Assassin's Game (Assassins Book 4)

by Ella Sheridan

  Abby upstairs.

  Abby in our bed, her fiery hair spread out on the pillow.

  The shattered look in her eyes…

  She’d have been better off if she never met me.

  “You kill everything you touch.” That’s what I’d told my uncle, Amos, when I came back to this house and murdered him for killing my parents. But he wasn’t the only member of our family who destroyed everything he came in contact with. There’d only been two things I cared about in my adult life: my brothers and having Abby in my life. Owning my heart. And now…

  You kill everything you touch.”

  The bag swung wildly as I landed a savage side kick. It wasn’t enough. Not. Fucking. Enough!

  With a quick twist I faced the shelves. Relief slammed into me when my fist struck the metal.

  Finally. Finally.

  Again.

  A backfist got my left hand screaming almost as much as the right. A front punch and ridge hand added to the ugly chorus rising in my brain.

  “It should have been me,” I whispered. Rasped. Another one-two combo dented the chest-high shelf as flames licked at my flesh.

  “Give her what she needs. Not me. Her.” My Abby. Uppercuts—one, two, three, four—forced the dent to invert. Something snapped in one of my fingers.

  “Bring back my child!” The words were yanked from my soul, each one punctuated by a hit. And then it wasn’t just my fingers breaking; it was something in my soul. Forget coordination. Forget the years of discipline I’d spent learning to fight against the best—a frenzy engulfed me. Black narrowed my already hampered sight as I attacked, the feel of bones smashing metal and skin slick with blood feeding the rage in every cell of my body. “Bring it back! I’ll go. Take me, but bring. It. Back!”

  Agony shot through me as another bone snapped in my hand.

  Time stopped—it could have been a moment, or it could have been forever. I didn’t know, didn’t care. Next I knew, I was on my knees, body a broken pile of anguish on the cold concrete floor, the sound of harsh breathing all I could hear. My breathing. Screams echoed in my head—

  My screams.

  There was no one to answer. Our baby was still gone.

  Tears stung my eyes.

  It was a long time before I came back to myself—only my heartbeat pounding in my extremities finally got me up and moving. Like an old woman, I dragged myself to my feet with hands that screeched with pain. Shuffling across the room, I opened the mini fridge near the gaming center, the piercing light blinding me temporarily. That didn’t stop me from feeling around until I found the bowl of ice inside and pulled it out. Shoving my right hand into the freezing cold, I closed the door with my hip and turned toward the room.

  “A fighter’s hands are his most precious weapons.”

  I’d dropped to my knees in front of the couch before my brain fully registered the voice. Before I realized it wasn’t my voice. That it wasn’t me talking to myself.

  Holy shit.

  Someone is here. Someone had gotten past security and entered the mansion. It should have been impossible, but…

  My heartbeat moved up to my throat, choking me. Should have been. How the hell—

  Figure it out later. Right now, keep everyone safe.

  Breathe, Levi. Think.

  “An assassin uses his tools. Hands are just one of them,” I said finally. The ice clinked when I pulled my hand out.

  “Whatever kept you here must be important. Your brothers have followed the mission I gave them, and yet you haven’t. Why?”

  X. A hiss left my lips, but I held my position. The couch wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it would hide movement if I needed it to.

  “What kept me here is none of your business, bastard.” Carefully I placed the bowl on the couch cushion, out of the way. “Why are you here? What do you want from us?”

  “I believe I was very clear on what I wanted.”

  “We don’t fucking work for you,” I snarled.

  A laugh filtered through the dark. I hadn’t heard footsteps, but the sound was closer, more to my right. “You do,” he said. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  I shifted, facing the new direction. “I’ve faced worse shitheads than you, X. If you think I can’t take care of my family, whether your intel is public or not, you really haven’t done your homework.”

  “I’ve done a thorough investigation, thank you.”

  The words held a hint of culture and a whole lot of command. I’d wondered yesterday if X was a lone man (or woman), a group, possibly a consortium looking to harness their own personal hit squad—not to mention access to a grade-A research facility. That tone told me this man was in charge of someone. The fact that he’d come here personally said his company, whatever it was, was small.

  Two pieces of the puzzle we hadn’t known before.

  “I admit I didn’t expect my two candidates to team up. You’re both deadly on your own; why join forces? Yes, that took me by surprise—and I’m not easy to surprise.” No footsteps, but the voice was definitely moving. Pacing or deliberately coming closer? His communication methods had worked fine so far; there was no need for a face-to-face. What exactly did he hope to get out of this meeting other than the possibility of killing me? “But perhaps it’s best. It truly would be difficult to choose between you. And now I don’t have to.”

  You’ll never have to, because you’ll never have us.

  “How did you get in here?” I had to know before I took this man out. “Tell me before I get my hands on you, and maybe you’ll live.”

  He definitely wouldn’t live.

  “Agozi, I’m well aware of your capabilities, and rest assured I didn’t come here tonight to test them. There’s no need. This little…demonstration is merely to impress on you the seriousness of your situation.” He was close enough now that I heard cloth rustle as he moved. I began tensing and relaxing my muscles, readying myself for attack. “Yes, I can ruin you. If what I know is released, not only would your lives be destroyed, but so would those of the innocent bystanders you’ve dared to take in. But I’d truly rather not—destroying innocents leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though it is sometimes necessary.”

  The voice dropped, the tone menacing. Deadly. “No, I don’t want to ruin you; I want you in my service. Permanently. If you and your brothers do not carry out the mission I’ve set for you, you won’t just be ruined. They won’t just be ruined. They’ll be dead, and you’ll be left to live with the aftermath.”

  “Keep dreaming, motherfucker.”

  The laugh wasn’t amused. More like resigned. “If only I could. Think about what I’ve said. You can kill Bram Sullivan, swiftly and secretly, or I can kill the only people who have made your life worth living since you were eleven years old. Your choice. I won’t ask again.”

  Still no sound, but moments later I heard the latch of the back entrance opening. A brief flash of morning light entered the basement, and I caught the silhouette of a man in a business suit—big, broad, muscular without being bulky, dark hair—and then the door closed behind him.

  I was there a second later.

  As I reached for the handle, I noticed the pad for the security system to the right. No light—red or green—blinked back at me. Damn it.

  My pulse began a rhythmic pound in my jugular.

  The morning light had me squinting as I stepped outside. There was nothing directly around the mansion except a garage and a clear lawn, the best way to keep threats away. And yet, as I glanced around, there was no sign of our enemy. No tracks in the yard that I could see. Nothing to tell me where the bastard had gone.

  No one got past Agozi security. No one. But…someone had.

  I thought of Maris with the little one upstairs. My soon-to-be sister-in-law, her stomach just starting to round with Remi’s child, and—I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight—Abby, asleep in our bed. They could all be dead right now if X had wanted to kill them. Couldn’t they? They could be gone, just like…


  No. Not happening. I wouldn’t let anyone or anything get to them. Ever.

  Pulling my cell from my back pocket—and groaning aloud at the pain coming alive in my hands—I dialed a number I hadn’t needed in a long time. Waited for the man to pick up. “Bryant, Levi Agozi. Any chance you could take a day off?”

  “Probably,” a wary voice, rusty with lack of use, said.

  “Good. Abby needs you. Stop and pick up Geneva Sanderson on your way.”

  A grunt came across the line.

  “Hurry, Bryant.”

  I never asked for help, and I could hear the moment he remembered that, knew I was dead serious about his hurrying. “On my way.”

  I clicked to end the call, then headed for the elevator, resolve coalescing inside me. X wanted Bram Sullivan’s life in exchange for my family’s? The man might be innocent, but I no longer gave a fuck. Rules were made to be broken, and this was one I’d break without a blink.

  I loved my brothers. I could even admit that Leah and Brooke had wormed their way into my heart. But this wasn’t about them. It was about the woman in my bed upstairs.

  Abby had lost enough. She wouldn’t lose any more.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eli —

  I watched Sullivan looking through the pictures we’d found of him on his cloud server, and something in my gut shouted that his reaction was wrong. The man was definitely agitated—his hands trembled, his muscles had gone rock-hard, his neck and cheeks were mottled an angry red…

  Anger. That was it. A man like Sullivan—a man with power, with control—seeing images of himself in extremely compromising, intimate moments should have elicited embarrassment.

  That’s not what I was seeing.

  Mikaela stood next to me, just far enough away from Sullivan that he couldn’t hear us. The coffee in her hand, her third cup this morning—my woman liked her coffee, check—couldn’t hide the warm woman scent of her, like honey and spice. My body turned, drawn to her, a bee to that honey.

  Not that I resisted; if we hadn’t been in the middle of an interrogation, I’d have closed the distance between us and rubbed against her like a cat. Transferring scent and heat, marking her as mine. Reminding her I was a whole lot more than a teammate.

  “Eli.”

  My gaze swept up her body to meet frowning eyes. “Hmm?”

  “Sullivan?”

  I raised my eyebrows in a what-about-him? motion.

  A low growl left her lips, the sound lighting a spark in my cock. “Get your head out of your ass and into this op.”

  I winked at her. “My head is definitely not in my ass.” I shifted my hips, and Mikaela’s attention dropped to my crotch.

  “For fuck’s sake. Stop!”

  She said that to me a lot. I couldn’t wait to have her in my bed, hear her begging me not to stop. But for now… “Quit biting your lip like that and maybe I could.”

  “God.” Mikaela brought her free hand up to rub at what was probably an ache between her brows.

  “Yeah, my brothers feel the same way sometimes.”

  “I can imagine,” she said, but I noticed the hint of a smile peeking out. Then the moment passed, and she squared her shoulders. “He’s not reacting right.”

  I agreed, but we had to look at both sides of the coin. “Maybe he’s humiliated and trying to hide it. Some men with high-powered jobs need to let go outside of work.” Most of them didn’t wear diapers, but for those that did, the shame might run deep.

  Mikaela glanced at me, an eyebrow raised in speculation. I scoffed. “Not me. But some men do.” I refrain from pointing out that she’d just admitted I had a high-powered job. Much better than being seen as my brothers’ flunky.

  Her mouth curved in a full grin this time before she turned her attention back to Sullivan. I was counting that as a win. Mikaela had smiled at me—without holding back.

  Definitely a win.

  “I thought that was the case here, but not anymore,” she said. “Come on.”

  I followed her across to stand in front of Sullivan, giving Rhys a nod.

  “Here’s my problem.” Mikaela set her coffee on the table, her voice losing the patient edge it had held for the past hour. “When you walked in here this morning, my very first thought was, if I hadn’t known those pictures were of you, I’d have bet money you weren’t the man in them. The way you hold yourself, your presence…” She bit her lip in thought, her eyes narrowed on a wary, silent Sullivan. “I don’t know why, but I’m pretty sure that if we strip you naked, your body won’t match that one.” Her chin jerked toward the folder of pictures on the table in front of him. “Close, probably. Similar build and coloring. But not exact. And there’s a quick and easy way to prove it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Sullivan sputtered.

  Mikaela was on the right trail, and I followed her lead. “You’re saying those are definitely you?”

  He hesitated a fraction of a second too long, the protest flickering in his gaze before he said, “Of course they’re me.”

  Pride; it would get you every time.

  “I’m not buying it.” Mikaela looked to me, jerked her head toward Sullivan. “Rhys?”

  I was already striding forward. Rhys grabbed Sullivan by an arm and dragged him out of his seat. The man’s protests rang through the warehouse, but it wasn’t until I grabbed his shirtfront that he started to fight.

  He was good. He trained hard. Maybe if it hadn’t been two to one—or three to one when Monty loped over to join the fight—he might have actually managed to keep his shirt. As it was, the fabric gave way when I popped the front open, buttons pinging everywhere, and the headlock Rhys managed allowed me to rip the material down his back.

  I paused when Sullivan’s torso was bare.

  “I thought we were on the same side,” he bit out. Even now, his go-to response was anger. There was no backing down, no pleading like most men would have done if they faced an overwhelming force determined to strip him naked.

  “We would be on the same side if you were being honest with us, Sullivan,” Mikaela said. “You’re not.”

  “I am,” he protested. “I—”

  Remi appeared at my side. “Eli,” he whispered urgently.

  I stepped back, leaving the struggling, sputtering, lying Sullivan to Rhys and Monty. I leaned my head toward my brother without taking my gaze off our target. “Yeah?”

  Remi stepped close, dropped his voice. “Levi is outside.”

  I jerked to look at him then. “What? Why?” Levi shouldn’t be anywhere but with Abby. He wouldn’t be, unless…

  Remi had his phone in his hand, already dialing, presumably to call Leah if I read the panic in his eyes correctly. That unless rang in my thoughts again. I ran for the door.

  Mikaela called my name, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The growing cloud of imminent disaster in my head wouldn’t let me.

  I caught a glimpse of Titus at the computer, his frown ugly as he stared at the screen, his hand dropping to the gun strapped to his thigh. And then I was at the door and outside.

  “Levi? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Abby and the girls?”

  My brother’s steel-gray eyes didn’t break their concentration on the door. He brushed past me like I was a fly beneath his notice. That was when I realized his gun was already in his hand.

  “Levi! Bro, stop!”

  But he didn’t stop. He barreled into the warehouse without a second’s hesitation. Shouts reached me outside, and then the shift from light to dark blinded me as I ran through the door.

  Instinct sent me in the direction of Mikaela and Sullivan. I closed my eyes for a few seconds to force them to adjust faster, and then I was at the couch and fighting to make sense of the chaos.

  Remi held Levi back, his shoulder against my brother’s, feet planted, sliding backward like he was trying to stop the Incredible Hulk. Monty and Rhys had Sullivan between them, dragging him away. Mikaela was yelling; Titus stood between
her and Levi, gun drawn. I jumped in the midst of the turmoil.

  Planting myself between Titus and Levi—a fact that earned me a menacing growl from Mikaela’s teammate—I got my hands as close to my brother as I dared without actually grabbing the gun. “Levi, talk to us, bro. What the fuck is going on?”

  He didn’t look at me, didn’t look at Remi. He stared down Sullivan with a deadly resolve that had me sweating. “He has to die.”

  Maybe Levi had discovered something we hadn’t? “Why? Why does he have to die?”

  Levi shoved at Remi, inching closer to the target. “He has to die!”

  With a quick feint into Remi, then away, Levi threw Remi off-balance and darted around him. Before I could make a grab for the gun, before any of us could blink, Levi was in front of Sullivan, his gun resting against the man’s forehead.

  “Don’t! Please don’t,” Sullivan begged, showing true fear for the first time since we’d kidnapped him.

  “Levi,” Mikaela begged, far closer than I wanted her to be, “think about what you’re doing!”

  “I haven’t done a fucking thing but think,” Levi snarled in Sullivan’s face. “I thought about this asshole, about my brothers, about you and your fucking team.” He pressed the muzzle hard against Sullivan’s skin, turning it white. “I thought about it all, but there’s only one thing that will make this stop. Make it all go away. You,” he said, leaning close to Sullivan, “dead.” His finger slipped onto the trigger.

  My breath jammed in my throat. Rhys and Monty were right there, hands on Sullivan, seconds from pulling him away—but those seconds wouldn’t save him. The bullet in Levi’s gun would shatter the man’s skull before he had moved a millimeter. Nothing could save Sullivan. No one—except Remi and me.

  I met Remi’s gaze. Whether he realized it or not, he was still clutching the phone he’d had in his hand when I’d rushed the door. A lifeline. A direct connection to Leah. As we held our breath, the sound of her voice came through faintly. Remi didn’t answer, but didn’t let go. It was the only way he knew she was alive.

  “Levi, tell me what happened. Talk to me. Where is Abby?” I asked.