Keeping Her Secrets

by Maddie Wade

  Easing out from under her body, where she had lain across him like a blanket, he stood and strode slowly to the balcony. Sliding the door open and stepping outside, he checked his phone and found five texts from Daniel. Hitting dial instead of replying, he waited for his cousin to pick up as he glanced back at the sleeping woman.

  In all his fantasies about sharing a bed with Mustique, and there’d been many, none of them had involved the scenario that had just played out. Yet he couldn’t regret he’d had been the one there for her when she fell. He liked the idea of being the one to hold her while she put herself back together, and there was zero doubt in his mind she would be back to her caustic self when she sobered up.

  “Where the fuck did you disappear too?” Daniel demanded as a greeting.

  “Sorry, I saw Mustique in the restaurant, and she was a little worse for wear.”

  “Mustique? As in my Mustique?” Ash knew the words weren’t meant as a claim. Daniel adored Megan—they were vomit-inducing in their love—but, nonetheless, the term pissed him off.

  “Not your anything, but, yes, the same Mustique.” There was a pause on the line, and he knew he’d given away more than he wanted with that one statement.

  “Am I missing something?” Daniel asked slowly.

  Ash paced and stroked a hand down his beard in frustration. “No, I just saw her, and she was drunk and acting out of character, so I brought her to her room. I couldn’t leave until she was asleep. Who knows what she would get into in that state.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Daniel’s short sentence piqued Ash’s interest. “No, I don’t. Wanna fill me in?”

  A sigh reached his ear. “Fine, but not over the phone. Meet me in the bar in ten.”

  There was a click on the line, and Ash glanced at the phone’s screen to find the call had been disconnected. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked the universe and got the answer he expected—silence.

  Ten minutes later, he prowled into the bar and saw Daniel break free from the rest of the group, who were now drinking shots, with the younger men looking slightly worse for wear. His cousin headed in his direction.

  Daniel motioned for him to follow him outside. Once there, he walked until they were on the fringes of the hotel premises and stopped before making sure nobody was around.

  “What’s with all the cloak and dagger shit?” Ash demanded, losing patience.

  “Roz would cut my balls off for this, and I’m only telling you because I know you would never betray me.”

  “Just fucking spit it out.”

  “Mustique is part of a group known as Zenobi. They’re an all-female assassin team that work solely for themselves. They operate in the shadows and don’t exist on paper.”

  “I’ve heard of them, at least rumors. Are you telling me they’re real, and that all the kills, all the Robin Hood bullshit, all the vigilante crap, is true?”

  Daniel planted his hands on his hips, and Ash mirrored him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “So, wait. You mean Mustique is one of them?”

  “She’s not only a member, but she runs the operation in France. Roz is the overall leader.”

  “Roz, as in scary, psycho, PTA mom Roz? From the gallery Roz?”

  “I wouldn’t call her that to her face. Roz is not just a mom, she’s the deadliest assassin I’ve ever come across. She has single-handedly built Zenobi into what it is today and even finding the love of her life and having a family has barely taken the rough edges from her.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, why didn’t you tell me before? Like when you found me with my tongue down Mustique’s throat?”

  Daniel grinned and patted his arm. “You’re a big, scary SEAL—Tier One, no less. Surely a little assassin doesn’t scare you?”

  “Fuck you,” Ash bit out. But the truth was he didn’t know if the information made Mari more attractive or less. He suspected more—he’d always loved strong women.

  “So, you can see why her drunk off her tits wouldn’t be good for all the cheating assholes she might encounter in a place like this.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Cheers, mate,” Daniel said and spun around to leave.

  “Wait. Where the hell are you going? She’s your friend.”

  Daniel moved back to him with a frown. “She is, but as the oldest cousin, I’m saying it’s your job tonight to make sure this doesn’t turn into a shit show. Plus, I have Crockett to take care of, and Mustique is asleep at least, right?”

  Ash couldn’t believe he was pulling the same ‘I’m the oldest’ shit he had when they were kids. The truth was though, he wanted to be the one to look after Mari. “Fine, but you owe me,” Ash said as they headed back inside, wanting to seem less than keen on the idea.

  He made his way over to his friends and explained a female friend was beyond drunk, and he didn’t want to leave her alone in that condition.

  Ian chuckled. “Not a fucking Dom, my ass.”

  As he ambled away, Ash wondered at that but then dismissed it as his brain focused on the information it’d been given tonight. One thing was clear, he would be having a talk with Marisol Whatever-her-fucking-surname-was when she woke up.

  3

  Mustique opened one eye and quickly closed it as the pounding in her skull caused her to wince and hold her throbbing temple.

  “Ah, I see you’re awake.” The deep unfamiliar voice in her room had her reaching for the weapon strapped under the bed frame. Coming up empty, she turned over, ready to take on the mysterious voice up close and personal if she had to. Her breath died in her throat as she glimpsed the man who’d appeared in more than one of her B.O.B.-induced sessions over the last few months.

  “Ash? Why are you here?” Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out why in the hell he would be in her hotel room in Tampa.

  He strolled closer, his movements loose but controlled in a way that only military men were, and fuck if it wasn’t the sexiest thing. “I see you have a bit of a brain fog there, Marisol,” he said with a smirk.

  Her eyes swung to his gorgeous hazel ones, her brain stuttering as she noticed the folded arms, emphasizing his thick biceps and the two full sleeves of ink he had. Quickly she shook her head to clear the cotton-wool feeling. “How do you know my name?”

  He moved to stand in front of her, and she found herself eye level with his crotch and the thick bulge there. Ash smirked as he followed her line of sight. “Because, Mari, you told me after I stopped you from getting arrested for harassing some old guy and his mistress in the restaurant. And to answer your question I have a family wedding here, so quit worrying that I’m stalking you.”

  And just like that, everything came flooding back. The drinking, the date, why she was here—all of it, and most especially Ash rescuing her and being held in his arms. A feeling of safety she barely remembered hit her square in the chest, along with an unfamiliar rush of embarrassment at her weakness. Mustique looked away. “Any chance we can just forget about everything that happened and you leave and never mention this again?”

  “No, but you look like you need a coffee and some food. So, why don’t I call down for that, and you can take a shower and get yourself feeling more like a human again.”

  The softness of his voice, coupled with the thoughtfulness, caused a lump of emotion to form in her throat. If she didn’t get out of there, the tear was going to slide down her face. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

  Mustique avoided his eyes as she stood and moved toward the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Looking in the mirror, she saw the bloodshot, swollen eyes, pale, pasty skin, and hair sticking out like witch in a windmill. Wow. She’d gotten wasted last night, but it was the only night of the year she allowed herself to think and grieve for all she’d lost.

  Pain lanced through her like a physical blow, and, for just a moment, she wanted to open the door, walk into Asher’s arms, and let someone else take the burden of her loss. But she couldn’t; nobody
could ever know her secret. So, she did what she always did and buried it deep under all her bravado and sass. The only way for her to survive was to be Mustique. Marisol Van Der Byl had to go away, so the pain didn’t swallow her whole.

  As she brushed her teeth, she recalled the previous night in her mind and realized she had messed up. Accosting the man at the table had been a mistake, since he wasn’t the real source of her anger.

  No, that fucker would be at the fancy wedding being held at this hotel later. She just needed to get close to the bastard and find out precisely what he’d planned, so she could protect the Senator’s daughter. That was her only goal.

  Mustique stripped and stepped into the cold shower, hoping the freezing temperature would wipe the fog and fuzz of alcohol from her brain. As she cleaned herself up and shampooed her hair, she began to feel normal again. For once, the thrill of the chase wasn’t at the forefront of her mind as she began to plan how she would take this man down.

  First, she needed an invite to the wedding, and she had a feeling the man on the other side of the door could help her with that, but whether he would without asking questions was doubtful. Could she ask for his help and admit she needed someone or did that make her vulnerable to a degree she was uncomfortable with? Only one way to find out because come hell or high water, she would not fail this mission.

  Stepping out from under the water, she wrapped a towel around her body and then used a smaller one to rough dry her hair. Ash being there had never occurred to her, which proved how off her focus was. She knew he was a SEAL, and the groom was a SEAL, but hadn’t really thought about it. The fact she was doing this alone, without the rest of her team knowing, didn’t help. She could have used Pax with her knowledge and contacts. Or Astrid and her ability to get into anywhere with barely a ruffle. Mustique was too angry and growly. Mustique would sooner be alone than have to talk to anyone. She didn’t like people and struggled to make friendships and connections because of her trust issues. In truth, she was fucked up, and she didn’t think that was going to change anytime soon, so she’d stopped trying.

  Except for a select few, most humans sucked. Her team and her friends at Fortis were all she needed, but even they could never know why she was on this lone mission to take out a Senator. Except now she was in a position where she had to ask Ash for help, instead, but even that was better than her friends finding out what she had done.

  Pleased to find he’d closed the bedroom door to give her privacy, she pulled on underwear and then a dark purple flowy sundress. It gave her full range of movement and allowed her to conceal more weapons than pants did. Pulling her hair into a sloppy bun, she took a deep fortifying breath and assumed the mask of her own making before opening the bedroom door.

  Seeing his shoulder twitch as he poured himself a coffee before twisting toward her, she braced herself for the sight of him. Asher Thompson was panty-melting gorgeous. Tall, and muscular, with dark-brown hair and hazel eyes tinged with whiskey gold. Two full arms of ink that she could see most of below the sleeves of his shirt. An arrogant, cocky grin full of confidence that promised he could follow through on every wicked thought in her head.

  He was a distraction, had been ever since he’d kissed her last year when he’d visited Daniel. It had taken everything in her to walk away when all her body had wanted was for him to throw her against the wall and fuck her until nothing existed except the pleasure she knew he could give her.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, neither of us will be leaving this room.” His voice had gone deep and raspy with desire, and it made her nipples bead with longing for his touch.

  Coughing, she reminded herself why she was here, and her focus returned. Taking a cup of coffee, she moved to the window and peered out, without putting herself in direct line of sight of a sniper.

  “You know, I never noticed it before, but now that I know who you are, I can’t believe I missed it. I guess it’s true, people see what they want to see.”

  Mustique’s spine stiffened at his words. Did he know who she was? What she was? Schooling her expression, she turned slowly. “And what does that mean?”

  Ash let a humorless chuckle past his lips. “Don’t, Mari. I know who you are, what you do—Daniel told me. What I don’t know is why, and something tells me that’s the most important question of them all.”

  His use of her real, shortened name, the one her parents had used, tore a wound through her, and yet she didn’t correct him. She didn’t know if she was tired or getting sick, but she wanted to be that girl for him—the one she’d been before her life had been turned upside down and she’d become an assassin. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and she was sure he could see it hammering in her chest. “Why are you here if you know what I do? Doesn’t it repulse you?”

  Ash stepped close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, and she fought the urge to lean in. “You don’t scare me, Mari. I see you. I see what is in here.” He tapped a forefinger to her chest above her heart, setting off an explosion of sparks. “What I don’t understand is what is up here.” He tapped her temple, and she stepped away from his touch, breaking the spell.

  “What is in my head or my heart is none of your concern.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I have a proposition for you,” she said, changing the subject as she turned and moved away from him to regain her composure.

  “And what is that?”

  She shivered at the feel of him so close to her back. Damn Navy SEAL sneaking up on her; nobody usually got the drop on her. She spun around again to face him. “I need your help getting into the fancy wedding that’s being held here today.”

  “Why?” He rocked back on his heels, folding his arms over his chest and watching her with suspicion.

  It was now or never. “Because one of the guests is Senator Robert Hanley, and I’m going to stop him and his thugs from kidnapping Senator Craven’s daughter.”

  Ash reared back slightly his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “What makes you believe he’s going to do that?”

  “Intel.”

  “Intel?” He snorted. “I’m going to need more than that, Mari. If you want me to invite you to my cousin’s wedding, you’re going to have to start talking.”

  “Daniel is getting married?” Confusion colored her words.

  “No, but he and Megan are here. It’s my cousin Jessica’s wedding. She’s marrying Davey Langford.”

  “How did I not know this?” she asked, wondering if she was losing her edge.

  She had a basic knowledge of all the bride’s and groom’s friends and acquaintances, yet this information had never been flagged. She hadn’t known Daniel and Megan were here either. Jesus, that meant their daughters, Paige and Zoey, were probably here too. There was no way Daniel and Megan would have left them behind. Shit. She could never risk their lives.

  “Jessica is my aunt Casey’s daughter. Aunt Casey is my dad’s baby sister. She moved here after he did.”

  “Oh, this changes things.” The statement was made more to herself than to him. She bit her thumbnail, a disgusting habit she had when she was stressed, as she began to pace.

  Stopping her in her tracks, Ash pulled the abused digit from her mouth and held her hand loosely in his. “Tell me what’s going on, and if I can help, I will, and so will a few others I know if you want.”

  “This is dangerous. It could cause some serious backlash, and I don’t want anyone hurt because of this.”

  “These men are retired SEALs, and of course Daniel is ex-SAS. Tell us and let us decide if we want to help.”

  Mustique was tempted, and if it wasn’t for Daniel, Meg, and the kids, she would have bitten Ash’s arm off, but they were the closest thing she had to family. She loved those girls. “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you have something to eat and you think about it. If you just want it to be me, then fine, I can help you alone, but Daniel knows you’re here, and the rest of the guys saw your
little stunt last night.”

  “Great.” Mustique let him guide her to the small table and chairs where the food he’d apparently ordered had been set out. At the sight of the omelets, toast, bacon, pancakes, and fruit, her tummy rumbled. Having an unusually strong stomach was one of the perks of her job, and the mild hangover still lingering didn’t include the desire to vomit at the thought of food.

  She sat down and heaped her plate with eggs, bacon, and fruit, leaving the pancakes for Ash. As she ate, he sat across from her and drank more juice, ignoring the food, and she felt the unasked questions on the tip of his tongue. They barely knew each other, but she felt a kinship to him that was hard to deny. She’d thought it the first day they’d locked eyes and had fought it ever since, knowing nothing could ever come from it. Her job was dangerous, and she never wanted to pull someone into that unwittingly. That’s why her sex life consisted of lame hook-ups which did little for her, and even those were few and far between.

  Now, though, he seemed to know the truth or at least a version of it.

  “Okay, ask,” she said around a mouthful of food, eating quickly as her mind whirled over possibilities.

  She heard him sigh. “How in God’s name did you get into this job? I assume there wasn’t an ad in the paper.” He clasped his hands together, elbows on the table, and watched her intently.

  Pausing, she wondered how much she should tell him, but then the words just poured from her mouth. “When I was nineteen, I moved here from South Africa and was living on the streets. I had no money, no training, and no family. All I had were my street smarts. I started running small cons for money, and I stepped on someone’s toes. I was stabbed, and Roz found me.” Mustique tilted her head. “Have you met Roz?”

  Ash shook his head. “No, but I know who she is.”

  Mustique nodded and continued her story. “She gave me a chance to live or to die. I chose to live, and she trained me until I was the best. I know more ways to kill a person than you could ever dream. It’s not the life I would have chosen, but it’s given me everything I need. I get to take down disgusting reprehensible people, and I don’t have the slightest bit of guilt over it.”