Apocalypse Assassins: The Complete Series

by D. Laine

  I blinked. “Experimental transport vehicles?”

  I knew the agency worked on projects on the surface. They had done so for decades. I always assumed it was for show—a way to explain our presence to the curious eyes at the nearby Air Force base. I had heard rumors of classified aircraft and other military machines being used by the flyboys, but had never seen anything in action.

  “We have new transportation,” Spence answered stiffly. “I need you boys back out there.”

  Jake and I shared a quick glance. We had the same concern. Jake voiced it first.

  “What about Thea, sir?”

  Our commander shifted his attention to her for the first time since we stepped into his office. “I hear you’re comfortable with a gun.”

  I straightened. “Sir, she—”

  “I can shoot,” Thea interrupted me.

  I tried again. “But, sir—”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” Thea snapped, narrowing her eyes on me.

  “Actually, it does. You’re technically on my team, unless Agent Spence decides to give me a different partner. Which he’s not going to do”—I darted a glance at my boss—“because Jake and I here are the best team in the agency. He’s not going to split us up. If you’re with Jake, you’re also with me. So yes, it does concern me.”

  I smiled smugly, prompting Thea to fold her arms over her chest with a huff. She muttered something under her breath that I didn’t catch. I stepped closer to ask her to repeat herself, but Spence’s forearm smacked into my chest, forcing me to stop and look at him.

  His eyes hardened as they darted between the three of us. He finally settled on me. “What’s going on here?”

  I shrugged. “Just a little difference of opinion.”

  “You think I’m an idiot, Romero?” Spence shouldered between Thea and Jake to stand directly in front of me. His toes touched mine. “How bad is it?”

  I knew exactly what he was asking, and I shifted my feet as I considered the best way to answer. Depending on which direction I took, I would either find myself in deep shit with my boss or further alienate Thea.

  Neither choice appealed to me.

  “You know the policy,” Spence reminded me with a low, dangerous tone. “No fraternization among teams. Makes for weak, distracted assassins.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir.”

  “This is why we stick with siblings when we can,” he continued. His voice raised with each word until he was shouting. “Unfortunately, you are right about one thing. You and Walker are the best team I’ve got. His sister is with you, so tell me now! How bad is it?”

  I peered at my superior, unfazed by his spittle on my face. Thea stood behind him, and I purposefully avoided her eyes when I answered, “It’s nonexistent, sir.”

  “I’m not buying it, Romero.”

  I knew what I needed to say, but damn it if the words didn’t taste bitter in mouth. “I didn’t know who she was until it was too late. She was a local, sir. Nothing more.”

  One corner of Spence’s mouth tipped up. “A local? And she just happened to be your partner’s sister?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I muttered.

  “I can confirm that, sir,” Jake offered softly.

  Spence turned to appraise my partner critically. Then he nodded stiffly—because of course he would believe Jake before he believed me. “That must have been awkward.”

  “Extremely,” Jake agreed at the same time I muttered, “You have no idea.”

  “Well, you’re stuck with each other now,” Spence concluded. He pointed a stern finger at me, then Thea. “Get over it. You better learn to work together.”

  “Sir, she’s not prepared for situations in the field yet,” Jake spoke up.

  Spence turned to peer down his nose at Thea. “Ergot’s temporarily without a partner after the loss of his brother. He’s still mending a broken ankle, but he can get around. We’ll put her in the training room with him until he’s operational again. He can get her caught up to speed.”

  I opened my mouth to argue Spence’s choice in trainer, but a brisk shake of Jake’s head encouraged me to keep my thoughts to myself. Tanner Ergot might have been an ass, but Thea spending time with him in the training room was better than her fighting to stay alive in the field.

  “You’ll start today,” Spence told Thea. To Jake and I, he added, “I’ll have orders for you soon. In the meantime, get her to training.”

  11

  THEA

  In the hallway, Dylan muttered something to Jake before taking off in another direction. We both watched him go in silence.

  The moment he was out of sight, I snapped, “What’s a local?”

  Jake slowly turned, but stared at the wall above my head.

  “Is it what I think it is? What it sounded like?” I demanded.

  Jake lowered his eyes to the floor. “You need to understand that we were all brought here when we were only twelve years old. The agency threw us all together and expected us to thrive, but we had little guidance. It was hard growing up without our families, especially for Dylan and me, but we had each other. The whole team of assassins had each other’s backs. We all formed friendships and . . .” He sighed warily. “Of course that meant we all hit puberty around the same time. We were a naturally curious bunch considering the environment we were brought up in.”

  He lifted his head with a lopsided smile. It faded when he registered the sight of my hands fisted on my hips.

  “They enforced a ‘no fraternization within the agency’ rule,” he continued softly. “Their suggestion was for us to find physical gratification in the field. To get it out of our systems before we came back to the agency between missions.”

  “With locals?”

  “That’s just the name someone came up.” Jake shrugged. “I guess it stuck.”

  My hands moved from my hips to hug my stomach as a wave of nausea tumbled through me. Dylan had called me a local—a way for him to fulfill his needs outside of the agency.

  “He only said it because Spence was drilling him,” Jake offered. “If Spence thought there was anything still going on between the two of you, he would have split us up.”

  I suspected that much, but it didn’t make Dylan’s words any less painful to hear. It certainly didn’t help to dispel the uncertainty that already plagued me. The questions I had about him—about us—only multiplied.

  As Jake led me downstairs to the training facility, I replayed the conversation in Spence’s office and one question rose to the surface to dominate the others.

  Did he think he was stuck with me now?

  THE MAN JAKE introduced me to, Tanner Ergot, reminded me of a more bitter, less hot version of Marcus. He was a big guy, with biceps bigger than my head, and towered over me by at least a foot. It took me less than a minute to conclude that his light-blue eyes didn’t fit him. While they gave me the impression that he might have been a decent guy, the permanent scowl on his face gave me serious doubts.

  “You need to do some work in the weight room.” He swept a critical gaze over my arms. “Make sure you eat plenty of protein. Don’t be afraid to put on some weight. You’re going to need it.”

  I bristled at his preconceived notion that any girl outside of the walls of the agency had a toxic relationship with calories. By the time he had finished insulting everything but my cup size, I feared I might bite my tongue clean off.

  “Work hard for an hour, then we’ll grab some lunch,” he told me. Hooking an eyebrow as he turned away, he mumbled, “You obviously need to eat.”

  “You do realize I starved for three weeks while trying to get here?” I snapped. Waving my puny arms in his face, I added, “This wasn’t by choice, I can assure you that.”

  He glanced me over, quickly assessing me. “You came in with Walker and Romero?”

  “Yes.”

  One corner of his lips curved up. “So it’s true? You’re one of the missing sisters?”

  Despite his slightly co
nfusing question, I nodded confidently. “I am.”

  “Interesting.”

  I wanted to ask him what he found so interesting, and just how many other assassins were missing a sister. The words caught on my tongue when he suddenly brushed the hair off my neck. A gruff noise sounded in his throat.

  “You are tagged,” he muttered to himself. His eyes darted to mine. “That’s two for two. Does that mean the other rumors are true?”

  My mouth formed around the word “what?” He slunk off with a low chuckle before I could force it out.

  “You can start with some free weights,” he ordered, prompting me to follow him across the padded floor toward a set of double doors on the opposite side of the large open room.

  In one corner, two identical female assassins sparred with each other. They stopped as we passed. Their eyes danced with amusement—as if we were back in middle school and the mean girls had succeeded in smearing dog shit in my hair without my knowledge.

  I was relieved to be clear of their scrutiny when Tanner led me into the weight room—until I looked around the space filled with an award-winning gym’s collection of equipment. Manning one of the four bench presses was the last person I wanted to see.

  At the sound of the doors banging open, Dylan dropped the bar in the supports and sat up. The Ringer brothers were with him, and both flashed me smiles. I exchanged friendly greetings with them, and successfully avoided Dylan’s searching eyes in the process. I felt him watching me as Tanner led me to the collection of dumb bells.

  Tanner’s gorilla-sized hand curled around the handle connecting two black disks before he turned a skeptical glance in my direction. “We better start with something lighter,” he mumbled.

  “Just give me something to do already.” I shouldered by him to yank a pair of weights from the base. They were heavier than I anticipated, but I held them in my hands, defiantly refusing to show weakness.

  “If you say so,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Bicep curls and triceps extensions. Ten reps of ten. When you’re done with that, do fifty sit-ups using the weights. No dropping down a weight either. I’ll be watching.”

  “Where are you—” I cut myself off when he walked away, leaving me to fend for myself. Not that I wanted him to hover over me, barking in my ear, but still . . .

  Spence couldn’t have thought of someone a little more adept to help me prepare for a life as an assassin?

  While I settled into my workout, I envisioned my arms swinging the heavy dumbbells into Tanner’s face. A month ago, I wouldn’t have needed the extra motivation. The journey to get here had taken its toll on my body. Not only did I obviously appear weak, I felt weak.

  My determination to get back into my pre-apocalypse condition was personal. It was for me. Not for the agency. Not for Spence. Definitely not for Tanner.

  I felt as if the veins in my arms had filled with concrete by the time I finished half the reps. But I would not quit, despite the fact that Tanner was too busy chatting up the two gawking female assassins who had entered the weight room to notice if I momentarily forgot how to count.

  “You’re going to blow out your elbow swinging your arm like that.”

  My eyes snapped up to find Dylan standing over me. “What?”

  “That weight is too heavy for you. You’re swinging to compensate.” He held his hand out to take the dumbbell from me. When I didn’t immediately hand it over, he forcibly took it from me and replaced it with a lighter weight. “If you want to be able to get out of bed tomorrow, I suggest this.”

  “I know how to lift weights, Dylan,” I grumbled as I resumed my workout.

  “I’m sure you do, but you haven’t lifted anything other than a backpack and a gun recently,” he reminded me. “Work your way back up slowly.”

  I nodded my understanding—because I knew he was right. I hated that he was right, but my arms already thanked him.

  Dozens of questions circled around in my head while he stood there, watching me as I completed another rep. When I eventually glanced up, I found his contemplative eyes on me.

  Switching arms, I asked, “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

  His mouth opened, then closed. He nodded his head yes once, then shook it fervently. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, where Tanner was saying goodbye to the female assassins by the door.

  “If Ergot gives you a hard time, send him my way,” Dylan told me with an ornery wink. “We’re good friends.”

  The scowl on Tanner’s face when he turned in our direction confirmed that I had not mistaken the sarcasm that laced Dylan’s words. But his dislike of Tanner wasn’t what had been on his mind a moment ago.

  “Dylan!” a pouty voice called from the doorway. “You coming?”

  I looked up to find the two female assassins waiting, their expectant eyes on Dylan’s back as he peered down at me. Again, he appeared to have something on his mind—something he wanted to say.

  Or he was waiting for me to say something?

  “I’m good here,” I told him. When he nodded and started to turn, I added, “I’d hate for the ‘local you got stuck with’ to hurt your reputation.”

  His steps faltered. His head whipped over his shoulder. His lips parted, but nothing came out as he stared down at me. Time stopped as I awaited his response.

  It never came. Another voice called from the doorway, effectively interrupting whatever thoughts he had.

  “I have to go,” he muttered.

  “I’d say you do.”

  When he didn’t immediately walk away, I shifted my attention to the weights in my hands. A moment later, his feet disappeared from my peripheral vision. Seconds after that, a loud bang echoed from across the room.

  I looked just in time to watch Dylan disappear behind the doors as they swung shut. The two female assassins left with him.

  I wished my body didn’t react to Dylan. I wished I could deny it. I didn’t want to acknowledge the ache in my chest that he had caused, because that would require me to admit something I didn’t want to confess.

  Despite his deception, I still cared.

  AN HOUR LATER, Tanner led me into the mess hall for lunch. By the time we arrived, the line was empty and the assortment of food had been thoroughly picked through. The selection was a far cry from the feast I had grown accustomed to at MSU, but I supposed that was expected considering we were now on the front lines of the apocalypse.

  I quickly grabbed a wrapped sandwich and hurried after Tanner as he stalked around the tables in the dining area. The room was nearly deserted by now, but he ushered me toward an occupied table—one filled with faces I recognized.

  While Dylan kept his eyes on his food, Jake flashed me a smile when I claimed the seat directly across from him. Keith and Kent gave me matching grins, Maria spared me a glance, and Marcus nodded as I settled in beside him. Tanner took the last seat, sandwiching me between the two large men.

  “How’s the training going?” Jake asked me.

  “I guess it’s—”

  A soft snort from the corner seat cut off the rest of my answer, and my eyes snapped toward the source.

  Dylan glanced up with a shrug. “I would hardly call it training.”

  “Don’t—”

  “No,” Dylan cut Jake off. “I am going to start some shit, because all he did was stick her in the corner with some weights while he flirted with the Murray twins.”

  “She needs to condition,” Tanner argued. “She needs strength.”

  “That’s not going to keep her alive out there. She needs to be learning real shit,” Dylan fired back.

  “She will once she builds her strength up.”

  Dylan grunted. “I can’t believe Spence thought you would be capable of helping her with—”

  I slammed a hand down on the table, interrupting Dylan’s next words. “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m invisible? I’m sitting right here.” Focusing my attention on Dylan, I added, “And you seemed to be a little preoccupie
d yourself.”

  His gaze held mine from the opposite end of the table. Then, ever so slowly, a cunning grin appeared. “Be careful, or someone might accuse you of being jealous.”

  “Someone would be wrong as usual,” I returned.

  “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” Marcus muttered under his breath.

  Jake shifted uneasily in his seat. He shook his head at Marcus, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Everyone pretended to focus on their food, so I did the same. I picked at my sandwich in an attempt to pretend Dylan wasn’t right.

  But, damn it, I was jealous.

  Since when was I one of those girls? Since when did I let a guy get under my skin the way Dylan did?

  He had lied to me. He had hidden the truth from me. Big, significant, bite-you-in-the-ass truths. He had put himself in the dog house. I shouldn’t feel bad about that. I shouldn’t regret his placement there, even if it pushed him into the arms of other women.

  “You know what?” Dylan suddenly declared, slamming the plastic fork in his hand to the table. “You want me to say it? I’ll fucking say it.”

  My skin blushed under the scrutiny of everyone sitting at the table—and a few others sitting within earshot. My next breath caught in my chest, and I looked up in preparation of Dylan’s words. His tone prepared me for something I wasn’t going to like, but I never expected them to gut me.

  “You were a job,” he informed me. “Jake and I came to Bozeman, looking for vessels. When I found Kyle, I found you. I assumed you had been tagged a long time ago. When I realized you weren’t, you confused me. I made it my mission to figure you out.”

  Beside me, Marcus muttered, “Oh, shit.”

  “You also happened to be a local,” Dylan continued, unfazed by my icy glare. “I lie. I manipulate. I get what I want, and I don’t ever care about who I hurt in the process.”

  My gaze dropped to the half-eaten sandwich on my tray. As I stared at it, fighting the urge to get up and run away, Dylan continued.

  “You’ve obviously already drawn to those conclusions,” he quipped, “but what you don’t realize is that all of that changed. You changed it, and you managed to change me in the process.”