by Marie Harte
He couldn’t believe how badly Brent Morgan—Agent Nine—had failed. A spectacular clusterfuck he hadn’t seen coming. Then to learn Annette had been killed by Ice’s girlfriend? Truly surprising.
The skirmish at Solene Hansen’s had gone as expected. Shadow must surely be aggravated now. Good. The bastard thought he knew everything. Toying with the playboy made everything better. Sweeter.
He sat in his mansion and laughed, part of him glad to know they wouldn’t go down easily. Ice, Shadow, and Destroyer. The trinity of accomplishment. Big Joe’s pride and joy.
The anger he thought he’d overcome returned, and he had to work to relax. To realize he held all the cards in their game of life and death. Had he wanted, he could have killed them at any time.
Letting them have a taste of happiness before ripping it away would be much more satisfying than ending them with one heavy blow. Sure, a well-placed explosion could do the trick. But he found no satisfaction in the quick kill. Not anymore.
There was an art to vengeance. A skill to tormenting one’s enemies and making the point that no one could stand in his way without being torn down, piece by piece. Once he finished, he’d make their executions well-known. Then no one would think to oppose him again.
Ice and Adeline Rose could keep. So could that little brat making Ice’s life miserable, he thought with a grin. He loved knowing Ice had been indiscreet, stupid. A perfect end to his stellar career with the Business, stuck tending to a whining baby. A hell in itself.
Now it was Shadow’s time to shine, to see if his mettle would stand against a beating. Whereas Ice moved with deliberation, Shadow glided through life clinging to the gray spaces. A difficult man to pin down, but Shadow had one glaring weakness—he loved the ladies, and they loved him.
This new woman needed exploring. He could use a woman like her in his stable. A beautiful blond supermodel who could still be owning the runways if she wanted. Yes, he had a place for her on his team.
He’d sweep Shadow away, steal Solene Hansen, then worry about Destroyer.
With a secret weapon on his side, he couldn’t possibly lose.
Solene woke to a sunny morning, light streaming through the slats in the window blinds. She smelled coffee and heard Deacon talking to someone in another room.
After a quick trip to the bathroom and a chance to don her bra once more, she joined him in the kitchen. He had on jeans and a dark sweatshirt and spoke to someone on his cellphone.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll let her know. Keep me posted. I’ll get started right away on my contacts.” He hung up as Solene entered. “Hey sweetcheeks. How are you feeling?”
His snarky comment relieved her. Good. She’d been worried he’d act weird or patronizing about offering comfort the night before.
“I’m good, honeybun. How about some coffee?”
“Black with a hint of cream. Here you go.” He handed her an already prepared mug. “I heard you moving in the other room and figured you’d want some.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip and grimaced. “Or not.”
“Sorry. It’s powdered creamer and shit coffee. Everything we have is either powdered, dehydrated, or canned.”
“I’m not complaining.” It tasted awful. “Just waking up.”
“Uh-huh. Even I know you’re not exactly a morning person.”
“Addy is. It’s so annoying.”
“So is Noel. No wonder they’re so cute together.” They shared a grin.
“Right. Now what’s on for today?” she asked after she could reasonably keep the death java down.
“Today we regroup, sit tight, and try to figure out who hacked your security and who’s behind this whole mess. And while we’re fishing, maybe look into that code on Little Dee’s locket again. It’s been driving me crazy.”
She nodded. “That’s what you guys have been trying to figure out since you first got here.”
“I know.” He groaned. “It’s a stupid locket. I should have cracked the code weeks ago. But eat first. Then we’ll get down and dirty with research. Sit and I’ll make you breakfast.”
“You like cooking, don’t you?”
“I told you I did.”
“Yeah, but that’s with fresh ingredients for your snooty taste buds. Let’s see what you can do with this stuff.” She glanced at her coffee. “Because if the creamer is this bad, I can only imagine what powdered eggs and canned ham might be like.”
The answer—like heaven.
Half an hour later, she sat stuffed, sipping at her coffee that no longer tasted terrible. “I’ll admit it. I’m shocked at how good you are behind the stove.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be so surprised. I’m as talented with a spatula as I am with my tongue.” He wiggled his brows, and she fought a laugh. “I’m not just skilled at throwing knives and making love.”
“Here we go. I was waiting for your ego to get back.” He made it difficult not to laugh with him, especially with the twinkle in his eyes.
“I tell you what. Just for you, next time I’ll cook shirtless. Yes, the danger of splattering grease is real, but for you, I’ll forego clothing.”
“Stop, Casanova. You’re making it too tempting to resist you,” she deadpanned.
“Yes, yes, I know. First, it’s lust, then love, then a never-ending drone of tears as you pine for me.”
“You really do have a way with words.” She openly grinned now.
“Yes, I do. Now, on to more serious topics.”
“The locket?”
“No, who’s doing dishes. I cooked, so…”
Solene groaned and headed to the sink. “I swear, you’re such a pain in my ass.”
“Oh, honey. That’s one thing I truly aspire to be.”
She blushed. “I’m ignoring that comment. Now, I realize I don’t have your expertise with stuff like this, but why don’t you run through the locket, the baby situation, heck, everything all over again. Maybe fresh eyes will help.”
“Good idea.”
“Just one thing.”
He raised a brow, and she lost her train of thought. She wished she could ignore how handsome he was. Solene had been around top models, for God’s sake. But Deacon put them all to shame. His dark eyes glimmered with a lighthearted humor—on the surface. The depths swirling in the layers beneath intrigued her to no end.
“One thing?” he prodded.
“Oh, right.” She cleared her throat. “You really think the daycare will be safe?”
“Yes, or we’d sic a protection detail on the place. You need to stay away from it, okay? That’s what’ll keep them safe for now.”
“Gotcha.” What she’d needed to hear. “So, this locket. It came with Noel Jr.?”
“You mean Little Dee, and yes. To recap, Noel comes home from an assignment, all eager to stalk his pretty neighbor, unbeknownst to her. You should see the file he kept on her. It’s got colored tabs and everything.” Deacon shook his head. “Anyhow, he comes home and finds Addy holding a baby—his baby, or so the lady said who dropped him off. She also tucked a note in with the kid.”
“And Addy’s description of the woman didn’t help at all?”
“Yes and no. The chick was too average. If it was the mom, with all her efforts to remain anonymous, she would have doctored her appearance before dropping off Little Dee. But we think she hired someone…who recently turned up dead.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Hammer called me this morning. We ran Addy’s description through some databases and did the legwork. The island isn’t that big, and folks in Lynwood remembered a woman with a baby matching our description. They found her in the Sound, drowned. We’re still trying to dig up info on her. Either way, the woman is a dead end.” He paused. “No pun intended.”
Another dead person. Great. Solene cleared her throat. “What else do we know?”
“That Little Dee,” he emphasized, “arrived in nothing more than a cheap baby carrier, folded in a blanket and wearing a tiny hat, both of w
hich you can get at any baby store. And he wore the locket. One side says Angel, the other a five-digit alphanumeric code. Hammer and I have run the code up, down, and sideways. We got nothing.
“The few leads we have on anyone who might want to take the three of us out came down to four dead guys, a few ex-pats with grudges who can all be accounted for, and possibly a missing handler. That’s it.”
“Oh, come on. You’re pretty annoying. I’m sure you’ve aggravated a bunch of other people,” she taunted as she washed the dishes.
He huffed. “I’ll have you know that of the three of us, I’m the charming one.”
“Uh huh.” On a more serious note, she added, “You guys do all sorts of dangerous things around scary people. How can you not have an endless list to choose from?”
“One, we’re good at what we do because we’re discreet. Clandestine, even.” He brightened. “Yeah, all cloak and dagger mysterious. Two, because whoever has targeted us has targeted all of us: Noel, Hammer, and me. We all might work for the Business, but we’re solo contractors. We rarely work together. I can name on one hand the number of ops I’ve done with both Hammer and Noel.” He paused. “But the one I keep coming back to is Mexico. Has to be that one, on account of Little Dee.”
Solene washed the last dish, wiped her hands, then turned to Deacon as she dried them on a towel. “What exactly did happen in Mexico? Or is that classified?”
Deacon stood leaning against the counter next to her, so she stepped back to give herself space. Subtly of course.
He smirked but didn’t comment on her movement. “First off, a lot of what we do is confidential. Not classified. I do not work for the government.” He was very concise. “We’re a private clean-up organization. Period.”
“Who works on a contractual basis,” she added.
“Exactly.”
Semantics. “Fine. Mexico?”
He shrugged. “I was there to get info for a client. Noel and Hammer came as diversionary measures. Bottom line, we knocked off a small-time drug cartel that had threatened to grow bigger.”
She stared, slack-jawed. “A cartel?” She’d watched her share of crime shows. Drugs, gangs, cartels? Dangerous stuff.
Deacon nodded. “We don’t normally work together. But Hammer went in beforehand, undercover. I’m damn good at gathering intel. I found our info and got it back to the client while Ice, I mean, Noel, did his thing.”
“Which is?”
Deacon smiled. “Be distracting. He made friends with the cartel’s leader, then broke him in half.”
“Okay.” Not something she wanted to think about Noel, being deadly while dating her friend. “So, Noel is Ice. Hammer is…?”
He regarded her for a moment before answering, “Destroyer. I’m Shadow.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s not something we talk about outside of work.”
“Who would I tell? Fiona?” Recalling her favorite three-year-old terror, Solene grinned. “She’d just tell everyone else then punch you if you upset her.”
“Oh, right. Fiona.” He seemed to relax. “No, she liked me. I’m ‘pretty.’”
“Pretty egotistical.” Solene shook her head. “And good at your own form of distraction. Okay, Mexico. Get to the part where Noel thought it was you or Hammer knocking up Little Dee’s mom. Do you guys like to orgy after a job well done or something?”
To her surprise, he flushed. “Hey now. It’s not like that. We’d just done the op and needed a break. So, we headed out to a small cantina and had a few beers together. Oh, and tequila. Good stuff. We aren’t the kind of guys who get rip-roaring drunk. The kind that do don’t live all that long.”
She nodded, still coming to grips with the fact that funny, charming Deacon was an honest-to-God assassin. So weird.
“Anyway.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “The three of us partied with the ladies. Not all together, I mean, separately. I met a lovely woman. We hit it off, then she left before I woke the next morning. That was it.”
“So Little Dee could have been yours.”
“No.” He had a funny look on his face. “First of all, I always wear protection. It’s not safe without it. Second—” He stared at her, his expression serious, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Second, it’s not likely I can have kids. I had some trauma when I was younger. So not gonna be a dad anytime soon.”
She felt for him, because for all that he tried to seem not bothered by it, she could tell that didn’t sit well with him. “If not you, then Hammer or Noel would have fathered the boy. Except according to the DNA tests Noel got back, none of you are the father.”
“Which makes sense. We’re pros, and we’re all extremely careful about stuff like that. This woman picked Noel for a reason. I mean, she mentioned him and Mexico in the note. Noel sees the kid, does the math, and realizes we were all in Mexico when the kid was conceived.”
“So logically, your Mexico operation with the drug cartel should give you the name of your enemy.”
“I kind of like nemesis better. Enemy is so boring. Nemesis has flare.” He winked at her, light-hearted, charming Deacon back to stay.
“Hello, sidetracking.”
He continued, “We thought the same, trust me. Jonas Hood is the first guy we thought could be behind it all. One of us who went squirrely. But he died during the raid. The only other guys genius enough to get to us or having the connections to get so close are ex-Business types.” At her look, he explained, “Contractors.”
Assassins. “Right.”
“We made a list: Jonas, Burleigh, Egorov, and maybe Butch. But Burleigh’s tied up in India. Egorov is in prison in China and isn’t getting out anytime soon. And Jonas and Butch are dead. We hit a wall. We had to have missed something with these four. So we’re looking into them again.”
“I still can’t believe you only have four guys on your list. I’d think dozens want you dead.”
“I know, right? Should be more like a hundred.”
“At least.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, bringing her attention to his impressive physique. Unlike Noel, who looked a lot smaller than he actually was, Deacon appeared buff and muscular. Not weight-lifter large like Hammer, but lean, powerful, and commanding, like a sports or fitness model. He could have made a fortune covering magazines. Talk about some fine shoulders, arms, thighs…
She blinked when he cleared his throat, forcing her gaze back to his face. “What?”
“If you’re done making me feel like a piece of meat, how about tuning into the conspiracy theories?” He smiled at her heated face. “Aside from who’s trying to take us all out, we have the mystery of Little Dee, the locket, and Angel—the name on the locket. That’s what we’ve been tasked to investigate while we’re away.”
“Tasked by who and when?” It was on the tip of her tongue to say Noel’s not the boss of me. But she refrained from sounding like a five-year-old.
“Please. You know who. Noel might act like he’s happy to play with his tomatoes and put the Business behind him, but he’s one controlling bastard.” Deacon sounded complimentary. “He called me this morning before I got on with Hammer.”
Solene refilled their mugs with the sludge he called coffee then joined him at the small kitchen table, aware they sat close enough that she could see his irises in detail; their deep brown rings had hints of green when the light hit him just so.
Focus, Solene. Focus. “You have the code and the name Angel. So, who’s Angel? Addy said Noel mentioned a female contractor with that name. You think it could be her? Maybe she’s after you guys?”
“Stranger things have happened. But I doubt it. Angel was the one who gave us the information we needed to get to Jonas when it all went down. I mean, yeah, there’s a connection. But she disappeared right after the Mexico op. I talked to my handler about it, and he said she’s gone. Like, dead-gone.”
“But you think she’s not?”
“I don’t know.” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “There are
so many unknowns that it’s almost impossible to figure out. We need a lead.” He lifted his head. “I’m going to make some calls. Why don’t you relax for a while? I heated up the hot water tank first thing. Should be ready if you wanted to take a shower.”
“A shower I can do. Then I’m going to sit down and help you figure this out.” Because the sooner you find your answers, the sooner you’ll be gone and I can stop daydreaming about you.
Yet the thought didn’t comfort her the way it should. And her shower was filled with images of Deacon bringing her to orgasm while the water ran over her. Solene groaned.
“Great. Now he’s ruined showers for me. Deacon Shaw is my nemesis.”
Five
The day felt long. Like, really long.
Hammer sighed. He hated desk work. Put him undercover, in the middle of a brawl, running from a rain of bullets—he flourished. Shove him in front of a stupid computer looking for clues? He wanted to curl up and die.
The only thing keeping him sane right now was the small bundle of joy in his arm, cuddled up like his favorite football. “Yo, Little Dee. Is this boring the piss out of you too?”
The baby gurgled and wrapped tiny fingers around Hammer’s thumb. Such a cute kid. Hammer hadn’t wanted to learn he’d fathered a baby, and unless that woman in Mexico had been poking holes in his rubbers when he hadn’t been looking, there was no way could he have been responsible. Yet he felt warm when he looked at Little Dee. A sense of responsibility to take care of such innocence…who happened to lay at the heart of the problem they found themselves in.
Somehow Angel factored into this shit too. Her name engraved in the locket was no more a coincidence than some stranger dropping her kid off with Noel. By accident? No way in hell.
From the sources he’d spoken to in Philly and again in New York a few weeks ago, he’d learned that Angel was likely dead. Not missing in action. Supposedly, no one knew what the woman looked like, except that she had dark hair and brown eyes. Like Little Dee. And yeah, dark hair like all of them: Noel, Deacon, and Hammer.
But Hammer knew what Angel looked like. He’d known the young woman before she’d earned her contractor name. And he knew that code.