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www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2021 N.J. Walters
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0301-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Thank you to my amazing family. Your love and support means everything to me.
Thank you to all the readers who love the Assassins of Gravas series as much as they did the Marks Mercenaries series. Your encouragement and support allow me to do what I love for a living.
And last, but certainly not least, thank you to the incredible team at Evernight Publishing—especially Stacey and Audrey—for working hard to bring this book to life.
KYLER’S JUSTICE
Assassins of Gravas, 3
N.J. Walters
Copyright © 2021
Prologue
Five planetary months ago…
“Leave me alone.” Etta Mortis glared at her half-brother. How had he found her? She’d been so careful. Fifteen years older than her, and meaner than a wounded Barskan wild boar, he’d been trouble for as long as she could remember.
The heavy cleaver slammed down on the poor beet, splitting it in half. Reddish liquid trickled from the vegetable, spreading across the cutting board. Too much like blood. “I want nothing to do with the games you and Helldrick play.” No way would she give him the title of father. The bastard was nothing more than a sperm donor.
“Not even for them?”
She lifted the sharp cutting tool, casually holding it above her shoulder, and the glint of humor disappeared from his green eyes. “What in the three hells of Brenam are you talking about?
Balthazar crossed his arms over his massive chest and smiled, but there was nothing remotely pleasant about it. No, it was pure evil. The fine hairs on her body stood on end. This is not going to be good.
“What have you done?” she demanded. Everyone she knew walked in fear of her half-brother. At more than six and a half feet tall, all of it pure muscle, he would slice a man’s throat, step over his fallen body, and carry on with his day, never sparing a thought for what he’d done. His flaming red hair and beard made him a standout among the ladies. And just like his father, he lived to be the center of attention.
After her mother died when she was four, Etta had been raised in the viper’s nest of Helldrick’s home. When she’d reached the age of twenty-one, a friend of her mother’s had shown up with a small inheritance. She’d taken it and run. For two years, she ghosted from kitchen to kitchen in small bars and taverns across the galaxies, learning how to cook, but never staying anywhere long enough to be tracked.
Or so she’d thought.
“I haven’t done anything.” Oh, she heard the subtle emphasis.
“What has he done?” she shot back. “Don’t try my patience. The bar opens in two hours and I need to finish my prep work.” After scraping the cut beets into a pot on the industrial cooker, she added water and spices.
“He hasn’t done anything yet. That’s where you come in.” He reached across the counter, grabbed a carrot, and chomped down. The one bonus to being on an agra-planet was that vegetables were in ready supply.
Taking a deep breath, Etta centered herself. I’m an adult now. I make my own decisions. “What does Helldrick want?”
“A small favor.”
She snorted and, with speed and precision, began to cut sweet potatoes. It helped her think. “No such thing.”
Balthazar popped the last of the carrot into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “He knows you’ve kept in touch with your sisters.”
“Our sisters.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care about any of our father’s bastards.”
“Then why are you here? I’m one of those bastards.” Helldrick had never married any of the women he’d impregnated. Like Balthazar, he was a giant of a man with a ready smile and handsome enough to attract the ladies. The outer veneer hid the rot of the man’s soul.
He shrugged one massive shoulder. “He needs you for a job at Hell’s Gate.”
All the air was sucked from the room. The cleaver fell from her nerveless fingers onto the counter. She gripped the edge to try to ground herself. Her vision dimmed. “I’ll never go back there.” Mortis—the planet she’d been born on, the place she’d spent the first twenty-one miserable years of her life. She bore the planet’s name as her own. Helldrick had given it to her as a joke because he didn’t have a surname, at least not one he’d admit to. It had become a badge of honor, a symbol of her resilience.
And Hell’s Gate was her father’s bar, his private kingdom on Mortis. People lived and died on his whim. He was all powerful, his word law. Rumor was Balthazar had done something similar on a planet called Tortuga, creating a haven for criminals like himself.
It had almost killed her to leave her sisters, but their mother took good care of them. Etta’s plan was to make money and get a place of her own before wrestling the children and their mother from Helldrick’s grasp.
She shook her head. “I won’t do it. Nothing you can say will make a difference.”
“Yonna is dead.”
And the blows kept coming. “Dead? How?” Her poor sisters. They were too young to lose their mother.
“Hmm. I think our dear father wore her out. I imagine he’ll get another woman to raise the girls. Or”—he paused for dramatic effect—“get rid of them.”
“He wouldn’t.” Even before she uttered the words, she knew them for a lie. There was no low to which Helldrick would not stoop. Using his children for blackmail? Selling them for profit? Just another day in his world.
Balthazar smirked. “It all depends on you.”
“Why me?”
Quick as a Vusarian cave snake, he grabbed her chin and pinched hard. “Because, dear sister, there’s an air of innocence about you that will make any man trust you.” He thrust her back. “Anyone but me. Remember that.”
Mouth dry and face aching, she grabbed the container of water she’d placed on the corner of her workstation and chugged half of it down. There was no choice. No way could she allow sweet little Sera and her baby sister Maggs to be harmed.
Even knowing she was selling her soul to the devil, she wiped her mouth and said, “What do I have to do?”
Chapter One
Present day…
His prey wasn’t here.
Kyler el Darkos slipped into the rowdy tavern, allowing the shadows to shield him. It was late enough that most of the patrons were either drunk or well on their way. With the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, he remained unseen, a specter of death passing by.
The raucous noise, the raised voices—none of it touched him. Icy calm surrounded him, keeping him apart from the others. The air was ripe—a combination of ale and sweat—but beneath it, the enticing aroma of spices wafted out from what was likely the kitchen area. Whatever had been cooked in there smelled surprisingly delicious. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored his hunger.
A small table in a corner beckoned. He made his way there without incident and settled. Hell’s Gate was like many bars across the galaxies. Every planet had them from bright and cheerful to downright disgusti
ng. This one reeked of danger and desperation. Chances of finding many honest folks here were slim.
Space pirates, mercenaries, drunkards, and criminals of all sorts drank, caroused, and conducted business within these walls. The handful of women in the establishment fell into two categories. They were tough and hardened, part of the criminal class. Or they were tough and hardened, working here to make ends meet, doing what they had to in order to survive.
It was the last known location of Balthazar, a man whose crimes were legion. But his biggest mistake had been taking a prince of Gravas hostage and trying to sell his weapons on the open market. Not that Balthazar had known the man he’d taken was a prince, or even Gravasian. But that didn’t matter. His life was forfeit from the moment he’d harmed the king’s son.
Gravas was a warrior planet that guarded its security and secrets well. Most thought his people never ventured far from home. And they’d be mostly right. But there were long-range scouts and spies always infiltrating other worlds—all to assure their own security. They had no interest in taking over any other world or they would have done so a long time ago.
They came and left without leaving any trail, any sign that they’d passed through. The prince had been one such scout, but he’d been betrayed.
All those involved in the auction of weapons—informants, auction personnel, potential buyers—were dead and the weapons recovered. Balthazar’s little kingdom on Tortuga had been destroyed after the prince’s rescue. All that was left was for Balthazar to face judgment. But not before Kyler uncovered any secrets the man might harbor.
Gravasian justice was swift and brutal. And he was here to see it carried out.
Gravasian assassins were ghosts, whispers on the wind, and feared by all. He was deadlier, more dangerous. The ultimate hunter, he didn’t stop until the job was done. It was in his blood, in his very DNA. In every generation, one of his bloodline was the king’s blade, the sword that fell on those who crossed the crown.
He answered to no one but King Agman el Gravaso, his loyalty absolute. Few knew of his existence. He lived and worked alone.
“Can I get you anything? Kitchen’s closed, but we’re still serving drinks.”
The waitress, whose movements he’d been tracking, stopped in the dim circle of light just beyond his table. Kyler raised his head, making sure his face remained unseen. Protecting his identity was like breathing—done without thought. “Ale.” Not that he’d drink it, but to not order would raise suspicions.
The waitress nodded and wound her way back toward the bar, ignoring the catcalls and lewd suggestions tossed at her by the inebriated patrons.
A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest. For as much as he’d seen in his thirty years, the ill treatment of women and children never failed to anger him. The men here had little honor or loyalty.
Not my problem.
The mantra was one he’d chanted many times over the years. His job was to remain unseen and unheard as he carried out his mission, not change the universe.
Leaning back in his chair, he scanned the room, marking all the closed doors and possible exits. The establishment was larger than it appeared from the outside. Beyond this main area were several other levels, accessed through wide, open entryways. The bar was the best lit part of the place. Games of chance were conducted on the upper levels. Down here was primarily for drinking and eating.
From the research he’d conducted, and the intel he’d received from the king, Hell’s Gate was owned by a man named Helldrick, who conveniently happened to be Balthazar’s father. Made sense he’d flee here now that his empire on Tortuga was no more.
Patience was the key. Eventually, Balthazar would show his face or someone would let something slip. When that happened, he’d be ready.
Not like he had anything else to do.
The waitress was two tables away, tray in hand, distributing ale and other beverages as she worked her way back to him, when a man grabbed her ass. She jolted at the unexpected assault and the tray tipped. Like dominoes falling, the metal containers slid from the tray and crashed onto the table, sending a spray of ale everywhere.
Several men jumped up. “What the hell, woman?” one of them roared. His fist swung toward her. Kyler was halfway out of his chair when the unmistakable sound of an ancient laser rifle being activated broke through the noise.
The man froze, his fist hovering midair. The entire place went quiet, except for the music piped in over the speakers, which suddenly seemed overloud and out of place.
“Hit her and I’ll shoot your damn hand off.”
Kyler eased back into his seat and took a deep breath. His heart was racing. Not out of fear, but because of the vision advancing toward the group. A hint over five and a half feet, her skin was pale, her hair a shimmering gold that fell in waves around her shoulders, and her lips a delicate shade of pink.
Sensual heat wrapped around him like a warm hug.
The unusual sensation was startling. When was the last time he’d been attracted to a woman? He shrugged off the question. Sex was off the table, no matter how pleasurable it might be. No one could know or guess his real purpose.
But she might be a good source of information.
Like an avenging goddess, she swooped down and grabbed the woman by the arm. “You okay?”
The woman nodded. “Yeah. Got grabbed by a customer.” She nodded toward the angry man. “Sorry about the ale. I’ll replace it.”
Anger burned in his gut. It wasn’t her fault, but he understood her reasoning. The avenging goddess couldn’t always be around to protect her. Smoothing things over now would be better for her in the long run.
The golden-haired woman’s frown deepened, but she lowered the weapon. “The bar will replace it.”
The men at the table grunted. The one standing dropped his fist and nodded before retaking his seat.
But she wasn’t done. She swiveled around and glared at the man who’d grabbed the waitress. “This is your fault, Wallace. Do something stupid like that again and you won’t be getting back through the front door.”
The man named Wallace jumped to his feet, his face turning red. “You got no say in this, Etta. Your father owns this place, not you.”
Everything inside him stilled. This golden vision was Etta Mortis, Helldrick’s daughter. That meant she was Balthazar’s sister. Ice formed in his chest, freezing out any hint of emotion. His hand was clenched on the table. It took more effort than it should for him to relax his fingers.
There’d been no images of her in the dossier he’d received on his prey—an oversight that he needed to rectify as soon as possible.
Etta poked the man in the chest. “Fine, then you tell him why I stopped cooking, because that’s what I’ll do if this happens again. And when Big John and his crew ask why there’s no more fried gatla fish with those crispy potato skins I make, I’ll be sure to tell them.”
“You wouldn’t?”
Kyler almost smiled at the look of horror on the man’s face. Etta was proving to be resourceful and intelligent. Like her brother and father?
“Look, Wallace. If you want to ask a waitress out or see if she wants to have some fun, then ask her. Don’t grab her ass while she’s serving. She’s not that kind of working girl. They get paid for that.”
He heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, Etta.”
“No harm done. How about a drink on the house?” She patted the man on the shoulder before hurrying back to the bar and setting the laser rifle behind the counter.
She hadn’t been working there when he’d walked in. No way would he have missed her. In this den of despair, she stood out like a beacon in the night sky, a star shining bright.
Shit, he was getting downright poetic.
As though sensing someone watching her, Etta scanned the room, her gaze landing directly on him. He didn’t look away, even though she couldn’t see past his hood.
With a roll of her shoulders, she conferred with the waitres
s and poured drinks. Before long, everyone had another drink. Everyone but him.
The waitress walked away without making eye contact. Etta scooted out from behind the bar. Two glasses of ale in hand, she sauntered toward him.
His first instinct was to stand as she approached. He kept his seat and tilted his head to one side.
“Mind if I join you?”
****
A bead of sweat rolled down her back, but she kept her expression neutral, bordering on friendly. The situation with Wallace and the others was nothing new, but it was always a balancing act to keep it from exploding into something serious.
She’d forgotten how much she’d hated handling these kinds of conflicts.
Most of the time, she hid in the kitchen, keeping the food coming. And since sales were up since she’d been back, Helldrick hadn’t complained.
But tonight, he’d left her to close the bar. An unusual occurrence. Call her paranoid, but the fact there was a stranger watching her seemed like too much of a coincidence. Sure, they got newcomers from time-to-time, but they almost always came with a friend or ally. At least the first time.
She’d been away a long time, so she’d checked with the waitress, who’d confirmed her suspicions. This guy was new. He was also huge. Even sitting down, he seemed to dominate the space. He radiated a fuck-off vibe that was unmistakable.
Better to take the bull by the horns and find out what she could about the man. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe he’d simply been curious about the drama.
The itch in the back of her neck said otherwise.
The stranger hadn’t moved. Not to fidget or shift his weight. A cold shiver skated down her spine, in spite of the stagnant heat in the room. Danger! her mind screamed.
She licked her dry lips and set his drink on the table. “Forget I asked.”
Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) Page 1
