* * * *
The Accidental Assassin
Copyright © 2014 by Nichole Chase
Cover Design by Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations
Formatting and interior design by JT Formatting
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To KP Simmon and Rebecca Friedman.
Thanks for being on my team.
“THIS PROJECT NEEDS to be completed within the next two weeks.” The woman leaned back casually. Nothing. No twitching, no tightening of her fingers on the arm rest, no tell-tale signs around her eyes. She might as well have been carved from marble. Her finely sculpted eyebrows raised pointedly. “And we want it to make an impression. Nothing small or mistakable.”
The folder was thick with photographic evidence, but as I flipped through it, something in the woman’s expression made me wary. The man she wanted killed deserved to die; he was in the slave business and killed his women when they were of no more use. But for all the expression she showed, we could be discussing cutting down a tree, or removing a stone from her front yard. Glacial coolness radiated from under a perfectly polished veneer. The lack of fear in her brown eyes, the ease with which she faced me, those were things that always put me on guard. Meeting a hitman wasn’t something most people did, and she had decided to do it with no backup. Without trying to stroke my own ego, most people wouldn’t even send their assistant to meet me without backup. There was a good chance that this was the actual client, not an assistant as she had introduced herself, but it would be dangerous to meet me on her own. Unless she needed to keep it from even her bodyguards. Or it could be that this was an actress hired by the real client—it wouldn’t be the first time I’d run into that particular issue.
Maybe she thought she didn’t need them. Maybe she felt equipped to handle me on her own.
If I let my ego run rampant like that, I wouldn’t have a job. I’d just be dead.
“Well?” she asked, as I neatly restacked the evidence. “Is this a workable timeframe for you?”
“It’ll be done before then.” I slipped the contents back into the folder and set it on the desk. “Have you contacted anyone else about this job?”
“No.” Something in her eyes shifted. If I hadn’t been looking for something, I would have missed it.
“If there is someone else on this case, I need to know it.” I let my fingers slide off the folder. “Professional courtesy and all.”
“Mr. Walker, you came highly recommended. We have no doubts regarding your efficiency, so we have no need to hire anyone else.” She leaned forward and her mouth curved into a small, seductive smile but I could see through the distraction. It was too late anyway: I’d already gotten my answer. There was something just under the surface of this job that set my teeth on edge.
“I take fifty percent upfront.” I took the folder from the desk. “And the remaining fifty percent when I’m finished.” Whatever was going on, I was in too far not to find out now. And I had to make sure that I wasn’t in someone’s eye-sights. No matter what, it didn’t pay to be on the uninformed side.
“Of course.” She stood up and held out her hand. Her fingers were as cool as her attitude. She knew she was in the presence of a murderer and honestly had no qualms. Or distaste. Intriguing.
“How should I address you?” It was common for hitmen to not know the name of their contractor, but I wasn’t the normal hitman. I only took cases where the mark deserved to die and I was so good at my job I set the rules.
“Maria.” Her smile unfolded, turning into something much more dangerous.
“I’ll be in touch, Maria.” I left the room with my information and the decision to get to the bottom of everything.
WHEN I AGREED to house sit for Tess in London, I’d decided I was going to try all things British. This included drinking tea instead of coffee, taking public transportation, and using different curse words. Regrettably, after more than a week, I still felt like an imposter and probably always would. My southern accent and love for iced sweet tea screamed American, and I’d already gotten hopelessly lost on the Tube twice. I leaned back in my chair at the tiny table and looked at the house plant I’d taken to chatting with. A week in London was hardly enough time to make new friends. Especially without anyone to introduce me.
“Have you seen the classifieds?”
The plant didn’t respond. Apparently I’d asked a stupid question.
“I’m serious. If I want to extend my visa, I need to find a job.” I was desperate for employment doing something other than answering phones for an aircraft engineering company like back home. Leaning forward, I opened the paper to a different page. Unfortunately, I managed to hit my tea saucer with my knuckles.
“Shit.” The hot tea spread across the table while I scrambled for a towel. “Bugger.”
I grimaced. No, it still sounded weird when I said it. I snatched the dish rag from the sink and tried to sop up the brown liquid. Well, creamy brown liquid. I’d added more than my share of milk and sugar to the cup. I picked up the now-soaked newspaper and threw it in the sink. I’d have to look up the story about the visiting prince and duchess online now. Once I had everything clean, I took a shower and put on real clothing.
Tess swore that the internet was easy to use, but I could never get my laptop to connect at her new flat. If I wanted to look for a job, I’d have to buy a new paper, or better yet, head to the local café for some free wi-fi. I grabbed my keys and threw the strap of my comput
er case over my shoulder.
“Don’t wait up for me, Mr. Green. I might go sightseeing.” As usual the plant didn’t respond.
I passed Mr. Song in the hallway and nodded my head. He jerked his chin in a short acknowledgement, but never said anything. I knew he spoke English, I’d heard him complaining to the woman in the apartment across from Tess’s about her cats. Flat—not apartment, I corrected mentally. So I felt it safe to assume that he was just a grump, not that he hated me. Not that I would have really cared, but I couldn’t stand the thought of alienating one of Tess’s neighbors. She had been so excited about moving to London with her new husband, I think she’d been a bit disappointed that she was leaving on her honeymoon almost immediately. Danny had gone all out with a month-long trip in Italy, though, so she couldn’t be too upset. Besides, she’d be able to do the tourist thing here when she got back. It would feel like an extension of their honeymoon.
I shuddered as I passed the hallway that led to the building’s parking garage. I had tried to drive Danny’s car my second day here and had hated every second of it. Everything was backward. The steering column was on the wrong side. I had to drive on the wrong side of the road. Combine that with all of the roundabouts and new-city-confusion, and it spelled disaster. I’d made it to the airport to pick up the luggage that had been delayed, but when I got back, I drank half a bottle of wine to calm my nerves. I’d never thought I’d have such a hard time doing something different. Then again, I did prefer to stick to my routine.
Which is exactly why I was here in London, trying to shake things up. After my college graduation, I’d found myself in a rut. My degree seemed useless and I still hadn’t left the aircraft builder’s office where I’d been working during school. I still drove the same car, used the same shampoo, and did everything the exact same as I had when I first left for college. And then Danny proposed to Tess. And Tess, one of my rocks, said yes. Before I knew it, I was helping her pick out dresses and look at flats—ha! I got it right that time—online. As I watched her move forward, I realized that I was going nowhere. The more I delved into my life, the more static it started to seem. I even realized that the men I had dated over the years had all been the same. Boring, predictable, and even more lackluster in bed. In my mind I had thought that meant stable, but it really just meant…mind-numbing.
Coffee smells wafted from the little café at the corner of the street and I smiled. So far, I’d tried eight new drinks. Rachel, the barista, always brightened when I came in. She said that most people ordered the same thing every time, but that I was always a surprise.
“There she is! How are you, Ava?” Rachel leaned a hip against the counter. Her bright dreadlocks swayed around her head and her nose piercing shined brightly.
“Good, you?” I stepped around a mother wiping up her daughter’s spilt juice.
“Excellent. What are you going to try today?”
“I’m not sure.” I looked up at the board above her head. “Why don’t you surprise me?”
“Really?” She stood up straight. “Anything you don’t want?”
I almost said tea, but bit my tongue. “Nope. You make it, I’ll try it.”
“Have I mentioned how much I love it when you come in here?” she asked. “And not just because of your cute American accent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I get to experiment on you.”
“I prefer to think of it as expressing your creativity.”
“Same thing, isn’t it?” She moved over to her machines and started mixing things in a cup. I watched and tried to pick out the ingredients. When she brought it over to me, she watched expectantly, so I took a test sip.
“Caramel.” I took another sip. “Pumpkin?”
“Got it. Better than the raspberry?”
“Definitely.” The raspberry coffee had made me want to gag. Fruit and coffee was apparently not my thing. I handed her some money and waved for her to keep the change. Rachel was one of the few people that I had met the past week who had become familiar. Mostly because she was a sucker for my accent. Which was funny, because I was a sucker for hers.
The first couple of days I’d sat at the same table when I came in, but when I realized I was falling into yet another safe routine, I’d started picking random spots. The chair closest to one of the open windows called my name, so I decided it would do for the day. My eyes drifted over to the seat I’d used yesterday and froze. A man in a suit sat in the corner, his arm draped over the back of the chair, a paper in his hand. Sharp cheek bones, combined with a light sprinkling of stubble and piercing green eyes, combined for a heavy shot of lust.
As if sensing my scrutiny, he looked up and met my gaze. There was a quick zing that zipped through my body as our regard held. I jerked my eyes away guiltily before chastising myself. It was an instant reaction to being caught ogling, but I should have just smiled and looked down. I couldn’t bring myself to look back over at him, so I focused on pulling my laptop out and connecting to the internet. I didn’t realize he had left the café until I saw him walk past my window. He smiled at me when I looked up, but didn’t say anything. I watched his back with interest as he headed down the street. It was a rather nice backside and it had been a while since I’d enjoyed a good romp in bed. I was a bit surprised by the immediate attraction though. All of the men I’d dated in the past had been a bit callous, rough around the edges, but this one had been very nicely put together.
“Looks like you’ve got an admirer.” Rachel sat a new cup down on the table.
“What?” I looked up at her, confused.
“The hottie got this for you. Said to get you another cup of whatever had made you smile.” She grinned broadly at me.
“Hottie?”I looked at the cup and felt my cheeks grow hot. He had definitely noticed me staring.
“I saw you checking him out. Not that I blame you. Those eyes were to die for.” She cocked her head to the side. “Had a dangerous feel to him, too. Rugged, but not in a mountain man sort of way.”
“Caught.” I held up my hands in defeat. “Sexy. He was sexy.”
“And he knew it.”
“They usually do.” I shook my head and looked at the cup.
“Don’t worry. I made it, so it’s not drugged or anything.” Rachel laughed.
“Good to know.” I looked back out the window but didn’t see him anymore. “That was nice of him. Who is he?”
“Dunna know.” She shrugged. “Never been in before, but I hope he comes back.” She raised an eyebrow and I laughed.
“He certainly doesn’t hurt the décor.”
“You can say that again.” She went back to her counter in a swish of bright skirts, leaving me to think about the mystery man.
After an hour and several emails about job openings, I decided to head out and see more of the city. I was used to being by myself. Tess was the closest thing I had to family, so it wasn’t unusual for me to visit places without anyone. I’d learned at an early age that doing things alone could be liberating. I didn’t have to worry about what other people wanted to eat, or bathroom breaks, but there were times I wished I could share something with someone—have that connection. There was an American family with a daughter in line to see Buckingham Palace that made me laugh. She kept asking if there were any princesses at the castle and I knew that her parents would always remember her excitement.
“I heard that America’s Duchess was going to be here.” I smiled down at the girl. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and see her and her prince charming too!”
The little girl squealed loudly before slapping both hands over her mouth. She danced in spot for a moment, trying to contain her excitement.
“That’s right.” The mother smiled down at her daughter. “They’re in town for the christening of the baby prince!”
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!” The girl bounced up and down on her toes. “I can’t believe it! A real princess and prince!”
Her parents laughed, soaking up her excitement as it spilled out.
I did too. There was something contagious about watching a child faced with a dream come true.
I wonder what moments my parents had shared with me that I could no longer remember. They had died when I was twelve, and at twenty-three, some of my memories were becoming fuzzy. Maybe that was because I had no one to remind me of them, or maybe it was simply a side effect of growing older. I’d lived with my grandmother until I went to college. She passed away a year later, leaving me completely alone. Maybe all of that upheaval was the reason I’d stuck so closely to a routine in the past—a need for normality.
The palace was huge, breathtaking, and everything I had hoped. The queen wasn’t in residence, but would be back soon for the christening of her new grandbaby. I could imagine her dressed in one of her elegant gowns and talking with dignitaries. In fact, the christening is why there was a story about the Lilarian royalty in the paper. In between sending my resume to different employers, I had finished the article about the visiting prince and soon-to-be princess. Like most of America, I had been enthralled by America’s Duchess, but I also felt a bit bad for her. Not too bad, considering her hunky fiancé, but bad for all of the upheaval in her life. This was ironic, when you considered that I was working hard to cause disruption in my own life. At least I didn’t have cameras following me through mine, though.
I spent a good while in the palace, looking at the art work and peeking down hallways. I was amazed by the artifacts—by the history itself. Many important historical figures had graced these halls. Outside I snapped pictures of the guards in their red suits and big black hats. I strolled aimlessly for a while, taking pictures and soaking up the culture. We might speak the same language, but there were a lot of differences between Americans and the British. There were a lot of similarities of course, more than the differences, but it was tiny things that reminded me I was somewhere new. I walked through a shop and perused a shelf of tea. I’d tried two other brands so far, but would keep working to see if I found one I liked. I picked up a box with a smiling, grey haired woman on the front, and took it to the counter.
The Accidental Assassin (Assassins #1) Page 1
