Hitman Wedding

by Eve Langlais

  He’d looked utterly horrified, and she’d laughed. Tittered as he offered apology after apology. He didn’t stop until she had agreed to go out to dinner with him.

  “They had the best hand-rolled gnocchi.” She sighed, her turn to stray from the story.

  “You threatened to flick a pea at me if I touched them.”

  She laughed, the remembrance a pleasant one—unlike what happened after. “You looked so shocked. And said—”

  “‘Like hell are you tossing that pea.’ And I reached for a bite of your gnocchi with my fork.”

  Her lips curved. “So I launched it.”

  The pea landed in a bowl of soup being carried by a very proper waiter. It splashed, the waiter jumped, the soup sloshed, the cold green crème of asparagus absorbed by an older lady’s curly white perm.

  They’d left the restaurant laughing and, on the cobblestone street under the light of a Paris moon, shared their first kiss.

  His expression softened, and for a moment, they stared at each other, that same electrical awareness stretching between them.

  A turn of his head broke the spell, and he barked, “Do you always whore yourself out for your missions?”

  A valid question, yet it still hurt. “Do you always attempt to seduce women on a first date?”

  “Yes. Luckily, my experience with you didn’t stop that.”

  The implication was clear and hurt when it shouldn’t have. Of course he’d slept with other women. He had every right. They were never truly a couple.

  She felt a need to hurt him back. “I should hope the fact that I waltzed into your life so easily has made you more cautious now about running background checks.”

  “I’m always cautious. Whoever set up your background did a great job,” he grudgingly admitted.

  “But you cracked it?”

  “Parts of it. I still haven’t figured out where you trained or much else beyond your real name and the fact that you’re a killer.”

  “An operative is only as good as their cover.”

  “Does this mean you have no life outside of work?”

  “I have a life,” she retorted. She lived vicariously through her work. “You are getting off topic again. Do you want to hear about Paris or not?”

  “What else is there to say? You probably bugged my phone.”

  “While you showered.” She nodded.

  “Hacked my computer.”

  “Not me. But I did use a device to send a mirror copy of your drive to my handler.”

  He made a sound and shook his head. “I am so fucking stupid. What did they do with that information?”

  “Whatever they wanted.”

  He turned on her, eyes blazing. “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”

  “It means, my clients and superiors don’t tell me what they do with things, just what they want me to do. They say, ‘Marina, go get us the grocery list for this person,’ and I get it.”

  “By any means possible.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t add that she could have bugged his things quite easily without ever sleeping with him. She’d initially planned to play hard to get. To string him along. But then he’d kissed her, and her panties melted, and she’d forgotten to replace her worn-out vibrator…

  He was so much better than a dildo.

  So. Much. Better.

  She crossed her legs.

  “It didn’t take you weeks to bug me. Why stick around?”

  Because she was also supposed to kill him. Something that appeared accidental. An event that wouldn’t look like a hit.

  Marina never actually went through with it. Which had cost her a hefty bonus. She blamed it on not finding the right way to do it without leaving a trace. She never acknowledged that it was because she didn’t think she could actually kill the man she was sleeping with.

  A man who wasn’t bad.

  A man who took her pleasure very seriously in bed.

  A man who looked mad as hell right now, probably because she hadn’t replied.

  “I said why did you stick around? What else did you do to sabotage me?”

  “Apparently, you don’t need help doing that. What on earth possessed you to go to the island and put yourself at the mercy of a killer?”

  “Careful. You almost sound like you care.”

  She did not care. He should hope she never cared, or her handler would take care of it.

  “Your bodyguards should have never let you come.” And was Kacy only his bodyguard? Knowing him as she did, she didn’t believe for a moment they were together. Not the way they acted. The man she remembered was always touching. Hand-holding. Stealing nibbles of ears.

  At least he had with Francesca in France. But the fake girlfriend he’d brought to the island? He’d barely spared her a glance.

  “Marcus tried to talk me out of it, but I’m tired of being dicked around. Someone has been threatening my academy.” The school he ran for special operatives like Marina. Except his school didn’t start until the kids were teens. No wonder they weren’t as good.

  “If I were guarding you, I’d have tied you to a bed until you stopped thinking stupid.”

  “Don’t tempt me to hire you.” Said in a low growl.

  Startled, she looked over at him to see him staring at her. Heat in his gaze. An answering flicker between her legs made her want to scream.

  Would it really be that awful to have sex with him one more time? She’d not been satisfied since their last encounter.

  “You can’t hire me, as I’m still on a mission.”

  “Not anymore, you aren’t. We’re no longer on the island.”

  Which was the one good thing to come out of this situation so far.

  “Are there other passengers on the boat?” she asked.

  “Doing a head count?” he asked.

  “Just making sure you didn’t bring the killer with us.”

  “You know who it is? Who was pulling strings on the island?”

  “You don’t know yet? It was Gerard.” The man who’d greeted them all as they arrived at the island.

  “The butler did it?” He said it so comically, she laughed.

  “He did, yet I am pretty sure he got his orders from someone else.”

  “Someone with money. That island and the helicopters that took us in, plus everything else, wouldn’t have been cheap.”

  Indeed, the elaborate plot to lure some of the world’s most powerful people, those controlling the mercenary armies, would have cost a fortune.

  “Whoever is laying the traps is not worried about the cost,” she stated. And where there was money involved, there was always a trail.

  “In other words, whoever is targeting my students and me wants a confrontation. The question is, why?”

  “Why do people kill?”

  “Money, power, or revenge,” was his reply. “So, we could be talking about someone whose life was impacted by one of my students’ missions.”

  “It could also be someone who failed your final exams.” Francesca shrugged. “Or it could be random. Your academy and students aren’t the only ones being targeted.”

  “You know for sure it’s happening elsewhere, too?” Darren asked sharply. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “I know nothing about rumors, only facts, which is that people have been dying.” Some whom she’d known via her work. “It’s why Stefanov hired me to accompany him to the island.”

  “He was your boss?”

  “Stefanov was a client,” she corrected.

  “That makes no sense. I had my guys research him. He supposedly runs his own mercenary company. Why not bring his own team?”

  Because most of them were dead. “Staffing issues,” was her reply.

  “So you were just a lackey.”

  “I was contracted to protect Stefanov.”

  “And you talk about my school sucking. You let your client die.”

  “He was late making payment.”

  Darren blinked. “Seriously. You le
t him get murdered because he didn’t pay his bill on time?”

  “He will serve as a lesson to my next client.”

  “Was he the one who hired you to spy on me?”

  Darren wouldn’t stop asking until she replied. “Yes, it was Stefanov. He wanted intelligence on the competition.”

  He glowered. “Is he the one who’s been going after the Bad Boy agents?”

  “How would I know? As you said, I was just a lackey.”

  “If you had to guess?”

  Did he seriously just ask her opinion? She almost laughed. “Do I think Stefanov was risking a war with the other mercenary groups around the world? No. He’s not that dumb, but I do think he might have been hired or coerced into doing things.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because he made some stupid decisions. As a result, many of his crew died. One of them was killed recently by someone in your Bad Boy crew.”

  “Bad Boy is not mine,” he interrupted.

  “So you say and yet they often perform missions for you.”

  “Because I pay them.”

  At a discount. “Whatever,” she replied with a shrug. “You wanted to know about Stefanov. He was hired to mess with Bad Boy. He said something about a drug ring…”

  “That was one of his men?” Darren swore. “Fucker. My agents almost died because of that bastard.”

  “Then you’ve been lucky. There are many operatives whose ashes now feed the snow fields.” Being a soldier in a hidden army wasn’t a long-term career choice for many. Although, if you did make it past forty, chances were you’d earned a comfy position with an office and a salary for life.

  “How do I know that what you’re telling me now is the truth? Why should I believe anything you say?”

  “Don’t.” She shrugged. “You asked me questions. I’m giving answers.”

  “And conveniently blaming everything on a dead man.”

  “Not everything. I did say I thought someone else was controlling him.”

  “But who?”

  “That is your problem.”

  ‘Shouldn’t you make it yours, too?”

  “Until they come directly for me…no. I see no reason to go on a personal quest. Especially if there is no money involved.” She already had enough on her plate without taking on a new vendetta.

  “What about the fact that people are losing their lives?”

  “It is the circle of life.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “It’s reality,” she said. She tested him by pacing to the far end of the cabin. The boat rocked gently under her feet. She wondered if there was anyone aboard helping him sail. Or were they currently bobbing adrift at sea? The very thought made her want to find a life vest.

  “What other missions have you done for Stefanov? Other than spying on me.”

  “I was supposed to kill you.”

  “In Paris?”

  “Yes. But that fell through.” She didn’t mention the part about her conscience forestalling the killing blow. She wouldn’t want him to think she was soft. She’d had enough dealing with the harangue from Sergei—her handler—about her incompetence.

  His jaw went taut. “You would have killed me? How? In bed, while I was sleeping? Just slit my throat? Or would you have gone for something more impersonal like a bullet to the head?”

  “Paris was supposed to look like an accident.”

  “Why did Stefanov want me dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were just going to kill a man without reason?”

  “If the money is right. And even if it wasn’t, those were my orders.”

  “Do you ever question your directives?”

  “Do your operatives?”

  To her surprise, he said, “Yes. Actually, they do. And if their reason is valid, we listen.”

  “We?” she parroted with an arch of her brow. “I thought Bad Boy wasn’t yours.”

  “Graduating from the academy doesn’t mean I abandon the students. I stay in contact with the places they’re hired by. Some more closely than others. I make sure the people the academy trains aren’t being abused.”

  “And if they are?”

  “I’d step in and say something.”

  “Must be nice. You grew up in a land where you can speak your mind. You can say whatever you like. Not everyone has that choice.” The Americans complained about their freedom, never realizing that being allowed to complain was the biggest freedom of all. They should step into other worlds to grasp what they took for granted.

  “There is such a thing as defection.”

  She paused, her fingers pressed against the porthole window in the wall, the vista of blue reaching as far as she could see. She stared over her shoulder at him. “You think I should abandon my country and everything I know to…what? Become a spy for the other side?”

  “Why not?”

  “Loyalty to my country, for one.”

  “Your country sucks.”

  At that, she stood tall and thrust her shoulders back. “I will have you know that Russia is the best country in the world.”

  “A country that allowed you to be taken as a small child and stuck in a boot camp.”

  “For which I am grateful. Without their intervention, I would have gone to regular school and probably ended up in a factory. Instead, I get to wear beautiful clothes, travel the world. Eat fine food, and drink expensive wine.”

  “Sleep with men for information. Kill them.”

  “You say that like those are bad things.” She smiled. “Some people deserve to die.”

  “Do I?”

  “Only if you touch my gnocchi.” The light retort saw his expressions fighting themselves, the softness warring with the anger.

  “Keep making jokes. We’ll stay out at sea until you tell me everything I want to know.”

  “You can’t do that. You must take me to shore.”

  “When you tell me everything, and I’ve verified it.”

  “And what if I don’t know the answers?”

  “You’d better hope you do.”

  She flattened her lips. “I don’t have time for your games. I must report in.”

  “They think you’re dead.”

  “I can tell you right now, they know I’m alive. The longer I don’t report in, the worse it will be.”

  “Then don’t report back in ever again. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll have the boat deposit you somewhere where you can start over.”

  If only it were that simple. “You idiot. Listen to me. I can’t start over, nor can I stay here with you. I’m being tracked. As in, somewhere in my body, there’s a chip transmitting my location.”

  “Your agency chips its operatives?”

  “Doesn’t yours?”

  Darren struggled before he bit out, “Yes, but we would never use it against them. We only use the trackers in case the agents go missing and are in need of rescue.”

  “You mean if they’ve been kidnapped?” was her sarcastic retort. “My handler will use the chip to find me. If you are still alive when they do, then I will be punished for being negligent. Unless I am somehow incapacitated.” Her expression brightened as she got an idea. She sat in the chair and laced her hands behind her back. “Tie me up.”

  “What? No.”

  “Yes, tie me up. That way, when they find me, I will have an excuse for not killing you.”

  “You want me to tie you up so you don’t have to kill me?” he said it slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you want to kill me?”

  Her excuse had nothing to do with any mission and everything to do with her wet panties. “Because the sex was good. And the world is small. Maybe we’ll find the time to have sex again one day.”

  It should have been the perfect carrot to dangle, the opening to have him kissing her instead of asking endless questions. It didn’t work as expected.

  Darren stalked out of the cabin, leaving her yellin
g, “Come back here and tie me up!”

  Alas. He left her free.

  Chapter Four

  Tie me up.

  Was she fucking insane?

  No, apparently, she was Russian, which made her even more unpredictable. It also made her entire story suspect. How much of what she said was actually the truth? How much was fiction?

  Darren pondered it as he took the steps to the upper deck of the yacht two at a time. The salty air hit his skin, and he breathed deeply, trying to clear the turmoil in his head—and his damned heart.

  He shouldn’t have felt a damned thing for her. He thought himself past hurt and anger. Wrong. Just like he’d wrongly thought himself over her. The moment he saw her, all the old feelings, the good ones, rushed back. The temptation she posed proved as strong as ever, despite what she’d done and in spite of who she was.

  I hate that I still want her.

  He lifted his face to the sky. The dawning sun beamed over the horizon, baking him with its brilliance. Stripping away most of the shadows that clung to him. Some stubbornly refused to melt away.

  Don’t forgive her. Remember what she did. Fran had used him to complete a mission. He’d fallen for a lie. Hurt for something that never truly existed.

  What did that make him?

  Stupid. So moronic, he couldn’t even follow through on his plan to torture her. Nope, dumbass that he was, he’d set her free. He’d probably end up dead because he was soft. Did she, at this very moment, seek out a weapon to kill him?

  She could probably kill me with her bare hands. If she touched him, he’d probably let her. She had such deft fingers. Perfect digits to wrap around his cock and stroke.

  His body turned traitor, especially one particular part, as it remembered the past.

  He gripped the rail and leaned over, looking at the still waters reflecting the colorful dawn. The ocean was much calmer this morning. Still enough that he’d shut down the engines and dropped anchor in the middle of nowhere.

  Nowhere to escape. Nowhere to hide.

  Yet, Fran seemed to think someone could track them. She really didn’t give him any credit. Little did she know that he had something on board to block electronic signals. He wasn’t an amateur. His boat had all the newest gadgets and toys, and an invisible pilot to help. Which meant, he could be out here alone with her.