Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3)

by N. J. Walters

  At least you can be together for the time you have.

  Maybe that would be enough. “I have to save the girls.” His own death didn’t bother him. If anyone killed Etta while he still lived, he’d become a thing of nightmares, killing all in his path.

  They’d made him what he was. Created the perfect killing machine. One without an off button or a failsafe.

  Etta was his trigger.

  She’d awoken emotions that had always eluded him—compassion, caring … love. Did he love her? He must if he was willing to throw everything away for her. Maybe it was too soon to know for sure, but there was no denying the overwhelming desire he had to protect and care for her.

  The internal battle between intellect and instinct silently raged. Finally, he took what seemed like his first real breath since he’d left her. “I love her.” There was no other explanation.

  Fighting himself and his feelings would hinder, not help. He pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly. “Food, shower, sleep.” He needed to recharge and think. Then he’d go see Etta.

  Would she even speak to him after his abrupt departure?

  He went to his room, stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the gel cleansing unit. He’d make her talk to him. If it came to it, he’d sneak into her room again. Naked and refreshed, he went to the small galley and pulled out several prepackaged, nutrient-dense meals, heating and devouring them while standing up. It was bland, but filling and replenishing.

  He wanted to taste something Etta made. Right now, she’d be more likely to poison him. His grin caught him by surprise. She was feisty and fierce, his woman.

  His.

  His stomach filled, his body clean, he went back to his room and dropped onto the bed. “Computer, full security on. Wake me in six planetary hours.”

  Closing his eyes, he pulled up images of Etta, replaying their lovemaking. His body hardened, his heart healed, and he finally gave in to exhaustion and rested.

  ****

  “The rat bastard,” Etta muttered as she slammed a lid onto a pot. She’d been on a tear for most of the day. Only the girls were safe from her bad mood. Everyone else had kept out of her way.

  It had been hours and there’d been no word from or sign of him.

  She rubbed her hands over her apron and stared blankly at the cooking unit. When she wasn’t angry, she was on the verge of heartbreak. The back-and-forth of emotions was making her crazy.

  “You’re not talking about me, are you, dear sister?”

  She whirled around and faced her nemesis. “Where have you been?”

  Balthazar ambled into the room, a smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story. They were filled with rage and edged with fear. “Be careful how you speak to me, little sister.”

  “You got on the wrong side of the Gravasians? In what universe is that a good idea?” She was primed for a fight, throwing caution to the winds.

  “I didn’t know he was Gravasian, only that he had weapons that could be theirs. I wouldn’t have known that much if our father hadn’t pointed it out to me. I’d planned to question the man, but there were complications.”

  She’d just bet there had been complications. There’d been talk. She had no idea what was truth or fiction, but the rumblings among the regular customers was that something had gone very wrong for Balthazar. There was no way to know the truth without asking him directly, and his temper was even more volatile than Helldrick’s.

  A bitter laugh bubbled up from inside. “Your intel came from Helldrick and you didn’t question why he didn’t take the tech for himself? He set you up for the fall.” Gods, both the men in her life were ruled by their greed and ambition.

  He shrugged. “No risk. No reward.”

  She briefly closed her eyes and prayed for strength. This entire mess was his fault.

  Only it wasn’t. She should have said no to drugging the man, should have found another way to save her sisters. She was as guilty as he was. Okay, maybe not as guilty, but she’d played a part in it.

  Etta raked her fingers through her hair and then went to the sink to wash her hands. “What do you want?”

  “What I always want. To come out on top.” He reached across the counter separating them and took her chin in his large hand. “And you’re going to help me do it.”

  “Really? How do you figure that?” She jerked her head away.

  “I need information and you want to stay alive. The Gravasians will send an assassin.” He stroked his flaming red beard, his expression becoming calculating.

  Little did he know the assassin was already here. A shudder wracked her from head to toe. Fear warred with anger. Why had Kyler left without talking to her? Was he going to choose duty over what they’d shared and handle the job himself, or would he take her back to Gravas to face justice? And what about the girls?

  Mistaking her shudder for pure fear, Balthazar nodded. “You understand the situation. If an assassin shows up, he’ll learn of your part in this.”

  “My fate is sealed.” And it was in the hands of her lover. All she could do was try to right the wrongs she’d done.

  Her brother frowned. “So fatalistic. I thought you’d be more eager to fight. What about your sisters?”

  She didn’t bother reminding him they were his sisters as well. It just didn’t matter to him. “Get to the point. I have fish to prep before the evening crowd arrives.”

  He loomed over her, a scowl darkening his face. “You don’t seem to be taking this seriously.”

  After lifting twenty pounds of gatla fish onto the counter, she began to slice it into single portion servings. “Believe me, I’m taking this very seriously. You fucked up and now you want me to fix it.”

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. His unpredictable responses unnerved most people, but she’d grown up around Balthazar and took it all in stride. “When did you get a backbone?”

  “Better late than never,” she muttered. If she could go back in time, she’d have done so many things differently. She’d have taken Yonna and the girls when she’d escaped the first time. Or she’d have warned the Gravasian and not drugged him.

  “This situation can still be salvaged.” He stalked around the room until he was standing directly behind her. It took everything inside her not to hunch her shoulders. He’d like that, fed off the fear of others.

  “I don’t see how.” But like Helldrick, he liked to talk, craved being the center of attention. If she could keep him talking, she might learn something that could help.

  “I’ve heard there’s a stranger lurking around the bar.” He ran a finger across her nape and down her back. Icy dread filled the pit of her stomach.

  “There are always strangers.” Her hand fisted around the handle of the fish knife.

  A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulders and squeezed. “But this one seems particularly interested in you.”

  She’d known word would reach him and Helldrick. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

  His breath was hot on her neck as he chuckled. “We both know you’re nothing to look at.”

  She’d sucked in a breath. She’d heard a variation of this since she was a child from both the men in her life. They’d done their best to break her confidence. For a moment, it wavered. Had Kyler really slept with her to get information?

  No, she wouldn’t believe that. The way he’d touched her, the urgency of his passion couldn’t be faked. “Your point?” She kept her tone even and her body as relaxed as possible. If he wasn’t getting a reaction from her, he’d tire of his game of intimidation and back off faster.

  “I think he’s a spy for the Gravasians.”

  “And not an assassin?”

  He gave her a small shove when he released her. Expecting it, she caught herself before she hit the counter. “You don’t see their assassins. They’re ghosts. They kill and leave without a trace. This has to be a spy of some kind.”

  “Can’t just be a stranger interested in
me?”

  “No.” The blunt response should hurt, but it didn’t. Maybe the two years away had done some good. Or maybe it was Kyler who’d made the difference, helped her see herself in a different light.

  “What does he look like?” Balthazar demanded. “The stranger?”

  How much should she tell him? She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve never gotten a really good look. He wears a hooded cloak most of the time.” He’d have that information. To give her hands something to do, she went back to work on the fish.

  She caught the flash of metal, yanking her hand back just before a huge blade slammed into the counter, piercing the fish dead center. “Don’t fuck with me, little girl. Your life depends on your usefulness.”

  Heart racing and hands shaking, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “That may be, but I’m already dead if the Gravasians are coming for you.” Maybe not smart to goad him, but she needed information.

  “I’ll survive. I always do,” he assured her. “And you’re going to help me.”

  Here it comes. “How?”

  His smile was slow and cunning. “Nothing you haven’t done before.”

  “No. No, I won’t drug him.”

  “Etta. Etta. Etta.” He shook his head. “Why do you protest? We went through this the last time. You’ll fuss, but in the end, you’ll do as I ask to protect those brats, won’t you?”

  Gods, she wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. She’d caved the last time. Why would he expect anything different this time? “Where are the girls?” They had to be her priority.

  Balthazar’s smile was dazzling. It was no wonder the women flocked to him even knowing he was a mean bastard. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? And the girls are still here. For now. Will your friend be back tonight?”

  She shrugged and answered honestly. “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She tilted her chin up. “No.” That she wouldn’t give him. “He’s tall with dark hair and dark eyes. That’s as much as I know.” And that generic description could fit just about anyone. “Like I said, he wears a hood. Ask anyone.”

  “Good girl.”

  She wanted to smack his condescending face but refrained.

  He reached into his pocket, drew out a vial, and set it on the counter. “Put this in his food.”

  Relief filled her. “He doesn’t eat here.” Probably because he didn’t trust it not to be drugged. Was it just here or was he like that everywhere? Knowing Kyler, it was the latter.

  “Then you’ll have to find some way to get it into his ale.” He tapped his finger against his lips. “Use your feminine wiles, what few you have, if necessary. Just make sure he drinks this. Once the bar shuts down for the night, my men will collect him, just like last time. Until then, one of them will stay upstairs with the girls.”

  She could feel all the blood draining from her face. “Not one of those Barskans?” The two men had worked for her brother for years. They were huge brutes with reddish tinged skin. They were loyal to a fault and wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever Balthazar asked of them.

  Etta skirted the room, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “To check on the girls.”

  He shook his finger in front of her. “No, you don’t. You stay right here. If your friend shows, you get that drug into his drink somehow. If he doesn’t show, then we’ll do this again tomorrow and the day after until he does show. If you don’t…” He trailed off, leaving her to fill in the ending.

  “You’re a complete bastard. You know that?” She’d never been a violent person. Yes, she’d learned to protect herself, but that was different. Right now, if she could end him and still find a way to save the girls, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

  “I take that as a compliment.” His expression tightened, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “The Gravasians took something from me, but I’m a survivor. I’ll find a way to come out on top. I always do.”

  She didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself.

  He shook himself and pointed to the vial. “Don’t disappoint me. Remember”—he tilted his head back—“the girls are depending on you.”

  “Where’s Helldrick?”

  Balthazar grinned once again, his emotions quicksilver. “He’s around. Never you fear.”

  Alone in the kitchen, Etta buried her face in her hands and sucked in a deep breath. “What am I going to do?”

  Chapter Nine

  What will she do?

  Kyler leaned back in his newly-repaired chair on the control deck of his ship and listened to the entire conversation. The listening device he’d placed in the kitchen had done its job well. Leaving the computer to continue recording, he replayed the conversation again and again, considering and absorbing every nuance.

  Sometimes the tiniest details made a huge difference.

  It was curious that Helldrick was the one to point out the Gravasian weapons to his son. How had he known they were Gravasian? Or had he simply noticed they were different and decided they were worth taking? Either way, there would have been risks involved, but Helldrick had passed it off to his son. What kind of father did that?

  Of course, some would question his own father for allowing his son to become an assassin. But his life was about honor and sacrifice and serving a higher good. Something the morally bankrupt Helldrick and Balthazar could never understand.

  And he’d threatened Etta and the girls.

  Kyler looked down at the blades in his hands. He had no memory of drawing them. They danced across his fingers, beautiful instruments of death.

  He’d only met Maggs and Sera once but was already protective of them. They were innocent and sweet—two things sorely missing from his life.

  Then there was Etta. He understood her motives better now. The world had always existed in shades of black and white. He’d never questioned his principles or ideals … until Etta.

  She was caught in a deadly struggle between greed and power on one side and honor and Gravasian justice on the other. But what was justice?

  She was guilty of drugging the king’s son. Freely admitted it. But her motives had been pure. The king would have done anything to protect his son, and he was a grown man. Etta was protecting children. She’d had no one else to turn to for help.

  He spun around in his chair and flung both blades. They shot straight and true, slamming into separate targets that were set up around the command center. The handles vibrated before finally settling.

  What will she do? The question echoed in his mind. She wasn’t alone this time. But did she know that? Given the way he’d left things, it was more likely she considered him an enemy.

  Leaning forward in his chair, he manually switched to the feed of the devices he’d planted in the apartment. Specifically, the tiny camera he’d risked in the main living area. As promised, a very large male with reddish skin paced the small room, casting glares toward the hallway. Barskans were loyal, but that loyalty was bought and paid for. Kyler memorized every feature of the male. He was a dead man. If he worked with Balthazar, he’d been a part of whatever happened to the king’s son.

  He sent off a picture to the Gravasian high command, along with the information he had. If Kyler was unable to execute his mission, another assassin would come for the Barskan.

  He toggled over to the device he’d planted in the girl’s room—this one audio only. They were speaking softly, so he manipulated the controls until they came in more clearly.

  “Where’s Etta?” It was Maggs, the younger one.

  “She’s at work. Don’t worry. But don’t draw anything. The man was right. It’s not safe for you to draw pictures of your dreams.” She was only a few years old, but Sera sounded too much like an adult. Living under constant threat was putting too much stress on them. Not to mention they’d recently lost their mother.

  “It hurts when I don’t draw.”

  There
was a shuffling sound. “I know.” He couldn’t see them but could picture the older one comforting her sister.

  “The man will help us,” Maggs insisted.

  Kyler’s heart skipped a beat before speeding up. Was she talking about him?

  “I don’t think so,” Sera told her. “Men do what’s in their best interest. You could always draw a picture of Etta. She’d like that.”

  He swallowed heavily. She was so young to be so cynical. The weight of expectations pressed down on him. On one side were his king and entire world. On the other were Etta and the girls.

  Sitting back, he closed his eyes and allowed the computer to filter the conversations. Every interaction he’d had with Etta played across his mind, the images unfolding like a recording.

  One of his strengths was he forgot nothing. His memory rivaled that of a computer chip. It was both a blessing and a curse.

  His breathing deepened as he replayed their time together in bed. Her soft moans of pleasure had the fine hairs on his body standing on end. The soft texture of her skin, the sweet scent of her desire was as real to him now as it had been when they’d made love.

  His cock stirred, pressing against the inside of his battlesuit. He reached between his legs to adjust himself. It didn’t help.

  Meditation and concentration exercises failed. But that was because he didn’t really want to stop thinking about her. He’d never needed anyone. Even leaving his family hadn’t bothered him much. He’d grown up with the knowledge he’d be going into the king’s service and had separated himself from them at a young age. And they’d encouraged it.

  But Etta was different. She was the air he needed to breathe, food for his withered soul, her voice music to his ears.

  Cursing, he jumped from his chair and went to the cargo bay to work out yet again. He pushed his body hard. Went through complex routines designed to sharpen his concentration. Always before, king and county had been his grounding point.

  Not this time.

  Etta was now his focus. She and the girls.

  His body fell into the familiar practice. His mind settled. His heart and breathing calmed.