Assassin's Prey (Assassins Book 3)

by Ella Sheridan

  “I don’t trust promises from men like you.”

  “Why the fuck would you do a job without full intel and without backup?” Levi growled, pulling me back from memories I should’ve buried a long time ago. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  The thought didn’t bother me as much as it should have—a warning sign in my business. I brushed it off with a mental shrug. “I saw an opportunity and I took it. I knew all I needed to know.”

  “What I know is you have a fucking death wish. You’re taking too many chances, Remi. You know better than that. I taught you better than that.”

  You taught me a lot of things, big brother. Unfortunately lessons couldn’t make you feel when all you wanted was to stop feeling.

  I slowed, taking the same turn Leah had taken, far enough behind that she wouldn’t notice. When she left the main road that bisected the neighborhood, I turned off my headlights and followed.

  “This has got to stop, Remi.”

  Levi’s words jerked me out of the fantasy of belonging in this little neighborhood with a woman and a little girl who deserved far better than me. He was right, too; he had no idea how right.

  “You’re risking too much and you know it. I can’t lose you, brother. Either you rein it in or—”

  “Or what?”

  My words were deadly quiet. I could feel Levi’s shock in the silence after them, knew he understood what I was saying—there was nothing he could do to stop me. I worked with my brothers because I wanted to, not because it was necessary.

  The silence ticked by with the passing of car after car parked in front of each square of idealized domesticity. Levi finally spoke.

  “Look, I love you; you know that. I even understand where you are coming from.”

  Because he knew about Leah. Or rather, about a woman; he didn’t know her identity.

  His voice went from gruff to dark and deadly, much as mine had been moments before. “But Remi, if you don’t curb yourself, if you put Eli and Abby in danger, I will take care of business, don’t you doubt it. I won’t want to, but I will.”

  I didn’t doubt it one bit. Levi would storm through hell to keep his woman safe. I knew because I felt the same. “Noted.”

  I clicked to end the call before either one of us could say something we really would regret—or before Levi could. I’d gone far beyond regret even before I took care of Mr. Wife Beater Clarkson.

  Leah had parked in the driveway of a small gray house with weathered white trim. I pulled into a spot in front of a house catty-corner to hers, at just the right angle that I could see her fumbling to gather her things and get out of her car. I could see her walking up the sidewalk, her curves pulling my gaze down her body as she moved. I could see her sidestep to avoid the crack at the turn in the pavement just before the steps up to her porch. I didn’t need to see any of it—I had watched her so many times that I knew each move by heart—yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  And because I was watching, because I knew her body language better than my own, I saw the moment she hesitated outside the front entrance. Saw her keys fall from her hand to patter on the concrete before she yanked on the screen door.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I was out of my car and crossing the street, heart pounding to the rhythm of my running feet, without a moment’s hesitation. Leah’s name escaped my lips over and over again, a mantra against the jacked-up fear I couldn’t escape, no matter how irrational. It had been a single moment, one fleeting glimpse, but something inside me—instinct, paranoia, I didn’t know what—said this wasn’t irrational at all.

  Put me in front of a gun with a round in the chamber and a finger on the trigger and my breath wouldn’t even hitch. But Leah in danger? There was plenty of hitching. And swearing. And pleading with whatever spirit ruled the universe to keep her safe when I saw the broken-off knob on her screen door and the deep white gouges scarring the inner door’s wood.

  Someone had broken in—with Leah’s child inside.

  “Leah!”

  Inside, chaos reigned though the room was empty. Furniture was out of place—the couch cushions split open, the coffee table overturned, the TV on its back as if its cabinet had been shoved. Toys and books and throw pillows were scattered among glass from a broken lamp and a tea cup and plate shattered into pieces. Every drawer, every door was open as if someone had been searching for something.

  I took it all in with one sweeping glance as I struggled toward the kitchen to the left. “Leah!”

  The kitchen was empty as well, the destruction in the front room repeated here. A tornado had torn through the house, but still, I saw no sign of the people who lived here.

  Until a startled scream came from one of the back rooms.

  I cursed, stretching my long legs as far as they would go, taking the hallway like a sprinter with the finish line in sight. I hit the back bedroom in time to see Leah kneeling beside an older woman on the floor next to a heavy dresser. The angle of the woman’s neck told me all I needed to know, but Leah couldn’t read the story—one shaking hand was reaching to find a pulse.

  I snatched her back before her fingers could make contact.

  Chapter Two

  Leah —

  The hard hands grabbing me sent a jolt of terror through my already trembling body. Before I could spin around, an arm slammed across my ribs and I was jerked back against a strong, muscular chest. Strength like that couldn’t be escaped—my father had taught me that. Best way to defeat your attacker, Leah girl; just don’t let him get his hands on you in the first place.

  Too bad I hadn’t paid attention to my six. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight.

  Nails. Heels. Fists. I threw everything I had—for nothing. This guy was like a brick wall, unmoving. The thought of the same hands on my daughter, of what they’d done to Lydia, only sent my panic higher. And then a hand clamped onto my mouth, too wide to bite, and the brush of stubble against the side of my neck threatened to undo me.

  “Stop right now, Leah. You hear me? Be still and listen.”

  Oh God.

  I squeezed my eyelids shut tight. It couldn’t be. I’d imagined that voice too many times to count in the past year and a half, that same hot, heavy tone. It haunted me, that voice. Why would it be here now?

  I’d gone still without meaning to—shock had a way of doing that. It allowed Remi to get a better grip on me, to drag me back from Lydia’s body. And it was a body; I could see that now, see what my heart hadn’t wanted to accept when I’d stepped into the room. None of the spirit that had made the woman a perfect partner in raising Brooke was present in the limp flesh lying on the floor. The angle of her head told the nurse in me that her neck was broken, likely from a fall against the secondhand dresser I’d found in a consignment shop—old, heavy.

  My mind understood what it was seeing, but my heart… God, my heart hurt so much.

  Where was Brooke? If something had happened to her in the fight, she’d be here, right? They wouldn’t have taken her body…

  The thought of my six-year-old as a body sent a sob into the hand over my mouth. Remi’s arms gentled, molding me almost tenderly to that immovable chest despite the fact that he didn’t let me go. That softness was nearly as dangerous as the force he’d used to begin with. Dangerous enough to break me.

  I jerked my legs, the only part of me that was free, off the ground and kicked them back, bending my knees sharply. The toes of my shoes barely brushed his crotch before Remi spun me toward the blank wall beside the dresser. My face planted against the pale yellow paint, I struggled to breathe with the full weight of two hundred and fifty pounds of sheer muscle pressing me forward. A hard thigh slid between mine—

  “For your protection and mine, Leah,” he said.

  But the rough, raw quality to his words and the surge of pleasure between my legs told another story.

  I beat my forehead against the wall, and the pleasure faded. This wasn’t the man I’d fantasized ab
out in the bed across the room. This wasn’t a romantic…whatever my libido was trying to imagine it was. Lydia was dead. Brooke was missing. It was sick to be thinking about anything else right now.

  “I’m going to move my hand so you can talk, okay?” Remi said in my ear. He sounded strong, in control. Resentment sparked in my stomach, burning hot. I’d been under men’s control before, and it never worked out well for me. But tonight I had to think about Brooke.

  I nodded.

  Remi removed his hand, his fingers sliding across lips, cheek, jaw, and came to rest around my throat. Only slightly less threatening than before. I opened my mouth to point that out.

  “Be careful,” he warned me. “Be very careful, Leah.”

  So maybe not as in control as I’d thought. I had to swallow hard against the fear threatening to steal my voice. “Why?”

  “Because I want to help you.” He shifted behind me, and a heavy length pushing at the base of my spine flared into my awareness. “I can’t to do that if you keep making trouble.”

  His words distracted me from his erection. “Why would you want to help me? Why are you even here?” I sucked in a deep, sudden breath, so sudden I choked. “You’re a part of this, is that it? They left you here to confront me?” I jerked uselessly against his weight. “Where is my daughter?”

  I felt more than saw his head shake. “I don’t know where Brooke is. I’m not a part of this.”

  I attempted to throw a look over my shoulder, but the way he held me left no room to maneuver. “Why else would you be here?”

  Remi took a deep breath, the expansion of his chest cutting off my air. On the exhale he eased back. “I’m not part of this. I can help you.”

  “You keep saying that.” I peeled myself from the wall and turned just as carefully as he’d moved. “I’m not hearing another explanation.”

  Remi stood a few feet back, his arms locked over his chest, expression unreadable. This wasn’t the man from my fantasies, the gruff but tender man I’d known for such a short time when he’d been injured. This man was hard. Cold. Dangerous.

  I reached for my cell in my back pocket.

  Remi watched, his gaze showing zero satisfaction when I found my pocket empty. He held up a hand—and my cell phone.

  I reached for it. “I need to call the police, Remi.”

  He shook his head, keeping the phone just out of my reach. “She is beyond needing an ambulance and you know it,” he said, jerking his chin toward Lydia. “The red tape cops would bring with them will only make it harder to find Brooke.”

  I forced my breath to stay even, my body still as my child’s name left his lips. I hadn’t spoken it aloud; I knew that. But Remi... “The only way you’d know her name was if you were involved. If you’re not, give me the phone.”

  “I’m not involved.”

  “Then give me my phone. Now.”

  He slid the small black rectangle into his pocket. I lunged for it.

  The next thing I knew, my hands were gripped in one of his and my jaw was in the other. He dragged me onto my tiptoes until I was almost level with him. “I’m not involved with whatever happened here,” he bit out. “I promise.”

  I kneed him in the groin. Or tried to. Remi was prepared for everything, it seemed.

  Fuck polite. Fuck complying with him—I went as crazy as I could with my hands in an unbreakable grip. Remi didn’t take it lying down, but he didn’t hurt me. Nor did he release my hands.

  “Look,” he barked, getting right in my face. “I don’t know where Brooke is. I didn’t take her. I don’t know what the fuck is going on here—but I can’t help you figure it out if you don’t stop.”

  “It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” I barked right back. “I don’t believe you!”

  Dragging me hard against him, he leaned in until his lips brushed mine and his golden-brown eyes were the only thing I could see. “I couldn’t have done this because I wasn’t here—I was following you home.”

  Following… “What?”

  He released me, practically throwing my hands away. “I was following you from work. I came into the house after you. I couldn’t have done this.”

  But my adrenaline-saturated brain wasn’t getting it. “You followed me. From work?” I realized I was rubbing my aching wrists and forced myself to stop. No sign of weakness. “Why? How?” I shook my head hard. “How long have you been following me?”

  “Long enough to know your daughter’s name is Brooke. To know everything there is to know about her and you. What I don’t know is who took her. At least not yet.”

  My stomach lurched, probably for a number of reasons—adrenaline, fear, confusion, and the sick certainty that my daughter was out there somewhere with someone who didn’t care about her, someone who might hurt her. Someone who could disappear with her, and I would never see her again.

  I barely made it to the hall bathroom before I threw up.

  “Leah—”

  “Out!” I shrieked. Surprisingly Remi retreated to the hall, giving me a few moments of semi-privacy to clean up the mess I’d made.

  It wasn’t until I began a quiet search of the cabinet for anything I could use as a weapon that he reappeared. “Not a good idea.”

  I allowed myself a moment to slump against the counter before straightening. “You’re not going to convince me that you’re a good guy, Remi. I’ve met your family, remember? They kidnapped me. You are fully capable of kidnapping a child. Just tell me where Brooke is and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  A tick in his jaw was the only sign that what I’d just said might make him feel something, anything. Whatever it was, he fought it back. “I’m not going to waste time arguing with you anymore. You need to pack a bag.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t stay here.”

  I threw up my hands. “And where do you suggest I go?” Not that I was going anywhere, especially with him. Brooke had been taken from here. I needed to be here in case her kidnappers came back. “I need to call the police, get them looking for her. I need to find her.”

  Remi grabbed the doorjamb on either side, the position both blocking my path and emphasizing the obscene size of his biceps and pecs. I forced my eyes to stay on his face, to stare him down no matter how much my insides felt like Jell-O.

  “You already know what’s happened to her, don’t you?” he mused.

  “I don’t.” And I didn’t, not specifics anyway. That didn’t mean I had no clue who was behind it. Hadn’t feared something like this for years. I’d gotten complacent, though, allowed my guard down. Too soon, it seemed.

  “You do,” he said again, eyes narrowing when I tightened my lips. “You don’t have to stay here, Leah. Whoever this is, they know how to get in touch with you. They will, when they’re ready. Won’t they?”

  “And in the meantime?” I asked, ignoring his question. What was happening to my baby while they decided when they’d “be ready”?

  “In the meantime—”

  The ring of a phone cut Remi off, the sound originating from his pocket. Glancing from me to it, he fished the cell from his jeans and lifted it so I could see the white UNKNOWN flashing on the black screen. I reached for the phone.

  “I don’t think so,” Remi said, pulling back just in time for my fingers to barely brush the edge. Turning the phone to himself, he clicked to answer the call, then clicked Speaker.

  And waited.

  “Leah?”

  My heart slammed into my ribs. I staggered back to sit on the closed toilet seat, gripping the edges like they could keep me upright and sane—except I didn’t think that was possible. Not anymore.

  Chapter Three

  Remi —

  I narrowed my eyes on Leah’s face, watching the color leach out, the way her hands came up, almost as if to ward something—or someone—off. She knew that voice. It scared her. Why?

  “Who is this?” I used the tone that made marks shit their pants.

  Sile
nce. I could practically hear the man calculating, deciding on the best course of action. What I didn’t hear was backing down.

  “Oh, Leah,” the man finally said. “You know better than to bring someone else into this.”

  “Where is Brooke?” she asked, voice trembling as much as her body. I could see it, see the fear gripping her. The need to pull her close, to comfort her, give her the safety of my arms, rose to choke me, but I forced it ruthlessly away. Now wasn’t the time, nor would Leah welcome my touch.

  “Brooke is safe,” the man said. “Did you have any doubt?”

  “You killed Lydia,” she said, her tone all hell yeah I doubt it.

  A heavy sigh crossed the line. He got her message loud and clear. He could read her just by her voice.

  He knew her. Intimately. The thought blazed through my mind, hazing everything in red.

  “An unfortunate accident,” he was saying. “I didn’t let Brooke see, I assure you of that. She is safe and sound.”

  “I want to speak to her,” Leah said. “Please. Just let me tell her it’s okay.”

  The little sob that said everything definitely wasn’t okay tore at me, threatened to distract me even more than the jealousy. I’d never encountered that before—on a job I was all business; emotion wasn’t a factor.

  With Leah it was all emotion. Definite distraction.

  “I always knew you’d be a wonderful mother,” the man said. “But right now I don’t think speaking to Brooke is the best idea. She’s finally calm. Hearing Mommy’s voice would undo all my hard work.”

  Hectic color hit Leah’s cheeks. “You’re a bastard.”

  “I’m not, Leah. You know I’m not.”

  A tear squeezed out as she closed her eyes, tearing at my gut, but there was no trace of weakness when she asked, “How did you find us?”

  “An informant. He’d seen a news story a while ago, something about you being kidnapped?” Concern creeped in, making my skin crawl. “Everything turned out fine, it seems.”