by V. A. Dold
She sighed. “If you insist on walking me to my door, try to keep your comments to yourself. You can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”
She tucked her hands into her pockets, not touching the grimy handrail. The walls were water damaged and the entire place smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Still, it was just the thing she needed to do her job. Not that she needed to stay here any longer. She made a note to find an apartment close to the college as soon as possible.
The light of day didn’t penetrate the filth coated glass of the unlockable door, and all but one lightbulb was burned out, making it hard to see. Every stair tread creaked and moaned under their weight like an old man getting to his feet.
Personally, she considered that a plus. No one got near her without her hearing them. Cassidy wrapped her fingers around the knife she kept on her at all times. If someone came at her from the shadows again, she’d gut him in under five seconds.
Her apartment was on the second floor. When she neared it, she paused and looked around, listened. Her door was ajar. Her security system was too advanced for a street punk to breach it. That meant the scrawny little shit had invaded her personal space. For that alone, he’d die. Using her body to block Marcus’s view, she pretended to unlock the door.
Before she could say goodnight and send him on his way, he pulled her aside and let himself in. “Stay here while I check the place.”
Cassidy sputtered in disbelief. “You can’t just barge into my apartment.”
Marcus glanced around the tiny living room and kitchenette then made for her bedroom. “You were about to invite me in, anyway, so what does it matter that I ensure your safety first.”
She rolled her eyes at his back. If he only knew what she was capable of. She needed protection about as much as Washington DC needed more politicians.
“What makes you think I was going to invite you in?” she retorted.
“We have things to discuss, remember?”
Crap, stupid as it was, she’d hoped he’d forgotten that. She wanted to stretch out the time before he knew the truth of her as long as possible.
Marcus was about to leave the sparsely decorated bedroom when a tiny glowing red dot on the window frame drew his eye. He bent for a closer look. His wolf rammed at his mind, snarling and gnashing its teeth. Claws erupted from his fingertips as fangs punched from his gums. A camera. Someone was watching his mate in her most private moments. He searched the room again to find a second camera in the overhead light fixture.
He was about to yank the tiny electronic free when the red glow vanished. The watcher knew he was found out and had cut the feed. He knew everything there was to know about surveillance. Cameras such as the one in his palm were short-range only.
Lifting it to his nose he smiled. The bastard was hiding in one of the apartments. This was going to be easier than he thought. Walking back to Cassidy, he touched his earbud and contacted Seth. “No one leaves this building.”
“Roger that. Do you want backup?”
As a warrior, Seth understood without being told that the driver was inside the building. “No. But he knows he’s been found out and will try to escape.”
“Understood. I have the front and left side of the building. Brian, I mean Rylon, is on guard duty and will take the back and right.”
“Excellent.”
When he returned to the living room, he smelled fresh-brewed coffee. “Cassidy, I want you to stay here while I take a look around the building.”
Her gaze jumped to his. “Why?”
“I want to assess your safety,” he lied smoothly.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t lie to me, Le Beau. What’s going on?”
His brows pulled tight. How the hell did she know he wasn’t telling the truth? Shit, he forgot about her lie detection.
Now she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Damn, she was cute when annoyed.
“I’m waiting.”
Sighing, he reminded himself that Cassidy was a deadly trained fighter and could defend herself. Opening his palm, he held out the tiny cameras for her to see. “Someone’s watching you. I believe it’s the same man who tried to run us down.”
She plucked one from his hand and held it up to the light. “This is short-range, no more than a quarter block.”
Pride filled him when she stalked to the door and yanked it open. Crouching, she ran a finger over the hardware. “That little shit jimmied my locks and modified them, so the bolt moves but stops short of actually locking the door. As if a reject like that could sneak up on me and live to tell about it.”
As she got to her feet, she spat out, “And the scrawny little bastard is in my damn building. MY building!”
The instant she stepped into the hallway, he heard scuttling and feet pounding down what must be a back staircase. He ran that direction to see two street thugs rushing out the door, only to be taken down by Rylon.
When he turned to rejoin Cassidy, he found her with her ear pressed to a neighboring apartment door. Stopping next to her, he gave the doorknob a sniff. “He’s not in that one.”
Cassidy scowled at him. “How the hell does smelling the doorknob tell you that?”
“That’s a long story for later.” He ignored her protests and moved to the next door. Shook his head and started on the opposite side of the hallway. The third door down held the scent he was looking for, along with a myriad of other putrid odors. He jerked his head back and rubbed his nose to rid himself of the stink.
Lifting a finger to his lips, he signaled for silence. Then he held up three fingers. Three, two, one. With one hard kick, the door crashed open, embedding its knob in the drywall.
A skinny, stringy-haired human male screamed, high and shrill, and dove under the desk he’d sat at. Marcus scowled and shook his head, disgusted at the supposed assassin’s cowardice. Stomping to the desk, he hauled the idiot out by his greasy hair. Then scowled again, wiping his hand on his pants. “Nasty human,” he grumbled under his breath.
With speed, he hadn’t expected, Cassidy stepped around him and punched the man—hard. The moron screamed for the second time, clutching his gushing, now crooked nose. “Pathetic, spineless, scum,” she scoffed and hit him again.
Marcus tossed the man to the ratty sofa hugging the wall for support and looked around the pigsty, wrinkling his nose at the stench.
Beer cans littered every surface, several having toppled to the floor. If not for his ability to separate out individual scents, he wouldn’t have identified the bastard’s apartment, what with the nasty stale beer mingled with what looked to be week-old pizza crusts and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts. Unable to stand the reeking miasma one more minute, he yanked a window open and sucked in a lungful of clean air.
Behind him, Cassidy punched the idiot again, cursing a blue streak about the man breaking into her apartment and defiling it. She really didn’t like others messing with her personal space.
He opened every window in the room, then focused on the desktop and growled low in his throat. The laptop’s display showed five split screens. Two were blank, while the other three showed live feeds of Cassidy’s apartment. Two were of her living area, one in her bathroom, and the others had been in her bedroom. The bastard was watching her shower and dress.
His wolf threw itself at the forefront of his mind, demanding release. In a deep, calm voice, the one that made seasoned shifters piss themselves, he said, “Cassidy, bring that piece of shit over here, please.”
A second later, she threw the struggling, sniveling, very bloody pervert into the desk chair.
His fingers ached from holding his claws back. Needing to maim and destroy, he grabbed the greasy pervert and slammed his head down on the desktop. Twice. “That bastard watched you in every room of your apartment, he’s a fucking pervert,” Marcus hissed.
Before he could kill the pervert, Cassidy bellowed in outrage and attacked again. By the time he’d pulled her off the whimpering little shit, he w
as out cold on the floor.
Cassidy fought his hold, trying to finish what she’d started. “I want to kill him as well, mon amour, but we need to question him first.”
She took several calming breaths, then nodded once.
Glowering at the lump on the floor, he lifted his chin toward the coffee table with three legs and a cinder block for the fourth. “Grab that moldy pizza box and wave it under his nose. The stench should bring him around.”
After a few passes under his nose without the desired outcome, Cassidy stalked to the kitchenette. A few minutes and several glasses of water later, he roused.
Marcus yanked the man off the floor and slammed him into the desk chair again, then stalked away from the bloody bastard. If he remained within striking distance, he’d lose control. “Be my guest. Find out who sent him and why.”
She smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. As a matter of fact, her expression was terrifying. “Tell me your name,” she asked, her voice saccharine sweet.
In that moment, Marcus knew he was seeing Cassidy the assassin for the first time.
Marcus rolled his eyes when the idiot found his spine and threw a punch at Cassidy. His woman gracefully dodged the blow, then spun in a spectacular roundhouse kick. The man, still in the chair, flew back several feet before slamming into the wall. The pervert crumpled in on himself, spitting blood, and wheezing. No doubt, struggling to breathe with several broken ribs and perhaps a collapsed lung. A little grin tugged at the edge of his lips. Well done, mate.
Cassidy grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him, along with the rolling chair, to the middle of the room. Smiling again, she asked, “Shall we try that again? Tell me your name.”
“Roger,” he gasped out, clutching his right side.
“Roger, who sent you?” she asked calmly, astounding Marcus with her composure and patience.
Roger glanced up at her from the chair, a crafty grin, and glittering eyes transformed his expression to one of the insane. In a sing-song voice, he said, “You know all too well, who sent me. The same man who sent you.”
“Why did he send a second?”
Marcus noted she didn’t tack on the classification of assassin to the end of her question.
“Your reputation, of course.” Then Roger leaned forward and whispered, “Father can’t afford for you to screw this up. I listen in when he’s on the phone, you see. But don’t tell.” Then Roger’s insanity evaporated, and he grinned evilly. “I’m not Mr. Jones’s only insurance. Not that he needs to waste his time and money sending others. You’ll do the job eventually. After all, he has something you value even more than your highfalutin moral code.”
Cassidy snorted. “And what would that be?”
Roger laughed, sending him into a coughing fit, bloody spittle spattering Cassidy’s shirt with spots of red. “You haven’t checked your messages, have you? I suggest you do.”
Keeping an eye on Roger, she pulled her phone from her back pocket. “Damn. I forgot I turned it off.” She hit the power button and cringed when a barrage of pings rang out. As expected, Jones had blown up her phone with scathing messages.
When her face went as white as a sheet, and Roger laughed himself into a second coughing fit, Marcus asked, “What is it, Cassidy?”
She turned the phone to show him a picture of a younger male version of her tied to a chair. “That son of a bitch has Colin.”
Shaking with the effort to hold his wolf back, Marcus slammed the laptop shut, then snatched it from the desk. “Finish it, Cassidy. If you don’t, he’ll alert Jones that we know he has your brother,” he snarled, his right eye twitching and guttural voice more wolf than human. Then Marcus paused at the door and waited.
Wholly focused and icy cold, Cassidy looked the part of a lethal assassin. Roger squeaked in terror when he raised his head and saw her glittering eyes on him. Killer’s eyes.
She pulled a blade she’d kept well-hidden and struck with the speed of a viper. Bellowing an anguished cry, she cut Roger’s throat. When she stepped out of range of the arterial spray, Roger’s chin fell to his chest, before he crumpled at her feet.
Without a word, she took the hand Marcus held out to her and broke his heart. Tears ran silently down her cheeks. The fear of losing her brother, palpable.
“We’ll get Colin back,” he said gently, as he led her back to her unit.
Closing Cassidy’s door, he put the computer and recordings on an end table and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh, mon amour. Don’t cry.”
“Jones will kill him,” she choked out between sobs.
“Not if we get to him before he knows Roger is dead. When Jones doesn’t hear from him, he’ll have to send someone to check on the situation. That gives us time to retrieve your brother.”
Cassidy sniffled and nodded. “You’re right. Jones will keep him alive as long as he thinks he can use him to control me.”
She pulled from his arms and went to the bathroom for a Kleenex. No longer sniffling, she returned to the living room and began pacing while mumbling under her breath. “All right, I have time to figure this out and take him back. First, I need to rent a new place. But how the hell did they find this one? I never tell Jones where I’m staying and never leave a trail for him to follow. Roger must have tailed me and waited for me to go home. Though I don’t know how he managed that either. I always watch for a tail. They must be tracking me another way.”
“Cassidy, you’re rambling.”
She stopped pacing, her head jerking up. “What?”
“You’re rambling.”
Suddenly, her eyes filled with a new fear. “I said all that out loud?” Sighing heavily, she collapsed on the sofa. “Marcus… there’s something I need to tell you.”
“You can tell me later. Right now, you need to pack. Now that Jones knows where you live, your apartment isn’t safe. Not that it was before.”
“It’s too late to look for a new place today. I’ll have to do it in the morning.”
Marcus pulled his phone out and placed a call. “You don’t need to find a new apartment. I’m taking you to my family’s condo.”
“The hell you are.”
“Stop wasting time arguing and start packing,” he ordered.
Cassidy was blustering and refusing his hospitality in the most colorful way when Etienne answered.
“Marcus! How are you?”
“Hello, Etienne. I’m well but in need of a clean-up in your territory.”
“Address?”
Marcus gave the vampire king the address and apartment number, then thanked his friend for the assist and ended the call.
On the heels of the call, he sent a text. This one to Quin and marked urgent.
M: Jones has Cassidy’s brother. Find where he’s being held.
If Jones was desperate enough to hold Cassidy’s brother under threat of death to force her hand, then he and Colin were in far more danger than he’d imagined. Fear and greed made one do stupid, stupid things. Jones must be getting a lot of money for the contract, which meant he had a very bitter enemy out to get him. No doubt, Jones was feeling the pressure as well.
When he turned his attention back to Cassidy, his heart skipped a beat. Her face was red, fists clenched, and she was advancing on him. The woman was magnificent.
“I’m”—she poked his chest hard—“not”—she poked him again—“going anywhere”—another poke—“with you.” She punctuated her point with a kick to his shin.
Marcus forced himself not to rub the abused leg and crossed his arms instead. “Why not?”
Cassidy mimicked his stance. “Because.”
“Because, why? There is a perfectly good condo sitting unused in the best part of the French Quarter. Is it because the offer comes from me, or do you refuse offers of help in general?”
“You didn’t make an offer. You made an edict. Big difference.”
That’s the problem? Asking wasn’t his forte. He was more of an issue orders kind of man. But he was M
arcus Le Beau, he could do anything necessary for his mate. Softening his tight lips into a charming smile, he took her hands. “Cassidy, I have a condo that is currently unoccupied I’d like to offer for your use. I’m not sure how Jones found you, but by staying there, Jones won’t have a money or paper trail to follow. He’ll have to come to the Le Beau corporation and follow you home, at which time we’ll see him coming. Would you like to stay there for a while?”
Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Finally, she frowned. “Good point. But the same could be said about a hotel. You can book the room under your name.”
“A hotel room costs money that you could use for other things. The condo is free.” As far as he was concerned, the discussion was over, so he walked away. There was a camera in the bathroom to find.
He wasn’t stupid. Cassidy hadn’t agreed to use the condo. Yet. Now that he’d found her, he wouldn’t lose her. He needed her where he could protect her until the situation was resolved. Then he’d take her home to his house on the plantation. Somehow along the way, he’d earn her love and commitment.
He took a deep breath and tried to ease the anxiety squeezing his chest. He would need to take care when talking to her. A smile tugged at his lips. His mate didn’t respond well to orders.
Cassidy glared at Marcus’s retreating back, then stomped to her bedroom and yanked her bags from the closet to pack. She traveled light. One duffle for clothing and another for Black Betty and her weapons. Within minutes she was out the door and down the stairs. She knew the limo would be waiting out front, right where it had parked when they arrived. If she hurried, she might be able to talk Seth into leaving before Marcus knew what was happening.
No such luck. Somehow, Marcus had beaten her to the limo, angrier than she’d ever seen him. “Get in,” he growled as he took her bags and tossed them into the trunk.
Cassidy slid in and leaned forward. “I know your one of his brothers, but can’t you tell him to take me to a hotel?”
Seth cocked a brow and smirked.
“Not like that. I can’t stay here tonight. Don’t ask. Anyway, I need a place to stay, and he wants to take me to some condo. That’s inappropriate for an employer and employee.”
