Assassin's Haiku

by Cynthia Sax

He knew that, yet he couldn’t let her go. It was no longer the threat of the Agency linking them together, because overnight, while waiting for Haiku to awaken, he had drafted a plan. By using his extensive resources and calling in some favors, he could fake her death and permanently mask her scent, giving her life and her choice back to her, if he wanted to give it back. Diego didn’t want to, because he didn’t want her to leave. Haiku was everything he had ever dreamed of.

  Haiku grazed his cockhead with her teeth, sending shivers along his skin, before wrapping her lips around the engorged flesh. Her blue-eyed gaze met his as she slid down his shaft, sucking him deep into her throat. She felt like heaven, and a shudder rolled through his body, awakening needs and wants he had long thought dead. Allowing her to love him like this was a suicide mission. He would not come out of their encounter in one piece.

  Haiku paused, and Diego saw her dilemma. She couldn’t take all of him into her sweet mouth. His genetically enhanced cock was too large. She improvised instead, covering his remaining shaft with her gentle fingers, her fingers squeezing as she bobbed her head, fucking him with a mouth as hot and wet as her pussy.

  Having shredded the cotton bedsheets into strips, Diego buried his fingertips into the mattress, digging, digging, digging into the stuffing, while she sucked and moaned and wiggled her bare ass in the air. “Haiku, please…” He begged for her mercy, his chest rumbling with desire. He was past pride, past thinking, aching to touch her, to trace her curved backbone with his fingers, to cup those pale cheeks.

  She gave him no relief, however, and increased her fervor, her cheeks indented with the force of her suction. Diego’s fingers clasped the mattress springs, and he held on, his cock under strain, ready to blow, his body wound up as tightly as a primed gun.

  “Haiku, I’m going to…” Diego warned her. He expected her to pull back, but she didn’t. She took him fully into her mouth, sucking hard, and her sublime pressure snapped his control.

  “Haiku!” He shouted her name, pulled at the mattress springs, straightening the wire, as he struggled not to move. He came hard and fiercely, pouring his seed into her ready mouth, and she swallowed again and again, her throat constricting, her cheeks draining every last drop from him.

  Diego went limp, his bones turning to water, his mind as empty and clear as his cock. Haiku collapsed on top of him, her flushed cheeks resting upon his thigh.

  “Haiku.” He babbled her name over and over, as he couldn’t say anything more, having no other thought in his head. All he knew was Haiku, and he threaded his fingers through her white angel hair. It was the softest thing he had ever touched. He stroked and petted Haiku while her breath puffed against his skin, and moments stretched, adding memories to his hoard.

  “Wow.”

  Trust his poetry-loving girl to sum the experience up with one husky word.

  “Do you have a pen?”

  Haiku’s smile proclaimed her satisfaction. She appeared more blissful than he felt, and he thought that impossible.

  “I’m feeling inspired.”

  Sucking his cock inspired her? Bemused, Diego reached over to the nightstand. He kept his gaze fixed on Haiku, certain that she would change her mind, that she would wake up from their loving stupor and realize she was lying on top of a genetically enhanced assassin. Diego opened a drawer and blindly fished around in its assorted contents, his fingers closing over a marker. He handed it to her.

  Haiku uncapped the marker. “This is permanent,” she pointed out.

  She waved it in the air, the chemical scent making Diego’s top lip curl.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” If he could, he’d have her poems tattooed to his flesh; he’d then have an eternal reminder of this perfect time.

  Their state of wonder wouldn’t last. Diego flinched as the cold marker touched his stomach. Although he wanted her to stay with him forever, she’d eventually leave him, and he’d have to let her go.

  His stomach marked with her words, Haiku scanned the rest of his naked body. “Do you wish to talk about this?” She caressed the wide silver scar over his ribs, her hands warm and loving.

  No, he didn’t wish to talk about how he earned that scar. Diego never relived his battles, as each skirmish resulted in pain and death, the horror of war difficult enough to experience the first time.

  Blue eyes looked at him expectantly. He’d read her poems, and he knew Haiku wanted him to tell her a romantic story about how he saved a dozen kids, only there weren’t any such stories. He wasn’t a hero, and he wouldn’t hide under a cover of lies.

  “I shopped at the same food supply store twice and was ambushed by thirty Agency operatives. I was sloppy.” Diego shrugged off the memory of betrayal and pain. “And that is my reminder not to be sloppy in the future.” He healed, as he always healed, and when properly treated, his wounds left no scars. To ensure this specific lesson stayed with him, Diego intentionally hadn’t used the suture gun to close the wound.

  “You killed them.” Haiku’s soft voice held no shock, her tone conveying heartfelt understanding.

  She deluded herself, because she couldn’t understand him. She babysat toddlers and wrote poetry, while he was a cold-blooded killer, an assassin without mercy. They were worlds apart. “There was nothing left of them except a pool of blood on the pavement,” he told her with grim determination. He had been ruthless in exacting his revenge, angry at both the Agency and himself.

  “You did what you had to do.” She bent her head and gently kissed along his scar, as he imagined she did with her kids’ cuts and scrapes, but she didn’t know that no amount of kisses could make his boo-boo better.

  “I did what I was designed to do.” There was a difference, and she had to know that. Instead of human instincts, he had carefully programmed responses. Haiku gave him a smile that shouted forbearance.

  “If you only did what you were designed to do, you’d still be killing for the Agency.” She added a line to the poem, finishing it with a swirl. “And you wouldn’t be in this bed with me. You are more than a machine, Diego.” She capped the marker and tapped his skin.

  Diego looked down at his stomach. The words were upside down, written so she could easily read it, but he understood them all the same.

  A new day will dawn

  Haiku will love her Diego

  Two truths in this life

  Haiku thought she loved him, but how could she love him? She wasn’t aware of what he was capable of, what he was designed for, and she didn’t truly know him.

  “Do you like it?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. She did that when she worried.

  “Yeah.” He’d hold the words close to his heart long after she was gone. He pulled Haiku up to kiss her. She tasted like him, and his body stirred. He always had a fast recovery time—that was a side effect of the genetic enhancements—but never this fast. Since that kiss in the club, he was stronger and faster and—he shifted in the bed—hornier. “Haiku, have you noticed anything—”

  The perimeter alarms sounded, red strobe lights streaking across the room. An alarm too soft for human ears pulsed out its warning. They were under attack. Diego sat up, bouncing Haiku’s body away from his. “Oh, fuck.” No one had ever found him here. He leaped out of bed and ran naked to the surveillance images, scanning them quickly. There was nothing. No, there was something. He focused on the compromised area. There was a brick on the sensor, a piece of paper fluttering under it.

  “What is it?” Haiku hurried out of the bedroom wearing one of his shirts. It covered her from neck to knee, she was that tiny.

  “A brick was placed on the sensor.” It was deliberately placed. Diego played back the images, pausing at one frame out of the three. Fuck, the culprit was fast. And he was small, smaller than even Haiku. The boy’s grave face stared right into the camera, as though daring Diego to stop him.

  “Oh, Jacob,” Haiku murmured, concern raising her pitch. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? I told you
to protect the others.”

  This Jacob was to protect the others? The child appeared to be eight years old. “You know him?” Knowledge of the enemy might allow them to slip by any traps laid for them, and if they did that, they could, if they were lucky, survive this disaster. Some of the tension eased from Diego’s shoulders.

  “Yes, I do.” Haiku’s beautiful face twisted with worry. “He’s one of my kids. I’m sorry, Diego. He shouldn’t be out. He knows I’m okay, and he shouldn’t have come looking for me.”

  “How did he find you? This is a secure location.” It was no longer safe. Haiku was no longer safe, and they’d have to move. Diego’s mind spun with the possible alternatives.

  “Jacob is special.”

  She rubbed his arm, as though she was trying to calm him, but he couldn’t be calmed. Haiku, the woman he loved, wasn’t safe.

  “We share a bond, and no matter where I am, he can find me, but he didn’t lead anyone else here. I know that, as he wouldn’t put me at risk.”

  “He’s eight!” Diego paced, irate at the situation and frustrated by his failure. He had only one job, and that was to protect her, and he’d failed. “What the fuck does he know? I have to move you.” But where? Nowhere was as secure as his bunker.

  “He’s seven, actually, but a very mature seven, and moving me won’t make a difference. If he wants to find me, he will,” Haiku said with an insulting certainty.

  Diego was a professional assassin, and he could damn well outsmart a seven-year-old child. Had she no faith in him?

  “We should see what he wants. It looks like he left us a message.”

  “No.” It could be a trick, since the Agency had used innocent children before, and there were rumors that they were building an army of children. “I’ll go out and see.” Diego stalked back to the bedroom, his bare feet slapping on the tile. He grabbed his clothes. He had to calm down. He was too emotional, and emotions got assassins killed.

  “I’m sorry, Diego.” He felt Haiku’s hand on his shoulder. “First you have to deal with the Agency because of me, and now this.”

  He’d fight the entire world for her. Didn’t she know that? Diego covered her hand with his. “I’ll keep you safe, Haiku. I promise.” He wouldn’t fail her, not again.

  Chapter Six

  The hours dragged while Diego was away, and Haiku spent the time tidying up, repairing the mattress, cleaning her clothes, composing poetry, and worrying. She didn’t worry about Jacob, because, through their bond, she would know if the orphan boy was hurt. No, she worried about Diego. She worried that he wasn’t thinking clearly, that he might put himself in danger. She worried that he couldn’t handle that she came with attachments, that she had kids who depended upon her emotionally. She worried that her love for him wouldn’t be enough.

  It was evening before the locks on the doors slid open one by one, and relief swept over Haiku. Diego had come back, and they could deal with the other issues together. The door swung wide. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t, as his jerky movements told her he wasn’t pleased. Instead she hovered close to him.

  “He had no scent.” Diego tossed his leather gloves on the kitchen counter. “The kid had no scent. How is that possible? Who the hell is he, Haiku?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t know much about her children, as they came to her so young. They hadn’t the ability to tell her about their backgrounds. Jacob hadn’t even had a name. When Haiku had asked him for it, he’d recited what sounded like a model number.

  “Jacob found me one night as I walked back from a poetry reading,” she said, sharing what she could, hoping the information would alleviate some of Diego’s aggravation. “He told me he escaped from bad men.” Many of the orphans would wake up late at night screaming about bad men dressed in white, bright lights, and blood, so much blood. No child should have to see what they had. “He is special.” The children also had unusual abilities.

  “He left this.” Diego took a piece of paper from his jacket, carefully unfolding it. “How does he know me?” He laid it flat on the counter.

  “He doesn’t know you.” Haiku picked the paper up. She was shown in the picture, her stomach round with child, with her hands protectively cradled around the baby bump. Her image was painstakingly labeled Ku-Ku, as that was what the kids called her. Diego was also depicted, his name printed in block letters above his grim face. Jacob stood between them, smiling one of his rare smiles. Around them were the rest of the children, including the artist. “This is Emily’s work, not Jacob’s. She draws things that haven’t happened.” Sometimes her visions came true, and sometimes they didn’t. Haiku touched her flat stomach, hope warming her insides.

  “How many special kids do you have?” Diego eyed her with consideration.

  Haiku set the drawing back down on the counter. This was hard for him, she knew, as he was accustomed to being alone, and now he had her and her accumulated family. “They’re all special to me, but many of them are very special.” She touched his arm, his bicep warm and strong and unyielding under her fingers.

  “You love them.” Diego said the words as though they were a curse. “Connections will get you killed, Haiku.” He draped his leather jacket over a chair, revealing the gun stuck in the waistband of his pants.

  His fear was that the Agency would find her and kill her, but he didn’t know that some of the children, Jacob included, had less benign abilities. “Connections are the only reason to live, because without love, we have nothing.” She caressed Diego’s face, and he pressed his cheek into her hand. She understood that he was trying to protect her, that he worried for her because he cared. “I know you want to keep me safe, but I can’t stay locked up here forever, Diego.” The kids missed her, and she missed her kids.

  His gaze slid away from hers. “Are you that eager to leave me?” he asked with a manufactured casualness.

  “Of course not.” She smiled, his expelled breath at her answer belying his cold attitude. “If you had room here for twenty kids, I’d never leave.”

  “Twenty kids,” Diego repeated. His eyes surveyed the room. Was he considering where to fit them? Would he do that for her? Haiku’s heart swelled with emotion.

  “In the bunker?” He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

  “Yes, that’s impossible.” Swallowing her tears, she managed a laugh. “So it might be best if I visited them instead.”

  “If I arranged for you to visit your kids, will you stay with me?” Taking both of her hands in his, Diego studied her face, his expression grim and serious, as though his life depended on her response.

  “Yes, if you wished me to.” If he wished her to, she would happily stay with him forever.

  His reply was to pull her tightly to him, her hip pressed against his hip, her breasts flattened against his chest. Her soft curves filled the spaces between his hard muscles, and they were as one, fitting together perfectly.

  Diego stared down at her, his eyes warming to black velvet. He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth sealing over hers, his tongue probing between her lips. She opened up completely to him, giving Diego the surrender he demanded.

  He searched her mouth, exploring every crevice. Haiku didn’t know what he was looking for, as everything she had was his. Trusting him to support her, she allowed her body to go limp, sagging into him. He caught her, one of his hands covering the arch of her back and the other spanning her shoulders, his fingertips massaging her spine.

  He broke the kiss and pressed her head into his heaving chest, and they stood, arms around each other, alone in their underground sanctuary. Diego played with her hair, her scalp tingling from his tender caresses. Haiku listened to the comforting beat of his heart. He was alive, he was well, and he would stay that way.

  “I’ll take you to see the kids tomorrow.” Diego sighed deeply before stepping away from her. “Tonight, I have to work.”

  He had to work. Haiku watched as he opened a wall panel, behind which w
as displayed a meticulously arranged assortment of weapons. Diego would kill someone tonight. He picked up a fully loaded shoulder holster.

  “You will be careful out there, right?” She swallowed her fears and adjusted the twisted holster straps with shaking hands. He grunted as he strapped blades to his forearms. “Right. Of course you’ll be careful.” She answered for him. This was his job, just as taking care of children was hers, and she had to accept who he was, learn to live with her fear. “You’re always careful.” He was the best, she reminded herself, and he’d be okay. “Yes, you should go, work…safely.” She gave him permission both to leave and to kill. “And I’ll stay here.” She looked around the small space, wondering what she’d do while he was away. “Waiting for you.” She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she knew he was all right.

  Diego slipped blades into his boots. He was armed literally from head to toe, weighed down with weaponry.

  “I’ll be late,” he advised gruffly, his jacket covering the arsenal on his back and chest.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Haiku summoned up a smile, clutching her hands together to keep from clinging to him. “I’m not going anywhere…unless…” She couldn’t finish her thought.

  “I’ll be back,” Diego reassured her.

  He stared down at Emily’s drawing, a softer emotion resembling wistfulness flashing across his hard face. The emotion was so fleeting, Haiku wondered if she’d actually seen it or merely imagined it.

  “I’m taking this too.” He deftly folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.

  Chapter Seven

  Diego slinked along the shadows, following the Agency men down the street. The soldiers-for-hire were looking for Haiku, flashing her image to locals and asking questions. They knew not to ask about him, because the people they questioned feared him more than they feared the Agency.

  Their informants didn’t know that Haiku was now an extension of himself and that he felt their betrayal of her more keenly than if they had betrayed him. It was his error, as he hadn’t broadcasted that she was under his protection, not wanting her linked to him.