by AJ Sherwood
Kyou fell silent, sipping at his cup in an obvious bid for a moment to think. Ivan was staring silently down at Remi, and Ari could just see the calculations flash through his friend’s head.
Sensing his win, Carter pressed his point. “You say that not every job you take needs all the specialties. Okay, that’s fair. I’m not demanding we do every single job together. But on the ones where you don’t need everyone’s help, just read them in. That way, if something goes wrong, you have automatic backup. You don’t have to explain the situation or find a way to reach us first. We already know.”
Ivan’s head came up, and he stared at Carter for a full five seconds before a slow grin broke out. “You make a good argument. Alright. I’m in. Ari?”
“You think he hasn’t already talked me into this?” Ari retorted with considerable asperity. “Besides, Remi’s over the moon for this idea.”
Remi pointed her puppy eyes at the screen with perfect timing. (Suspiciously perfect timing. Ari suspected she’d been coached, and he knew exactly by who.) “Uncle Kyou, you don’t want to play with us?”
Whatever defense Kyou had got utterly derailed. “It’s not that, it’s just…oh hell. I really can’t think of a good reason not to, it’s just you realize we’ll have to figure out how to split every payment for a job—”
“Do it like we did the last one,” Carter countered, the epitome of reason. “Four ways. Or two ways, if only one other person helps you.”
“—and what about who takes lead? I mean, just trusting four guys to go at it never works out well; you always need a team leader.”
“So, the person who specializes in the right field for the job takes lead. Only makes sense, right? He’ll know best what to do.”
“And what about location?” Kyou really was grasping at straws. He didn’t look argumentative so much as curious to see if Carter had an answer to this, too. “Remi needs to go to school at least part of the school year. We’re constantly in and out of jobs; none of us really have a fixed location.”
“So we put our heads together and figure out where we’ll be based from. We’ll pool together our safehouses so we all know where they are and use them depending on where the jobs take us.” Carter splayed his hands to either side, body language saying, See, easy. “This isn’t rocket science, Kyou. And isn’t it more fun to work jobs together anyway?”
“You’re a people person,” Kyou accused as if he were actually an axe murderer.
Carter grinned and shrugged, no defense on his lips.
“Come on, K.” Ari knew his friend would fight this the hardest. Ivan was always the easiest sell of the two. “It’s not like we bite. And we can help you keep an eye on that guy you’re stalking.”
“Protecting,” Kyou corrected instantly, then made a face. “I don’t really have much choice on this, do I? Remi’s already pouting at me.”
“I’ll pay you in vodka,” Ivan offered.
“The vodka is tempting….” Kyou trailed off. Was that a hint of a smirk?
“Don’t make me kidnap you,” Ari threatened. “You need a life outside of that guy and your computers.”
Kyou sighed, as if put upon, and he couldn’t understand why they were being so mean. “Fine. Fine, dammit, you win.”
Remi let out a loud whoop and bounced in place. Carter looked ready to join her. Ivan, of course, actually did while Ari and Kyou looked on in amusement. Considering how easy it was for Carter to talk these two into it, it made Ari think he’d been right all along. They’d already been a team. They just hadn’t officially called themselves that or recognized it for what it was. With it now out there, and agreed upon, Ari felt like another door of possibilities had just opened out in front of them.
Really, the future promised to be so much more fun with them working together.
Curious why Remi chose Ari? Turn the page to find out!
Afterstory
Remi
She watched the scene play out behind the abandoned convenience store with solemn eyes. The handsome man—the one in the leather jacket—she didn’t know him. He’d not been around here before. But the other one—the man he’d taken down so ruthlessly—she knew him. Everyone in the neighborhood knew him. He sold bad drugs and hurt people. Sometimes shot them.
Mrs. Havera, the lady who lived across the street, she’d warned Remi about men like him. The ones who carried guns, who didn’t look or dress like the people in the neighborhood. Those were the ones to watch out for. The ones who came to kill someone. She said when you saw someone like that, go home, stop playing, to take cover until the fight was all over.
Normally, she’d have listened. But she’d snuck out of the house because her stepfather had gone from drunk to bad-drunk, so it wasn’t safe to be there right now. And something about the handsome man drew her attention. She found herself watching instead. She hugged the side of the building, staying small and still. Years of living with her abusive stepfather had taught her how to be very, very still. Stillness meant his eyes would pass right over her without seeing. She kept her breathing soft and steady so nothing about her drew the man’s eye.
It was brutal, the beatdown. The drug dealer was crying and begging for mercy, then with a swift boot to the head, even that stilled. The girl he’d been dragging away, the one who had screamed for help, she was huddled nearby, shaking and staring with wide eyes. Really stupid decision. Sarah could have told her she should have run for it while no one was paying her any attention.
The handsome man, the one who killed for money (according to Mrs. Havera), he bent down and rifled through the man’s pockets. He brought out several rolls of cash, enough to fill both hands. Then he carefully approached the girl still shaking on the ground.
“Hey.” He crouched down, slowly, extending both hands the blonde girl. “You take this, okay? You take this and you run for it, find a new city to live in. Cut ties with that toxic father of yours.”
The blonde teenager stopped shaking, but she didn’t move. After a long moment, she croaked, “Why are you giving me this?”
“I don’t prey on kids,” the man said patiently. “I was here for another job entirely. I dealt with him ’cause he pissed me off. So you take this, okay? You get on a bus, or a plane, or whatever. You get out of here so that bastard father can’t sell you again.”
She nodded and finally took the money, hugging the rolls against her chest. Sounds choked, she whispered, “Thank you.”
This man didn’t like abusive fathers. He didn’t like it when people hurt children. Mrs. Havera said people like him hurt people for money. All of these facts whirled through Sarah’s mind and a plan started to form. Could she hire him? Would he stop her stepfather from hurting her?
Sarah didn’t really remember a time when she was safe. Her mother used to slap her when she was frustrated, or when Sarah asked for food. Her stepfather now hit her just because he was drunk and angry. This idea that someone was against hurting a child was odd to her. There were adults like that?
But there must be, because this man had said he didn’t hurt kids. He helped a girl and was gentle with her. This man was kind.
Sarah eased back and watched as he left the cracked parking lot, heading down the street. She had her secret stash of change on her, the one she’d collected over the past several months. She wanted to save more, but it was hard around her stepfather. He spent every dime he made. On beer, mostly. It wasn’t much, what she had, but maybe the handsome man would help her anyway.
On silent feet, she padded after him, trying to work out what to say. The girl hadn’t said anything to him to get rescued, so that didn’t help Sarah any. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before the split pulled painfully.
The more she followed him down the dirty, trashy street, the higher her tension rose. Surely he’d parked nearby. If she didn’t call out to him soon, she’d lose the chance entirely. But she didn’t know what to say. Doubts started to creep in, too. What if he didn’t want to help her too? H
e’d already helped someone else tonight. What if he was tired, or just wanted to go home, and chose to ignore her?
He abruptly stopped under a street light, not turning, just still. Sarah stopped too, as she didn’t understand what he was doing. She lingered behind a trashcan, hiding, as hiding came naturally to her when she didn’t understand what adults were doing. Hiding was always the safest option.
“Hey,” he said calmly. “This whole cat and mouse thing ain’t cool, okay? How about you come over here, in the light, and you tell me what you need. I might be able to help you out.”
He was offering to help? Sarah peeked out at him, hope rising hard and fast in her chest. She still didn’t quite know what to say, how to ask, but he was listening. It still unnerved her, approaching this strange man. He’d been gentle with the girl, but Sarah had seen him beat a man bloody. She was under no illusions. This man was capable of bloody violence, too. A lifetime of being someone’s punching bag made her cautious. But the patient way he waited for her encouraged her to try.
And really, if she didn’t get someone to stop her stepfather soon, she’d probably not live much longer. Sarah was grimly certain of that. No one else would stop him from hurting her, and every day, he got angrier. More violent.
The thought propelled her forward more than anything else. She had to get help. She simply had to. So even though her hands shook, and not from the cold, she approached him.
The assassin turned slowly, keeping his hands to the side, a faint smile on his face. He really was handsome, like the men in those action movies. His smile dropped when he saw her and Sarah almost bolted. Why had he stopped smiling at her?
Sarah quickly spoke, because she didn’t want him to change his mind and leave after all. Looking up at him, she swallowed hard before speaking, words raspy. “I’m Sarah. I saw you beat up Hardy back there.”
Slowly, he sank to one knee. Sarah breathed out shakily when he put them on eye level. He’d done this for the other girl, too. He’d come in and knelt and spoke gently. Oh good, he wasn’t going to leave. He’d at least hear her out.
“Yeah, honey, I did. He was a bad man. His face needed rearranging.”
Sarah nodded, as she agreed with that. But it didn’t answer her main question. “Do you beat up bad men as your job? Mrs. Havera, she said that you kill people for money.”
“Yeah, honey, I do. Why?”
From the pocket of her sagging pants, she drew out all of her money, and held out both hands to him. It was a jumbled collection of change, perhaps two dollars altogether. She looked up at him, pleading. “Can I hire you? Will you stop him?”
The look on the man’s face was murderous rage. Sarah almost flinched from it, but instinctively she understood it wasn’t meant for her. This man was angry on her behalf. That was a strange feeling. She’d never had someone angry for her sake before.
His voice was soft, the anger a live hum in his words. “Who’s hurting you, honey?”
“My stepfather. Momma left last year, and when she did, he got mad. He…” she trailed off, eyes falling to the pavement. This was hard to say. She didn’t want to talk about it. But he needed to know, otherwise he couldn’t help her. Her chin firmed and she squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes once more. “I need you to stop him.”
He held out both hands, taking the change from her. “You just hired yourself an assassin, sweetheart.”
Relief ran through her and she dumped the change in his hands. Her instincts had been right, after all. This man was kind and would help her. “He lives at 314A Osborne Way.”
“Tell you what, kiddo. You come with me, stand just outside the house, okay?” He pocketed the change, standing.
Sarah nodded, fell into step with him, taking two steps for his one. He noticed, and slowed down so she wasn’t jogging to keep up with him. She liked that, too, that he was thoughtful of her.
“Honey, you got any relatives? Grandma, grandpa, uncles, anything like that?”
Shaking her head no, she kept walking. This worried him, Sarah could tell from his expression. It was odd that he was so worried when people who’d known her longer than five minutes didn’t care she was being hit all the time. But she liked that he did care. She knew he wasn’t a prince—assassins couldn’t be princes, could they?—but he looked like Prince Charming from Cinderella. She liked him. Or maybe he was more like Flynn Rider from Tangled. He did bad things, but for good reasons. Like now. That idea made her happy.
The happiness was short lived. They reached the house. Sarah honestly hated the house. She never went there unless she had no other option. The house meant pain and fear. It meant being absolutely still for hours at a time, not even breathing loudly for fear of discovery. Sarah would do anything to make sure she didn’t have to go into it again.
She didn’t know what would happen to her after her stepfather was dealt with. Maybe she’d go to a cop. They were supposed to help kids. Either way, right now, she felt nothing for the man sitting inside. A vicious sort of satisfaction filled her chest. Finally, finally, he’d know what it was like to be the weaker one. Finally, there was someone to stop him.
The only sign of life came from the flickering light in the window, clearly from a TV. Kneeling, the assassin put a light hand on Sarah’s back, drawing her eyes up to him. Concern showed in his eyes and he asked her in a low voice, “You change your mind, sweetie?”
Shaking her head, she pointed to the door. “It’s not locked.”
“You stay on the porch, okay? If someone comes to get you, you scream for me. I’m going to take you to a safe place after this.”
“You are?” Why? He hadn’t done that with the other girl. He’d just given her money and told her to run away. Was it because Sarah was younger?
“Yeah, honey. Can’t leave a kid on the streets. That’s non bene, you get me?” With a pat on her head, he moved toward the house, stride becoming quiet as he moved.
Sarah was surprised he could move that silently. She’d learned how by pretending she was Black Widow. It made her happy she could move quietly like him. Like a real assassin. She’d thought about being an assassin when she grew up. Bad men didn’t hurt Black Widow, after all. She beat people like that up. Maybe if Sarah became an assassin, people wouldn’t hurt her, either. She wanted to be an assassin like the one helping her now—the type to help people just because they could.
Rather than a prince, she’d take an assassin coming to her rescue any day.
The door stuck a little and the assassin shouldered it aside before entering. Sarah could clearly hear every word as her stepfather slurred out, “Who the fuck’re you?”
“I’m here because of Sarah.”
“That runt? You into kids?”
Sarah went cold at those words. She’d heard them before. She knew what they meant. The kid sold off had never come back.
“Five hundred dollars, you can have’er.”
Two gunshots rang out in quick succession. Sarah jumped, not expecting them. After that, dead silence. She didn’t need to look to know. Her stepfather was dead. She stared at the open doorway, the door warped by time and too many kicks. No part of her felt sad for the man who’d been her stepfather. Rather, overwhelming relief swept through her from head to toe. For the first time ever, she felt like she could breathe.
The assassin came back out and stared down at her with an odd look on his face.
She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He seemed to come to a sudden decision and said seriously, “Tell you what, kiddo. How about I adopt you? I can’t trust you to the foster system. I gotta tell you, I’m probably not good dad material, but you’ll be safe with me. And no douchebag will get his hands on you again, I can promise you that.”
She cocked her head up at him, hope gradually rising. Keep her? He wanted to keep her? That sounded so much better than going to the cops and hoping things turned out alright. This man she could trust. And he’d be able to help her become an assassin, right? Becau
se he was one, he’d be able to teach her. “You’re an assassin, right? Can you teach me to be like Black Widow?”
He grinned at her. “Yeah, kid, I can teach you the moves.”
Her smile hurt because of her split lip and bruises, but she couldn’t stop. This was really, really so much better than being rescued by a prince like in the movies. “Then please adopt me.”
“Sure thing.” He reached out with both hands, picking her up, settling her into his arms. “Anything you want from inside?”
It felt strange, to be picked up again. After a moment, she decided she might like it. It felt far safer here than anywhere else she’d ever been. Shaking her head no, she latched onto his collar with both hands, fingers tangled in the fabric. “You really, really want to keep me?”
“Kid, I like your guts. Not many adults have your kind of savvy, to walk up and make a deal with me. But let’s discuss details after we get out of here, okay?”
“Okay.”
Really. So, so much better than being rescued by a prince.
Dictionary
Russian Dictionary:
Solnishko – Sunshine
Milij – Dear/precious
Horosho – good
Njet – no
Da – yes
Chert – damn
Zasranets – asshole
Durak – fool
Svoloch – bastard
Zanuda – very boring person, pain in the neck
Italian Dictionary:
Quello non va bene/ non va bene – That’s not right
Capiche/capisci/capisco – got it/understand
Vaffanculo – fuck off
