Strength of an Assassin [Assassins Inc. 3] (The Stormy Glenn ManLove Collection)

by Stormy Glenn

  I still had other nightmares, though, nightmares about being tortured in a cell and tossed into the pit. I imagined it would take a bit longer for them to go away. Gene was dead, as were the guards who tortured us, but the boss man was still out there somewhere. I wouldn’t stop being afraid until he was caught.

  Alpha Darby was investigating things from his end and Sinclair had Ion, Samson’s handler, looking for leads. So far, there were none except for Alpha Darby finding listening bugs in his office, which told us how Gene knew we were coming.

  No one knew who the man in white was. We didn’t even know if he was human or shifter. We just had a vague description, and it wasn’t much to go on.

  Sinclair promised to send some of his assassins after the guy as soon as we knew who he was.

  I hoped it was soon.

  “Oh, hey, Henry.” Bob hopped down the stairs. “Any chance we can get started on those truffles? I finished my accounting work for the day and want to make some plans for this evening involving my mate, some truffles, and the bottle of champagne I found in the wine cellar.”

  I smiled at his enthusiasm.

  “Let me just go tell Samson where we’ll be and we can get started.”

  “Cool.” Bob frowned. “Where will we be?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Wide-eyed, Bob nodded. “Oh, right.”

  I chuckled.

  Bob was one of a kind.

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay.” Bob walked off toward the kitchen.

  I headed down the hallway toward Sinclair’s office. The last time I had seen my mate, he was discussing security with my new alpha.

  I had once told Samson I knew I was going to be in protective custody. I had no idea how right I was. After the fiasco with Gene where I had broken my arm and then had to face the idiot on my own, Samson had become even more overprotective.

  The man was a little intense.

  He was also adorable.

  Hot.

  Sexy.

  Lovable.

  Did I mention he was hot?

  I wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond, being newly mated, or just the fact that my mate seemed to be a horn-ball, but I’d had more sex in the two weeks since we got home from my old pride than I’d had in my entire life.

  I wasn’t complaining, mind you. I was just worried about my continued ability to sit comfortably.

  I knocked on Sinclair’s office door when I reached it. Sinclair might be the most laid-back alpha I had ever met, but he was still an alpha.

  I liked my head attached to my shoulders.

  “Come,” someone from inside called out.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. I scanned the room, then smiled when I spotted my mate lounging on the couch.

  “Hey, got a minute?” I asked.

  Samson smiled. “Of course.”

  I walked over and took the hand Samson held out to me, my heart warming when the man pulled me down onto his lap. I snuggled in for a moment, drawing in the man’s natural warmth.

  “What did you need, baby?”

  “Bob wants me to teach him how to make truffles. I just wanted to let you know where I was going to be.” I tilted my head back and sent Samson a smile. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Because he would anyway.

  We both knew it.

  We both glanced toward the door when someone knocked on it.

  “Come,” Sinclair called out.

  The door opened and Stone peeked around the edge. He smiled when he saw Samson and me. “That item you ordered was just delivered.”

  I frowned as I glanced at my mate. “Were you expecting something?”

  “I was.” He smiled at Stone. “Can you bring it in here?”

  Stone disappeared from the doorway.

  “What did you order?”

  Samson’s grin grew. “It’s a surprise.”

  I liked surprises.

  When Stone came back, he was carrying a large cardboard box with a handle on the top. It had holes the size of a quarter spaced evenly across the top.

  My curiosity was piqued.

  “What is it?” I sat up a little straighter and tried to see it.

  Stone sat in one of the chairs in front of Sinclair’s desk and set the box on the floor at his feet. He handed a small paper sack to Samson. “Our contribution.”

  Samson chuckled when he opened the bag and peeked inside. I grew a little concerned when he pulled out a green leash and handed it to me.

  “You got me a leash and…a harness?”

  What was I supposed to do with it? Wear it?

  “No, I got Dexter a leash and a harness.”

  “Dexter?”

  Stone opened the box with the holes and reached inside. My breath caught when he pulled out a long-haired orange Maine Coon cat.

  “Dexter, meet Henry,” Stone said as he held the cat out to me. “Henry, meet Dexter.”

  “Dexter is a Maine Coon like Mustachio,” Samson said as he took the cat and cradled him to his chest.

  Huh.

  “I thought Maine Coons were gray.”

  Samson shook his head. “Not all of them. I got Dexter here because I thought he’d look more like you in your lion form. Mustachio and Derp are both gray-colored Maine Coons. Dexter is orange because he’s special.” Samson winked at me. “Like you.”

  That was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful.

  “I love you,” I whispered before leaning up and pressing a kiss to Samson’s lips. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, baby.”

  I took Dexter when Samson handed him over. I smiled as I slid my hand down his back and the cat began to purr. “He’s so soft.”

  “You’ll probably want to get some sort of cat brush,” Sinclair said. “Mustachio and Derp are constantly getting stuff in their fur, especially after we go to the park.”

  “Oh, the park.” I looked at the green leash, then looked at Dexter. My excitement grew. “Do you think he’ll like walking on a leash?”

  “Only one way to find out, baby.”

  “Yeah, but…” My shoulders slumped. “I promised Bob I’d teach him how to make truffles.”

  “Why don’t you take the cats to the park now while it’s still light out, and you can make truffles after the sun sets?”

  Samson’s suggestion was a sound one.

  “Do you think Bob would mind?”

  I didn’t want to disappoint the man.

  “I think Bob would be thrilled to go to the park with you,” Sinclair said. “I might even join you.”

  “I think we all should go,” Samson said as he looked at Stone, who nodded. I didn’t know exactly what message passed between the two men, but I could guess. I was just surprised Samson didn’t assign me bodyguards.

  “Here.” I dumped Dexter and his leash and harness in Samson’s lap. “I’m going to go talk to Bob.”

  I jumped up and hurried out of the office. I wanted to go to the park, but I wanted to teach Bob how to make truffles, too. It was a hard decision to make, which was why I liked Samson’s suggestion so much.

  I could do both.

  I frowned as I drew close to the kitchen and heard the raised voices. It didn’t sound like arguing because only one person was shouting, but whomever they were shouting at was getting reamed.

  I pushed the swinging door open just enough to peek inside.

  Oh, hell no!

  I slammed the door open and stormed inside, heading straight for the two men across the room, one shouting and one cowering against the refrigerator as he was poked in the chest by the cook.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snapped as I put myself between the cook and Bob. “You have no right to touch him. Ever.”

  “My kitchen,” the cook shouted. “My rules. I get to say who comes in here and who doesn’t.”

  “I don’t care whose kitchen it is or what your rules are. You still have no right to put your hands on Bob.
”

  No one did.

  “What do you think Shade would do if he found you manhandling his mate?”

  The cook bristled with indignation. “I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of any of them.”

  “You should be.”

  Idiot.

  “I was appointed by the council. They can’t touch me.”

  “I don’t care if you were appointed by the pope.” I slammed my hand into the middle of the cook’s chest, making him stumble back. “You don’t get to hurt people smaller than you. You especially don’t get to hurt Bob.”

  The cook sneered. “And who’s going to stop me? You?”

  “Yes.”

  I picked up the nearest item and threw it at the guy. I was just lucky it happened to be a bag of flour. The air puffed with a cloud of white. The cook started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face. I grabbed Bob’s hand and yanked him toward the door.

  I heard an outraged snarl just as we pushed through the swinging door out into the hallway. “Run, Bob.”

  We needed to get to our mates.

  I heard footsteps pounding behind us.

  I ran faster.

  Bob tripped and fell.

  I spun around and hurried back to get him, but the cook caught up with us before Bob could get to his feet. Once again, I stepped between them, this time taking a punch to the jaw that more than likely would have shattered Bob’s jaw.

  I hit the floor as pure agony flared up the side of my face. For a moment, I wondered if my jaw had been dislocated.

  Sure felt like it.

  “Shade!” Bob shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Damn, that guy was loud. He’d probably bring every shifter in the entire mansion.

  Now my ears were ringing.

  The rush of shifters into the narrow corridor was actually quite impressive. I doubted everyone in the mansion was there, but it was close.

  Samson hurried to my side. “What happened?”

  “He fell,” the cook said quickly.

  “You hit him!” Bob shouted.

  In that single instant, the cook made his biggest mistake.

  His eyes narrowed into little slits of anger. “I was trying to hit you, you little brat.”

  Sinclair wheeled forward. “You were trying to hit a human with a punch strong enough to take a shifter down?”

  The cook paled. “They destroyed my kitchen.”

  “I threw flour at you because you were threatening Bob.”

  When Shade growled, Stone and Stryker both quickly stepped in front of him. He was cradling Bob in his arms, but even I knew that could change in an instant.

  “I just wanted to use the kitchen,” Bob said. “Henry was going to teach me how to make truffles.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?” Sinclair asked.

  “He said I couldn’t use the kitchen.” Bob pointed at the cook. “He said I wasn’t even allowed in there. It was his kitchen and he got to say who was in it and who wasn’t.”

  Sinclair slowly panned to look at the cook. “Are you under the impression that any inch of this estate is yours?”

  “No, of course not.” The cook twisted his hands together. “The mess…I needed to start preparations to make dinner. I didn’t want to have to clean up their mess.”

  I called bullshit.

  “Then you should have simply stated that instead of frightening Bob and crowding him up against the fridge. And we would have cleaned up any mess we made.”

  The cook glared at me. “Now, look—”

  “You’re fired,” Sinclair said.

  The cook gasped. “You can’t fire me. I was appointed by the council.”

  Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “It’s either fired or dead. Your choice.”

  Samson, Stryker, Stone, and Shade all stepped forward. I was pretty sure what they were wishing for.

  “The council will hear about this,” the cook shouted before turning and storming away.

  I winced when I heard the front door slam shut a few minutes later.

  “Shit.” Sinclair spun his chair around and started wheeling back down the hallway. “I’d better go call the council and warn them about that idiot.”

  “Don’t forget to ask them to send another cook, babe,” Stone called out.

  “I could do it.”

  I snapped my lips closed when everyone turned to look at me.

  “You could do it?” Sinclair asked.

  I shrugged. “I was a caterer. It’s kind of what I did before moving here.”

  “Is this something you’d really be interested in doing?” Sinclair asked. “Because if you are, the job’s yours. I’m tired of getting asshole cooks in here. First it was that jerk who worked for the council, and now this guy. It seems like we can’t keep good cooks in this place.”

  I glanced at Samson to see his reaction.

  The smile on his face was pure pride. “My baby can cook anything.”

  Well, I couldn’t cook everything, but I could read a recipe.

  “Great,” Sinclair replied as he swiveled his chair again. “The job’s yours.”

  “He doesn’t start until tomorrow, so you might want to order pizza.”

  Sinclair stopped wheeling down the hallway to look back over his shoulder. “Why tomorrow?”

  Samson almost rolled his eyes. I could see he wanted to. “Apparently, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and we still have to take Dexter to the park.”

  “Park?” Bob asked.

  I grinned. “Samson got me a cat.”

  He was the best damn mate an omega ever had.

  THE END

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