It was a run she had done more times than she could count, the stench of Marseille hardly alerting her senses as her nose for danger kicked in.
The driver leapt onto the rotting wood from the bow, a balaclava covering his face.
Such a stupid formality. I know what you look like, Marius, she thought with uncharacteristic annoyance but her nerves were tauter than usual that evening.
Another man slithered up the companionway, his features obstructed by a scarf, army bag in hand.
He was someone Ashtyn did not recognize, but that was unimportant. The entire transaction wouldn’t take more than a minute and this would be her last meet, right? She was not looking for Facebook friends, after all.
Ashtyn reached for the canvas bag, but he stopped her by yanking it just out of her reach as he waited for payment, not a word exchanged.
She scowled and tried to snatch it from his hands.
“Goods first,” she hissed in French. “You know the rules.”
He stared at her with pale green eyes, maintaining his grip on the bas as Ashtyn peered inside the sack, mentally calculating the bricks inside.
Without a word, he grabbed the bag back and Ashtyn glanced up at him in surprise.
He must be new, she thought, eyeing the captain of the boat who stood on guard, facing the fishing town warily.
“Depeche-vous!” Marius snarled at the duo as he caught Ashtyn’s eye but they stood in a silent tug-o-war.
“D’argent.” The man’s tone was flat and cold, sending shivers down Ashtyn’s spine.
There was something almost dead in his eyes as he waited, his grip on the drugs vice-like.
She reached into her coat with her free hand, reluctant to loosen her hold on the bag but she couldn’t stand around playing games with the cold-eyed handler all night.
“What is taking you so long?” Marius snapped, whirling to look back at them. “We don’t have all night!”
She noticed he paused to look at his partner almost inquisitively but he did not speak to him directly.
Ashtyn slipped the strap of the saddle bag over her shoulder and tossed it into his arms while simultaneously ripping the bag full of heroin from his hands.
Although she could not see his mouth, she felt as if he was smiling and for a moment, Ashtyn thought she recognized him.
Her aqua eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him but Marius joined them, grabbing his counterpart’s arm and ushering him back onto the boat.
“Go!” Marius urged as he realized she made no move to leave.
But she could not pull her gaze away from the sea green irises of the silent man.
Where do I know him from? She asked herself silently but Marius was right. There was no time for introductions, nor did Ashtyn want to know any more.
In a day, she would be reunited with Viola for the first time in six years.
From there, she would be on the run for the rest of her life.
The less people she knew from this part of her life, the better.
She hurried away, strapping the bag to her back as she stole through the docks and away from the port, her heart hammering but not because of the drug deal.
The man with the strange eyes has filled her with apprehension for some reason she did not understand.
Who cares? After tonight, you will never see him, Marius or any of the other bastards again.
“Billet, s’il vous plait, mademoiselle,” the conductor called to her and Ashtyn jerked her head up, peering at him uncomprehendingly.
“Mademoiselle? Your ticket please?” he tried again in English and she nodded quickly, her eyes darting to the seat at her side.
You fell asleep with hundreds of thousands of dollars of heroin beside you. Are you crazy?
The bag remained untouched but anxiety was mounting as she fumbled in her coat for her ticket.
“Merci,” the man said as he sauntered down the aisle.
Ensuring that he was gone, she glanced furtively inside the sack and exhaled as she realized the drugs were accounted for.
It was a trip she had taken dozens of times; the train ride from Paris to Marseille but she had never drifted off.
Am I becoming complacent? I can fall asleep in the middle of a drug transfer?
She reminded herself again that this was the last one.
She hoped.
Ashtyn reasoned that if she kept saying it, the thought might become a reality.
“Pardonez-moi.”
She looked up in surprise, half-expecting the conductor to have returned.
“That is my seat,” the big stranger explained, pointing to where the drugs sat and she narrowed her teal colored eyes.
“It is not,” she replied shortly, turning her head dismissively. “They are both mine.”
“No, mademoiselle,” he replied, his accent thick and irritated. “Look.”
He thrust his ticket in front of her and Ashtyn found herself glancing at it, despite wanting to ignore him.
Indeed, his ticket showed he belonged in the seat beside her.
“There is a mistake,” she replied flatly. “Find another place.”
He sighed and shook his head. She glanced up at him reluctantly, taking in his beautiful face and mouth-wateringly broad chest. She licked her lips without realizing what she was doing.
“I do not see why you need –,“ he started.
“I do not need to explain myself to you,” she retorted hotly, her face growing red with embarrassment as she watched his eyes follow the path of her tongue. “I purchased two seats so I can have two seats. Please move along.”
She never had difficulty hiding her thoughts – how had she slipped up? Attractive as he may be, she was. He did not budge, much to her chagrin.
Is this guy for real? I am not doing this, not tonight.
“Here,” she spat, grabbing her bag to allow him to sit. “I will find another place since you are such a gentleman.”
He studied her face closely, his dark eyebrows furrowing.
“Do I know you?”
The question sent a stab of worry through her and suddenly Ashtyn sensed a trap.
This is not a coincidence. He is one of Khan’s men, she thought, turning to regard him suspiciously.
Her heart stopped as she realized who he was, his mossy eyes glittering as he squeezed past her to sit at the window.
“No,” she replied curtly but she sank back into her seat, knowing there was nowhere to run if he was one of Khan’s men.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “You look familiar. I feel like I can see you standing in the moonlight, the beams of light dancing off your porcelain skin – “
“What do you want?” she snapped, a furious blush creeping up her neck. “Why are you following me?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, a charming smile lighting his intelligent face.
“I would think you are accustomed to men following you, Mademoiselle,” he replied evenly, pulling the fedora from atop his bald head.
Ashtyn didn’t answer, holding the bag close to her chest.
Why would Khan send someone tonight? He hasn’t had me tailed in years.
Fear tickled her stomach.
“What is your name?” the man asked as if he was still someone who had only chanced upon her and Ashtyn felt anger override her concern.
“If I am going to be stuck on this train with you for the next – “she glanced at the cheap wristwatch on her arm. “-two hours, I would prefer that you are silent.”
Was I really asleep for an hour?
His eyes lit up with amusement.
“I have never had a woman so adamantly refuse my company,” he told her, and Ashtyn resisted the urge to slap his smug face.
“Well,” she replied shortly. “As they say, there is a first time for everything.”
He laughed, and despite her resolve to loathe the man, Ashtyn found herself eyeing him more closely.
There was an elusive quality abo
ut him which she found both tantalizing and irritating at the same time. His strong chiseled jawline made her want to nibble the line leading up to his ear. Fuck, Ashtyn! Since when do you think with your pussy? she thought with frustration.
But Ashtyn knew she had seen him before, even prior to their encounter on the dock.
He must be one of Khan’s men, she thought, her pulse quickening as she tried to understand the implications of him being seated beside her on the train.
Has something happened to Viola? Is that why Khan has sent this man to follow me?
None of it made sense but she knew she had to get rid of him.
Suddenly, he smiled at her, his eyes growing warm.
“Do I amuse you?” she asked and he nodded slowly.
“You truly do,” he replied. “What is your name?”
“Joan,” she replied easily, watching as his grin widened. “And yours?”
“I am Jean. Or, as you Americans would say; John.”
She noted his thick French accent but something about him as a Frenchman didn’t quite ring true. He was not quite suave enough and while he possessed a certain elegance, he did not claim the same arrogance of the men she had encountered during her time in Paris.
“What makes you think I am American?” she purred, deciding to play his game. She wanted to build his trust as fast as she could.
He stared at her for a long moment and Ashtyn suddenly found herself short for breath as their eyes locked.
“I might be inside your head as we speak.”
Inexplicably a rush of heat flooded through her and she became confused.
She blinked several times as she tried to find her voice but she was disoriented, as if she had suddenly woken from a deep sleep.
What did he just do to me? She wondered, her heart hammering wildly as she struggled to hide her sudden panic.
A bizarre thought crossed her mind.
Was he really in my head?
She pushed the inane idea away, determined not to let the familiar stranger intimidate her. But the danger in his face was almost palpable and Ashtyn knew she was in trouble.
You have been up against worse than this hired nobody, she tried to tell herself, but she honestly didn’t know if that was true.
Don’t do anything stupid. Lose him – permanently and get back to Khan. If something has happened that caused Khan to have someone trailing you, you’re as good as dead. At least if you lose this one, you increase your chances for survival.
“Joan?” he asked, cocking his head to the side questioningly. “You have a peculiar expression on your face.”
“Do I?” she replied quickly. “I am only waiting for you to answer my question.”
“I seem to have forgotten it,” he replied but Ashtyn knew he had forgotten nothing.
A small smile toyed on her lips.
“Me too,” she sighed and he chuckled.
She glanced at her watch again.
“You seem impatient,” Jean commented.
I have to do what I have to do, she thought grimly.
“No,” she replied. “I am dying for a drink. Will you join me?”
His eyes glimmered with interest but Ashtyn could read the skepticism in their depth. She rose before he could answer.
“I’ll be in the bar car,” she told him and she held her breath as she walked away.
She didn’t exhale until she saw him slip into the aisle and follow her.
Sorry, Jean. You’ve got to go.
Chapter Seven
Xander was no fool. It was obvious that Ashtyn was up to something and highly suspicious of him. He had recognized her unease even before he had projected into her thoughts.
But that didn’t stop him from following the seductress into the bar car, his eyes fixated on her swaying hips as she walked.
He knew he needed to stop these thoughts he kept having about her – like bending her over the row of seats and taking her from behind in from of all the passengers. But there was something about her that drew him. It was more than the admiration he had for what she did for a living. Very few women could survive in this world. You needed to be quick, cunning, confident, and smarter than everyone else you went up against. Obviously, having a stunning body didn’t hurt either, he thought mockingly, as his own mind kept wandering from killing her to seducing her. A beautiful woman was a beautiful woman, after all, target or not.
He couldn’t justify simply ending her life without at least sampling the sweetness that her full mouth seemed to promise.
And he knew, even before he had entered her mind, that she had the same plan for him.
What he hadn’t been able to determine even after probing her thoughts, was whether or not she had recognized him.
She appeared to at least sense the danger he presented, yet Ashtyn didn’t seem to know who he was.
But Ashtyn Deveaux wanted him. He paused though, as he thought about how he had found her. It hadn’t been as hard as it should have been.
It had only required three phone calls and a GPS tracker to locate the shipment of heroin that she was going to be meeting.
Getting on the boat had been no issue either. Marius owed him half a dozen favors and had asked no questions, simply telling his partner that he had replaced him for this job. The only time Marius had hesitated, was when Xander had jumped from the boat to follow Ashtyn.
“Be careful, mon ami,” he warned. “She is very valuable to a very important man.”
Xander had shrugged nonchalantly. “She is very important to a couple of important men, mon ami.”
In fact, the entire hunt had been so easy, that Xander was apprehensive about why he had been recruited to find her.
Any asshole could have located this girl, he thought, as he walked up to her leaning against the bar, the burlap sack still at her back but not hiding the incredible figure beneath.
He had to stop himself from running his hand over the curve of her inviting ass.
A spark of appreciation for her brazenness lit through him.
She doesn’t care that there’s seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of heroin on her back right now. Is she a crazy or just confident beyond belief?
As he joined her, Xander realized that she was more beautiful than he had even remembered from all those years ago.
Her hair was a flaxen, shiny blonde, her eyes like the water hiding the coral reefs in Tahiti.
It seemed impossible that with such a face she would also have a stunning figure and quick mind, yet Xander knew she was the entire package.
“You seemed to be a bourbon drinker,” she commented, handing him a glass as he approached and he laughed.
“That will do nicely,” he replied in his fake accent, accepting the tumbler. It wasn’t necessary, just fun to pretend while he was on a job. It gave him a good idea of how acute his target might be, although he suspected that Ashtyn was on to him.
He raised the glass and she did the same with her white wine.
“To new adventures,” he toasted and she nodded, taking a sip.
The taste became a full swig and Xander watched in awe as she downed the entire glass, placing it on the counter before signaling for another.
“You’re thirsty,” he remarked, watching as the bartender refilled her glass. She took the cold liquid this time, swirling it lazily in her glass and turned to him.
“Should we do this then?” she asked, raising one sculpted eyebrow, and Xander felt a twinge of apprehension flash through him.
What is it she’s after? He wondered with admiration. Nothing seemed to faze her. If he wasn’t so good at hunting people, he would think she was completely relaxed and in control. He had to admire the steel in her character. Suddenly the idea of killing her was less appealing than it had been when he had made the deal with the Smiths in North Branch.
Maybe she doesn’t need to die? She could just disappear…
He was stunned by his thoughts.
You’re an assassin.
This is what you get paid to do. If they want her dead, kill her. She’s only another pretty face.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said flatly but his voice was strangely hoarse.
“Do you want to fuck or don’t you?”
Xander’s jaw dropped open and he gaped at her.
“What?”
“Oh? Did I have it wrong?” she asked. “I could have sworn you were checking out my ass earlier.”
He was speechless as he tried to think of something clever to say.
“My bad,” she sighed, signalling the bartender for another drink. “I thought you – “
She didn’t have a chance to finish her thought as Xander reached forward, grasping her shirt just above her breasts and pulled her forward into his chest.
His mouth crushed into hers, his other fist tangling in her hair. He used his tongue to trace the seam of her lips, then push its way into her mouth, tasting the unique flavor of her mixed with the clean white wine. He watched as her turquoise eyes widened in shock. She was tense but he did not release his grip on her body, a strong arm snaking about her slender waist to thrust his growing hardness against her.
He turned her body, leaning it slightly over the bar, his eyes still boring into her face as he deepened the kiss further.
Ashtyn gasped, her arms instinctively moving up to push him away but he had her wedged between his lean frame and the wood of the bar, his hand reaching around to cup her round ass.
Her breaths came out quicker, the groan she emitted caught by his probing tongue.
Her response caused a slow rush of blood to his groin, and not even the not-so-subtle throat clearing from the barkeep was enough to make Xander release his hold on her sweet tongue.
Ashtyn’s back arched, half-attempting to throw him off when she heard the barkeep clear his throat, but Xander could feel the intense heat radiating from between her legs.
He wanted to slip his hand down the front of her pants and slide his fingertips against her wetness.
“Je m’excuse!”
He jutted his tongue out one last time, his lips capturing her tongue once more before pulling his head back to stare at the furious conductor.
“Yes?” Xander asked innocently, as Ashtyn lowered her head, shocked at her response to the imposter.
HARD WIRED Page 5
