Flynn's Assassin (Marks Mercenaries Book 5)

by N. J. Walters

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2019 N.J. Walters

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0044-1

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thank you to my amazing readers for following me through whatever genre of romance I choose to write. And thank you for all your emails letting me know how much you love the Marks family.

  Thank you to the incredible team at Evernight Publishing for working hard to bring the Marks Mercenaries series to life. I truly appreciate it.

  FLYNN’S ASSASSIN

  Marks Mercenaries, 5

  N.J. Walters

  Copyright © 2019

  Chapter One

  “I’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” Flynn Marks muttered under his breath. He’d faced down a deadly Vusarian cave snake, survived the mines of Quaros, and fought off space pirates. But nothing in his life had prepared him for the dangerous situation he now faced.

  He didn’t even have a knife or blaster on him. He was utterly defenseless.

  “You enjoying the wedding reception?” His brother Amos smirked, knowing full well Flynn would rather be anywhere but here. If it weren’t for the fact his younger sister was the bride, he’d have escaped long ago. He’d mapped every possible exit point as soon as he’d entered the swanky reception room.

  “Fuck you.” Short and to the point.

  Amos, the bastard, only laughed. “At least the food is good.”

  Yeah, he had no complaints there. But considering the groom was an actual prince, the son of the king of Gravas, he’d expected nothing less. He’d known Vaden el Gravaso for years, but hadn’t known he was actually royalty. And now Vaden was married to his sister.

  “I think I’ve gained a few pounds.” Amos groaned and rubbed his stomach.

  “You haven’t stopped eating since we landed on Gravas,” Flynn pointed out. They’d been here for ten planetary days, not that he was counting. “Keep that up and you’ll never fit in your battlesuit.”

  The lightweight body armor was as much a part of him as his skin. It was hugely expensive, but he’d made sure all his brothers had one. It had kept them all alive on more than one occasion. They might be safe here, but he was still wearing his battlesuit beneath the black pants and shirt he wore. It had been years since he’d worn anything other than a flightsuit. It was no wonder he was uncomfortable.

  “Lighten up, old man.” Amos slapped him on the shoulder. “We have Abby back, and we’re all safe.”

  He watched his brother amble back to the buffet table. The food never seemed to run low, constantly being replaced as fast as it was consumed. He shook his head as Amos reached for another plate to fill. When his wife, Angelina, joined him, Amos obviously forgot all about the food. He only had eyes for her.

  Flynn looked away and scanned the room, locating his other two brothers. Not surprising, their women were also by their sides. The Marks brothers protected their women, treating them like the treasures they were. Kal had Rory, and Garth had Lacey.

  Flynn’s gaze tracked around the opulent ballroom, filled with people dressed in their very best, until they landed on his sister. Her hair was as black as his, with the same streak of white in the front. They all had that distinctive white lock of hair, but Abby’s eyes were the same bluish-green as his. There was no mistaking the family resemblance. Only she was a hell of a lot prettier than he was, especially dressed in a flowing gown made of shimmering, rosy Darkata silk.

  Shoving away from the wall, he stalked toward her, ignoring the fact she was dancing with her new husband.

  Abby saw him coming and smiled at first, but the closer he got the more it faded. Fuck, did he look that menacing? He stopped beside the happy couple and glared at the groom. Vaden actually grinned at him. Flynn had thought Vaden to be an emotionless, ruthless warrior—which he was in battle. Around Abby, Vaden showed a softer side.

  “I want to dance with my sister.” Not quite a polite request, but it was better than shoving the groom out of the way. Safer, too, considering that any attack on a member of the royal family was punishable by death. And the Gravasian people didn’t mess around when it came to enforcing their rules. Family and honor were everything to them.

  If his sister had to tie herself to anyone, the Gravasian warrior was probably the best choice.

  Vaden glared at him before looking at Abby. It was only when she gave a nod of agreement that he stepped back. “I’ll leave you to your dance.” Even dressed in formal attire, Vaden was still every inch a warrior. He might be a prince, but in his world that meant even more was expected of him.

  Right now, there was a warning in his eyes not to upset Abby.

  Flynn took his sister into his arms and slowly began to move. He hadn’t danced in years. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he’d actually danced before, at least nothing like this. It was very formal, the steps choreographed and precise. He’d been observing long enough that he could manage without embarrassing her. Personally, he didn’t give a shit, but he knew it was important to her. Therefore, he’d make the effort.

  “Are you happy?” he asked. She’d had so much sorrow and hardship in her life in the years she’d been away from them. At least he and his brothers had had one another. Abby had been on her own.

  “I am.” Her simple reply radiated truth.

  A heavy weight fell from Flynn’s shoulders, one he’d carried for a little more than a decade. Since the day of the mining explosion that had cost him his right eye and arm, and injured his brothers, Flynn had fought to keep his family alive and together. When he’d regained consciousness in hospital, he’d discovered his sister was gone, taken while they’d all been fighting for their lives. They’d all spent the past ten years searching for her. They’d finally found her, only to lose her to Vaden.

  Yeah, they’d had one planetary month with her before bringing her to Gravas, but even then, they’d had to share her with Vaden, who’d refused to leave her side. As much as it pained him, Flynn actually respected him for that.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked. “You’re okay with me marrying Vaden, aren’t you?”

  He hated the worry that now clouded her happiness. That was on him. “I like Vaden just fine.” Not exactly a ringing endorsement. He wasn’t good with words. “As long as it’s what you want.”

  “It is.” Abby leaned inward and hugged him. Flynn held on for a long moment before releasing her.

  “That’s all I want,” he reassured her.

  “You’re not staying, are you?”

  His sister was turning out to be a very astute woman, but then again, she’d been a thoughtful child, always watching and eager to learn. She’d been twelve years old when she’d disappeared. It was hard to reconcile the image he had of the too-thin girl in dusty and patched clothing who’d followed him everywhere to the dazzling princess in a ball gown.

  “I can’t.” He couldn’t explain it, but he was restless. This should have been the best time of his life. All his siblings were settled with loving partners. “The others are staying, at least for a while.”

  Abby nodded. “Angelina and Amos told me.”


  Angelina Astoferus was the owner of Astoferus Incorporated, the largest shipping company in the Alliance. And that was only part of the empire she oversaw. That she’d originally been contracted as a bride for Vaden had made things more than a little complicated.

  But they’d all seemed to have worked things out between them, leaving Flynn at loose ends. His complete focus and purpose for his entire life had been to unite his family and see his younger siblings settled.

  That was done. He’d accomplished all he’d set out to do.

  So where did that leave him?

  ****

  Five planetary weeks later, Flynn sat in a dark corner booth of a seedy bar on Oasis. He was much more at home here than he’d been at the state wedding on Gravas. Loud music couldn’t quite drown out the raucous laughter, the shouts of conversation, or the raised voices teetering on the edge of an argument.

  These were his kind of people. The men and women who frequented the Rotten Rooster were all tough. They were traders and mercenaries, people who didn’t mind skating over the line if the job called for it.

  He’d picked up a lot of information here over the years. Gotten into his fair share of fights, too. Although, given his size and appearance, those tended to occur only when a patron had drunk too much of the brew the Rooster was known for to have any common sense left.

  The waitress slammed an unopened bottle of fermented ale on the table. “Five credits,” she demanded, holding out her hand.

  “You know it’s only three, Mabel,” he reminded her even as he handed her two fives.

  She smiled and winked at him, even as the second credit disappeared into the low-cut neckline of her shirt. “A girl has got to make a living, Flynn.” She shifted her weight so she was leaning even closer. Her large bosom was in danger of overflowing.

  “Only the ale,” he told her.

  She laughed good-naturedly and smacked him lightly on the arm. “Too good for the likes of me, are you? Heard you got a fancy new brother-in-law or is that just talk?”

  He saw the speculation in her eyes, and knew she was trying to decide if it was worth the effort to try to seduce him. He could have told her it was wasted. He’d never been in the habit of picking up waitresses who worked these kinds of places. Call him picky, but he didn’t want to fuck a woman who’d done the same to most of the other patrons in the place. He didn’t fault her. As she’d said, a girl had to make a living. He’d rather give her the extra tip.

  He’d spent too many years worried his sister might have found herself in a similar situation, forced to trade her body to get enough money to live.

  Still, she was prettier than most with her light hair hanging down her back. She was clean and had all her teeth, which wasn’t always the case in places like this. For a brief second, he was almost tempted. Anything to get his mind off his current situation. But the moment passed. A quick fuck in a back room wasn’t going to fix what was wrong with him.

  “Now you know better than to listen to gossip, Mabel,” he said, neither confirming or denying the rumor.

  She laughed and slapped him on the shoulder before heading back to the bar.

  Flynn wondered how many other people in the room were speculating about him. Having Vaden in the family was both a blessing and a curse. Gravas was closed to almost all outsiders, but he and his brothers were no longer considered outsiders now that their sister had married into the royal family.

  That meant the rich and powerful would likely try to cultivate a friendship with him to see if they could get an inside track to the king. Gravas had far superior technology and weapons to the rest of those in the Alliance galaxies. Everyone wanted to get their hands on it.

  Which could also make him a target for abduction, except for one minor detail—if Flynn was abducted or died, a Gravasian assassin would hunt down the abductors and kill them, quite painfully. They’d also kill anyone who helped them. There were no better killers in the universe. No one, from the powerful to the most desperate, wanted a kill contract put out on them.

  He was probably safer now then he’d been in his entire life.

  And why the hell did that depress him?

  The loud music was giving him a headache. Maybe Amos wasn’t far off when he’d called Flynn an old man. He’d turned thirty-four a few days back but felt much older. Too many years of hard living and worry. He hadn’t celebrated. He wasn’t even sure anyone in his family knew his birth date. Things like that hadn’t been important in their lives.

  Shit, he hated being out of sorts. He grabbed the bottle of ale and inspected it for tampering. When he was sure it was safe, he opened it and took a large swallow. The liquid burned all the way to his gut. “Christ,” he muttered as he set the bottle back on the table.

  He eased farther back in his seat, keeping the wall solidly behind him. It was odd to be here without at least one of his brothers alongside him. The Marks brothers had earned a reputation over the years—fuck with one and you fucked with them all.

  There was always some idiot who tried to incite trouble between them, but their bond was unbreakable, forged in blood and sweat and a common goal.

  He missed them. He’d gotten so used to them always being there it had never occurred to him things would ever change.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Flynn casually picked up the bottle and sipped while scanning the room. Someone was watching him. He had a sixth sense about these things.

  It never lied.

  Feeling his gaze, a couple of men, tough bastards like himself, glanced in his direction and then looked away. The rest were oblivious.

  He slid one hand beneath the table and pulled his blaster from his thigh holster, keeping it hidden. It would take a direct headshot to kill him. The battlesuit beneath his flightsuit would protect him. Times like this he cursed the explosion for taking his right eye. Sure, it took his hand as well, but he had a robotic one that was stronger than the original. A patch covered the scarred area where his eye had been. He’d never wanted to take the time or money to get a computerized eye. With his sixth sense and one good eye, it had never been a hindrance.

  Of course, he’d always had another set of eyes with him in the guise of one of his brothers. Too bad they were all back on Gravas enjoying the hospitality and time with their wives.

  He’d taken a job from a regular customer, a simple supply run, one they’d done so many times he could almost do it in his sleep. He’d delivered the cargo and come here for some downtime of his own and to resupply his vessel. Now he had to wonder if he’d been set up.

  No one approached him. No one seemed to be paying him any extra attention. But looks were deceiving.

  He could leave the bar and make his way back to the Abigail, his deep-space-class trader. The ship was currently docked and was supplied, fueled, and ready to go. But he hadn’t quite been ready to leave. Now he was cursing himself for that.

  Two men crowded in at the bar moved away, giving him a better view. It was then he saw her. She was seated at the very end. He couldn’t tell how tall she was, but she gave the impression of height. Her hair caught the lights above the bar. It wasn’t blonde or brown. It was burnished gold, the same shade of an ancient coin he’d seen as a child. She had broad shoulders and full lips. And she was staring right at him, not flinching away from his perusal.

  A greenish-blue skinned Crebian sidled up alongside her. He leaned forward and spoke, smiling all the while. Flynn was more than a little curious to see what she’d do.

  The woman slowly turned her gaze from Flynn to the Crebian. She ran a finger down the front of his bare chest and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

  Flynn sat forward, every muscle in his body tense. Not his business, he reminded himself. If she wanted to go off with some lowlife Crebian who picked her up in a bar, that was her business.

  The woman leaned back, picked up her drink, and stood. The Crebian actually jerked away from her and bolted from the bar without a backward
glance.

  Now Flynn really wanted to know what she’d said to the guy. And it looked like he might get the chance. He’d been right; she was tall. About six-foot, if he wasn’t mistaken. The leather pants she wore clung to her thighs and accentuated her broad hips. Her leather vest covered her chest but exposed arms that were sleekly muscled. This woman was no stranger to hard work.

  No one tried to stop her as she made her way to his table. Her stride was long but fluid. She hadn’t been here when he’d arrived, and he’d situated himself in a dark corner where no one could see him. That meant she’d likely been looking for him.

  Now he had to find out why. He’d made more than his share of enemies over the years. Impossible not to. He also didn’t recognize her.

  The likely possibilities were that she was looking for a good time and had picked him for some unknown reason or that she was an assassin. If he was a betting man, he’d go for the second one.

  Then she was standing beside his table. “That seat taken?” She motioned to the chair off to the side, not the one that left her back exposed. That in itself was telling.

  “Depends.” He moved into the light, giving her a full view of his face. If she was going to cut and run because of his looks he wanted it to happen now rather than later.

  “On what?” She didn’t flinch, keeping her eyes on him. There wasn’t enough light to allow him to see what color they were, but they were dark.

  “Am I going to have trouble with the Crebian?” He motioned toward the door.

  One corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “He won’t be back, not unless he wants to lose his balls.”

  Now he was curious. The discontent, the restlessness that had plagued him for weeks was gone. He shoved back the empty chair with his foot.