Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3)

by N. J. Walters

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” He was dismissing her, and she sure as hell didn’t like it. Not after she’d given him her trust and gambled everything. “I could tell the Barskan what you did.”

  “Your choice.”

  “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?” Maybe she’d imagined their connection. Maybe for him, their relationship had been purely physical. Only it hadn’t seemed that way at the time. He’d been as torn between duty and need as she had.

  “I am what they made me.”

  Heart breaking, she stood. “Goodbye.” Fear raced through her as she headed back to the bar. Loralie was glaring at her as she went back to work. She’d told Kyler she wouldn’t run, but that was only if he’d protect the girls. As far as she was concerned, all bets were off.

  Gods, it hurt to even think about never seeing him again. Or worse, becoming prey to his hunter. As soon as they closed, she’d grab the girls, run, and try to find a way off this godforsaken place.

  She could never stop running. Balthazar and Helldrick would come after her. Or more likely, hire someone to kill her. That was if Kyler and the Gravasians didn’t get her first.

  ****

  He’d never hated himself more.

  Allowing her to walk away was the hardest thing he’d ever done, even if it was in her best interest. The last thing he wanted was for the people watching them to think she was helping him. Balthazar likely had more than the Barskan here tonight. He’d already targeted three more that could be potential problems. Then there was the fact he needed something to bring to the king when he laid Etta’s case in front of him. Being able to honestly say that she’d helped him without a promise or aid or pardon would go a long way.

  Because there was no changing the fact that she’d drugged the king’s son.

  The vial cracked in his hand. Liquid spilled over his fingers. He dropped it to the floor under the table and crushed it with his boot before wiping the drug onto his cloak. He’d meant to keep it as evidence, but his word and the audio recording of their exchange would have to serve.

  Lifting the glass of ale, he put it to his lips but didn’t drink. Etta might not have drugged it, but he wouldn’t put it past the waitress.

  It hurt to watch Etta work. Her face was drawn and pinched. Her actions were jerky, lacking their usual fluid grace. Her fear permeated the air until he swore he could smell it.

  She’d never forgive him. Not when he could have put her mind at ease, assured her he’d do everything in his power to help.

  Duty had sustained him his entire life. Now it left a vile taste in his mouth. He wanted to flip the table and roar his anger and frustration. None of the internal battle raging inside him was visible to anyone watching. All they’d see was a cloaked man drinking ale.

  Keeping up the façade was killing him. Every muscle in his body was taut. He was hot, like he was running a fever. His skin itched, the inactivity weighing on him.

  When the metal cup began to bend beneath his fingers, he set it down on the table. More customers left as the last call was sent out from the bar. It wouldn’t be long now, but each moment was interminable.

  Knowing it was time for the charade to begin, he surreptitiously spilled some ale every time he picked up the cup until it was half gone. Deeming it enough, he allowed his body to sway before shaking himself, as if trying to ward off tiredness.

  He didn’t look toward the bar. He couldn’t and concentrate on what he had to do. But she was still there. Would she leave when the bar closed? He hoped her anger with him would carry her out of here.

  Otherwise, she’d see him as he truly was—a merciless killer.

  Like a light going off in the darkness, he understood why he’d done everything in his power to push her away. It wasn’t just so she could be safe and he could make her case to the king. It was so she wouldn’t see the real him.

  What would she think, how would she feel, when she realized what he truly was? Yes, she knew he was an assassin. But it was one thing to know it, quite another to see the results.

  Lowering his head to the table, he turned his head toward the Barskan. He would likely be the one to approach him first. Breathing deeply, he centered himself, pulling on all his years of training.

  Finally, only a few customers remained.

  It was time.

  ****

  The night had dragged endlessly. Time to get gone. Only she couldn’t. Not with Kyler lying across his table, seemingly helpless. It was all an act. Or she hoped it was. It was an awful good one. He hadn’t so much as twitched since he put his head down.

  Had something gone wrong? Had Loralie slipped something into his ale?

  And why should she care? He’d been so cold, so reserved earlier. Nothing at all like the man who’d taken her to bed and given her the most sensual experience of her life. She was on her own with Maggs and Sera depending on her. She had no guarantees of help, only the promise of retribution from all sides.

  Why were the innocent the first trampled in the wars of men?

  All she wanted was to create a home for herself and the girls, work at her job, and live a quiet life. Not too much to ask in the scheme of things, but she might as well ask for a star.

  The other servers had left, but Loralie lingered. That in itself was telling, as the woman usually lit out of there as soon as she was finished her shift.

  “You can head out now,” Etta told her. “I’ll finish closing things down.” There were still four patrons here, including the Barskan, but they were all finishing off their drinks.

  “You sure? I don’t mind hanging around, honey.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot and studied her fingernails.

  Anger and disappointment congealed inside her. “Go home. You won’t learn any more to tell Helldrick tonight.”

  Her head shot up, her lips pursed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t make it worse by lying.” Gods, she was tired of all the games and intrigue. “I know he’s paying you to watch me.” She tilted her head toward Kyler. “And him. Go home now.” In spite of not being able to trust Loralie, she didn’t want her hurt. “It’s not safe here.”

  The waitress glanced toward the Barskan, who was glaring at them, and paled. “I’m out of here.” She grabbed her purse from behind the bar and left without a backward glance. What had Etta expected? That Loralie might show some concern for her well-being?

  She ran a cleaning rag over the counter and began emptying the dish-cleaning unit, refilling the shelves for tomorrow. When she could put it off no longer, she walked to the door. “We’re closed. Time for you to leave.”

  Nobody moved.

  It was her first sign that something wasn’t right. Her skin prickled when one of the men sneered at her. This was so not good.

  As nonchalantly as she could, she strolled back behind the bar and grabbed the blaster, wishing it was a newer model. She raised it, pointing it at the man closest to the door. Like the other three, he was big and looked mean. “Like I said, we’re closed.”

  “Not to us.” The man farthest away from her pulled his weapon and stood. “What are you gonna do now?”

  Shit, with them so far apart, there wasn’t much she could do. “There’s no reason for anyone to get hurt. Just leave and there won’t be any repercussions.” If they were here to rob the place, they sure as hell picked the wrong night.

  The man with the weapon looked toward the Barskan for direction.

  “You work for Balthazar. That son of a bitch.”

  The Barskan stood to his full height, his reddish skin and scowl a fearful sight. “Stay,” he ordered.

  She bristled but kept her mouth shut. Arguing wouldn’t help. Neither would antagonizing him. Her sisters were upstairs. But Kyler was here, making it four against one.

  Her fingers tightened on the weapon and she swung it slightly toward the man closest to her. If she had to make a run for it, he was the one most likely to catch her. She had t
o force herself to stop clenching the weapon so hard.

  The Barskan strolled over to the table and poked Kyler’s shoulder hard. It moved him, but he didn’t stir. Her brother’s man grunted at her. “Good job.”

  He was pretending to be passed out, right? Gods, she hoped so. There was no way she could take down all of these men. If the worst happened, she’d let them take Kyler and find a way to contact the Gravasian king and let him know what happened.

  That was if she was still alive.

  Her heart pounded, drowning out almost all other sounds. The scene before her unfolded in slow-motion, everyone’s actions exaggerated. All her senses were heightened. The smell of ale permeated the air. A bead of sweat rolled down one man’s temple.

  The Barskan bent to pick up Kyler. Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger of her blaster.

  Like a ship being catapulted into deep space by boosters, Kyler exploded out of his chair. He hit the Barskan in the eyes, neck, and chest, his hands a blur. Blood spurted out from the wounds, the big man dropping to his knees before anyone else could react.

  One of the remaining men fired toward Kyler, but he was already gone, melted into the shadows.

  Adrenaline flooded her system, making her hands shake. None of the men were paying her any attention. They were all focused on finding Kyler. Swearing, she leaned down, rested the barrel of the blaster against the counter, took aim, and fired. The man closest to her dropped.

  Another spun around to face her. She stared death in the face. This close, he couldn’t miss. She started to duck, the instinct to survive too strong to ignore. Before she could move, the man collapsed, a knife hilt sticking out of his left eye.

  Another man dropped, clutching at his neck where a knife was embedded.

  The remaining man’s eyes were wild as he bolted for the door. Two knives rammed into the back of his neck. His entire body jerked and he toppled forward. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  Kyler emerged from the shadows, a cloaked giant. Ignoring her, he systematically went around the room, checking the downed men and retrieving his knives from the bodies. When he got to the one she’d put down, he glanced toward her.

  “This blaster will only stun,” she told him. And she was glad. She didn’t want to be responsible for killing anyone.

  He rolled the man onto his back, crouched beside him, and stripped his weapons from him. Then he tapped his face until he opened his eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

  The man frantically shook his head. “This was a simple pick-up. That’s all.”

  “Where were you supposed to take me?” Kyler was completely calm. Did the man have ice water in his veins? He wasn’t even breathing heavy. She, on the other hand, was panting like she’d run for miles.

  “Ship in the docking station.” He licked his lips. “Don’t kill me. I only wanted a few bucks.”

  Kyler tilted his head to one side. “Didn’t you bother to ask who you were kidnapping?”

  “Not my concern. It’s just business, right? No hard feelings.” The man was getting a bit cocky the longer this went on. She could have warned him it was a huge mistake, but figured he’d learn that soon enough.

  “The name of the ship?” Kyler snapped.

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  The air around them stilled. Kyler didn’t move, didn’t threaten. He didn’t have to. He was terrifying simply being himself.

  And she’d taken this man as her lover.

  Like magic, a knife appeared in his hand. “The question isn’t what it is worth to me, but to you. A slow, painful death.” He dragged the flat of the blade over the man’s cheek. “Or a quick one.”

  “No need to be hasty. We can work something out.” When Kyler didn’t respond, the man hurried on. “The Rebel. That’s the name of the ship.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So you’ll let me go?” the hopeful man asked.

  Kyler shook his head. “I would, but the king of Gravas would object.”

  “Gravas.” The man shook his head. “No. No.”

  “By the laws of Gravas and the order of the king.” A blaster appeared in his free hand. One quick shot to the head and it was done. “Justice is served.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Etta wished she could see Kyler’s face. What was he thinking right now? Feeling? She wasn’t buying the unfeeling assassin routine. Yes, he was ruthless and deadly. The proof was all around her. But he was so much more.

  “The door isn’t locked.”

  His head jerked toward her before he jumped to his feet and strode over to take care of that.

  “What about them?” She did her best not to look at the bodies, grateful she couldn’t see more than a shadow of the Barskan on the floor across the room.

  “Leave them.” He came around the bar and removed the blaster from her trembling hand, setting it on the bar. “You shot him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He stood so close she could feel his heat, but his features were still covered. She hated that hooded cloak with a passion.

  “Because you were outnumbered.” She locked her knees against the tremors wracking her. “Because if I had to run, he was the one likely to catch me,” she added, being brutally honest.

  He nodded.

  “Damn it. Talk to me.” Reaching up, she shoved the hood down. His black eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop her. His lips firmed and his jaw tightened. She grabbed his arms and tried to shake him. “You’re maddening. You know that?”

  Releasing him, she took a step back. “I don’t understand you.” And she honestly didn’t. That made her unaccountably sad.

  “You know what I am now.”

  “What do you mean?” Now that he was finally talking, he was being enigmatic.

  “I’m an assassin.”

  “I already knew that.” She put her hand against his cheek. He did seem warmer than usual. “Did you drink any of that ale? I’m not sure if Loralie might have slipped something into it.”

  Kyler caught her hand and pressed it more firmly against his face. “You’ve seen what I can do now.”

  Was that his problem? “I grew up in this bar. I’ve seen plenty of bloodshed in my day. It’s never pretty, but sometimes it is unavoidable.”

  His throat rippled when he swallowed. “You don’t think me a monster.”

  “No.” Strangely enough, she never had, even though he was the bogeyman of the universe. Still, there was a question that needed to be asked. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Never.” A fierceness glittered in his eyes that was almost frightening. He cupped his hand around the back of her head and dragged her toward him. “You’re the one person in the entire universe who is safe from me.” His mouth covered hers, his tongue thrusting deep.

  It wasn’t a declaration of love, but somehow it felt like one. Madness overtook her. She fisted his hair in her hands and pulled, needing him closer. Their kiss was hot and deep. Relief and passion merged, making it sharper and sweeter.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she managed to gasp out between kisses.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” The only place he was touching her was his hand on the back of her head and when their lips met, but his passion was not in doubt. Even now, he held a part of himself back. She tried not to take it personally, even though it was difficult not to. It was just the way he was.

  Smart, too. Now was not the time or place. “We should go.” How had she forgotten the girls, even for a brief second? Their kiss seemed to have gone on forever, but in reality, only a couple of minutes had passed.

  He gave a curt nod, grabbed her hand, and dragged her down the hallway toward the inner door. “Grab what you need, and make it fast.” Not bothering with the locks, he pulled his blaster.

  She grabbed his hand before he fired. “Stop. There’s another Barskan upstairs. If he hears the blast, we’ll lose our advantage.” And they’d only have one shot at this.

  “Do you tr
ust me?”

  She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “The girls…”

  “Do you trust me?” No change in the tone or volume of his voice, but she sensed a deeper issue was at stake here.

  “I shouldn’t.” When all he did was stare at her, she sighed. “But I do.”

  He raised his blaster and fired in quick succession, melting all the locks before kicking the door open. “Move.”

  Worried in spite of his confidence, she surged up the stairs, surprised when he didn’t stop her from bursting in through the front door. There was no sign of the Barskan.

  Terror grabbed her by the throat and threatened to choke her. Unable to call out, she raced to the girls’ room. They were gone. “No.” She dropped to her knees and half-crawled under the bed. “Sera? Maggs?” She heard Kyler in the doorway and whirled around, seated on the floor between their beds. “They’re not here, and their bags are gone.”

  “I have them.”

  Those three words hit her like a laser blast, stunning her into silence. First came pure relief. The girls were safe. Volcanic anger followed. She shot to her feet and threw herself at him.

  “You took them? And you didn’t tell me?” She balled up her fist and swung. Flesh hit flesh when he caught it, wrapping his large hand around it. “How could you?” It seemed the ultimate betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I agonized over my decision, not knowing if helping you would damn them.”

  “I know.” His expression was blank, his tone brisk.

  “How could you?” she whispered.

  His expression remained unchanged, but seemed somehow grimmer. Maybe he was as unfeeling as he acted. But he’d gotten the girls out.

  “Get your things. We have to leave now.”

  She shoved past him, raced to her room, and grabbed the bag she kept packed, ready to take advantage of any chance to flee. She hooked a knife sheath onto her belt and jammed the blade in there for easy access. “Where’s the Barskan?” Because he wouldn’t have left voluntarily.

  There was a cruel edge to Kyler’s smile. “Helldrick is in for one hell of a surprise when he opens his closet door.” He turned and strode toward the window. “I didn’t want the girls to see him.”