by S. M. Butler
A heavy hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, seeing Chris. Chris nodded once, his eyes wet and ready to roll with the tears. Then Jordan did the same, his normally bright turquoise eyes dulled by red pain. Then came Jack, that hard look on his face that usually signified he was not someone to fuck with. His hand came down on that same shoulder, and his throat worked up and down. He didn’t meet Axel’s eyes though. He just cleared his throat and went back to his seat.
Then there was Bea. She stared at the dark screen, her eyes red, tears brimming at the edges but not falling. She didn’t look anywhere. It was so completely unlike her that he found himself reaching for her instead. As soon as he touched her hand, the tears rolled down her cheeks. Dark eyes turned toward him, and she took a shuddering breath to regain what control she’d lost.
“How many?” She asked.
“Eleven,” he said. “Wilson used to tape these stupid messages for his wife. She liked seeing all of us. She used to send us all care packages with books and candy and all kinds of shit. He was making one when…” Axel’s voice gave out. He’d barely been able to watch that video yesterday and here he was talking about friends that were murdered years ago. Everything seemed as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.
Chris leaned forward, and did something with the controls, backing up the video to before the shooting started. He pointed toward the screen. “Look. That’s some fucking hardware on those contractors.”
Axel frowned at the screen. He’d never really looked at what the contractors were carrying. “Yeah.”
Jordan tilted his head. “I’d say that’s not standard issue for the Americans, is it?”
Jack shook his head. “Those aren’t contractors. They’re guards. Enforcers.” Jack leaned forward and pointed at the man on the far left. “Sierra, zoom in on that one. Upper body.”
“Of course, Agent Allen,” purred a female voice.
Axel glanced around the room. “What the fuck?”
Jordan snickered, but shut up as Jack shot him a murderous look.
“Sierra is the AI,” Bea explained. “She runs all the computer systems we have. Say, hello, Sierra.”
“Hello, Mr. Martinez. I’m happy to finally meet you.”
“Uh, hi,” he said, blinking. Okay, this was too weird. Reapers. Secret missions. Smart computers. What the hell had his life turned into?
Jack didn’t deter though. “Is that the tattoo you saw, Axel?”
Axel looked at the screen and nodded. “Yeah. Same one as the guy that—from the attack.” He wasn’t ready to admit that Bea had killed a man, but that was exactly what had happened, wasn’t it?
Jordan’s eyes narrowed and hardened. It was the most serious Axel had ever seen the man. “Russian mob.” His eyebrows rose. “How is it the Americans didn’t see a Russian mob tattoo on one of their contractors?”
“Someone paid them to overlook it. That’s all I can think of. And it looks like the band on his arm was probably covering it but when the shooting started, it fell.” Bea suggested. “So, we have hired muscle guarding something. What? And why is it important nine years later that they sent an assassin to take care of their witness problem?”
Wasn’t that a good fucking question, Axel thought.
As Bea fell silent, he couldn’t help but look over at her. Her body might have physically been in that room, but she was a thousand miles away, living something in her head.
20
Bea stared at that tattoo like she could make it disappear with just a look. But it didn’t go away. What were the chances? The man she’d killed for Nathan was Russian mob. He’d had that tattoo. Now they had a second dead Russian enforcer in the deep freeze waiting for the Ghosts to pick it up and a video of a bunch of them killing American Marines. What was the connection?
What would Axel think of her if he knew she was still killing for Nathan? When she closed her eyes, she still saw Axel’s face when she told him that she was a killer. If he knew exactly the extent of it, he’d never want to see her again, and that, by itself, was possibly the worst thing she’d ever felt.
Nathan had to know the connection, though. Her last few solo missions had been Russians. She’d never really noticed the tattoo before, so she couldn’t say if they’d all had it, but it made sense if they did.
Cursing to herself, she hated that she’d blindly followed the orders her boss had given her. She hadn’t asked any questions. She hadn’t even blinked or looked back with all the what-ifs or whys. She had fired the gun, packed up, and come back to base like nothing happened.
What kind of person did that make her?
“Bea?” Axel’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
She blinked and stared into those twin orbs of his, which held no sign of contempt or disgust. Just concern. She glanced around, realizing everyone else was gone and wondered how long she’d been sitting there like that, lost in her own nightmares.
“Um…” Great. Now her mouth wasn’t working either.
“The guys went to pull the surveillance tapes of the… the thing the other night.” He paused, looking over her like he was gauging something. “You weren’t really tracking anything when they left. And you’ve been quiet for a long time.”
“I don’t understand how you don’t hate me,” she whispered, her voice rough. “I’ve lied to you for months, killed people.”
“People that no doubt deserved it,” he replied.
“I don’t know that,” she said, letting out a deep sigh that didn’t alleviate any of the pain in her chest. “There’s no way that you could know that.” She hadn’t ever stopped to ask what those men she’d killed had done or planned to do. She’d bought into Nathan’s cloak and dagger shit, trusted that if she needed to know, Nathan would provide the intel for her.
“I know you, Bea,” he said. When Axel’s fingers slipped into hers, the contact was too much. She hissed and stood, practically jumping out of her chair and out of his reach. She had no business being near him. His soul was clean, his conscience clear. Hers… well, tarnished wasn’t anywhere near what her soul was like. No amount of polish would help her.
Her chest hurt like the sun sliced right through her. Axel’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.
“Bea…”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You know the truth now. You know we were protecting you. There’s no reason for any other kind of subterfuge.” She pushed the two of them apart and stepped away from him.
His face took on that cold look she’d assumed only Jack would be able to do, a mask that kept his emotions from flooding his face. “You and I both know sleeping with me wasn’t a cover for protecting me.”
Barking out a dry laugh she didn’t even believe herself, she drew herself to her full height, which didn’t even come close to his, but she needed the extra inches to draw the strength she needed. “Is that what you think? In the months that I’ve been here, you don’t know anything about me. Those flowered dresses, the heels… None of that is me. I think it’s time we both faced the truth of the matter.”
“And what’s that?” He crossed his arms over his chest, almost protectively.
“I was recruited into the Reapers for one skill, and one skill alone. The efficiency of how I kill. I’m good at it. Fucking fantastic at it. Second nature. But that’s not the real reason… The real reason is because… I fucking love killing. Squeezing that trigger, slicing flesh with a knife, watching them bleed out… it fucking turns me on.”
She smiled, then, though not one part of her body agreed with the expression. Telling Axel of this revolted her in a very real way, but she was done with the lies. She had to protect his body, protect him from the one person in her life that she’d loved. And Nathan was right. She needed the professional distance.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice raw like his throat hurt.
“Believe it, Axel. Because the sooner you do, the sooner you will realize that someone exactly like me is ou
t to kill you. In fact, a couple years ago? It might have been me.” Her chest felt like someone had stabbed her with an icicle and twisted it around in there. But as he recoiled, she spun on her heels and marched herself out the door. And she kept going, until she was out into the town, walking down Main Street.
~*~*~
It might have been me.
Those words played themselves over and over in Axel’s head. Bea’s voice echoed through his mind. He didn’t want to think about who Bea might have been before she’d come to Jubilee. All he knew was who she was now.
He wished this underground hellhole had windows. He’d been down here for hours. He didn’t want to be. He wanted to be up in his garage, watching for his assassin to appear again, and he didn’t mean the one that wanted to kill him.
He missed her.
God, even though she’d said such vitriolic words to him, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her full lips, about her raven hair that refused to stay in a ponytail, about her wide cheekbones or the way her defined muscles flexed when she came.
Shit.
He still wanted her.
But no. He was stuck in this godforsaken place with no windows and no line to the outside world.
“This is not going to be forever, Axel.”
Chris’s voice startled him. He whipped his head around to stare at the man, but he didn’t answer him. Didn’t seem like there was anything to answer.
“Really…” was all he could muster in response. It wasn’t that there was an assassin coming for him. It was Beatrice Li, that fucking gorgeous receptionist who wasn’t really a receptionist, whose almond shaped eyes had stared at him with the intensity of an ancient soul who’d seen too much in her short lifetime. He stared at Chris, the member of the team he’d been closest to, mostly because he’d been the first to show up in this small ass town he’d made his home in for nearly a decade. “How long were you going to lie to me about this shit?”
Chris didn’t answer and wasn’t that an answer in itself? Plus, there was no guilt in his expression, no regret. The truth was, he’d have lied to Axel for a lifetime if this whole thing hadn’t blown up in their faces.
“Fucking Nathan,” he muttered.
“It was for your own safety,” Chris whispered. “If we were discovered here, your own ignorance would keep you safe.”
Axel blew out a breath. “Where is that cocksucker Nathan, anyway?”
Chris shrugged. “He’ll show up when he wants to.”
When he did, Axel was going to lose his mind in the violence. He was going to straight up plow his fist right into Nathan’s brain. He’d left the Marines to start a new life, a quiet one where he could live out his days in peace, away from war and violence, away from the demons of his own past. He should have known this place was too good to be true. Nathan had put him in the middle of a professional fighting force and didn’t even tell him.
“Look,” Chris said. “I need your help.”
Axel didn’t want to help. He didn’t want to be involved, no matter how close it was to his life. Every fiber of his being wanted to pack his shit and run the fuck away. Far away.
But fuck him, his thoughts kept going back to Bea, as her dainty fingers stroked his cock in her bedroom, as she palmed that fucking gun, and the sure certainty in her expression that left no doubt that she knew exactly how to use that weapon, and that was the same expression she’d had when she’d stroked him.
He rubbed his palms over his face, but his skin felt like sandpaper. Then he sighed loudly. “What do you need?”
“I need to know all the locations you went with those contractors. It was convoy duty, right?” When he nodded, Chris continued. “Let’s get you talking with Sierra. I think once we know where they went, we can probably figure out what they were doing. We need to find the connection between you and them.”
Sluggishly, almost like he felt drunk, he pushed himself to his feet, his boots plopping across the tiled floor as he made his way from the briefing room into the hallway. Chris led him down the corridor, every step feeling like there were a hundred pounds of lead in his boots.
This whole thing had worn him out in ways he didn’t even know he could be exhausted. And all he wanted to do was go back to his truck, put that key into the ignition, and drive away without stopping, without looking back. But somehow, his assassin receptionist had grounded him, chained him to her in ways he couldn’t even fathom at the moment.
Leaving wasn’t an option anymore. Not without her.
21
Four years. Bridget had hidden herself away from the world for four years, away from her family. Even after Scott had joined the Reapers, she still had kept the secret and for what? What did it benefit except drive a wedge between them?
She closed her eyes and took a calming deep breath as she sat in the car, just outside the complex Scott was in. Breathe in. Breathe Out. She’d had a choice to reveal herself a year and a half ago when she’d convinced Nathan to recruit Scott into the Reapers. She’d decided not to. She was fairly certain Nathan had expected her to break their agreement, but she’d remained true to him, by hiding away from her brother.
She’d stayed away from Jubilee, even when Nathan went there. She’d been a good little dead woman.
“Are you nervous?” Nathan asked beside her. Though he asked the question, there was no concern in his voice, only curiosity. She wanted to continue what they’d started in the Reapers’ briefing room, but he’d made no attempt to do so. Did he not like it? Was she not good enough for him? Not attentive enough?
She shook the thoughts from her head. Why was she even thinking like that? She wasn’t his sex servant. She was now his partner, and she needed to start behaving like it.
“A little,” she admitted. “He will be angry with me.”
“He will understand. He made the choice of which I robbed you,” he said.
She glanced at the man. For some reason, in the sun, his dark skin had this golden glow to it, something she’d never really noticed before. But they really didn’t see each other outside much, did they?
“Robbed me?” Bridget asked.
“You never got to choose,” he said. “Remember?”
“I remember.” But she’d never have changed anything she’d done since then. She was doing good things with Nathan. He was a complicated man, but he was a good one.
“I’m sorry for that,” he whispered.
She stared at him. “Why would you apologize for saving my life?”
“I kept you from your life. When I saved you, I condemned you to this one.” Nathan shook his head. “I told you, I’m a selfish bastard.”
Bridget shook her head, smiling. “You did nothing of the kind. Yes, I didn’t have a choice between dying and this life. But I’m alive and well. Even the chronic medical problems I had in my old life are gone. I’m healthy. This is a good place for me to be. Never think otherwise, Nathan.”
Nathan grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, draping her legs over his thighs. “Do you mean that?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
His free hand slid up her leg to her bare ass. He groaned. “No panties.”
“As requested,” she breathed as his finger slid between her cheeks.
“I really want to fuck you right now.”
She flipped around and straddled him, pressing her body against him as he leaned back in the seat. She leaned forward until she was inches from his face and whispered, “Not in the car, you’re not.”
“I think I could convince you,” he said, as one of his thick fingers slid across her wet flesh. She threw her head back, arching her back as she moaned. Slowly, his thumb circled the delicate bundle of nerves as one finger thrust into her sex.
“We’re going to be late,” she whispered as his lips touched her neck, sucking gently on the flesh just above her collarbone.
“We have an hour,” he replied. “I still have that room downstairs.”
She grabbed his wris
ts and held them still. She couldn’t think with him thrusting his long fingers into her. He strummed her body better than a master guitarist. “Let’s go.”
She managed to detangle herself from him and stepped out of the car, smoothing down her skirt. Suddenly, she was thankful she’d worn the loose skirt rather than her normal pencil skirts.
Nathan led the way, his demeanor switched to the upmost professional, or at least as professional as he could get wearing jeans and flannel. They stepped into the elevator and he keyed in the code to start the descent. As soon as the doors closed, his hands were working the buttons on her blouse, revealing the lacy white bra she’d put on just for him that morning.
“If you’re going to tell me to stop later, you might want to do it now,” he murmured as his head dipped to her neck. He kissed her skin there, featherlight but insistent. “I’m far past being able to control myself with you.”
She chuckled and brushed his hands from her. Then she met his eyes as she unbuckled his belt, let his pants fall. His boxers were tented by the thing she wanted the most in that moment. She knelt and looked up at him as she pulled his boxers away, revealing his cock. It sprung out, long and wide, harder than she’d ever seen any cock before. His hands hit the sides of the elevator as she stroked him, as if he were having trouble staying upright. His legs trembled with each stroke.
His tip glistened, wet with his arousal. She reveled in the velvet feel of him against her hands and then she took him in her mouth. She pushed his cock to the back of her throat and then released him with an audible pop.
He threw his head back and let out a loud moan of her name.
So, she did it again. She drank in the sounds of his pleasure while she watched his face, watching his reaction to everything she did. He met her eyes, but his focus was glassy and crazed. When the elevator landed on his floor, he scooped her into his arms, stepped out of his fallen clothes and all but ran through the place.