Assassin's Prey (Assassins Book 3)

by Ella Sheridan

  “I don’t blame you, Levi. You know that, right?”

  A flush went through me. “You should.”

  “No, I shouldn’t, any more than I should blame your brothers.” She tapped lightly on my bottom lip. “You’ll see it my way once you have time to consider it.”

  That was never gonna happen. “I will?”

  “Of course you will.” A spark of mischief lit in her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so, and I’m always right.”

  Unbelievably, a grin curved the corner of my lips. “You’re getting a bit big for your britches.”

  “Hmm.” Abby reached for the door handle. “If that keeps up, you might have to take them off and spank me.”

  How could she do this to me, put things into perspective when all I wanted to do was wallow in their heaviness? “I don’t need an excuse to spank you; you know that.”

  One last look from those mysterious hazel eyes before she gripped the door. “I do. Now hurry back so you can follow through.”

  A bark of laughter escaped me before the door slammed shut. Abby didn’t look back as she walked toward Eli. He let her in, giving me a finger wave, then allowed the door to close behind him. I put the SUV in gear again and headed for the highway.

  Outside the city, rolling Georgia hills and winding country roads predominated. Almost idyllic. As a child I’d known this country so well, but it’s hard to steal when homes and businesses are few and far between. Especially stealing enough to support three growing boys. The city had been our only option, but I’d never forgotten what it felt like to be back home.

  Well, not home anymore. I didn’t know who the mansion my parents had raised us in belonged to. Probably sold somewhere along the way, to another millionaire, single or married, maybe filling the house with kids. Knowing it, seeing it would’ve shattered the memories inside me—of two parents, three boys, together. Safe.

  My uncle might’ve killed them for their money, but he couldn’t kill the memories. Someone taking our place could.

  And yet now, with the residue of the police station tainting me, I couldn’t stop myself from driving toward the back of the wooded estate where we’d lived. A two-lane road bordered the creek curving along the boundary of the property. Rocks jutting up forced the water to twirl and dance, to sing a song as it tumbled over them. I’d heard its music in my dreams for years after we left, and yet as I parked the SUV amid some overgrown bushes and walked to the edge of the water, that familiarity was distant, hidden behind a veil of something I wasn’t sure I could name.

  That veil protected me as I found a shallow area to cross, then the rock-studded path my brothers and I used to follow down to the water. The woods enveloped me like warm arms, pulling me back to a childhood most would call idyllic. Wholesome. Years spent roaming the land, playing sports, milk and cookies after school. And my mother…God, my mother.

  She’d been so soft—her voice, her smile. But not her hugs; those had been fierce, tight. The memory of those hugs almost ripped through the veil. The crackle of a walkie-talkie up ahead was the only thing that saved me.

  Son of a bitch.

  I stepped into the underbrush, cursing myself for being that careless. Crouching behind the thick trunk of an old maple, I waited, watching, listening. Moments later a black-clad, muscular guard passed along the trail, radio to his mouth. Reporting the all clear. He was almost as much of a fool as I’d been.

  When he passed, I turned to head back to the car. No need to follow up my first visit to the cops in years with a second for trespassing. But my first glimpse of the man’s back brought me up short. A scope site outlined in white, the words Rathlin Security marching across it.

  Everything in me went still.

  The guard moved on, oblivious to the threat mere feet away. Comfortable on his own turf; too comfortable. He’d make that mistake in the future and pay for it. Today I had better things to do than teach him the lesson he needed to learn.

  I made for the house.

  My father had been smart. As much as he’d loved the Georgia countryside, no man with that much money was without enemies, and he’d made security a priority. Several acres surrounding the house had been totally cleared, leaving nowhere for the enemy to hide. That worked against me, but familiarity was my ally. Circling the edge of the woods, I came to the area where Remi and I had spent our final summer here. In an ancient oak thick with foliage, we’d spent hours carrying old boards and limbs to build the beginnings of our very own fort. More of a platform, really. Even the ragged rope my father had given us to climb into the tree still dangled, more frayed than ever, waiting for the boys who’d never come back.

  The man, though…

  I avoided the rope—no way would it take my weight now. But a quick scramble up the twisted branches of the tree got me to the platform. Ignoring the twinges of painful memories in the back of my mind, my heart, I eased onto the old boards and laid out flat.

  Still the perfect vantage point to see the house.

  A small set of foldable binoculars in my fatigues pocket came in handy. I lay, listening to the creak and strain of the wood, and watched as what looked like a small army went in and out of the three-story, sprawling stone mansion that used to be my home.

  Many of the upper windows—the living areas—were blocked by curtains. My parents had used the lower floor primarily for entertaining, and it looked as if the setup was similar now, as many of those windows were clear enough to see the men lingering in the rooms. They certainly weren’t hiding their presence, nor did they appear to be worried about an attack. Though there were plenty of weapons on display, they were all holstered or waiting at fingertips, not at the ready.

  These men weren’t worried. But if they were who I thought they were, they should be.

  A flurry of activity accompanied the arrival of a sleek black limo at the door. The driver exited the vehicle, going around to await his passengers. A second vehicle, this one a solid black SUV—the kind I preferred—pulled up behind.

  The door to the mansion opened.

  A contingent of six men, all armed, all with semiautomatics in hand, came out. They lined the sidewalk, at the ready.

  A pause.

  A new figure exited, this one familiar. I knew that swarthy skin, broken nose, and thick hair and beard. Rathlin.

  I saved my curses for later and waited, eyes trained on the scene.

  Two men stepped from the house and stopped at the top of the stairs. Both in suits. I could make out the features of the one facing me as they talked—salt-and-pepper hair, glasses. Classic metro. Was this the lawyer, Chadwick?

  Had to be. But the man with him, built like a bull and big enough to block Chadwick completely from sight when he shifted to the side…I didn’t recognize him. Maybe if I could see his face.

  But he never turned. With a few words to Chadwick, punctuated with a thick finger stabbed in the lawyer’s direction, the man returned to the house, never giving me his front. I tucked the scene away for further analysis later. For now, I had somewhere else to be.

  I made it to the river without incident, and found my car undisturbed. Further evidence that the earlier guard needed to be canned. I waited till the convoy carrying Chadwick passed behind me, pulled out carefully, and followed.

  Chapter Ten

  The limo peeled off when we arrived at the loop around the outskirts of the city. Chadwick going home or to his office, no doubt. I was more interested in where the mercenaries were headed. When they took the exit that would get them to the warehouse, I called Remi.

  “Get Abby out of there.”

  A heavy sigh came through the line. “Why?”

  “Because a six-pack of Rathlin’s men are headed your way. Maybe they followed us after the fire, maybe they’re just scoping out the area, I don’t know, but I won’t take chances with her.”

  Remi swore. The sound of his boots on the concrete echoed in my ear. “She’s not gonna be happy about t
his. Again.”

  “You’re not letting my woman get to you, are you?”

  “I’m letting your drama get to me.” I could hear irritation in his voice, but underneath, something else, something deadly serious. “Is this all really worth it? She’s not a toy you can keep, brother.”

  For a moment the road before me sheeted red. “Shut the fuck up and get her out of there.”

  Remi grunted a reply and hung up on me. That was okay. He’d do as I said whether he agreed with me or not.

  And that was a good thing, because the SUV stopped a half-dozen blocks from the location of the warehouse and disgorged three of its passengers. They spread out, obviously canvassing the area. Shit.

  I got Eli on the line as I followed the vehicle down the road.

  “Yeah.”

  “Heads-up, E. We’ve got a crew in the area.”

  I could hear the tap of his fingertips on the keys. He hummed in my ear for a moment. “You’re awfully close to ’em,” he finally said.

  I narrowed my eyes on the SUV as it turned left near St. Michael’s, the only building in the area with a structure tall enough for surveillance—the steeple. We were definitely being scoped out. “They’re headed for the church. Please tell me Remi has Abby out of there.”

  As if he would dare not obey. Eli chuckled. “She went nicely with her jailer, yes. Had a few choice words for you, though.”

  When was she going to understand that this was all to keep her safe?

  “She does get it,” Eli said, startling me. It was only then that I realized I’d asked the question aloud. “She’s afraid, and unlike us, she can’t shoot right into action to fix the problem. Railing against the injustice of it is the only outlet she has for her frustration.”

  God, I hoped he was right. And said so as I pulled into a parking space two streets down from the church.

  “When am I ever not right?”

  If we’d been in the same room, I would’ve flipped him the bird. “Keep it up, little bro. I’m keeping track.”

  “Hey, I’m no kid in need of discipline anymore. We’re not keeping score.”

  He sounded a bit too defensive to be sure. I grinned. “You’re not.”

  But I wasn’t either, not really. I was distracting myself. Remi would keep Abby safe, I knew, but I wanted to be the one with her. And yes, as always, what I wanted and what was necessary almost never coincided.

  I stepped out of the SUV, the calm of battle settling on my shoulders. “Visual.”

  Eli rattled off the group’s position, then the individuals. “Definitely doing a sweep. Which way you going?”

  I eyed the steeple at St. Michael’s. “I’ll keep a watch here. Just don’t let ’em sneak up on me.”

  The first head appeared in the small window at the steeple. They’d be setting up surveillance equipment now. “Any sign they’re focused on the warehouse?”

  “Nah.” Wheels rattled as Eli rolled his chair around. “Either they don’t know for certain we’re here, or they’re just getting the lay of the land.”

  Too bad for them we wouldn’t be here after tonight. The location was compromised; all that was left was to squeeze our opponents for whatever details we could get before we ghosted.

  “Thoughts on which of those three unknowns would sing the loudest?” I asked, knowing Eli would get my drift.

  A weighted silence fell as he considered his answer. Then a laugh. “I’m going to go with the one that just took a whiz on the back corner of our location without realizing where he actually was.”

  “Sounds clueless,” I said. “What intel could he possibly give us?”

  “Doesn’t matter. His bladder is empty; that means I won’t be cleaning up piss at the end of the night.”

  And the youngest always got the cleanup. “You’re in luck. We won’t be back, so no need for cleanup.”

  “Then let’s go for a smart one.”

  After a bit of debate we decided on the guy that we only caught glimpses of—harder to catch but more likely to have what we needed. But harder to catch. I figured being up front was our best bet.

  Joining Eli in the warehouse, I proceeded to wait till our man came sniffing around. Alone. When he got close enough, I opened the door.

  “Looking for me?”

  “Motherfuck—”

  He was too focused on me to notice Eli behind him, at least not until the needle penetrated his ass. His elbow connected with my brother’s nose—Eli was too busy pressing the plunger to see it coming—and then the mercenary hit his knees. I caught him before he did a face-plant on the concrete.

  Eli had tears and blood streaming down his face. “You’re supposed to duck,” I reminded him.

  “Shuh de fuh up.”

  We grabbed both sides of the man’s collar and dragged him into the warehouse.

  “Yoo—” Eli stopped, shook his head. He dropped his handful and made a gesture that could either mean go fuck yourself, asshole or tie him up yourself. Maybe both. I bet on the latter and pulled the deadweight over to the chair already set up for our guest. By the time he stirred, he was trussed tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey.

  “What the…fu…wha—” He shook his head groggily. I let him soak for a few more minutes, giving the last of the sedative time to dissipate.

  Eli wandered up with a bag of frozen peas plastered to his face. The look he gave the man in the chair could’ve felled the enemy at fifty feet, much less five.

  The man was awake enough to grin.

  Eli huffed.

  Worked for me. “He’s all yours, E.”

  I gave my brother twenty minutes. Plenty of time to rough the guy up a little, for which I did not feel guilty. Rathlin’s group wasn’t known for caring about the innocent, and from the insignia on this guy’s jacket, he’d been involved with Rathlin for quite a while.

  When I figured he was loose enough, I signaled Eli to back off.

  “Look,” I said, coming to stand square in front of him. “I’m not interested in killing you. I also don’t want this to take all day. Just tell me what the fuck y’all are after so I can kick your ass out the door.”

  The guy turned his head and spit. “Fuck off.”

  “I take it that means you won’t cooperate.”

  He stared up at me, defiance in his eyes, lips tight. I shrugged. “Bring me the Taser,” I told Eli.

  The guy scoffed. “Really?”

  “Oh, this?” Eli held up the small black rectangle. “We made a few modifications. No darts; that’s nice. More direct current—not so nice. Have you had an enema today? No? You might wish you had in a few minutes.”

  Eli handed me the Taser. I flipped the switch and touched the pointed end to the man’s chest. He grunted quietly, then laughed.

  “He doesn’t think we’ll do anything,” Eli said. His voice took on an evil glee. “Stick him again.”

  I tipped my head toward my brother. “We need to give him at least one more chance. You know how I feel about this.”

  Eli rolled his eyes. “Every torture victim is someone’s son or daughter,” he said in a singsong voice. “I know.”

  I really did feel that way. Not that this guy was going to care. I raised my eyebrow. “Last chance, asshole—what do y’all want?”

  “I already gave you my answer: fuck you.”

  I turned the dial on the Taser a couple of clicks. What happened next wasn’t pretty. When he finally quit twitching, I asked again, “What does Chadwick want? Is this about the trust? Because I don’t give a shit about the money.”

  The man worked his mouth for a minute, finally shook his head.

  Okay.

  This time was worse. The guy threw up after; for a minute I thought his stomach would actually come up, he clenched so hard. I stood impassively, waiting for the retching to stop. “Tell me what I want to know. What does Chadwick want?”

  The man gave a watery growl. “Chadwick is a pissant.”

  “Meaning what?” Eli asked.

/>   No answer. Another zap.

  “Here’s what I don’t get it,” I said while his teeth rattled in the aftermath. “Why kill me over a trust? The man has to have more money than he knows what to do with, especially after eleven years of skimming. Or is he just trying to avoid someone finding out the trust is empty?” Not the most likely possibility, but who knew?

  A weak grin pulled at the man’s mouth. “You think this is about money?” A sick laugh left him. “Have you even read that trust?”

  I frowned.

  Eli had wandered over to the computer station. “Bro.”

  I walked toward him, giving our guest time to breathe. “Yeah?”

  “We got a couple of hounds.”

  Sure enough, someone was sniffing around outside. Guess they’d found Eli’s blood on the pavement. “It’s your lucky day, dude.” I stuck the Taser in my pocket. “We’ll let your friends clean up.” I walked over and leaned down, eye to eye. “Take my advice—find out a bit about your target before you go after them.”

  “We know all about you, fucker.”

  I glanced at his bonds. “Obviously not enough.” I narrowed my eyes. “And if you think I won’t come after you, your boss, and the rest of his toy-soldier army, you’re fucking delusional. This is child’s play. Quit while you’re ahead.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “About damn time.”

  Remi’s words were thrown at me as I stepped through the door of the two-bedroom bungalow where he’d taken Abby. Unfortunately they weren’t as welcoming as the mellow colors of the living room, which, after the day that I’d had, only served to piss me off.

  “You got a problem with me doing my job, brother?”

  “What I’ve got is places to be.”

  What the fuck? I eyed his closed-off expression as he jerked on his jacket. The attitude wasn’t new, though Remi never showed it around Abby. Since he’d healed from the gunshot wound, he’d had spells where his usually grounded outlook was submerged beneath an anger I didn’t quite understand. And disappearances that made me uneasy. “Like where?”