Assassin's Game (Assassins Book 4)

by Ella Sheridan

Eli bent his head and kissed me, his tongue taking over, the scent and feel and taste of him sending my senses into overdrive. When he finally pulled back, it was slow and reluctant, and his smile made my knees weak. “Anytime, Beautiful.”

  I moved my hand from where it clutched a fistful of his T-shirt, trailed down his side, his hip, and around until I cupped the firm, full globe of his ass, and squeezed. “I’ll remember that, Sweet Cheeks.”

  Epilogue

  Nix —

  One Month Later

  “Move, goddamn it!” I stared up at Eli and strained to shift my hips, needing the slide of his cock inside me more than I needed my next breath. But I was shit out of luck. Eli held his rigid length deep, deep inside me and refused to move.

  He was giving me a heart attack—and enjoying every minute of it if the shit-eating grin on his face told me anything. He tugged on my nipples, first one and then the other, milking sensation from my body, forcing me to teeter on the edge of orgasm for what felt like forever. I clamped down on his cock, squirmed where he held my ass practically in his lap, but nothing I did seemed to threaten the iron will with which he restrained his own need. My back arched up from the mattress, forcing my breasts harder against his fingers, the angle of my hips almost enough to rub my clit against his lower belly. If I just strained a little more…

  “Uh-uh.” Eli’s fingers left my nipples, and he leaned back, denying me the sensation that I craved. I whined, wanting, desperate—then gasped as the sharp sting of a slap hit my clit. A preliminary pulse rippled through my core, so close but not enough to send me over the edge.

  “Motherfucker!” I shifted again but only succeeded in earning another slap. “Get back up here and give me what I want,” I snarled, “or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Eli gripped my thighs in his huge hands, stilling the slightest movement. “Hmm? What are you going to do? Be good? Because you know what that earns you, don’t you, Mikaela?”

  Just the memory of the last time Eli had decided to “reward” me for being good sent a food of moisture along his cock, making him chuckle. I panted hard, hands fisted, trying frantically not to move and miss a single second of what he had in store.

  “That’s it,” Eli crooned. He circled his cock inside me, and I whined again. “You feel so good around me like this, Beautiful. Bare. Nothing between us but the sweet cream dripping from your body.” We’d made the decision just last week after fresh testing confirmed both of us were still clean. And God, yes, it felt so good.

  Eli leaned forward to bring his face so close to mine, putting unbearable, exquisite pressure on my clit. “I’m gonna lick every drop of that cream from your skin—inside and out—when we’re done. You know that, right?”

  “Eli, please!”

  The short beard he’d grown scratched my skin as he rubbed it hard over my sensitive nipples, but with him so close, his body tight against mine, my thighs on top of his, I couldn’t…I couldn’t…

  When his mouth surrounded one hard tip and sucked, scraping his teeth over me, I arched so hard I almost bucked him off. Eli bit lightly at the nipple in punishment.

  That was all it took—moving or not, thrusts or no thrusts, my climax hit like a tsunami. A wail left me as fire and pleasure raced through my body to coalesce around the thick cock invading me. Eli felt it, saw it, and immediately began a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that extended my high longer than I’d ever thought possible. Longer than the breath I was holding could last. I strained against him, taking every pounding shove inside me, relishing each hard wave of pleasure until awareness faded away and I drifted on a sea of nothing but sensation.

  A sharp nip on my earlobe brought me back a short while later. “That’s how it’s done, Beautiful,” Eli whispered smugly in my ear.

  “Whatever you say, Sweet Cheeks.” The words slurred as I continued to drift.

  We laid quietly in the bed for a long time, the bed that had, somehow, become ours instead of his the day my team and I moved into the mansion. I drowsed in and out, expecting to hear the light snore that occasionally escaped from Eli after a long “play” session, but it never came. Instead, eventually, his warm hand splayed on my stomach.

  I stretched like a cat being stroked.

  Eli nuzzled my neck. “We have a date,” he reminded me.

  I groaned. We did, indeed. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I noticed it was inching closer to one a.m., and I should probably take a shower after what Eli had just put me through. I sat up. “Gimme fifteen,” I said, already gathering my hair atop my head as I slid from the bed.

  Eli threw back the covers. “I’ll join you.”

  “Do that and we won’t make our date, and you know it,” I called over my shoulder, hurrying into the bathroom. Eli was right there when I turned to close the door. My gaze dropped down his muscled body to the cock hanging, relaxed, between his legs. It immediately firmed. “See. No shower time.” I gave him a wink and closed the door. A groan filtered through as I moved to the shower.

  That stiffy tempted me almost as much as the sight of my bare body tempted him, but no way was I going to risk being late tonight. The past month had been filled with uncertainty surrounding this new life and the roles X wanted us to fill, lots of frantic digging into the man who, for all intents and purposes, owned us, adjusting to living on top of each other in the mansion. Construction had begun on a new facility near the rear of the Agozi property, not only to house my team but also a brand-new, technologically advanced facility for all of us to work in. Eli had wanted to be certain it was safe before taking me to meet his business partner, Abe, but tonight was the night. Which meant, no being late.

  And we weren’t. In fact we walked through the door of Abe’s Place with fifteen minutes to spare before closing. The bar was everything I’d thought it would be, all rich colors and dark wood and cozy ambience. A friendly neighborhood bar, the kind your friends gathered in after a long, hard day at work. I loved it immediately.

  “Get that damn dog outta my bar,” a hard voice shouted from behind the bar that stretched the length of the back wall. “What if the health inspector came in and saw that?”

  “What the fuck would the health inspector be doing here at two a.m., Abe?” Eli barked back. “Shut the hell up about my dog.”

  So this was Abe. I watched the man eye Eli and his dog, irritation front and center, but underneath… Apparently Eli and Abe’s relationship was like mine with my team—or with Levi’s team now, too. Rag each other to show affection. That I could relate to.

  I gave the man a smile when his gaze moved to me.

  “Well who you got there?” Abe asked. A flash of white teeth against dark skin showed he still had the charm of a much younger man. He’d probably taught Eli a thing or two as a kid.

  “Somebody for you to meet,” Eli replied, his words softening as he looked at me. I did that to him. Me. Sometimes it was hard to believe, but…yeah. Eli and me.

  “Abraham Carter, this is my girlfriend, Mikaela Nixon.”

  Abe was extending a hand, his smile even warmer, and I just stood there, stunned, like an idiot. “What?”

  Abe glanced from me to Eli and back again. Eli just grinned. “What?” he asked.

  The words shook me out of my shock, and I hastily grabbed Abe’s hand. “It’s…uh…so nice to meet you.”

  Abe seemed to take my awkwardness in stride. “Girlfriend, huh? How’d you manage to get stuck with that duty?”

  Eli rolled his eyes. “Grab us a couple of beers before I sic my dog on you, old-timer.”

  Abe snorted. “Old-timer, my ass.” But his affection for Eli was too obvious to miss as he turned to grab a couple of mugs off a nearby shelf.

  I seized on the few seconds of privacy, planting my ass on a bar stool and facing Eli. “Girlfriend?”

  Eli mimicked my actions. “Yeah.”

  I raised a brow. “Didn’t you think you might ask me about that first?”

  Eli shook his head. “No way in h
ell. Better to just tell you than to risk asking.” He leaned closer, dropped his voice. “And you know how good I am at giving orders, Beautiful.”

  He was, so good. But not just at giving orders. I realized it right there, in the middle of a bar, the stool hard under my ass and the most beautiful amber eyes staring down at me, laughter filling them. I didn’t question it, didn’t wonder if now was the time. I just told him, straight out, exactly as he had me. “I love you, Elijah Agozi.”

  His eyes went wide. His mouth fell open, and then that something warm and happy swelling in my chest appeared in his gaze, staring down at me. “I love you, Mikaela Nixon.” His kiss was hard and quick, but tingles lit me up inside. “And when I get you home, I’ll show you just how much, all over again.”

  ∞

  Did you enjoy ASSASSIN’S GAME? If so, you can leave a review here to tell other readers about the book. And thank you!

  Would you like to read the exciting prequel to the ASSASSINS series? THE ASSASSIN is available only through my newsletter. Levi’s story is waiting for you!

  Sign up here to get exclusive access!

  Before you go…

  The world of ASSASSINS is intertwined with another series of mine, SOUTHERN NIGHTS: ENIGMA. Discover the team that stands beside the Agozis when they’re in need, risking their lives—and their hearts—in the hot Southern Nights.

  COME FOR ME

  Southern Nights: Enigma 1

  Ten years. That’s how long Dain has lived his dream life. His wife is the partner he always wanted, in every way. And if they can’t have children of their own, well, the elite team he runs at Atlanta’s top security firm is often handful enough. They’ve created a “family” that fits them and fills their lives.

  One phone call changes all that.

  He never thought his wife could get pregnant.

  He never thought she’d be held hostage.

  Now it’s up to him and his team to get the love of his life—and the child they never thought they’d have—out alive.

  * * * One-click your copy of COME FOR ME now! * * *

  ∞

  Exclusive Excerpt

  “Tap out, stupid bastard.”

  “Tap out’s for sissies,” Saint wheezed. Considering Dain had the man’s shoulder pressed into his carotid, cutting off blood flow, getting out a single recognizable word would be amazing—four was a fucking miracle.

  “Ten seconds, Saint,” Elliot said nearby, warning the man how much time he had before he was likely to black out. “Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five—”

  King swore from the other side of the mat. “Saint!”

  Without warning Dain’s captive flipped his long legs into the air, his spine bending in ways that would seem impossible with his neck immobile. But he had the length in his torso to manage. In a blink his knees were on either side of Dain’s head and his calves were locked at Dain’s nape. Before Dain could duck his head to slip out of the hold, Saint flung him over his long body, loosening his legs at the end to keep from breaking Dain’s neck.

  “One!” Elliot yelled as Dain’s back slammed into the mat. With a quick kippup, Saint’s massive weight landed on top of him, crushing the air from his lungs without warning.

  “Goddamn.” It was Dain’s turn to wheeze.

  “Dain!”

  The yell from the workout room door brought all their heads up except Dain’s, stuck beneath one of Saint’s bony knees.

  “Code Red,” Jack Quinn called. There was no hesitation in their response; all four team members were on their feet and running for the door in seconds.

  “Where’s the party?” Dain yelled as they raced after his boss down the hall toward one of the conference rooms. Jack shook his head but didn’t answer, causing Dain’s heartbeat to pick up speed. Jack Quinn was the head of JCL Security, and the man was anything but reactionary; if he said it was bad, it was bad. Code Red was never anything less. They weren’t on assignment right now, though. Had someone else’s op gone sideways?

  The four of them packed through the door to the conference room behind their boss. The massive table that dominated the space was empty, but at the end of the room the wide-screen TV hanging on the far wall blared one of the local channels. The sound assaulted Dain’s ears as his eyes adjusted to what was on the screen: a close-up of a female reporter he recognized from the usual early morning newscast holding a microphone to her red lips, the wind blowing her blonde hair into her eyes as she spoke.

  “Officer Mays, what can you tell us about the situation? Any updates?”

  The camera panned to a petite, dark-haired policewoman Dain recognized as one of the Public Information Officers at the Atlanta PD. “No updates as of yet. We are still establishing communications with the suspects and determining how many hostages are currently in the building.”

  “Is the entire building at risk?”

  The glint of impatience in Mays’s eyes wasn’t reflected in her words. “Not at this time. All floors except the top have been evacuated. Only the fourth floor suite is involved.”

  “Where—”

  Dain had barely gotten the word out of his mouth when the camera panned back behind the anchorwoman to the building in question. A familiar building. The one that held Georgia Financial Management Services.

  Livie.

  No. Fuck no. “Jack!”

  His boss stood on the opposite side of the table, the office phone to his ear, but he jerked it down to tell Dain, “I’m trying to find out. Hang on.”

  The blonde was speaking again. “For those who are just joining us, would you please recap what is known at this point?”

  Officer Mays nodded. “We received a 911 call this morning alerting us to a situation at Georgia Financial. Responding officers determined that gunmen were present, as were employees we believe are being held hostage. Negotiations are forthcoming, and in the meantime, we have asked the public to avoid this area until the situation has been resolved.”

  “Do we know how many hostages are inside? How many gunmen?”

  Mays’s face revealed nothing. “Not at this time. We want to assure the public that the APD will do everything possible to resolve this situation. The safety of the hostages and of our citizens is of paramount concern.” With a nod at the camera, Mays walked away.

  As the anchor promised more information soon and tossed the segment back to her cohort in the studio, Dain fought for breath. “King, I want to know what they know,” he barked.

  “I’m on it,” King said roughly behind him before rushing from the room. Their PR liaison knew everyone who was anyone at the Atlanta Police Department. Dain gave his team member’s assurance an absent nod, his gaze still fixed on the television, the screen now showing the local studio and the male news anchor who normally had the blonde sitting next to him. Dain couldn’t remember his name and didn’t care. He picked up the remote and muted the chatter.

  “Elliot,” he snapped.

  The only female member of his team stepped to his side. Her petite stature forced her to look up at him, one eyebrow quirked in question. Worry clouded her eyes.

  “Go to my desk and get my personal cell.”

  Elliot nodded and ran for the door. Dain tried to force air in and out while he waited. Based on the strain in his heart and lungs, he was pretty sure he didn’t succeed worth a damn. The TV screen was showing a segment on grills. Who the hell cared about grills when his wife could be in danger? But he didn’t dare look away in case they showed more news on the standoff.

  Jack slammed the phone down on its cradle with a hissed “Fuck.” No answers, then. Hopefully King—

  Elliot swung through the door. “Here,” she said and tossed Dain’s cell phone across the room before her short legs could carry her to him. He snagged it out of the air and thumbed it on blindly.

  “Come on, come on.” Livie had gone in to work early. She would’ve called—shit! He wasn’t thinking straight. Dain, who never lost his cool on a job, couldn’t think past the fact
that his wife was in that damn building.

  “She would’ve called my office phone if there was a situation, wouldn’t she?” Assuming she could call at all, but he refused to think about that. “Can you check my office voice mail?”

  “Already done,” Elliot said. “No messages.”

  He blessed her under his breath as his phone came online. A red circle with the number one inside sat in the upper right-hand corner of the phone icon.

  One message.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Forcing himself not to tighten his grip until the phone crumbled to bits in his hand, he tapped the icon, navigating his way to voice mail. Livie’s name waited at the top of the message list.

  He tapped the Play button, then Speaker. Livie’s voice broke through the chaos in the room—or maybe that was just his pounding heart.

  “Dain?”

  He swore, the words blistering his throat with the effort to keep them quiet. He upped the volume, not about to miss a single word, a sound, anything.

  The sound of her throat clearing came through, then a stronger, “Dain, there’s something wrong here. Stan’s— Stan’s dead. There’s blood.”

  Livie. His wife…she was with a dead coworker. Dain choked on the emotion welling in his chest; he couldn’t stop the reaction no matter how unprofessional it was. He’d been in life-and-death situations before, but never… “Wife,” he whispered, straining to hear her next words. Would they be her last?

  “I can’t find everyone else. I’m going to the kitchen. I’m in the kitchen, okay?”

  “That’s good.”

  It took him a moment to register Jack’s voice. He stared blindly at his boss. “What?”

  “The kitchen. There will be weapons there, right?”

  Right. And he’d trained Livie to recognize them.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll call your office after I call the cops, okay? I’m all right. I am…”