  “You’re a good kisser.”

  She maintained a confident fighting stance, but those eyes showed fear.

  Did that kiss scare you as much as it did me?

  “You have me on a boat, taking me to who knows where,” I said. “You knocked me out and moved me to this room. Why didn’t you lock or chain me?”

  “I wanted to show you that you can trust me.”

  “Now, how do you feel? Good choice?”

  “I don’t know.” Her gaze strayed down to my erect cock as it pointed her way. “I probably would’ve kept your clothes on.”

  “Why did you take them off?”

  She moved her gaze from my cock and then let it fall right back there before correcting the mistake again.

  I grinned. “When’s the last time you’ve seen a naked man?”

  She pointed the dagger at me, holding the weapon in an odd way as if it was a gun. She looked down, cursed, and adjusted her grip.

  My nudity makes her nervous. Interesting.

  “Have you ever seen a man naked?”

  She blushed. This was the first time I realized killers could blush. Innocence was a rare thing in my world where people tore bodies apart more for fun than for funds.

  She spat the next words out at me. “I’ve seen naked men.”

  “But have you kissed them?” Admiring the other blush that hit her face, I almost missed the tensing of her leg muscles right as she leaped and landed in a light crouch on the nightstand next to my bed. She was fast with outstanding balance. Even I couldn’t have pulled that off. She didn’t fall to the side and the table remained rooted in its position. Light, fast, and athletically skilled.

  So close, the light from the window hit her gorgeous face, showing me freckles that d
otted her nose and cheeks.

  Good pick, Freddy. It’s too bad I’m going to have to kill her.

  She was too skilled which meant she was in my community. I didn’t know how much she knew about me, but she had to die.

  “Do you have someone that would want your safe return?” she asked. “And give me a big reward.”

  “Yes, but that’s not why you’ve kidnapped me. Freddy will give you more than enough money. You kept me because you think I have secrets that can give you power.”

  She continued to crouch on the night stand and study me. “Do you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “You’re Hundun. You’re the man of many disguises. No one knows what you really look like.”

  “That secret right there.” I frowned. “Is why I will have to kill you.”

  “Then, why tell me your name was Hundun?”

  “Because I’d already decided to kill you when I told you.” I reached over slowly to touch her face. She grabbed my wrist. I barely saw her hand move and then my fingers were clamped in hers. A hard hold. A grip like a steel vise. Fast, too. Possibly quicker than me.

  This should be interesting.

  And then she stuck another dart into my neck and I crashed to the ground.

  “I really fucking hating these damn darts!” I rolled over on the floor and tried to get up. A dizzying sensation took me and then the world went black, that jasmine scent swarming around me.

  Chapter 40

  Lotus

  Caden passed out. I pulled out the handcuffs from the nightstand and hooked him to the floor. The last two times I had let him wake up, it had taken me forever to get him back in bed. Those last two times, he hadn’t been so fast and strong. The drug should’ve been wearing him down but instead, he was getting immune to it.

  I handcuffed his wrists.

  At least he told me his name this time. Before, he stood there mumbling about Dawn. This time he didn’t bring her up. Did he still remember her anymore? Never mind. That’s not important.

  He was Hundun.

  That made more sense than anything else. There were many legends attached to that name.

  Now that I thought about it more, he’d looked so familiar when I first spotted him, forcing Freddy into that big mansion on the island. He didn’t have a regular face. Sculpted. Caramel colored skin. Hazel eyes. Short, cropped waves of black hair. Strong features. Murder in his eyes, even though a smile spread across his face.

  Everything about the man said danger. I wanted to turn around and walk away, but Freddy had been in trouble and whether he knew it or not he’d saved me long ago. Got me out of my uncle’s disgusting grip by requesting that I bodyguard him. Had my family not been pretty much owned by Freddy’s family, I would’ve still been in that house being touched by that wicked man.

  So, I had to save Freddy. I had to follow the scary man with the glowing eyes and a ferocious lion looking from behind his eyelids. I had to sneak in his house as a maid and get closer to him. I had to. . .inhale his scent of masculine power. I had to wonder around his bedroom—my fingers slipping against the sheets that covered him at night. My hands gripping the pillow that he lay on. My mind racing with the thoughts of his naked, wet muscled body showering in the bathroom.

  Hundun—the man of many faces and names.

  Shivers ran through me.

  I will still just call him Caden. Hundun is too scary to even whisper.

  The memories of where I’d seen his face the first time slowly drifted back to me.

  Before my father died, he loved to take me to underground fighting games. It had been the only normal father-daughter activity we did. If that was what dads did with their girls. Surely there had been too much blood for a ten-year-old to see, but no one stopped him from walking me in and sitting me right in the front row. He’d even brought a bag of popcorn and soda. It was a real treat since my diet was always restricted to nutrients that kept me healthy and running at top performance.

  The rows of seats had been empty when we first arrived. In that next moment, people packed the stands to full capacity. Powerful people, criminals, the absurdly rich, and blood-thirsty junkies all sat as spectators and melded into a single breathing entity—a loud, furious, volatile creature with a thousand mouths screaming for death. And at that young age, even I knew that the creature wouldn’t be satisfied with a nice fight that followed the rules. They’d want broken bones and gutted men, spilled intestines, and headless bodies.

  I gazed up at my father and smiled. “Thank you, Papa. This is going to be fun!”

  He patted my head. “Just hurry and eat your popcorn before the smell comes.”

  “The smell?”

  “Death has a bad smell no matter how pretty a person dies.”

  Nodding, I shoveled handfuls of popcorn into my mouth.

  “Sakura, take your time.”

  Bits of popcorn left my mouth as I mumbled between bites, “Yes, Papa.”

  The arena in front of us appeared like one from a gladiator movie—all ancient stone and rocky ground splattered in dry blood. Recessed deeply into the wall to the left of an iron gate was a group of people steeped in shadows, almost invisible to the crowd.

  And then the light hit them and the crowd roared.

  Excitement coursed through my veins.

  The fighters marched to the center of the arena.

  “Who do you think will win, Sakura?”

  I studied them.

  All looked different. There was a woman with a waterfall of red hair falling to her back. Parts of it was braided and at the ends of them hung hooked razors. I bet she could spin in the air, slice her enemy’s throat with her hand, and then whip her razor-tipped hair around to finish him off.

  Maybe she’s going to win.

  I turned to another fighter. He was a huge Asian man, solid and thick. He was a brick wall that would not crumble. Dressed in a traditional night-blue kimono. A hakama garment with a pleated skirt finished it off. The designing was impeccable and expensive. Even from my sight, I could make out patterns of dragons shooting flames at men. One katana was strapped to his back, the other sat in his hand.

  She’ll beat him.

  There was no doubt in my mind that the woman would make him eat those katanas. The costume was unnecessary for the fight. Had he been serious, he would’ve worn something that helped him in the fight, not for decoration.

  I looked further at the rest of the fighters. A dark-skinned man gripped a massive bow and arrow. The belt around his waist held knives and darts. At least thirty arrows protruded from the sand in front of him, ready to be grabbed.

  A lot of bows for him to use, but also a lot of bows for others to take and use too. The bows also looked very heavy. And he needs more distance to get good targets. He’s too close to them. He’ll be the first to go.

  The others didn’t catch my eye like the woman. Maybe it was because she looked so badass. Perhaps, it was because I wasn’t used to seeing many women ready to stand against dangerous men. Therefore, I held on to any perceived role model I could find.

  “She’s going to win, Papa.”

  He smiled. “She certainly will last longer than most of them.”

  I crunched on more popcorn. “You don’t think she’ll win?”

  “I’m not certain. But never mind. I want you to look at the last man.” He pointed to a younger Caden, probably just turned eighteen or nineteen. He wore boots, black pants, and strips of armor over his chest that held knives. Even small, muscle carved cuts around every inch of his arms. He looked like my dolls—waxy, bulgy soldiers that gripped kastane swords in their huge hands.

  His gaze didn’t have the sharpened edge that it held now. Back then, they held fear—pure unadulterated fear. Now that I thought of it, that arena could’ve been the place that really made him into Hundun.

  “He’s a kid,” I whispered.

  “No, he’s more of a young adult. I’m sure he’s almost twenty.”

  “
How did he get here?”

  “Do you see how he stands?” He motioned to Caden’s hands fisted at his sides. His back was straight as if a drill sergeant stood in front of him, yelling. “His hair is cut close. Jaw set. Feet a shoulder length away. He’s military or was. That also explains why he’s out here in the Middle East.”

  “American?”

  “Probably.”

  “I hope he wins.”

  Papa turned to me. “Why?”

  “Because I’m scared for him.”

  “If he’s in that ring then he’s not a nice person, Sakura. He did something wrong and fell into the wrong hands.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Papa gazed back at the fighters. “No.”

  A gun shot out and the match began.

  The black man fired his bow. The arrow split through the air and sliced nothing. The kimono guy dodged another arrow and sliced the archer’s throat. He crashed to the dirt with a thump.

  The crowd roared.

  I turned to Caden. He remained there like a soldier waiting for the fight to come to him as his gaze remained on everyone else.

  The rest fought. My favorite woman dominated all of them. She leaped and charged. Sliced people with her razor-tipped hair and dodged other’s punches in a blur. Kimono guy slashed another guy and then rushed for her. He advanced toward her, surprisingly light on his feet. She let out a howl and charged for his kimono, whipping those dangerous braids around. Her arms flung out like bird wings.

  When they got close, kimono guy slashed like lightning. Quick and with precision. The woman’s face split in two. Her bottom jaw unhinged and dropped down to the ground. Her body followed.

  Sorrow filled my heart. I’d really wanted her to beat them all. Just when more emotion poured over me, I did what Papa taught me. I stepped back out of my shell. I let the emotions fill me as a vessel and stared outside of my body to watch.

  Papa said to never turn my emotions off. I was just to let them fill me, let them feel me, but never truly touch them myself. I was to never concentrate on what they meant. When the sadness took me over, I simply stepped back into my body and poured it out.