An Assassin's Death

by A. K. Koonce

  “We want you to stop him.”

  Twenty-One

  The Team Uniform

  I just need time to process. I need time to think the new turn of events through. And I need space. Alone.

  Without another word, I turn away from him. My heart pounds hard as I walk upstairs and I’m faintly aware of Tylin trailing after me.

  I make it to the second set of stairs, so close to Jameson’s room but so far away. The front door opens quietly, but the glaring look Rory gives me says a thousand words before he ever speaks.

  His gaze travels down my short dress. It’s so small it takes the man no time at all to really get a look at the thing.

  “Okay. This is just fucking ridiculous. She’s just trying to distract us now,” Rory all but pouts to Tylin.

  Jameson and Mason appear as if Rory’s anger summoned them.

  Jameson’s smile is all-approving and suddenly, I know I look sluttier than I originally thought.

  “It’s for the event next week,” I explain in a quiet voice.

  Tylin takes a step closer, his hand resting on the curving railing just near mine.

  “You can’t wear that to the event. It’s entirely too slutty,” Tylin says with a disapproving shake of his head, his words echoing my own thoughts.

  My lips part with silent outrage. The material is so tight against my chest I have to heave out a breath.

  “You fucking gave this to me and told me it was for the event, Tylin.”

  “No. No, I didn’t. You assumed it was for the event.”

  “Then what the fuck is it for?” My hair sways against my back as my jaw clenches tightly closed.

  “I bought it. I thought you’d like it.” Jameson raises his hand as if this is a classroom and he’s the star fucking pupil.

  “He checked your jean size and everything. You should try to be a little more appreciative,” Tylin says with that gleaming amusement in his dark eyes.

  “That’s a lie. If he checked my size, then why is this thing too tight?”

  “I made sure to get a size smaller.” Jameson nods as his gaze rakes over the displayed curve of my breasts and works slowly down my body.

  “Good choice.” Tylin smirks.

  “Perfect fit,” Mouse says in agreement.

  A smothered sound similar to an angry scream tears up my throat as I storm up the stairs.

  “That angry stomping just makes your ass look even better, love.” Jameson’s yells after me.

  They’re a fucking bag of limpy dicks.

  All of them.

  I make it to the top of the stairs before my revenge is already plotted. My ankles nearly give out as I turn on my heels. With less aggression and much more sensuality, I sway back down the steps.

  Their laughter quiets as I come back into view. Even Rory is smirking. Assholes.

  I push my way past Tylin, making sure my breasts skim against his bare chest to the best of my ability. He was right; I don’t know how to wear a dress. But I do know how to use my body.

  His attention is warm and sinks right into me as I take my time passing him. Mouse’s quiet and assessing gaze follows me as I stalk up to my innocent little prey.

  In my torturous heels, I’m nearly the same height as Jameson. The moment I give him a miniscule of heated attention, he leans into me, his palm pushing low on the curve of my hip before he grips my ass entirely.

  His warm shoulder meets my palm as I steady myself against his bare chest. My lips brush his ear and I’m very aware of everyone watching us.

  “Thank you,” I whisper on a rasping breath.

  I shift and ah, yep. There it is. His dick hardens low against my stomach.

  Now that the main brain is present.

  I press a slow kiss to the side of his neck and he hums a groan of a response.

  And then… I start the clock.

  The men around me halt with their looks of amusement and confusion as time itself stands still. I take a self-satisfying second to pull back and look Jameson in the eye.

  He sees me and my pursing lips as I stare at him with a sultry glare.

  I’m going to be cutting it close on time. As quickly as possible, I shove out of the constricting material. A ripping sound comes from somewhere but I don’t give it a second thought as I push the gray sweats down Jameson’s hips. The black boxers he wears are pulled tight against his erection and I only stare blatantly at his hard length for two seconds—three at the most. Okay it was probably close to five.

  And it’s five painful seconds at that. The intimidating outline is literally so big my cervix hurts just looking at it. If my gag reflex has anything to say about it, this will be the first and last time I ever intentionally make Jameson hard again.

  I struggle on my heels to push the dress over his perfect hair. Just like a doll, I dress him how I want. I pull hard at the hem, forcing it down his strong thighs.

  It’s a mess. He’s a hot mess. Blonde locks stick up at all angles. The crimson dress is askew and barely pulled up over his pecs and forced down to cover his cock while his sweatpants lay in a heap around his ankles.

  Aww, but he’s just so damn cute.

  In my bra and underwear and towering heels, I stand back to admire my work. A pleased smile pulls at my lips just as the clock starts to dwindle down.

  I lock eyes with him and make sure my voice is one of authority when I speak.

  “We’re a team, Jameson. If one of us wears a uniform, we all have to.”

  The sixty seconds releases, time starts up once more, and I know the moment it has because Tylin’s rumbling laughter echoes into the room. Followed by a coughing laugh from Mason and even a low sound from Rory that could be considered a laugh.

  Jameson’s pretty eyes close slowly but there’s a hint of a smile in his features. When his eyes open, his gaze trails over my lace underwear and against every inch of my skin but I keep that assured confidence in place.

  My hip juts out as I turn away and even I’m impressed when I don’t stumble on my heels.

  “Who knew you had the body to fill all that out?” Mason says to his friend.

  I smirk to myself while I stride back up the stairs for that alone time that I need even more now.

  Jameson’s a good sport, but he seems to want the last word.

  “Your ass still looks amazing when you stomp up those stairs, baby.”

  I don’t look back at him as I continue my storming steps, my hand held high with a gesture raised just for him.

  Twenty-Two

  Flocking Moths

  Over the next few days, something changes between us. I’m not saying they’re buying me roses and serenading me beneath the moonlight, but they are acting like I’m a part of the team instead of the enemy.

  I sit on my little perch on the kitchen counter, but instead of congregating around the table, they seem to linger around me. Hmm. I’m not going to mention it, but I feel a little like the bright light among flocking moths right now.

  I open my gauze and Tylin steps closer to help me with the bandages.

  Flock moths, flock.

  I can’t help but watch him as he slowly starts to wrap my hand for me. He doesn’t give me a second look though. Dark eyes are set on my healing fingers. He just acts like it’s something he always does. As if taking care of me is the most natural thing in the world to him.

  Mason’s attention flickers to his friend for only an instant before he pushes the yellow pencil across the white printer paper.

  “From what I’ve seen, the event is going to be held in an abandoned Catholic church on fifty-seventh street.”

  He indicates the building with a little cross symbol before marking another set of lines over the paper as if he’s mapping out the rooms of the church.

  “A sanctuary. Talk about a god complex.” I tilt my head and Mase’s lips pull into a slow smile.

  Jameson takes a long drink from a water bottle as he stands over Mason to watch the drawing. Rory looks around Jameson
’s bare shoulder to take a look at what’s being drawn, but he doesn’t make an effort to join my happy little moths.

  He’s really missing out on my warm and inspiring light.

  “So in three days’ time, you enter wearing a formal gown—”

  “Not picked by Jameson,” I add and the bastard has the nerve to wink at me.

  Mason smiles before continuing. “In three days’ time, you’ll enter wearing a formal gown of your choice.” His amber eyes lift to me and I nod happily at him. “You enter through the alley side at dusk.”

  At dusk. Because sunset sounds romantic and dusk sounds ominous. Thanks for that, Mouse.

  “What makes you think the other assassins will welcome her with open arms?” Rory’s arms fold over his hulking chest and I hate how logical his question is.

  “Because,” Tylin tapes my bandage before turning away to grab something off the table. He returns and he stares at me with the strangest look in his eyes. Warm fingers push back my hair with a gentle touch before he raises a black masquerade mask over my eyes. Small diamonds glitter around the edges and I can’t help but try to admire it out of my peripheral vision. “We have this for our fearless little assassin.”

  My bandaged hand rises and my fingertips skim against his before I trail over the details of the mask. A fluttering feeling stirs within me as his gaze holds on mine, the searing look burns right into me.

  But I smother it right out. It may seem sweet, but I’m only a tool that’s being used for a greater good. I’m okay with that. They’re not using me in a careless sense but I am being used. I just need to make sure I remind myself that they’re not being sweet to me, they’re just making sure I’m prepared.

  “Will the others be wearing masks?” I look to Mason because he seems to be the one who’s done the research here.

  “I don’t actually know. I wouldn’t really dwell on it because if you don’t wear it, you’re fucked.”

  My brows raise as I nod. I guess that’s true.

  “I’ll be lingering in the second-floor balcony,” Mason says as he slashes another line to indicate the second floor. He takes a moment to doodle a little mouse with little mouse whiskers and a little mouse tail and I can’t help but smile at it.

  “You’ll be there?” I wish my voice didn’t sound as fucking pathetically dreamy as it does right now, but I can’t seem to help it.

  “Well, yeah. You can’t go on your own.” He leans against the countertop near my leg, his knuckles brushing my thigh as he waves his hand as if to say it’s only logical.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rory says in a stern voice that pisses all over my fluttering emotions. “We have our own tasks for that night.”

  My head tips up to him. I glare at him and he glares right back.

  Tylin lowers the mask and looks back at Rory. Silent communication seems to pass between the two men for a few seconds before Tylin pulls his attention back to me.

  “Someone will definitely be there with you.” His palm raises as if he’s going to touch my arm but he pulls back at the last minute. “We can discuss that later.”

  Later… without me.

  Perfect.

  I pull on one of Jameson’s white t-shirts. The soft mattress dips as I crawl into bed and all I want is sleep. Just as my head hits the fluffy pillow, a knock thunders against the door. Through the darkness, I look across the room at the white door.

  The guys were still bantering when I came up here for a shower. If it were Jameson he would already be grinding his dick against my leg as he settled in for bed. And if it were Mason, I never would have heard him enter.

  So that leaves two options.

  Another thundering knock rattles the door and I’m starting to think I know who’s outside of my room. The carpet silences my steps and as I swing the door open, Rory raises his massive fist to knock again.

  I cock a brow at him.

  The dark hall shadows over his frame, and for a few quiet seconds, he only stares at me.

  “I—I think we should do a few more sessions in the mornings before the event.”

  I do a quick mental recap of my relationship with this guy and I’m pretty certain this is the first statement he’s ever said that hasn’t pissed me off.

  I shift a little, leaning into the door and his gaze follows my every move, across the baggy shirt, down my bare legs and over my toes before meeting my eyes again.

  He’s literally putting effort into being nice to me. I can spot an olive branch when I see one. Even if the branch is a little broken and bent.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” I say it as nicely as possible. It’s actually pathetic the amount of effort I have to put into that meager amount of kindness to him.

  He nods stiffly.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Wow, are we bad at talking to one another.

  Another beat of silence passes before he turns slowly and comes face to face with Jameson. A weird and taunting smile pulls at the corner of Jameson’s lips as he moves sideways to pass his friend. Rory saunters down the hall and just as I push the door closed, Jameson slips his hand into mine. He pulls until I follow after him.

  He doesn’t put thought into any of his actions. He doesn’t worry if I’ll take his hand back, if his words will piss me off—even though they usually do.

  I wish I had that. I wish I had that carefree demeanor that this beautiful man always has.

  Life would be so much simpler.

  I crawl back up the mattress and tuck my legs under the covers, feeling Jameson slipping in behind me. His arm snakes around my waist and with a sharp tug, he pulls my back flush with his front, spooning me completely.

  A contented sigh slips past his lips as he gets comfortable. I roll my eyes when I feel his monster cock growing hard against my ass, but I snuggle back into him and let myself sink into the mattress.

  With a low, rumbling groan, he grinds his length against my body. Sliding under my tank top, he spreads a hand across my lower stomach. The span of his hand is so wide that a few of his fingers slip under the waistband of my shorts. He presses my body into his. His fingers tease me slowly until I arch back into him on my own. Every warm breath and every slow stroke of his fingers tingles against my skin.

  He feels so good wrapped around me. He makes me forget everything.

  “Don’t,” a rumbling voice says. The bed dips and my heart nearly jumps out of my body. Mouse.

  “Just having a little fun.” Jameson drawls from behind me. His hand traces lazy circles over my stomach up to the curve of my hip, continuing to dip into the shorts, never straying where I need the pressure. Fucking tease.

  I feel him prop himself up on an elbow and he looks down on me.

  Joining us, Mouse sits on the bed and reaches behind his back to gather his t-shirt in his hands, pulling it off in one swift motion. The defined planes of his chest greet my eyes, the golden color of his skin making me want to lick across his abs to see if he tastes as good as he looks.

  He must see the desire flare in my eyes because he gives me a little lopsided grin and shakes his head. “If you’re training with Rory in the morning, you need your sleep.”

  The broody male’s ‘cock block’ powers are strong. He doesn’t even have to be in the same room to suck out all the fun. I growl in frustration and settle into my pillow. Chuckling, Mouse settles into bed, apparently planning on staying the night again. I can’t bring myself to mind.

  I let their body heat warm me as I close my eyes. Mouse has a point. I won’t let Rory get the best of me tomorrow. I fully intend to conquer anything he throws my way.

  Twenty-Three

  Stone Man

  I’m suffocating. The heat is stifling as I wake up and try to figure out what the hell is going on. Soft light is just barely making its way through the window, creating a soft blue glow on the walls as dawn approaches. It’s early, and I groan, closing my eyes again. The soft sound of breathing tells me tha
t I’ve got company. Right. My Jameson-Mason sandwich. Jameson’s arm is acting like my pillow, his hand still around my waist, resting on my stomach.

  Glancing down, I notice that the back of his knuckles are brushing against the bare skin of Mason’s sexy lower abs. So close to his friend’s dick, and yet so far away at the same time. Neither one of them seems to notice or care. Hell, they’re both asleep.

  I grin. I wish I had a camera right now to capture how cozy we all are together. Not only would it make great fuel for blackmail, but I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. However long that is.

  I’ve never felt as safe and content as I am when we’re wound around each other like we are now.

  Mouse’s hand is resting along the back of my thigh, having hitched my leg over his hip. His hardness is nestled right against my sex, and I bite my lip, trying to keep quiet and just enjoy the moment. While he’s no Jameson—thank fuck—he’s impressive in his own right and I arch into him, rubbing myself against him slowly. Down to his pair of boxers and my shorts, there’s precious little between Mason and myself. He grunts quietly, rocking his hips against me in his sleep, pushing me back into his friend. Mumbling unintelligently, Jameson tightens his hold, his own morning wood rubbing against my ass. I roll my eyes. Only in your dreams there, big boy.

  Even if he does feel really fucking good.

  With a sigh, I start to detangle myself from the mess of arms and legs that are wrapped around me. I’ve made very little progress when the door clicks open, swinging wide without care. The two sleeping men on either side of me stir but don’t wake.

  “What the hell?” I angry whisper to Rory as he struts into the room with a glower on his face. He couldn’t look grumpier if he tried.

  His emerald eyes are darker as they take in the scene in the bed, but I can’t get a read on his otherwise stony face.

  “Thanks for the wakeup call, but I’m already up.” I school my face into a mask of indifference as I slowly pull my leg off of Mason’s body and work to carefully lift Jameson’s arm from my waist. As soon as I start to move, Jameson reaches out again, hugging me to his chest like I’m his favorite childhood teddy bear. I let out an exasperated sigh and purse my lips, looking back down my body, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess without blatantly waking them up. The hour is indecent and I’m not so much of a bitch that I’d push them out of bed.