by V. A. Dold
Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but Cade shut him down. “Don’t try to play the he-man, Jamie. We’ve all been in your position. Just accept the help that’s offered.”
Jamie nodded and clamped his mouth shut.
Cade moved into position to lift Jamie. “It’s going to hurt like hell when I lift you and going up the stairs will be a bitch, but I need you to be as quiet as a church mouse. Can you do that?”
“Of course. All of us were taught to withstand pain in silence.”
That comment had Marcus, Cade, and Simon focusing on Cassidy, growls, and snarls filling the room.
Cassidy scowled at Jamie, who had the grace to look apologetic. Then she glanced at the Le Beau men. “Down boys. It’s all in the past, and the bastard is about to pay for his crimes. Now, chop-chop. Get these boys moving. Marcus will take point, and I’ll have your six until you clear the building’s exterior.”
Cade looked at her for a moment longer. Was that admiration in his eyes? It was hard to tell with that one.
Simon took hold of Colin and swung him into his arms. Cade must have had the same idea. Without a word of warning, he scooped Jamie off his feet much to her friend’s dismay.
“Hey. I can walk, man.”
“I’m sure you can, but this will be quicker and quieter,” Cade said as he headed for the door.
For a fairly large crew, they moved in silence through the hallway to the stairwell. Cassidy was impressed and not much impressed her. One step behind Simon, she watched their backs covering both directions until the last person was through the door, then she slipped through herself. Running feet in the hallway, had her pausing. With the door slightly ajar, she watched as Jones and a few of his men ran past and into Colin’s cell.
As she listened, she imagined the look on Jones’s face when he realized Colin was gone.
“Sir—” one of the men hesitantly started to ask.
“Where is he?” Jones demanded. “How the hell did he get out of that chair and kill my men when he couldn’t even see?”
There was a long silent pause where Cassidy imagined terrified looks exchanged. Jones was known for going off the reservation with his punishments when enraged.
“Find them, God damn it,” he bellowed. “I want that little shit back and whoever helped him dead.”
Carefully, Cassidy closed the stairwell door and quickened her step to catch up to the group.
When they reached the ground floor, Marcus paused to listen before cracking the door a fraction. Pride bloomed in her chest. Marcus was as well trained as any assassin in the building.
She watched as he cautiously opened the door a little further until he could see both directions. With the wave of his hand, the group moved into the hallway and began to make their way to their exit.
Overhead, Cassidy could hear running footsteps. All hell was breaking loose in the building as the Le Beaus and trainees went head to head.
They were mere steps from the exit when Frank, one of the adult assassins, rounded the corner and spotted them. Cassidy pulled her favorite knife as he pulled his and advanced on her.
Simon glanced back and paused as if he planned on helping her. Fat chance of that with an armload of Colin. Besides, she could take the asshat coming at her with her eyes closed. As a matter of fact, she’d done just that three weeks ago. Maybe that’s why he looked so pissed.
“Go, go, go. I’ve got this,” she hissed at Simon as she widened her stance.
Simon hesitated a moment longer.
“Damn it, Simon. Get out of here. I can’t fight him and protect you at the same time.” She could tell that it went against everything Simon stood for to leave anyone behind, much less a woman.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, her friend Dave stepped out of the door directly behind Frank.
Frank spun to meet the threat, but it was too late. Dave cracked his skull with the butt of his gun. Frank crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.
Dave grinned at her, and before he could turn and go, she hissed. “Wait.” Cassidy pulled the red marker from her pocket and drew a huge X on his chest.
Dave glared at his ruined shirt. “What the hell?”
“That’s how we’re marking the good guys. My team knows that anyone with the mark isn’t to be touched.”
Dave smoothed a hand down his new look. “In that case, thanks.”
“Listen, Dave. I’m going after Jones. You’re not going to get in my way, are you?”
“Hell, no. I’ll help you take that bastard out.”
“Always the sweet talker. Thanks, but no. He took my brother. That makes him mine.”
Dave turned on his heel and started down the hallway. “True. But that doesn’t mean we can’t plow the road for you,” he said over his shoulder just before he slipped around the corner and out of sight.
Cassidy turned to help Simon with the door, but he was already gone. A quick glance outside showed Cade and Simon waiting at the corner of the building for her to give them the go sign. She glanced at the camera then her watch and raised her arm as she counted down the ten seconds before the camera was out of range and dropped her arm. Cade and Simon disappeared from sight for a heartbeat before appearing next to the SUV. How the heck did they do that?
Marcus, who had been covering his brothers back on the off chance one of the assassins wandered outside, grinned at her.
“You’ve got some splainin’ to do,” she hissed in her best Ricky Ricardo impression from the old I Love Lucy show.
Marcus put his hand on the small of her back and urged her toward the door. “Later, mon amour. I’ll explain that and much more. Come on. Let’s get to Jones and finish this.”
Having kept the door from closing with her foot, she listened for movement, then grasped the knob and opened it slowly. The murmur of voices and footsteps could be heard near the front entrance. Gripping the knife she hadn’t resheathed from her near encounter, she moved inside.
The outer office wasn’t empty. In fact, there were three bodies strewn about the room. The room smelled of blood and death. Dave was plowing the road all right.
A guy she’d seen on occasion, Steven was his name, lay faceup, blood pooling around his head from his slit throat, eyes open and staring, a mere foot inside the room. Cassidy could see three stab wounds, all nonlethal, and that was without turning him over. Whoever took him out really disliked him. The second guy, a kid really, was folded over the arm of the couch like a lap blanket. He had only one stab wound to the heart. They hadn’t toyed with him like they had Steven. She jogged her memory for his name. Mike? Mark? No, Micah, that was it. She shook her head. So young, and only recently graduated from training. Damn, the last body was Shawna, a woman she’d sparred with often. She’d liked Shawna. Several small cuts on her forearms were defensive wounds. It was the direct hit to her heart that did her in. The woman had put up a fight.
A glint of the overhead lights on metal caught her eye. A blade had been left lying next to Shawna. Cassidy smiled. That was Bob’s favorite knife. He was sending her a message. Like Dave, Bob was on her side. That gave her the idea to give the other bodies a closer look. Sure enough, there were two more blades. One was from Ron, and the other was Gary’s. That was when she spotted a tiny piece of paper under Gary’s knife.
I took the liberty of marking these guys for you.
That’s three more on your team, babe.
We left Jones for you. He’s waiting inside.
Dave.
Cassidy handed the note to Marcus.
He grinned and winked at her. Like I said. You’re a legend.
Damn, he wasn’t ever going to let her live this down. Quietly, they moved to the door that led to Jones’s office. Grunts and swearing were heard coming from within. It sounded like Jones was trying to open a window. What the hell was he thinking? It was a three-story drop onto the asphalt. There was no way he could escape that way. When she reached for the knob, she suppressed a chuckle. Dave had run a length of wire through
the fancy-ass handles and twisted it, trapping Jones inside. No wonder he said Jones was waiting for her.
We’re going to utilize the element of surprise. That being said, stay low, Jones is bound to have a handgun or two.
Roger that.
Quiet as a church mouse, she untwisted the wire and pulled it free. Holding up three fingers, she dropped one at a time.
Marcus put his shoulder to the door and slammed it open. The door hit the sheetrock so hard it dented the wall, bounced back, and reclosed.
Cassidy went in low and fast to the left while Marcus did the same to the right.
A volley of shots peppered the room, the flashes bright in the dim lighting Jones preferred.
Cassidy used the desk as cover. Glancing around, she couldn’t see Marcus anywhere, and there wasn’t a space large enough to hide him. Undoubtedly, he was utilizing his blurring ability.
“You know better than to waste your ammo in a panic, Jones,” she taunted from her safe position. As she suspected, the idiot expended two more bullets as he peppered the general area her voice had come from. The rounds thunked harmlessly into the far wall. The distraction allowed Cassidy to slip around the side of the desk unseen. Her new position gave her a perfect line of sight to Jones.
She watched as he inched away from the corner he cowered in. Wildly glancing about the office, his bravado must have failed. Abruptly, he stopped moving forward and stretched his body to span the rest of the gap and blindly unloaded a couple of rounds along the front of his desk where she’d been. When his bullets failed to make purchase in human flesh and instead thudded into the fancy wood paneling on the wall, he jolted back to his corner.
Cassidy’s peripheral vision picked up movement. Marcus was inching closer to Jones. It wasn’t so much that she saw him as she saw a slight disturbance.
Jones must’ve seen it too because he turned his gun Marcus’s direction and shot off a few rounds.
Damn it. The bastard nicked my arm. Take him out already, Cassidy.
Aw, don’t worry, baby. I’ll kiss it better later.
You better. He growled back with more heat than anger.
With slow micromovements that wouldn’t catch the eye, Cassidy pulled a throwing knife from its sheath. Palming the blade, she watched Jones turn slowly from left to right, his finger poised on the trigger.
She was sitting on the floor next to Jones’s trash bin. That gave her an idea. Gingerly, she fished a piece of trash out and tossed it toward the opposite side of the office, away from Marcus.
Jones took the bait and fired, but only one shot. When he tried for a second, the telltale click of an empty chamber told her what she needed to know. Jones was out of ammo. But did he have a backup weapon? Pulling one of her smaller knives from her belt, she aimed for a tiny gap between two books on the third shelf of the floor to ceiling bookshelf. She wanted to make noise but leave no obvious clues as to which direction the blade had come from. The knife was thin enough to slip into the gap and disappear from sight. Taking careful aim, she let out her breath and let it fly.
Jones’s head jerked toward the sound as he pressed himself further into the corner.
Excellent. If he had a backup piece, he would have taken another potshot. At the very least, he’d have it in his hand. Getting to her feet, she smirked at the man she’d hated for the past twenty-one years.
Jones narrowed his eyes and tsked. “Such dramatics, Cassidy. What’s the point of all of this?”
Cassidy cocked a brow and snorted in her mind at his asinine question. As if he didn’t know?
Jones motioned with his shaking hands for her to lower her knife. “Come now, Cassidy. Put your weapons away and get me a cup of coffee, then we can talk this out.”
“Cassidy is no longer in your employ,” Marcus snarled as he materialized out of nowhere. “Order her about again. I dare you.”
Jones’s eyes widened, a gasp escaping his parted lips. “What the hell!”
Marcus gave Jones an evil smirk. “Your stolen children aren’t the only ones with gifts, old man.”
Jones sputtered. “Stolen! I never—”
Cassidy took a step closer to the sniveling bastard, effectively cutting off his diatribe. “Your lies are wasted on us. We know the truth, and soon the rest of your little clan will know as well.”
Jones puffed up like a blow fish, causing the buttons of his white shirt to panic. “Regardless of what you may think, I’m still your father. I have the adoption papers to prove it. You should be grateful. I took you in when no one else wanted you.”
Cassidy laughed out loud. “You’ve never been a father to me. Tormentor and abuser? Hell yes. Father and loving parent? Never.” Then her voice went low and menacing, “The truth is, you’re the person guilty of stealing my loving parents from me.”
Jones’s eyes bulged. His gaze flicked around the room like a trapped animal searching for an escape.
“That’s right, Jonesy. We know you killed her parents to get your nasty hands on her. We also know you forged the adoption papers, which means you were never her legal guardian,” Marcus snarled.
Jones shot him a look of pure poisonous hatred before schooling his expression and looking at Cassidy. “Lies. All lies.” He insisted as he inched closer to the desk. “Le Beau wouldn’t have had the chance to poison your mind against me if you’d done the job assigned to you and killed him.”
Cassidy stepped to within striking distance as Jones jerked his desk drawer open and palmed another gun. As he raised the weapon, she swept it away with the ease of someone swatting a mosquito. Jones grimaced, knowing what was coming.
Cassidy shook her head. “You always were pathetically slow.” She cocked her head, considering her next move. Pulling a second blade from her weapons stash, she pressed it into his hand. “Cutting your throat is too humane. I think a dual with knives will be more satisfactory.”
She took three swift steps back and assumed an attack stance.
Jones dropped the knife to the floor. “I’m not going to fight you.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes. Moving with the grace of a dancer, she closed the distance. The razor-sharp edge of her blade bit a deep cut down the right side of his face.
Jones pressed his palm over the bleeding slash, screaming so loud he hurt her ears. Glaring his hatred at her, he swept the knife from the floor.
Cassidy moved in again, her blade flashing left, then right from the corners of his mouth to the middle of his cheeks. Jones now looked like a macabre rendition of the Joker. “You shouldn’t have killed my parents, old man,” she hissed. As swiftly as she attacked, she was out of reach again.
Bellowing in pain, Jones swung his blade wildly as he tried to get to the door.
Cassidy glanced at Marcus. Let him go. There’s more room to move around in the outer office.
Marcus nodded once and stepped away from the door, giving Jones a clear path.
It took a couple of tries for Jones to yank the door open with blood-soaked hands. Rushing out, he tripped over one of the bodies and went down hard. Awkwardly, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, looking quickly around. A little squeak, like a mouse trapped by a cat, erupted from him. No doubt, he just realized his backup muscle wasn’t coming to his rescue.
Sobbing now, Jones scrambled on his hands and knees across the room.
As he rose to get to his feet, a shadow passed over him, blocking out the light from the fixture overhead. Jones blinked up at the silhouette of Marcus Le Beau. Before he could change direction a second time, a furry, clawed hand sliced deep furrows across his pristine white shirt. Blood poured from the wounds staining the ragged material red.
Marcus tsked, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t have stolen Cassidy from her family, Jones.”
“David! Gary! Help me!” Jones cried out.
Laughing, Marcus used his body to block the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “They aren’t going to help you. Dave and Gary are on Cassidy’s side.”
; Jones scrambled to his feet, fighting to stay upright as his feet slipped on the blood pooling on the floor. That’s when Cassidy saw the realization on Jones’s face. It finally sank in that he had no one coming to his rescue. Terror filled his eyes.
Heads up. Here it comes, she warned Marcus.
I can see that.
Jones made his move. He lashed out recklessly at Marcus, slashing his knife left and right like an untrained fighter. What had come over Jones? He was trained like the rest of the occupants of the compound, at least he’d always claimed he was. From the looks of it, that was all a lie as well. Cassidy had to end this before she or Marcus were hurt. Timing her thrust for when his arm was raised to expose his side, her knife found purchase. Like a hot blade through butter, it slipped between his ribs.
She heard the breath rush from his lungs. Then the gurgling started. Jones went to his knees, staring at her in disbelief. After pulling the knife free she leaned in and whispered, “You shouldn’t have taken my brother. You’ve been judged, found guilty, and sentenced.” With that, she sliced his carotid. Stepping back, she watched Jones crumple to the floor at her feet.
A quick wipe of her blade on Jones’s slacks to clean away his blood and Cassidy straightened to her full height. When she looked Marcus in the eyes, she expected condemnation for what she’d done. When he gave her a nod, she released the breath she’d held. They’d accomplished what they’d come for. It was time to get the heck out of Dodge. “Let’s go,” she said softly. “Someone’s bound to come looking.”
“Lead the way. I’ll guard your six.” Marcus moved aside as she stepped over Jones’s prone body, pressed her ear to the door, and then opened it just a crack.
Marcus considered his pistol and shook his head. One-shot would bring Jones’s loyal hoard down on them. Instead, he pulled a throwing knife from his boot. With the blade in his right hand and his left shifted to wolf claws, he was equally prepared for hand to hand and distance fighting. With luck, they’d make a clean getaway.
