Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3)

by N. J. Walters

  Plasglass was shatterproof. If anyone tossed a rock at it, it wouldn’t break. It would withstand most impact. The hole was perfectly round, most likely cut with a laser of some sort.

  This was no mere criminal. This was a professional.

  He’d have to climb the side of the building, cut the hole, disconnect the security system, which was wired into the place, and then raise the window and climb in.

  He’d done it all with her sleeping a short distance away.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” There was a time she’d have been alerted when he’d touched the glass, her senses so finely tuned. Had being away for two years softened her?

  “No.” She bent her forehead, resting it against her raised knees. If anything, her instincts had become even more sharply honed. A woman on her own in the universe always had to be on her guard against theft and much, much worse.

  She grabbed the covers and tugged them over her. Sweat beaded on her brow, but the chill wouldn’t go away.

  One minute, she’d been asleep, the next, she’d sensed his presence and tried to stab him. At least all her instincts hadn’t been muted. Protecting herself was ingrained in her DNA.

  The light from the baseboard strip cast the room in shadows. She usually found it comforting, but tonight, all it did was mock her. He’d used the shadows, hiding in them, destroying her sense of safety.

  She swallowed heavily. “You’re not a child. Not any longer.” But she had been a child once, alone in the dark, forgotten.

  On a cry of anger, she turned on the light, letting the glow spill over the room, dispelling the shadows. She hated the weakness, had worked hard to overcome it.

  In a matter of seconds, the intruder had undone all her years of hard work.

  “No.” She would not allow it. With a click, the light winked out, with the exception of the baseboard strip.

  Her breathing increased and her heart pounded. Etta tilted her head back and silently screamed her fury, the chords of her neck tightening. It would be more satisfying to yell her lungs out, but her sisters didn’t deserve to be scared out of their minds. They’d been through enough in their short lives.

  Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she eventually calmed. Her lightweight sleepwear was damp and plastered to her skin, but she didn’t bother to get up and change.

  Wide awake, she stared at the window. Had it been Ky? Two strangers in one evening seemed a bit too much of a coincidence.

  The muscles in her hand cramped. She’d been gripping the knife for quite some time. On a sigh, she slipped it under the pillow beside her. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t slept with one there.

  She’d gotten small daggers for her sisters before she’d left and taught them how to use them. They’d all hidden that information from the girls’ mother. They’d proudly shown her they remembered her lessons when she’d returned.

  The corners of her mouth eased upward. They were both so smart, the possibilities for their futures limitless. They deserved more than to molder on this world, working in Helldrick’s bar and being used in whatever game or deal he cooked up.

  She’d find a way to save them somehow.

  A snippet of the dream she’d been having when she’d been jerked out of sleep returned to her. There’d been a man. She rubbed her fingers lightly over her lips, making them tingle. Who was he?

  In the way of most dreams, details were elusive. She struggled to remember his face but couldn’t. But he’d been a big man. His arms had wrapped around her, not in a confining way, but one of protection and caring.

  Definitely a dream. She’d never met a man who’d put her first.

  Her fingers feathered over the edge of her jaw. She dropped her hand and clenched her fingers into a fist.

  “Don’t mix up a pleasant dream with the intruder.” His touch confused her, both frightening and compelling.

  “You’re okay. You’re safe.” The reminder didn’t help. He wanted information about Balthazar. This wasn’t the kind of man who’d simply walk away. No, he’d be back.

  “And I’ll be ready.” He wouldn’t take her unawares the next time. She’d put extra precautions in place going forward, both for herself and the girls.

  As for Ky, if he was the intruder, he’d likely come back to Hell’s Gate. How better to monitor Balthazar’s comings and goings.

  Unease snaked over her, leaving chill bumps on her skin. What if they weren’t the same person? Her half-brother had a tendency to piss off a lot of people.

  Her first task would be to learn as much about Ky as she could. Checking with the regulars would be her first step. Just because the waitress hadn’t known him didn’t mean some of the others hadn’t done business with him.

  All she had was a name, assuming it was even his real one, and a general description of his size.

  He could walk into the bar and she might not recognize him.

  No. There was no way she couldn’t know him. There’d been something about the stranger that had drawn her, made her want to learn more about him. That never happened.

  Her eyes closed and her head dropped forward. She should lie down and rest. The sun would be rising soon, and she’d have to start another long day.

  But she remained upright, leaning against the headboard. As she drifted off, both strangers merged in his mind, becoming one. In her heart, she knew they were one and the same.

  “I’m going to make you very sorry, Ky,” she whispered.

  Chapter Three

  Under cover of the table, Kyler flipped a knife through his fingers. Not just any knife. It was the one he’d taken from Etta. He should have left it behind. It was always a mistake to take anything during a mission, especially something so personal.

  It wasn’t an overly large blade, but it was sharp. The wood of the handle was smooth and slightly worn from use. It wasn’t monogrammed, had no metal accents or embellishments. It was a tool to be used.

  Why had it been under her pillow? Why had there been baseboard lighting? What was she afraid of?

  He had to force the muscles of his arms and torso to relax. Not my problem, he reminded himself for the hundredth time since he’d left her last night.

  His gaze strayed to the door to the left of the bar. Etta had gone in there earlier and hadn’t shown her face since. Where was she?

  She’d followed him into his dreams—a pleasant change from the faces of the dead who usually haunted him. Nightmares came with the job of being the king’s blade. It didn’t stop him, but it made for many restless nights.

  Sitting in a new location, he listened to the conversations around him, unconsciously sifting through all of it for information that might help. It was something he did unconsciously.

  Once again, he wore his heavy cloak to cover his face. It wasn’t as bad as some might think, considering the air was stifling, in spite of the central air cooling and recycling system. His cloak appeared nondescript, but like all his clothing, it was made from the finest material, which kept him warm in colder temperatures and cool in the warmer ones. Beneath them, he wore a battlesuit, a virtually indestructible body armor that was surprisingly lightweight and maneuverable.

  “You again.” A tall, skinny male around fifty or so years of age with silver-gray hair, light-brown skin, and dark eyes pulled out a chair and sat without invitation. “You were here last evening.”

  He inclined his head without comment.

  “Etta doesn’t usually sit with us,” the man continued. “Too good for the likes of us.” There was nothing bitter in his tone, nothing to indicate he held any kind of grudge against her. It was more of a statement of fact.

  Kyler leaned back in his chair. A man learned more by listening than talking.

  The man lifted his cup and had a swig of ale. “Word of warning, friend. Stay away from her unless you want to get hurt. There are a lot of folks here who think mighty highly of that girl. The kind that might gut you in a back alley, if you get my drift.”


  The knife in his fingers stilled. Now this was interesting. “And her father?”

  He gave a derisive snort. “He’s a right bastard and proud of it. Not the kind you want to cross. He’d be as likely to congratulate you as he would shoot you in the back. There’s never any way of knowing until it’s too late.”

  “And her brother?”

  The man indicated his empty cup. Knowing what was expected, Kyler held up his hand until he caught the attention of one of the servers and pointed to the man across from him. The two of them sat silently until the waitress returned and placed two ales on the table—one for them both. He flipped her a credit that would cover twice that and nodded his thanks.

  There were likely several people around them listening in on their conversation. That was fine with him. Might encourage a few others to approach.

  “Much obliged.” The man lifted the fresh ale and gulped down half. “Talking is thirsty work. I’m Moe, by the way.” When Kyler remained silent, he gave a nervous laugh and tugged and the collar of his shirt.

  “You were going to tell me about her brother,” he prompted.

  “Sure. Sure. He’s a chip off the old block. Just like his old man.”

  “I haven’t seen him.” He was careful to keep his voice modulated and show only faint interest.

  “He comes and goes. Will likely be here again soon. Never stays away for too long.”

  “Protective of his sister, is he?”

  Moe slapped his hand on the table, his uproarious laughter gaining them even more attention. “Him?” He swiped his hand over his face. “Balthazar looks out for himself. Now if he could find a way to use her to his benefit, he would.”

  The smile faded from Moe’s face. “Aye, we thought we’d seen the last of her, but she showed up some months back. Whatever he got her involved in wasn’t good.”

  Kyler’s senses began to hum. Awareness crept over his skin, making it prickle. He turned his head slowly, scanning as much of the room as he could without being obvious about it. There were several men paying particular attention to them. One of them with malicious intent.

  His instincts were never wrong.

  “What did he get her involved in?”

  Moe shoved away from the table. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. And if you’re smart, you won’t ask again. Just stay away from Etta and you won’t have any trouble.” Warning given, he hurried away and rejoined a group at the far side of the bar.

  “Making friends?”

  Now his senses were humming for a whole other reason. Etta stood beside the table, her magnificent hair bundled up behind her head, her cheeks flushed an enticing pink. The floral scent of the cleansing gel she’d used mixed with spices, giving her an exotic and memorable scent. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, accentuating the mounds. Intentional or unintentional? Either way, it was provocative.

  And he had a good idea what she’d look like beneath her clothing. The top she’d worn to sleep in last night had been the same blue of her eyes. The material had been thin enough to allow him to see the outline of her nipples, something he’d managed not to focus on too intently at the time.

  Now, his body instantly responded, his dick jumping to attention.

  Ignoring his growing arousal, he nodded to the vacated chair. “Moe was warning me off.” Direct and honest often gained more information than subterfuge.

  Her brow furrowed. “He was what?”

  “He was warning me to stay away from you. Seems you have some protectors here.”

  Her gaze softened and her lips parted in surprise. “Really?” She glanced over at the table where Moe sat and gave him a small wave when he raised his ale in salute.

  “Former lover?” His question was sharper than he’d intended. Didn’t matter to him if she’d had dozens of lovers. Was actually better since it would dull some of the innocent aura that radiated from her.

  “Moe? God, no. He’s my father’s age. I practically grew up in this bar. I’ve known him my entire life. There are a lot of people here that I know. You, however, are a stranger.” Since she refused to sit, he stood. The higher he rose, the more her eyes widened. She swallowed, her slender throat rippling.

  Was it bruised? The pulse in her throat pulsed wildly. He made her nervous.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Since you won’t sit, I’ll stand.” Not only was it good manners, but it also flustered her. Keeping her off-balance was the key to getting information.

  She pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

  “If you do.” He’d stand there all night if he had to. She might think she was stubborn, but she’d met her match in him.

  With a roll of her eyes, she dragged out a chair and slumped down. “Fine. Are you happy?”

  “For now.” He retook his seat.

  “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to not be able to see your face? You’re nothing more than a big black blob and a deep voice.” She tapped her fingers on the table.

  His lips twitched. He’d been called many things in his life, but never that. He remained silent. How far could he push her?

  “I had a visitor last night.” She abruptly changed the course of the conversation. Her gaze was direct, her words calculated to get a response. This was not a woman to underestimate for all her charm.

  “Good for you.”

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, appearing outwardly relaxed. This was the woman who’d attacked him with a knife, the same one he’d tucked away before he’d stood.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”

  “Why would I?” This reluctance to lie to her was off-putting. Better to toss a question back at her.

  “Who knows the minds of men?” It was said so deadpan, he chuckled. It was over in a heartbeat, but it was a genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in so long he couldn’t remember.

  “He was a big guy, like you. Dressed all in black.”

  “Fascinating.” It was his turn to be deadpan.

  “Wasn’t fun at the time. He wasn’t invited.”

  Kyler ignored the clutch in his gut. “Were you hurt?” He leaned forward slightly, the action meant to convey worry. Only this time it wasn’t feigned. He really was concerned.

  She tilted her head to one side, studying him intently. “Couple of tiny bruises on my neck. Nothing serious. I’ll take more precautions going forward.”

  “And you’re telling me this, why?” The cat-and-mouse game they were engaged in was pleasantly enjoyable.

  “Just making conversation. I thought it was interesting I met two strangers yesterday, both of them big and not willing to show their faces.” Once again, her fingers were tapping.

  “You never saw his face?”

  “Nope. Wore a mask. Maybe he’s afraid I’d recognize him if I saw him.”

  Making a split-second decision, he covered her hand with his until it was flattened against the table. “I’ll show you mine.”

  ****

  The shock of his touch reverberated up her arm. His skin was so warm it was almost hot. He had to be almost suffocating beneath the cloak.

  “You’re serious? You’ll show me your face?”

  “I will. Just not here. I have enemies.” He inclined his head toward the room.

  Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid.

  “Come with me.” Crap, she was going to be stupid. She had enough problems of her own without getting involved with a man who had enemies. Who was this stranger who’d walked into her world only yesterday, but who’d made a huge impact with his mere presence?

  She’d get a good look at him and satisfy her curiosity. They could both be on their way and that would be that.

  If the gods were smiling on her, he’d be homely and as old as her father. But the way things had gone lately, she wasn’t counting on it.

  Plus, if she could see his eyes, read his face, he might betray his thoughts, give her the answers she needed
.

  All eyes were on them as she led the way to the kitchen. Was it her imagination or had the volume dropped in the bar? Her father’s cronies would be sure to report this deviation of her schedule. There were no shackles on her, but she was a prisoner here until she could figure out how to get her sisters out.

  That would take more money than she had, passage somewhere safe, and a destination where her father and brother would never find them.

  If such a place even exists.

  She rubbed her fingers over her temple, willing away the throbbing ache that had been with her all day. Sleep had eluded her last night. Coupled with the long day, she was ready to drop into bed and sleep for eight hours straight.

  “Are you okay?” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. No shivers. Nope. Not having them.

  “Headache.” She motioned to a stool and stood behind her work station. As much habit, as to give herself something to do, she grabbed a knife and began to butcher the meat on the counter. The type and where it had come from was suspect, but it was fresh. Perfect for a big pot of stew.

  The kitchen area was well lit, giving her a better idea of just how big Ky was. The answer? Huge. He might even be bigger than Balthazar.

  “Sit,” she ordered, pointing the tip of her knife at the stool. “You’re giving me a crick in my neck.”

  He shook his head, but sat. “You run the kitchen?”

  “Yes.” Head down, she diced all the meat. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Finally, she set down the knife and wiped her hands clean. “Well?”

  As if all he’d been waiting for was her full attention, he raised his hand to the hood of his cloak. Anticipation thrummed through her. Her stomach was a ball of nerves. She gripped the edge of the counter.

  Ever so slowly, he lowered the covering.

  Her mouth dropped. He was gorgeous.

  Straight black hair fell to his shoulders, pushed away from a face that had been carved by the gods. His chin and jaw were hewn from stone. And his cheekbones were prominent slashes in his face. Mesmerized, she stared into eyes as dark as midnight.