His angry and determined look touched her. "I'm not leaving you here to die."
"You've done your good deed for the day. You shouldn't have to die for it."
He laughed bitterly as he worked at the cuffs. "No good deed goes unpunished. Believe me, I know."
"Please, go." Her voice broke, but she meant it. She was resigned to her fate. "There's no need in both of us dying tonight."
His feral look cut through her. "I took an oath to save every life I could. I'm not about to back out on it now. I might be a lot of things, but a coward has never been one of them."
Kiara started to argue with him, but before she could a dark shadow fell over them.
Cringing, she looked up, expecting it to be Chenz.
But it was something far more sinister and a thousand times deadlier.
It was also the last thing she ever expected to see . . .
Nemesis.
For a moment, she thought she might faint after all. Nemesis was the most feared assassin to ever live. Every known government, including her own, wanted him dead, and the price on his head was staggering. No one had ever borne a higher one.
No one.
Maybe it's not him . . .
She knew better. Everyone above the age of three knew the stories of the creature who wore a black battle suit with a jacket that held a metal skull with a steel halo and crossed League swords on the back of it. It was a trademark he left on all the bodies of his victims. He took pride in his brutal trade, especially when he killed others of his kind.
To her knowledge, no one had ever survived an encounter with him.
Expecting him to kill them both, she was stunned when Syn stepped back and Nemesis broke the cuffs apart without using anything except his gloved hands. He scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all and wrapped the jacket around her.
"What are you waiting on, Syn?" he growled in an electronically distorted voice. "Get your ass moving."
Syn snorted as he retrieved his helmet from the floor. "I'm waiting on you now."
"Fifty-five seconds and counting. You bastards better start running. You're about to fry."
CHAPTER 3
Syn ran ahead of them.
Kiara couldn't breathe as she held on for dear life while Nemesis ran toward the air lock that they'd drilled into the side of the ship.
The instant they were aboard their ship, Syn threw the lever and sealed them in while removing the temporary bridge to the other craft. "Clear!"
But they weren't clear and she knew it. The explosion of Chenz's ship would hit them hard. The debris could still kill them.
Someone threw their ship into hyperdrive. The sensation of it was enough to knock Nemesis into the wall and make him grunt from it. Yet he didn't loosen his grip on her. Even more surprising, he kept her from getting hurt as he slammed against the steel.
His face a mirror of disgust, Syn threw his helmet down so hard on the floor that it bounced almost three feet before rolling down the hall. He glared at them. "I really hate this shit." He started down the corridor.
Nemesis's grip on her tightened. "Where are you going?"
"To get a drink and kill Cruel . . . not necessarily in that order."
She felt the muscles in Nemesis's arm twitch in response. But he didn't say anything more as he started down another corridor away from Syn. She shivered at the reality of him holding her.
I'm in the arms of the most lethal being ever born . . .
Or spawned.
A creature who was currently being hunted by every known government. He was everything she hated in the universe. Violent. Ruthless. Relentless. Yet she couldn't make herself hate him and that made no sense whatsoever.
Maybe it was because she'd never thought of someone like him being capable of kindness . . . or of having someone as kind and altruistic as Syn in his company.
To her knowledge, Nemesis had never saved anyone.
Until her.
"Why did you save me?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he took her into a room that served as some sort of infirmary. Medical tools and bottles of medicine were carefully placed in a glass cabinet not far from a large bed. The odor of antiseptic stung her nose. Everything was pristine white and orderly, a welcome contrast to her kidnappers' filth.
Kiara glanced up at Nemesis, afraid he might still kill her. But he seemed to be ignoring her, at least as much as he could given the fact that she was in his arms.
He placed her gently on the bed, then moved to retrieve a warmed blanket from a drawer at the bottom of the cabinet. With a gentleness she'd never have attributed to a ruthless killer, he wrapped it around her.
Kiara was minutely attuned to him, even right down to the way the light gleaned off his strangely shaped helmet with an eerie sheen. He seemed larger than a human, taller, stronger. Massive. She had no idea what species he belonged to, yet he had to be at least humanoid.
She watched the play of well-defined muscles under his battle suit as he pressed a panel next to the door and opened the closet.
Who was he?
That was the trillion credit question and if she knew the answer, she'd either be the richest person alive . . .
Or dead before she could draw another breath.
No one guarded their identity more closely than this creature.
And she had to admit there was nothing hotter than a man with that kind of honed physique whose face was totally hidden. Whose past was a complete mystery to the entire universe. A total renegade who answered to no one's law but his own.
This was the deadliest creature ever born and he silently removed her cuffs from her bruised wrists with a tenderness that was unfathomable.
Her fantasies ran wild with the possibilities. Surely his face would have to match the rest of him.
Don't bet on it. For all you know, he's a Pigarian with three eyes and buck teeth. Or one of the upright reptilian species.
Ew. What a waste of a gorgeous body that would be . . .
Stop it, Kiara. You hate assassins. You hate everything he is and everything he stands for.
He's the same kind of cowardly filth who killed your mother while she tried to protect you . . . The same filth who cold-bloodedly shot a helpless eight-year-old girl and left her for dead.
It was true. There was no telling what atrocities this man had committed for nothing more than a paycheck. Every life has a price tag . . .
He turned around, holding a black battlesuit like the ones he and Syn wore.
Kiara could feel his gaze on her, it was almost as tangible as a touch. He hesitated by her side as if unsure of himself.
Oh please, girl. He's not hesitating. The idea of so lethal a killer being bashful . . .
Ludicrous.
Her best bet was that he was sizing her up for a burial pod.
She thought he was about to speak, but the door opened to reveal Syn, who held a half empty bottle of Tondarian alcohol. Something so potent, it was banned on most planets.
Unaware of what he'd interrupted, Syn took the battlesuit from Nemesis's hands. "Hauk wanted me to tell you that the next time he says run, we should leave the vics on board and get the hell out. I tend to agree."
Kiara still sensed Nemesis watching her.
"You were the one who didn't run," Nemesis reminded him.
"Oh yeah, that was me, wasn't it?" He took a swig right out of the bottle. "Since when do you listen to me anyway? I'm an idiot."
Nemesis didn't respond to that particular comment. "Is Cruel still alive?"
"For the moment. But only because the little bastard moves faster than I do when I'm flagged."
A sharp lunge told her their ship was coming out of hyperspace. "Are you taking me home?" she asked them.
A dreadful pause greeted her.
Finally, Nemesis spoke. "Soon."
Before she could even blink, he grabbed the alcohol from Syn's grasp and was gone.
"Hey! You crippin' bastard asshole . . ." Syn
This man was either braver then any soul alive.
Or dumber.
Nykyrian locked the door behind him before he leaned against the wall and let out a long breath of relief at being away from Kiara. He knew Sheridan's doctoring abilities well enough to guess the dancer would be sedated so there would be no chance of her nosing around where they didn't want her.
Still, an image of her lithe body outlined by her sheer, torn nightgown scorched him. Though her breasts were small, they were as beautiful and inviting as her lips. Even now he could feel her pressed against his chest. Feel her thin, supple arms wrapped around him as he'd carried her.
What he wouldn't give to have her do that while they were both naked . . .
His body was so hard it was all he could do not to limp. And to think, he'd mistakenly believed he'd survived real torture in his past.
That had nothing on this.
Get a grip . . .
Honestly, he'd rather she get a grip on a certain piece of his anatomy that was draining all the blood from his brain before he lost what little reasoning he had left.
You are in control.
Yeah, tell that to his cock. It wasn't exactly listening to him at the moment.
Forcing his mind to other thoughts, he removed the hot helmet so that he could breathe in and try to relax. He freed his damp, blond hair from the tie holding it at the nape of his neck and let it fall over his shoulders.
With a tired sigh, he chucked the alcohol into a garbage chute, then pulled his dark shades from his pocket and moved to join the rest of his crew in the control room at the front of the ship.
Dancer Hauk and Darling Cruel--and yes, those were their real names, which showed that even loving parents could be sick and twisted--were joking with each other when he entered.
"Hey, Cruel," Hauk said snidely. "Check it . . . the man is without his guise. You think he wants to be found out or is he looking for a reason to kill the woman? What odds are you taking?"
Darling snorted. "I'm not betting shit, troll. I already owe you two weeks' pay. Anymore and I'll be working only to pay you."
Hauk let out an evil laugh. But then, at almost seven feet in height, he could be obnoxious to most people and get away with it. Especially those like Darling, who only came up to just past his waist.
A typical Andarion male, Hauk belonged to the most brutal of all known races. One that valued physical beauty only second to physical strength. With long black hair that he wore in tiny braids, his features were perfect and sharp. His white irises were ringed by a band of blood red. But Nykyrian didn't care what he looked like. Hauk was raw, savage strength and a brilliant techspert.
Darling, on the other hand, looked almost frail in comparison. Where Hauk was built solid and huge like a tree, Darling was lean and finely boned. His straight red hair fell across the left side of his face, covering a vicious scar that they never talked about.
Ignoring them while they exchanged barbs, Nykyrian dropped his helmet on the floor and took the pilot's chair. He ran over their settings, knowing there'd be no corrections. Hauk and Darling were the best. Otherwise they wouldn't be here.
They'd be dead.
"Did you bathe in Chenz's and Petiri's blood?" Darling asked him.
Nykyrian gave Darling a condemning stare. "I would have, had someone not detonated their charges prematurely."
"Yeah, Cruel. You have to watch that premature detonation problem of yours."
Darling tossed a throwing knife at Hauk's head.
Hauk caught it and laughed before he tossed it back at Darling who caught it just as easily. "You keep doing that, human, and you're going to hurt my feelings."
"You don't have feelings, Andarion."
"Not true. Compared to Nykyrian, I'm as sensitive as a woman."
"God knows you're beginning to whine like one." Nykyrian rubbed at his right eye under his shades as his thoughts returned to the mission they'd just completed.
Justice had been served swiftly and coldly. Tomorrow Syn would inform their client about Chenz's death. Granted it wouldn't bring back the senator's son, but it would ensure that Chenz never decapitated another child and delivered his head to his mother.
That alone made him wish he'd had more time with the bastard.
But there was nothing more to be done. Chenz was dead and they would be paid.
Aching for the poor senator and a grief he couldn't even begin to comprehend, Nykyrian stared out the window at the blackness swirling around them. The senator's pain over the loss still haunted him as he tried to imagine a parent who cared so much for her son. The gods knew none of his parents, either real or adoptive, had ever given two shits about him.
It comforted him on some level to know that not everyone was as cold and unfeeling as he'd learned to be. That there were people like Sheridan and the senator who could love and who could cry over the loss of the child they'd brought into the world.
In the lightless void he was staring at, an image of Kiara dancing in her last ballet floated before his eyes, which didn't help him calm his arousal at all.
Damn it, why did he feel like this?
But then she'd always been able to stir his senses. Every time he'd seen her dance, she'd touched a part of his soul--a part of him he preferred to think was long dead and damned. She, alone, had made him see beauty in a universe he normally despised. Had made him feel something other than cold, corrupt emptiness.
She was beauty and gentleness personified.
Nykyrian scoffed at his own stupidity. He knew better. No one was good and no one over the age of ten was unscarred. Life was brutal and it made victims of everyone.
And thoughts of her weren't helping his foul mood in the least.
Hauk turned in his chair. "Speaking of women . . . who's the trim you guys almost died over?"
Nykyrian ground his teeth as anger whipped through him. He'd always hated that demeaning term for women. The bizarre thing was he didn't even know why. It just seemed wrong to dismiss a person so. Something that made no sense when one considered the fact that he killed people for a paycheck.
Yeah, he was definitely a head case.
Clearing his throat, he kept his tone even and flat. "Kiara Zamir, the dancer."
Hauk gave a low, appreciative whistle. "What was she doing with those scabs?"
Nykyrian cut a droll stare at the Andarion and a question that was so stupid there was no reason to even bother answering it.
"Yo, dumbass," Darling said sarcastically. "What do you think she'd be doing with them? Giving them ballet lessons?"
Hauk narrowed his gaze at Nykyrian. "Tell me again why I can't kill him?"
"You're afraid of handling explosives."
Hauk cursed. "One day I'm going to get over that and when I do . . ."
"I'll wisely stop annoying you." Darling winked at him.
Nykyrian rolled his eyes at their incessant swipes. The two of them were like recalcitrant siblings. But for all their bluster, they were loyal to each other as much as they were loyal to him.
That alone made them invaluable.
Ignoring them, Nykyrian rechecked their headings, then pulled up an e-ledger and started making notes for his next mission.
Within an hour, they began docking at their secure station, one Nykyrian had built nine years ago when he'd left The League. It was only in the last four years that it'd grown into a monstrosity of workers who proudly followed his new code.
Protect the innocent and kill the vermin.
Simple and elegant--it was finally a code he could live, or die, by.
Sheridan, or rather Syn, had been the one to name their operation. The Sentella. A word that meant a quorum of sentinels in Syn's native tongue. And that's what they were. Guardians for a better world.
The League checked the united galaxies and kept their governments in line. The Sentella kept The League and the independent assassins others employed in check.
At last, the innocent had their own paladins. And it was a calling none of them took lightly. Whenever an assassin or politician crossed the line, they answered to The Sentella.
More to the point, they answered to him.
Nemesis.
Syn joined them on the bridge, reporting that Kiara was in a sedated sleep. Nykyrian replaced his helmet before heading back to their patient.
After the landing, Nykyrian carried her from the ship. He took her to the upper floor of their command center where he charged Mira, one of their nurses, to care for her until she woke.
Mira was thrilled to be assigned watch duty over such a famous personality. Her gaze nervous as she watched "Nemesis," she ran to their supply room to find sleeping attire for the tiny dancer in his arms.
Shaking his head at Mira's undue haste to flee his presence, Nykyrian took his precious bundle into one of the observation rooms and carefully placed her on the large bed. He covered her with an extra blanket.
As he stepped away from the bed, he heard her whispering in her sleep. Entranced by her melodic voice which he'd only ever heard on programmed interviews, he turned back to take a final look at her peacefully resting form.
How could anyone be so beautiful and tiny?
He stood over her, intoxicated by the smoothness of her features, her pert nose, the high cheekbones, her finely arched brows. Her long, dark mahogany hair fell in soft ringlets about her beautiful face and shoulders.
She was exquisite.
He traced the line of her bruised cheek, wanting to kill Chenz again for hurting her. But most of all, he was tempted to remove his glove and feel the softness he knew her flawless skin would hold.
You don't need softness.
It was true. Sex came with a severe risk and since intimacy was an alien concept to him, he tended to avoid it. He didn't like being naked and unarmed around anyone. The few minutes of release weren't worth his life.
At least they hadn't been until now . . .
Kiara might make a shot to his head worth it.
He sensed Mira's presence as she returned. Looking up, he saw her questioning brown eyes.
With a curt nod to Mira, he left the room and headed to their meeting. That was what he needed to focus on. Not tiny dancers who'd almost gotten them killed.
Nykyrian met up with Syn, Darling, and Hauk downstairs, anxious to finish his business and return her home. He didn't like the unfamiliar feelings she evoked. He was used to being numb and untouched. It was comfortable to him.
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