Assassin's Mark

by Ella Sheridan

  “Right.” Clicks came through the line—Eli on the computer. If we had any tech capabilities here, Levi had hid them well. There wasn’t even a clock radio on the nightstand in the bedroom. “Turns out that while Anthony Clark was deployed overseas during the Gulf War, his only sibling, a sister, went missing. Her name was Caroline Clark. Ran away from home. The police never found any leads, but according to records, Anthony continued to contact the detective assigned to his sister’s case for years afterward.”

  “How does that help us?” Levi asked.

  “I contacted Clark’s partner in the trucking company they owned. They were partners for fifteen years, so they were pretty close. He told me Anthony said he needed a week off. He was headed here to Georgia, apparently had a lead on his sister. That was a week before the contact.”

  Contacting what? But when I looked at Levi, I knew. A week before he’d been contacted about the hit. The man had been searching for his missing sister right before he was killed.

  Coincidence?

  “What do we have on the sister?” Levi asked. “Any leads?”

  So…not a coincidence.

  “I managed to get an address from the boss. Apparently Clark had tracked Caroline to a homeless shelter just south of the city. A worker there remembered the sister and told him this was her first apartment after she managed to get on her feet.”

  The address wasn’t one I knew, but when Eli mentioned the neighborhood, I recognized it as a low-income, somewhat sketchy area of town. Not a place a society girl like me would ever have been allowed to go. I wondered how Anthony’s sister had fared actually living there.

  “I can check out the location this afternoon,” Eli was saying.

  “No.”

  Eli growled. “I can—”

  “I don’t want you leaving Remi alone,” Levi insisted. “I will take care of any legwork.”

  “I’m fine,” Remi complained. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Of course you do. And don’t bother arguing,” he said over Remi’s protests. Levi reached for the phone. “I’m the boss and I said no. Now go take a nap, you big baby.”

  “I’m not— You dick—”

  Levi cut off his brother’s sputtering by clicking End. A grin transformed him from grim assassin to gleeful kid in an instant—obviously he enjoyed frustrating his younger brother. I’d never understood the whole sibling-dynamics thing since I’ve never had any, but watching the brothers interact, I was beginning to see that torture and teasing were a huge part of it. And I knew better than most how good Levi was at the torture part.

  A delicious tingle ran through me, alongside memories of last night. That one thought and I was lost.

  Levi grabbing the plastic container in front of me jolted me out of the past. I watched as he cleaned up breakfast, staying quiet, giving myself time to think. To screw up my courage. When he turned toward the hall, my decision had been made.

  “You’re going to check out the address this morning, aren’t you?” I asked.

  The question brought Levi to a halt. “Yeah. People talk more when they can see your face.”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline.

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Maybe.” I was pretty sure that was true, but with Levi? “Are you sure we shouldn’t let Eli take this one?”

  Levi leaned an elbow on the wall near his head. The act stretched his body out, making him bigger, scarier…sexier. I swallowed hard.

  A sexy smirk appeared on that handsome face. “I think I know more than enough tricks to convince someone to talk to me.”

  And, of course, I knew firsthand how true that was. Fear hadn’t even crossed my mind the night I’d met him.

  I’d concede the point to him. I had bigger victories to shoot for.

  “I think I might go stir-crazy if you leave me all alone here.” I cleared my throat. “Would you… I mean…” Come on, Abby, spit it out. “Take me with you.”

  I held my breath, my lungs straining as I waited. Those emotionless eyes examined me like a bug under a microscope, and I couldn’t help wondering if Levi thought I was ridiculous. A kidnapped woman wanting to investigate alongside her kidnapper? But I had to take the chance. I needed to understand what had triggered all this, as much—or maybe more—as Levi needed to destroy my father. The question was, could Levi accept me as a partner rather than someone he had complete control over?

  I’d taken the risk; now would he?

  “I don’t like the idea of you out on the street,” Levi said, frowning.

  The air escaped my lungs in a whoosh. That wasn’t a no. “Haven’t you heard? I ran away from my abusive fiancé. Who’s going to believe otherwise with those…images…all over the TV and Internet?” A fact I still couldn’t think about without sweating. “I don’t even want to look anyone in the eye, knowing they’ve seen those. I’ll accept any disguise you want to give me.” Total honesty. The more we could hide my face so no one knew who I was, the better, in my opinion. “Besides…don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?”

  Levi stood for a long moment, staring me down, whatever was going on behind those eyes so well hidden that I couldn’t even get a hint. When he opened his mouth, I braced myself.

  “Get dressed then.”

  He turned and walked away. Just like that, as if what he’d said wasn’t momentous. As if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb between us.

  And I wasn’t going to point it out. Levi was taking me through that steel door into the big, wide, unprotected world for the first time since I’d been taken captive, and I had clothes to put on. I scrambled to do so before he changed his mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I felt a little like a mole climbing out of its hole for the first time in days. Sunlight seared my eyeballs, making me stumble as we left the alleys near the safe house. Levi didn’t ask if I was okay, just helped steady me until I could blink away the blindness, then headed for the SUV parked on the other side of the dumpsters.

  Neither of us had addressed the fact that he was trusting me not to yell for help or run away as soon as we were among people again. I could only assume that the trust he’d shown this morning, letting me hear his conversation with his brothers, had extended to public appearances. He didn’t threaten me or insist I follow his lead. He just…took me outside.

  The feeling of the sun on my face—and his trust in my soul—was intoxicating.

  But there was still something nagging at me, something I needed to clarify. I strapped myself into the passenger seat, then turned to Levi. “I’m assuming we think Anthony Clark came into town, specifically to go to this address, looking for his sister.”

  Levi glanced over his shoulder as he backed out of the alley. “Yeah.”

  Classic noncommittal response.

  “And if going there was what tipped Derrick off? Made him set up…” Saying the hit sounded too much like we were in The Godfather, so I didn’t finish the sentence at all.

  Levi shook his head, eyes on the road as he navigated the alleys and back roads I hadn’t been able to identify in the dark. Still couldn’t, for that matter. “Derrick won’t have time to get a new team together before we get there.”

  “Axe’s men won’t pick up where he left off?”

  “There aren’t any more of Axe’s men. And his was the best team on the East Coast.” Levi shot me a cocky grin. “Except for me, of course.”

  Of course. My father always hired the best, and I’d seen for myself the ease with which Levi had taken down Axe’s team. And Axe.

  I turned my head to look out the window, and knocked the brim of my ball cap on the glass. Levi had insisted it was all I needed to disguise my face. No one would expect Abigail Roslyn to walk the streets in ratty jeans and a worn sweatshirt two sizes too big, and no way in hell would they expect a ball cap. I had been raised to be the epitome of grace—even if I’d fallen short of those high expectations time and again—and that meant ball caps were out. The thing felt od
d on my head, constricting, but the brim hid the top part of my face well.

  When I wasn’t trying to knock it off, at least.

  It didn’t take us long to get there, which meant Levi was hiding the two of us in an equally run-down part of the city. The address led us to a neighborhood of small duplexes, almost too small to believe someone could live in them, but the presence of kids running on the cracked sidewalks and dirty toys in the yards said families were sharing the tiny spaces. Levi drove through the neighborhood once, his eagle gaze scanning constantly. I didn’t know what he was looking for, so I helped as best I could by keeping quiet. Finally he circled around to a duplex in the middle of the complex and parked.

  “Stay behind me,” Levi said as I grasped the door handle. I nodded in understanding—though not necessarily in agreement—and got out.

  There weren’t any toys in this yard, only two clotheslines strung along the outside perimeters, one for each side of the duplex. Levi headed toward the right side, and I followed. I’d always loved his wide shoulders and tall, muscular build, but right now they left me frustrated—I couldn’t see anything! Even at five-five, the body in front of me blocked out any possibility of a view. I made do with glancing around the neighborhood, wondering if Levi could be wrong and some hit man had us in his sights right now. I was so busy looking that I bumped into Levi when he stopped at the door.

  The sharp sound of his knuckles on wood startled me, loud in the relative quiet of the neighborhood. No answer. Levi rapped again, and I could see his head tilt as if he was listening. To see if someone was home but refusing to come to the door? If I wasn’t expecting someone—or if I was expecting trouble—I might not answer either, but I listened as well, and didn’t hear a whisper of movement inside.

  “If you’re looking for the Johnsons, you’re too late. They moved out last week.”

  Levi swung to the left, blocking me from view once again. I fought the urge to growl in frustration.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the woman who had spoken. I immediately recognized the tone—pleasant, unassuming, all choir boy meets door-to-door salesman. “The Johnsons?”

  “Yes. They were the last tenants. Or maybe you were looking for the Smiths?”

  Seemed the residents here tended to come with generic last names.

  “No, actually.” Levi turned more fully to face the woman. “I’m looking for a tenant from around twenty years ago. You wouldn’t happen to know if any of the residents have lived here that long?”

  “Well, honey”—I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of someone calling Levi honey—“I’ve been right here in this little corner of the world for nearly thirty years. My memory’s not what it used to be, but I can probably help you.” The sound of a screen door creaking open reached me. “Why don’t y’all come on in?”

  I wanted to yell at the nice older lady to not be so trusting, to not invite someone she didn’t know into her home, but Levi was already moving forward, charm oozing from his thanks and appreciation for being willing to talk with us.

  We walked into the dim interior of the woman’s house. The place was almost as small as the hideaway Levi and I were in right now, but much more homey, all aged wood and doilies and green plants in hangers. The older lady, I could now see, was a petite black woman, hair gray with age, a bit of a stoop to her shoulders, but when she turned around, her eyes were sharp as tacks.

  “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the worn plaid sofa near the recliner she occupied. “May I get you some refreshments?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” Levi said. Ma’am. A word I’d never thought to hear coming out of his sexy, dangerous mouth. “I apologize, but your name is…?”

  “Geneva. Geneva Sanderson. And you?”

  I expected some fake name along the line of Johnson and Smith, but he simply smiled. “Levi.”

  I noticed he didn’t give my name.

  “Nice to meet you.” Geneva smiled up at me. “Well, sit, young lady.”

  “Th-thank you.” I sat. Without thought I reached up, took the cap from my head, and shook out my hair. It wasn’t until I heard Geneva’s gasp that I realized what I’d done.

  Geneva pressed a frail hand over her heart, those intense eyes wide and disbelieving as she studied my face. “Caroline?”

  God, what had I done? I darted a glance at Levi, whose narrowed eyes were watching Geneva.

  “You knew her, then?” he asked.

  Geneva stared at me, and I swore I saw the sheen of tears brighten her eyes. “Oh yes, I knew Caroline very well. Are you…” She raised her hand as if to touch me, to make sure I was real. “Are you her daughter? Little Abby all grown up?”

  The words registered in my ears the moment they were said, but it took longer for my brain to puzzle out their meaning. When I finally did, it hit me like a freight train. “Her daughter? Caroline’s daughter? I—” A sudden sick twist of my stomach had me swallowing hard. “Levi?”

  There was supposed to be a connection between Derrick and Caroline, but not this. It wasn’t supposed to involve me. It was… I mean, this was… “I—”

  The room started to spin.

  Levi’s hand slid into mine, gripped me hard. His touch steadied me, helped me catch my breath. But I couldn’t look away from Geneva as she soaked in the sight of me, tears trickling down her lined face. I hadn’t realized I’d joined her until Levi handed me a tissue.

  I looked away.

  After mopping myself up, I looked back to Geneva. “You…remember me?”

  “Lord, girl. Even if I didn’t, you are the spitting image of your mama. But I’m guessing you weren’t aware of that.” Sorrow settled onto her face like falling snow. “I was afraid of that.”

  “What?”

  But Levi’s raised hand forestalled Geneva’s answer. “Maybe we should start at the beginning. Mrs. Sanderson, you’ve already guessed that Abby didn’t know her mother.” He left out the part about me already having a mother, or at least, thinking I already had one. My mind reeled. “What can you tell us about Caroline Clark? We’ve only managed to track her here. What happened to her?”

  Geneva eased back into the soft cushions of her chair. “She never would tell me where she came from, but her people weren’t good to her, from the sounds of it. She worked three jobs to get herself out of a homeless shelter and into her place next door. Wanted to go back to school, but she got pregnant before she could. I do know she was so proud to be here. She worked hard to build a good life for herself—and later, for you too,” Geneva said to me.

  “But…if she was my mother”—big if, right? Had to be…—“then who is my father?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me, child. I gather he had money; he used to send one of those big black town cars to pick her up sometimes. The last time I saw her, she had you bundled up in the pink blanket I gave her when you were born, and she was getting in that car again. Caroline said her man had gotten her a new place, somewhere her baby could be safe.”

  Geneva eased her way forward in her chair, preparing to stand. “She wasn’t supposed to give a forwarding address, but she did anyway. Worried her brother might come looking for her.” She shuffled over to a tall hutch in the corner. “He never did.”

  Except he had. And now he was dead.

  Chapter Thirty

  After rummaging for a moment, Geneva pulled a slip of paper from one of the drawers. “Here it is.”

  “You kept it all this time?” Levi asked. I caught a hint of suspicion in the words, but I didn’t care. All I cared about right now was getting that paper in my hands, seeing my mother‘s handwriting for the first time. A mother who loved me. Wrapped me and carried me instead of handing me over to nannies. I couldn’t remember a single picture of me as a child in my mother’s arms.

  Had Caroline cherished me? Was that even possible?

  Geneva placed the paper in my trembling hand.

  “Recognize it?” Levi asked.

  The address, I assumed he meant
. But I hadn’t taken it in. I was too busy staring at the graceful loops and elegant lines that made up the words. My mother’s handwriting. My mother’s—

  “Abby.”

  I jerked my gaze from the paper.

  “The address. Do you recognize it?”

  I looked again, then slowly shook my head. “No.” In town, obviously, given the city and zip code, but I didn’t know street names well beyond the major thoroughfares, not being a driver myself. I reluctantly passed the paper to Levi. “Do you?”

  “No.” He looked up at Geneva. “And she never came back? Not to pick up mail or her things, nothing?”

  “Nothing,” the older woman confirmed sadly. “I knew when she didn’t that something wasn’t right, but”—she shrugged—“who would listen to me?”

  About a homeless girl who had gotten herself pregnant? Not many people, unfortunately. The story was too common in the big city to care about them all.

  I reached for the address. Levi seemed reluctant to part with it, but released it to my care. When I caught myself rubbing my fingertips over the surface as if the paper held some clue beyond the few lines written on it, I slipped it into my pocket.

  “Wherever she is, she would be so proud to see you, little Abby,” Geneva said.

  Would she? I gave Levi a desperate, get-me-out-of-here-now look. He stood immediately.

  “Mrs. Sanderson, thank you for your help.”

  “Anytime, anytime.” She reached for me, her wizened hands feeling far too delicate around mine. “You come back to see me sometime, okay, dear? I’ll tell you all about your mama. I bet I even have a few pictures here somewhere.”

  My heart squeezed. I wanted more than anything to come back, but I didn’t want to place Geneva in danger. Still… “Of course I will.” I leaned in, brushing a kiss on her powdery-soft cheek. “Thank you so much.”

  Geneva patted my hand one last time, and Levi led me out the door.

  The ride back was heavy with silence. Levi insisted on stopping at a drive-through despite my protests that I couldn’t eat. Just the thought of food made me feel green. Smelling it wasn’t much better, so I cracked my window enough to let fresh air in but not the rain that had begun to fall.