by E. J. Mellow
There are two warm orange-red forms on the floor below and one in the room directly in front of me. A dimmer shape is deeper into the second floor behind many walls, and from the blueprints, it’s most likely Kam in his upstairs office.
“How’s the place look on your end?” Akoni asks in my ear. With him able to key in to the hallway security cameras, I left off wearing eyes inside the suite. I’m more than capable of locating the targets here myself.
“There are two hounds downstairs and one near my entrance on the second,” I say quietly. “From the size of the man farthest in, I think Kam’s in his office.”
“Perfect. Well, all’s quiet outside. This should be an easy one.” The sound of Akoni’s fingers flying over his keyboard patters in the background.
Making quick work of the locked balcony door that, not surprisingly, doesn’t have an alarm system (because who would be crazy enough to approach from the outside), I slide into the dark threshold of the upstairs sitting room. With a barely audible whoosh, I close it behind me and creep to the corner, hiding in the shadows.
“3, wait,” alerts Akoni. “We have malfunctions on the cameras leading up to Kam’s suite. It’s subtle, but I can tell they’re frozen. I won’t be able to see if anyone new is entering.” The sound of typing. “Something doesn’t look right…maybe we should hold for a second to see if I can get them back online.”
“No, I’m already in. I’ll proceed.”
“But, 3—”
“Don’t make me mute you,” I whisper.
Thankfully, that shuts him up.
Putting the guard on the second floor in my sights, I turn off my thermals. A low yellow light illuminates the upstairs, the décor simple and modern, while an ornate chandelier hangs high in the ceiling and paints a set of stairs golden that wind down to the first floor. The five-foot-ten man stands fifteen yards away from me, down one of the hallways leading to Kam’s study, his black clothes a darker spot in the dimly lit space. Taking a subtle intake of breath, I pick up his recent cigarette break and slight body odor from not showering in two days. He’s turned away from me, looking at his cell phone as he leans against the wall, the blue glow from the screen washing out part of his face. His shoulders are slouched, tired, overworked—easy.
Slinking forward, a spider against the floor, I concentrate on the soon-to-be-stung fly. Soundlessly I remove one of my syringes from an inside pocket, the clear liquid dancing in the light, and then stop, crouched directly behind him. I remain invisible, mute, nothing but the inky shadows stretching across the walls as I slowly stand. And then I become the nightmares children pray aren’t under their beds. Like a whip, I wrap around the man and inject his neck, muffling his short surprised moan and quieting his fall.
I wait a beat, my ears opening to my surroundings, but the suite remains still, unknowing. Switching my thermals back on, I glance to the door to my right, finding no body heat. Opening it, I look upon an empty bathroom and stash the guard inside.
“Upstairs babysitter down. Approaching target’s office,” I whisper to Akoni, making my way through the hallway and passing a few rooms along the way before I come to a break in the wall. Once I turn right and take fifteen more steps, I’ll come to Kam’s office, but the sound of soft approaching footsteps stop me. They float forward from the other side of the hallway, which stretches unlit and circles back to where I just was on the second floor’s threshold. From the careful tread, it’s obvious the owner doesn’t want to be detected. I sniff the air—male, young, a hint of rose. It’s familiar, but I can’t place why. Behind my mask I wet my lips and grow small again, disappearing into my veiled surroundings.
Eight seconds.
Three.
The outline of a large man steps forward, and I immediately strike, but in a rare moment of surprise, my fist is deflected with a low grunt, and I barely miss my opponent’s right hook before twisting out of the way and elbowing him in the face.
This also is dodged.
Interesting.
Continuing to attack, I also find myself annoyingly defending as we move back and forth down the hallway. The space is too small and dark to make out anything more than a tall man in a tux, who knows how to fight and smells familiar.
His quick reflexes and attention to hitting my weaker points shows his Krav Maga training, while the way he blocks hints to an advanced background in Muay Thai. He doesn’t favor either side, revealing he’s ambidextrous, but having the same ability leaves this intriguing rather than threatening. His skills are impressive, for a normal human, but my interest quickly dissolves to impatience the longer the tango lasts.
I don’t have the time to play.
Landing a successful kick to his side, he lessens the blow by grabbing my leg and twisting me to the ground.
I let out a growl.
Kicking to a standing position, I’m about to reach for one of my knives, when he locks me in a choke hold. Grabbing my facemask, he pushes us into a lit portion of the corridor and rips it off. My bare skin hits against the central air blasting into the apartment, and I blink, adjusting my eyesight.
That’s it. I’m so over this!
Reverse head butting him, relishing his muttered curse of pain, I quickly drop and spin out of his grasp. In a single move I have one of my knives at the ready, the titanium flashing a forewarning as I lock eyes with a familiarly attractive yet slightly-less-put-together, dark-haired, green-eyed man.
We both freeze.
Simon?
15
Carter
PEARL RIVER HOTEL
HONG KONG: 2342 HOURS
I blink and then blink again.
“Victoria?” I stand paralyzed, staring at a slight but impressive figure that looks like a ninja with the face of an angel. The same angel I recently admired downstairs. While the majority of her head remains tucked inside a tight black hood, her exposed blue eyes and pale skin are impossible to mistake.
What the devil?
Still in shock, I almost miss her coming at me again, barely dodging a slice of her blade to my throat as I struggle to regain my ability to strike back. A thousand questions swirl in my mind as I momentarily resign myself to merely defend.
How is this the same woman whom moments ago I was imagining taking to bed and now find myself trying not to be killed by? Because that’s exactly what her moves intend to do. Kill me.
“Hey, maybe”—I block her fist—“we should”—I knock away her knifed hand again—“talk about this.”
She ignores me, just keeps pushing forward, eventually getting a clean roundhouse to the side of my face.
Holy bitch slap, that hurt.
Tasting blood, flames flicker on.
Now before I go much further, let me state that I am not a man who would ever hit a woman…normally. I even go out of my way to avoid being paired with them during training, because no matter how skilled they are, I always have a deep sense of guilt for physically harming them in any way. I’m a gentleman like that. But flexing my now loose jaw and seeing that this little angel is more of a devil, all those rules go out the window.
She wants to play? Okay, let’s play.
As she moves to land a punch to my throat, I see my next in. With a dodge I grab and twist her arm, making her drop her blade, and swing her around. But she merely leaps into my movement, running along the wall to land behind me.
Crap.
She kicks me from behind, and I grunt as I fall forward.
With a snarl I turn to face her, but before either of us can charge the other, a new form steps between us, snagging our attention. Chenglei Kam stands in utter shock in the entryway of his office. Somehow our scuffle landed us near his room.
Before Kam can so much as scream or grab for his U22 Neos I know he has stashed on his person, Victoria and I simultaneously hit him in the larynx. Falling forward, he grasps his neck while wheezing for oxygen. With the power from both of our hits, I wonder if he’ll ever be able to regain it. Double crap. Not
wanting to deal with any more obstacles, I pull out my trusty Minnie to knock him unconscious, but not a second after Kam hits the ground, my gun is kicked out of my hand and caught by the woman I decide I now hate more than blue balls. And that’s saying something.
Looking up, I find Victoria pointing my own weapon at me with a steady hand and, if it wasn’t for the uncoiling disdain dripping from her icy-blue eyes, a rather impressively blank face.
It’s in this moment, with her a millisecond away from trying to shoot me, that I realize why I found her so intriguing before.
Leave it to me to be attracted to the craziest chick in the room.
16
3
PEARL RIVER HOTEL
HONG KONG: 2347 HOURS
My finger pulses on the trigger as I stare at a man I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years would be standing in front of me. Where the deuce were my senses downstairs?
If it weren’t for him putting down Kam, I would have shot him already, but it appears we both might have the same intentions. Making that the only reason I’m hesitating.
“3? What’s going on? I can hear you fighting? Is everything okay? Do I need to get you out of there?” Akoni says in my ear.
I ignore him.
“Who do you work for?” I ask Simon, or whatever his real name is. Obviously being in the same line of business, he can’t be dumb enough to use his real name.
Glancing over his uncovered face and the same outfit he wore at the gala, I retract that thought.
Yeah, he’s probably dumb enough.
His green eyes narrow before he relaxes his stance, seeming to come to the conclusion that I’m not going to shoot him. It makes me want to all the more.
“Probably for a similar employer as you,” he says while straightening his perfectly tailored tux.
His vanity in this moment bristles along every one of my nerves, but I push the sensation down as I quickly run through the other agencies. It wouldn’t be unheard of for Kam to have more than one price on his head, especially with the upcoming events.
“You’re American?”
“Your powers of observation are uncanny,” he says dryly. “Yes, I’m American, and this man’s Chinese, and that chair’s red, and you’re a crazy woman pointing my own gun at me. Don’t you know it’s rude to hold another man’s gun?” His gaze rakes the length of my body. “But if you need the security of holding something of mine, I may have another option.”
My finger twitches on the trigger again.
“What agency?” I bite out. “PIA? SI6? COA?” His eyes dilate slightly on the last name. Gotcha.
“Uh…3?” Akoni’s nervous voice filters through. “I fixed the cameras, and there’s a trail of knocked-out guards leading up to Kam’s suite.”
I curse, lowering my—Simon’s—weapon.
“Idiot,” I hiss. “You’re really that stupid to leave a path of bodies for anyone to see?”
He scowls, annoyed by my accusation but only slightly surprised that I knew of his way in.
“Well, I would have already killed this guy and been gone if you didn’t get in my way, so it wouldn’t have mattered.”
I watch him closely. “You’re here to kill Kam?”
“And you’re not?” he counters.
Ignoring answering his question like he’s ignoring mine, I glance to the door, listening for the guards downstairs. Simon seems to know my intentions, for he says, “Don’t worry. I took care of them. Yeah, you’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart!
My eyes dart back to his, and I catch him sizing me up, searching for what foot I favor, which arm might be stronger, any weaknesses in my stance.
Good luck finding any.
We stand there for a moment, trying to gauge how much we might trust the other, and I know we both reach the same conclusion—we don’t. If I wasn’t fairly certain that he works for a sister company to SI6, I would have shut him up already. A part of me still wants to if it wouldn’t come with a mountain of paperwork.
“Don’t move, and this will all go smoothly,” I say in warning as I lower to the ground, making a show of placing his gun to my side. He casually watches my every move.
Leaning over Kam, I check that he’s breathing before placing a chloroform cloth over his mouth and nose, ensuring he’ll stay unconscious for the remainder of my stay.
“What are you’re doing?” Simon asks.
I ignore him as I take out my DNA-collecting kit and get to work. Lifting Kam’s lips, I swab the saliva and place the wet Q-tip in a container. Drawing from an artery at the inside of his elbow, I take four vials of blood.
“You’re collecting DNA samples?” Simon moves closer, and I quickly raise his weapon again.
“I have a feeling you’re too vain to enjoy being known as an Op that got shot with his own gun.”
He stops, but his lips purse smugly. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s biometric.” He nods to what’s in my hands. “You can threaten me all you like with it, but it won’t go off unless I’m holding it.”
My grip tightens as I realize he’s right. Goddammit. My senses are not up to par tonight.
“I don’t need a bullet to shut you up,” I say icily as I drop the useless gun to my side, still making sure it’s out of his reach. “Do not get in the way of my operation.”
“Your operation!” He barks a laugh. “Honey, we’ve both obviously been put on the same assignment.”
HONEY!
Taking in a steadying breath, I reel in the red that’s tinging my vision and continue with what I need to collect—hair samples, nail clippings, fingerprints, retina scans.
My companion checks his watch, letting out an annoyed huff. “Are you almost done? I’d like to have some time with him as well.”
I begin to remove Kam’s pants.
“Whoa!” Simon steps back, hands in the air, as I grab Kam’s penis and press on certain pressure points. “Ugh. Why am I not surprised that you’d have a thing for flaccid guys?”
I hold a container to his urethra, and urine flows into it. I glance to Simon and grin sweetly. “What? You not comfortable enough with your own sexuality to see another man’s genitals? Maybe you need to do some sexual exploration and sort all that out.”
“As long as I can start with you, sweetheart.” He flashes a thin smile.
I swear steam funnels out of my ears. Nope. Na-uh. No way. If I don’t leave now, I’ll do something I’ll regret. Paperwork, think of all the paperwork.
Packing up my supplies, I pull out my trusty stinger and fill it with the final blow of poison, but before I get too far, Simon grabs my wrist.
I didn’t even see him move forward.
Which is unlike me. Very unlike me.
My gaze follows the path of his strong hand wrapping my wrist up to his eyes. His face hovers close to mine, and the nearness unsettles me, but not in the way that I’m used to. At this distance I catch the flecks of gold in his green irises and two faint scars along the left side of his jaw. Besides the rose scent of Jia I got off him earlier, I now detect something else, something uniquely male that’s coating my nostrils pleasingly—a musky cinnamon.
I switch to breathing out of my mouth.
“If you know what’s good for you, you will remove your hand.” I pour as much venom as I can into my voice.
He leans back but keeps his grip firm. “Listen. I don’t know who the hell you are or who the hell you work for, but there are some things I need this guy to tell me. So why don’t you go on your merry way and leave the rest to me.”
I narrow my eyes. Things that Kam needs to tell him? When I realize what he must be talking about, I actually start laughing. “Are you serious?”
His brows furrow.
“Is this your first assignment or something?” I ask and then add more to myself, “Seeing how you entered, it must be. Such amateur brazen moves.”
“What are you talking about?” He squeezes my wrist harder, and I immedia
tely see four fatal spots he’s leaving open.
Not yet. Not yet.
“If you’re trying to get the code, you’re shit out of luck.”
This brings some clarity into his eyes, and I smile smugly, pulling my arm free.
“What do you mean?”
Whomever he’s working for obviously is lacking in the intelligence department, and it’s not my job to clean up their mess.
“This isn’t a game,” he growls. “If you have reason to believe that the code is unattainable through Kam, I need to know, or you won’t be leaving this room until I’ve gotten it from him.”
The fact he thinks he has the ability to carry out that threat is almost cute. If I had the time, I’d let him try, but I’ve already been here too long. Simon’s jaw clenches in silent frustration as he waits for an explanation.
“Chenglei Kam is unsusceptible to torture,” I say. “He’s been training over the past five years to withstand any method all the way up to death. Take off his shirt and see for yourself.” I wave to the unconscious man. “He has plenty of scars for proof.”
Simon glances from me to Kam, then back to me, searching my face for any indication that my words might be false before kneeling down and ripping open Kam’s shirt. A storybook worth of torture scars splays across his otherwise defined chest.
Simon curses.
“Happy?” I impatiently flick the liquid potassium chloride in my syringe. He scowls but doesn’t stop me as I bend down, ending this mess. Sticking Kam in one of his puckered scars near his heart, I release his permanent slumber and listen to his pulse weaken before it completely stops, assuring me that my assignment is now complete.
Swiftly repacking my supplies, I stand, regarding the only man now alive in the room, and find myself shaking my head.
“What?”
“Are you really that cocky that you’d show your enemy your face like that? I mean, you didn’t even change your clothes from the gala.”
