The Assassin In 5F Page 5

“Yeah. They were supposed to meet with one of our top Exodus agents and expose everything. But then, poof. They never showed and were never heard from again. The Firm must have found out what they were planning.”

  “Okay, but you've never been able to get another agent to turn?”

  He shook his head. “No. By now, they have things locked up tight.”

  I watched him. I'd played poker with him before and knew the man really had no tells, but there was something about his eyes that told me he was holding back, so I took a chance. “Or you have an agent undercover there already.”

  He lifted a brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “You have someone in place, but they don't have enough clearance, right?”

  He sat back then. “You're grasping. I don't have anything to tell you.”

  “Of course, you don't. Just level with me. What are we dealing with? These people, they killed Simone.”

  He sighed. “Someone killed Simone. All common sense currently indicates that it could have been Firm agents, but we don't have proof of that.”

  I gave him a frustrated sigh. “I hate that bullshit. You and I both know what happened.”

  “Yeah, we have an idea. But we like proof, not ideas.”

  “Right. Proof.”

  “Sorry, but that's the way we roll.”

  “All right fine, who's your agent on the inside?”

  He shook his head. “You know full well I can't tell you that.”

  “Tell me something, anything.”

  “Just know that we've got someone who is gathering actual evidence. When they plan a mission, we sometimes get a heads-up. Then we have to make decisions about what we’re willing to interfere with.”

  “And if we don't interfere, people die.”

  He sighed. “And there's nothing we can do about that.”

  “Fucking hell. You know that's bullshit.”

  “I know. So why don't you tell me about the Firm agent who shot you?”

  I stilled, marveling at his ability to flip the conversation so easily. “The agent could have killed me but didn't. They broke protocol.”

  He nodded. “But why?”

  “I have no idea.” The lie was bitter on my tongue, but I needed more assurances before I could divulge anything about Lyra.

  He smirked then. “One of these days, you'll stop playing things so close to the vest and recognize that I'm actually here to help you.”

  I laughed. “Sure you are, mate.”

  “You don't trust anyone.”

  “No. Not since Simone, I don't.”

  He sighed. “Is there anything I can do to change that?”

  I shook my head. “No, but this was helpful. Has your mole brought in anything new?”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t gotten anything since the last mission went sideways.”

  “And where did you find this mole?”

  “Let's just say they were burned by The Firm. They have a vested interest in seeing the scales evened.”

  “So I won't show my intel, and you won't show yours?”

  Michael shrugged and then grinned at me. “You know how this works.”

  “Right. Well, I'll give it some thought.”

  “Yeah, you do that. In the meantime, stay safe. Did the doc clear you for duty yet?”

  I shook my head. “No. The quack has benched me for another week.”

  He grinned then. “Maybe keeping you off the grid for a moment isn't the worst thing in the world.”

  I grumbled at that. “Right.”

  “If you're going to do something stupid, do me a favor and tell me first, okay?”

  “Sure. Will do.”

  He shook his head. “Something tells me you most certainly will not.”

  Chapter 7

  Lyra

  “Goddamn, why does that feel so good”?

  “I hate you.”

  “You only wish you did.”

  That exchange while Marcus was inside me made me shiver. And even in my sleep, I could feel every nip and bite and lick. His hot breath along my cheek and the way his fingers circled my clit as he drove inside me. The way he kept me hovered just at orgasm, teasing me, all the while giving me exactly what I needed. It was like all the masks were off at last, and we could finally see each other for what we really were. And it was so good. Beyond good. That kind of sex that people tell you about when they're on vacation, it was exactly that. And fucking hell, I needed it. I needed it so bad.

  And just as my body was going to take me back to that moment where I tipped over into blissful oblivion, I heard a noise.

  My eyes immediately popped open. A sense of alertness came over my body like a splash of cold water, complete with floating icicles that landed squarely on my libido. I was awake and ready to rumble, but not in a good way.

  I reached under my pillow, my fingers clasping around the butt of my gun. Who the fuck was inside my apartment?

  I took two deep breaths. Steady on, Lyra, steady.

  Maybe I'd misheard. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe…

  No fucking maybes. Now was not the time for maybes. There was most definitely someone inside my apartment, and I had a feeling I knew who it was. Also, I was going to kill him.

  You only think you're going to kill him. Since you were dreaming about him, you're more likely to fuck him first.

  I expected a wash of shame as my own body and brain reminded me just how badly I wanted Marcus. But no, no shame. Just a tacit acceptance of hell yes, I want the man, though I knew I couldn't trust him. But that didn't mean I didn't want him.

  Bloody fantastic. Silently, I slid the sheets off of me. My feet landed on the rug at the side of my bed, giving me two feet of silence before they made any quiet friction sounds on the hardwood floor. I'd gone to bed in my Beyonce racerback tank. It was thin and threadbare and offered not an iota of support for my C-cups. I eased over to the side of the bed where I kept my extra mag and tucked it into the back of my panties.

  There was a part of me that thought, Hey, fighting with your tits flapping in the wind is probably not a great idea. At the same time, was I going to really risk opening a drawer to grab a shirt?

  Beyonce, emblazoned on my tank, and her middle fingers, which were now very conveniently placed at my nipples, was just going to have to cover me the best she could.

  The sliding door that normally closed off my bedroom was ajar enough for me to ease through, deliberately and on purpose. A quick peek at the reflection in the mirror on the side panel of the door showed me two shadows. He'd come with a friend. Naughty, naughty Marcus.

  The problem was, without the aid of light, I had to fight on instinct. Because once I stepped foot into the room, I would have no help. The shadows were not going to be enough to provide cover, but they also weren’t light enough to show me my opponents.

  Stepping into the room, I breathed deeply. Once. Twice. And then I caught a movement, more felt than seen. It was the mildest shift, but I knew what it was.

  I turned on the heels of my feet, aimed an elbow, and caught the assailant right in the kidney.

  All I heard was grunting pain. I already had his arm behind his back and had him pressed up against the wall, but that left me vulnerable to the second intruder. I jacked his arm hard, heard the crunch and him yelling in pain. And with his widened stance, I also delivered a swift knee to his balls. I knew I had at least a few seconds to completely incapacitate him while I had the upper hand. I was certain I had broken his arm.

  But then there was a whizzing pop right by my fucking ear.

  It was so close, I felt the heat singe my hair just a little.

  Before I went to bed, I'd pulled my curls on top of my head, hoping to maintain them and not have to re-twist my hair until the next night. I was grateful for it, because that bullet certainly would have whizzed right through, burning off a good chunk of it.

  I left the groaning one and ducked behind an art sculpture I'd picked up in Nepal, annoyed that it migh
t get destroyed in this melee. And then I tucked and rolled, turning and aiming the gun toward the shadow, squeezing off two rounds.

  I heard a curse, and then someone dove behind the couch.

  I was moving quickly in the dark, aided by the knowledge of exactly how my apartment was laid out.

  As I bolted over the coffee table and ducked onto the couch, I aimed my gun and shot through the upholstery, wincing at the thought of replacing it.

  But then a shadow I hadn't seen, two of them in fact, came out of the second bedroom. I only managed to get one shot off before whoever was behind the couch reached up and grabbed me by the neck.

  His lift was swift. Suddenly, my airway was closed as I was slammed down.

  The hard jolt of my back cracking against the coffee table made me wince. But I knew I had to conserve energy. Relax my body.

  But he was squeezing my throat, so I reached up, creating space between us. Just enough to wedge my shoulder up and grab him by the balls, squeezing hard and then tugging.

  He cursed, loosening his hand just a little, enough for me to draw in a deep breath. With air in my lungs, I lifted my head and butted it against his forehead, hard. That forced him to let go. And with his legs open on top of me, I delivered another knee, all the while rolling him off as we tumbled off the coffee table together. I was swinging, delivering quick, lightning-fast jabs.

  Behind me, there was a fight. Wait… Two of them were fighting each other?

  What the fuck was going on here? How many people were in my apartment?

  My gun had fallen between the couch and the coffee table, and I dove for it.

  Just as my hand gripped it, the guy I'd been fighting grabbed my leg, and I faceplanted on the couch. But I had my gun now. I reached around my side, fired off two rounds, and then all I heard was a thud as he hit the hardwood.

  I had ten feet to the door, but the two men, I assumed they were men because of their sizes, were fighting too close to it. One or both of them might stop me.

  Why were they fighting?

  The only option was the balcony.

  In just my panties and tank top, that was the last way I wanted to go, but I didn't have a choice. I bolted, hitting the button for the blinds, trying to duck under them as I shoved the door open.

  But when the blinds went up, in came the light. And when I turned to make sure they weren't chasing me, I saw one of the men was Marcus.

  He was fighting the others. The original man whose arm I’d broken was flapping around, reaching for his gun, aiming at Marcus. I turned my gun, pointed at him, and fired a headshot.

  I aimed for Marcus and the man who was fighting him, but they were grappling too close together and I couldn’t risk taking a shot.

  What are you doing? Run.

  I knew the protocols. Run. Call in. Request backup. Except, fuck. I couldn’t leave Marcus.

  I went back inside where it wasn't safe. Back toward the man I wasn't even sure I liked.

  Oh, you like him all right. Or at least part of him.

  As they fought, with the added aid of light, I could finally see. I didn't know the other men. Who had I fucking pissed off this time?

  As Marcus took a hit to the face, I barreled into the man he was fighting and jumped on his back, locking my arms around his neck and squeezing. He tried to shake me off, but I hung on tight with both arms locked around his neck, choking out his airway and trying to keep in position.

  He backed me against the wall and kept bashing.

  Marcus was up. He appeared to be momentarily stunned as we fought. But when his brain came back online seconds later, he raised his gun, fired, and the man I was fighting fell face-first with me on top of him.

  “You fucking took your time there, didn't you?”

  “You're welcome, by the way.”

  I blinked up at him. “I'm welcome?” My hair had fallen out of the pineapple. It was cascading around my shoulders in wild curls. “I had to come back and save you, dumbass.”

  “And you could have taken a Victus hit squad by yourself? Is that what you're telling me?”

  “What the fuck are you even doing here?”

  “I was watching your place. You know, keeping you safe.”

  “Newsflash, asshole, I'm a spy. I don't need protecting.”

  “Well, this assassin,” he said, using air quotes, “just saved the spy's life. How's that?”

  “You're still mad I called you an assassin, aren't you?”

  “Yeah, a little bit.”

  I surveyed the chaos that laid before me in my apartment. “What the fuck just happened?”

  “Clearly, you can't stay here anymore.”

  And then he stopped talking. I wasn't sure why until I realized how cold it was and I glanced down to see my tank had shifted and both my breasts were pointing straight at Marcus.

  * * *

  Marcus

  It happened so fast, I don't think either one of us were prepared for it. One moment, my eyes were glued to her breasts and unwilling to move. But my training took over when, from her bedroom, a shadow formed.

  We were both so busy bickering and thinking about her tits that we almost missed it. Even as he raised his gun, I was already turning to pop off a round. But he was faster.

  All I could do was whip back around to try and catch Lyra, take her to the ground, protect her, shield her.

  But I was too late. I was too damn late. Next to me, she crumpled, holding her side and squirming.

  Fury flooded my veins, and I turned and emptied my clip into the fucker that had come out of the bedroom. One. Two. Three. Four.

  That's all. Those were all the bullets I had left.

  When I was certain he was down, I kneeled by her side. “You're going to be fine, Lyra. You're going to be okay.”

  She wheezed and coughed, and I ran to the bathroom to get supplies. When I had collected towels and gauze and antiseptic, I leaned over her. “Okay, we're going to get you cleaned up.”

  She shook her head. “No. Oh my God, that hurts.”

  “You're fine.” She had to be fine. I needed her to be fine. Because what if she wasn't?

  This cannot be like Simone again.

  I tried to shove out the thought as I worked on her. Towels for pressure. And then I worked rapidly to suture. “It's not going to be pretty.”

  “Fuck you, I’m pretty regardless.”

  I laughed at her ability to still cuss me out while I was busy trying to stop her from bleeding out. “The shot was a through and through, but we’ve got to stop the bleeding. And I'm going to need to get you somewhere safe.”

  “My apartment was safe.”

  “Oh yeah, so safe.”

  More glowering. As if it was my fault that she had Victus all over her place. “Would you just hold fucking still?”

  “Well, maybe if you weren't trying to hurt me.”

  “Oh, honey, when I want to hurt you, you'll know.”

  She hissed several curse words at me. Honestly, how was this my fault?

  But still, I worked quickly.

  Don't look at the blood. Don't look at it.

  As I worked, the memories of what had happened with Simone started to filter through. I had to blink rapidly to clear my eyes.

  “I’m the one who was shot,” she said, “but you look like shit. Are you okay?”

  “Yup. Fine.”

  “You know, you don't look fine.” She hissed a breath as I patted an antiseptic pad. “Let me do this. You don't get to play doctor right now.”

  “Well, considering you're the one currently responsible for scarring my bikini body, I'm going to play doctor.”

  “If you wanted to play doctor with me, all you had to do was ask.”

  I liked it better when she was like this, feisty, fighting.

  The wound really was a through and through, but she was bleeding a lot, so I was worried about internal injuries. I could only staunch the bleeding and do a thorough check later when I knew we were safe. I had to ge
t her out of the apartment.

  I guess it's a lucky thing you were watching her like a pervert.

  I ground my teeth. That was the last thing I needed to think about because, yes, I had been watching her place like a pervert.

  “How did you get here so fast anyway?” she asked curiously.

  “Is this the part where you're going to be grateful?”

  “No, I'm not grateful. You haven't answered any of my questions.”

  “You focus on getting better. Let me work.”

  “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, you're pressing on a bullet wound, so maybe you could talk to me and distract me from the pain?”

  “I am not interested in distracting you.”

  “I knew it,” she said. “You’re a sadist.”

  “Hardly.”

  “I repeat, how did you know they would come for me?”

  I sighed. “It was easy. Victus has been casing your place for over a week.”

  “What do you mean over a week? I didn't see anything?”

  “That's because you weren't looking for the right things.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. And you were?”

  “Who's responsible for surveillance at your apartment?”

  Her brow furrowed then. “The Firm handles it.”

  I looked her in the eye. “Then someone at The Firm is very, very bad at their job.”

  “You're saying someone was willing to let me die?”

  “Yes. If this was my team, the whole place would be swarming with Exodus agents by now. But your so-called team hasn’t sent anyone in. Someone is letting your arse flap in the wind. Not a good move.”

  She swallowed hard. “I don't believe you.”

  “Lyra, these are just facts. You had six Victus agents in here. Six. All sent to kill you. You think that this was a random burglary?”

  “How do I know this isn't Exodus?”

  I gestured to myself and my uniform and then gestured to the man down on the floor. “We wear black camo. They wore all solid black. Simple. Unidentifiable. We don't even look the same, Lyra. And regardless of who was here, the point stands that you have no backup from your team.”

  She furrowed her brow at me and coughed. “My people wouldn't leave me like this.”