Kill Shot

by Amber Malloy

  “The FBI is waiting for you through the front door. If you go out the patio, you’ll have a fighting chance,” Tank explained.

  Without another word, his former partners shoved their chairs back. Dan stood, moving his mouth, but nothing came out. Chad tugged his arm, leading him through the dining area and out of the country club’s doors.

  “The feds are waiting on the putting green, aren’t they?” Walker asked.

  Grabbing drinks off the table, they headed for the patio door.

  “Absolutely.” Tank slapped Walker on the back. “I paid a kid ten bucks to video the arrest and upload it to YouTube. Now, how about we go get your lady?”

  “Can’t.” They stood outside with a clear view of Chad and Dan tottering up the green, already out of breath. Walker chugged his bottle of beer and waited for their takedown. “J8 has to run an investigation first.”

  “Do they think we’re in on this?” Tank appeared offended by the implication.

  “No, but whoever’s after Ashe is probably keeping tabs on us. We’d lead them straight to her.”

  “Come on, man. We’re pros. We can get around that.” Several FBI agents dressed in suits jogged behind Chad and Dan at a comically slow pace. It had to be one of the Feds’ easier busts.

  “Not if I want to ever see her again, we won’t.” Cutting through the chatter of noise, the sound of sirens filled the restaurant. The country club guests joined them outside to see their former partners get tackled to the ground. “Even if I don’t want to work for J8, I’m stuck following their rules. I can’t see getting into the spy game again.”

  The majority of the restaurant staff eased their way out of the dining area to witness Chad’s and Dan’s arrest. While the agents put the cuffs on an openly blubbering Chad, Walker scanned the crowd for their waitress. Finding her in the thick of the looky-loos, he attempted to get her attention. He really wanted another beer.

  Reading his mind, Tank passed over a full bottle. “Drink up, my friend.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three months later

  Dark, overcast clouds hung low over the city. The taxi let Walker out across the street from the posh Northside brownstone. He’d taken a charter flight to Chicago in the middle of the night. At about the same time as the sun peered through the horizon, he’d arrived in Eden’s stomping ground. Ready for battle, he crossed the street. It had been months since he’d laid eyes on Ashe and he refused to go another day without her.

  When he raised his hand to ring the bell, the huge oak door swung open. Vann scanned the street before he looked at Walker.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Walker asked.

  “Unless you saw a couple of spies up to no good”—Vann stepped back to let him in—“the answer will be no.”

  “Nice place.” Intricate wood details ran throughout the brownstone.

  “We bought the house next to us and knocked down the wall.” Walker followed Vann into the family room past the biggest, comfiest couch he had ever seen. Naps must have been life goals in the Morgan household.

  “This is a great spot.”

  Vann went into the kitchen and dropped sandwiches into lunch bags that sat on the counter. Since Vann was decked out in sweats, Walker figured he hadn’t interrupted anything too pressing for the working dad this morning.

  “A good school system helps.” After he’d placed apples in the totes, he turned toward the refrigerator. “No offense, man, but I thought I’d see you way sooner than this.”

  Walker scratched at his shadow of a beard. He hadn’t shaved for the past few days. He’d honestly felt he had no reason to look presentable. “Let’s not pretend I don’t know how J8 works.”

  A horn honked outside.

  “Kids!” Vann called.

  Walker winced at the sheer boom of Vann’s voice.

  “Right flippin’ now! Sorry. They have selective hearing this early in the morning.”

  The sound of small human footsteps raced down the stairs, and two versions of Eden and Vann appeared in front of him.

  “I thought Mom was taking us,” the taller of the twins whined.

  “Join the club,” Vann said, handing them their lunch.

  “But I needed her to talk to Coach Sny—” The smaller one elbowed his brother to make him shut up.

  “About what?” Vann pushed, completely dropping that sweet Thor persona he had perfected.

  “Nothing,” the kid mumbled.

  “Fine. If you’d rather do it the hard way, it’s up to you.”

  Someone honked the car horn again. Vann hitched his thumb toward the door.

  “Take a hike, you two.”

  The kids nearly tripped over themselves to get out of the house.

  “Look… If you just want to tell me where Ashe is, I can get out of your hair. You seem to have your hands full.”

  “Afraid Ashe is not my department, but I do have some other news for you. Give me a sec to get dressed.” Vann stepped past him and hit the hallway toward the stairs. “And if you happen to see my wife, scream.”

  Beyond tired, he walked over to the bookshelf and checked out the family pictures. Eden cradled the infant twins for a row of photos, but after a few months, her image disappeared from the timeline. Absent from the moment their children had been toddlers up to elementary age, Eden had been a ghost.

  “Why keep these up? It’s just a reminder.”

  He’d heard her slip into the house seconds earlier.

  “Just because I wasn’t around didn’t mean their past should be erased. Vann kept them happy.”

  “The agency took so much from you. How can you still work for them?” He turned to face the spy.

  “It was never for J8 and it still isn’t.”

  “Oh shhheesh, it’s the serious one,” Lola complained, trailing Eden into the room.

  Serious? Walker never thought of himself in that manner. However, once he considered the source—a woman capable of stabbing his ex-partner—he got over her insults pretty quick.

  “Hey there, mad dog,” he called Lola by her nickname. “Which means we’re just missing…” He glanced around for the unassuming bomb maker. “There she is.” Marta stepped in the room behind Lola, wearing a big, toothy grin.

  “This one might be on the straight and narrow but he is still hot.” Marta reached past the pyscho Columbian to give him a hug.

  “Ah, it’s just like old times.” He sniffed her hair. “What is that, lighter fluid?”

  “Oh, sweetie, be still my beating heart. That’s jet fuel.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Vann roared from somewhere above. Fast footsteps ran down the stairs. Marta pulled away from him. Whipping her head from side to side, she was probably searching for somewhere to hide.

  “I thought you said he would be too busy with the kids to notice anything,” Lola said to Eden.

  The spy in charge shrugged. “He usually is.”

  As Marta took off at a slow, geriatric clip, Vann rushed down the stairs. “Freeze, you bomb-making freak.” He stomped into the family room. “I should have known.” Snatching the remote control off the table, he flipped on the television.

  A reporter stood in front of a building engulfed in flames. “At this time investigators are unable to tell what ignited this inferno. Earlier this month, construction crews started rehabilitation of the Old Collins Building. Once the flames are under control, the fire department will be able to assess the damage.”

  “All I asked was for you to gather intel and report it back,” he growled.

  “Come on, blondie. You know this was the only way to make Homeland Security stop busting our balls,” Lola groused.

  Vann’s cell phone rang in the back pocket of the jeans he’d changed into. Everyone stared at him.

  “Are you going to get that?” Marta asked.

  “No. I’m going to the office. Let’s go, Walker.”

  Amused by the group’s pure lack of remorse, he chuckled and followed behind angry T
hor.

  “There is no way you could possibly think this is funny,” Vann bitched on their way out of the door.

  The sun broke through the clouds, creating one hell of a perfect city skyline—a good sign. Walker hoped things were beginning to look up.

  “A little,” he admitted. “But mostly I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with them.” A few seconds later, he realized his mistake.

  “Sorry, my friend.” Vann laughed. “But the next few weeks of your life are really going to suck.”

  After a short trip across town to the J8 headquarters, they took the high-rise elevator up.

  “My company, Good and Green, works on the other side of the building,” Vann said.

  “No one’s caught on to your double life yet?” The doors opened. They stepped onto the white-tiled floor and down the hallway. Vann swiped his key card to get into Cambridge Testing and Research Facility.

  “The conference rooms are next to J8. The whole thing is crazy convenient.”

  As soon as they opened the door, obnoxious sounds from video games rang throughout the concrete loft. “We figured if anyone stumbled on to us, they would be assaulted with sensory overload,” Vann explained.

  To the naked eye, the place resembled a video game concept center. Loose and carefree, the spy world had changed since his day. At least a good dozen televisions hung down from the ceiling.

  “The viewing room is ready for you, Mr. Morgan.”

  Vann nodded at the receptionist and led him through the adult-sized playground. A basketball court took up only a fraction of space in the huge studio.

  Once he’d walked into the plain conference area, Walker could no longer hold his tongue. “Homeland Security?”

  “A clause in our contract with the government gives them access to certain J8 benefits.”

  “Which is why your wife just caused a major pile-up on the Dan Ryan?” He glanced at his watch. “It’ll probably last until early afternoon.”

  “Frick,” Vann said.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger.” He chuckled. “The news was playing on one of the screens out there.”

  Vann dropped his head back with a groan. “They’ve been abusing our resources and the women had finally had enough.”

  “Look… I may know a guy.” Walker changed his tactics. “Maybe I can talk to him if you would like to—”

  “Stopping you right there. I would if I could, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Trust me. I don’t need this pissing match that Homeland Security is brewing. And with that said, play video,” Vann announced to the room.

  A rolling time stamp went across the wall. Raven graced the screen. Dark hair and ivory skin reminded Walker that he’d almost forgotten what she looked like.

  As fall leaves fell, a male runner took a break to tie his shoe. After a second or two, the area cleared, which allowed the man to grab Raven from behind. He dragged her into the bushes. Walker fought to fill his lungs with air.

  Kids played in the park and mothers pushed strollers. All of this had happened mere feet away from his fiancée’s murder. Ten minutes later, her assailant stepped from the bushes. He glanced to his left then right before he trotted away at a leisurely pace.

  Vann slid a file across the table. It took a moment for Walker to realize the video had stopped and it had taken years for him to get over her. Releasing a deep breath, he flipped open the file that had landed in front of him.

  “Shit!” He nearly knocked his chair over at the sight of Raven’s autopsy picture.

  “The guy must have doubled back to dump her. She was found off the Hudson,” Vann explained.

  Walker read the details of her medical report.

  “It took some time before J8 claimed her body,” Eden continued. She stepped into the room and joined her husband. In less than an hour, she’d managed to change from determined spy into a hot soccer mom. “By that time, you had already left J8. I couldn’t tell you what happened because my status was burned.”

  “But Raven wasn’t a spy.” Confused as to why anyone would want to harm her, Walker went through the rest of the file. “She was only a violinist who held a permanent position at the Metropolitan Opera. She was just a consultant on one of our cases.” When he glanced up he read pity in Eden’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “We’ll get back to you once we have more,” Vann cut in.

  “In the meantime, how did it go with your partners?” Eden asked.

  Sighing, he shoved Raven’s file back to Vann. Beyond tired, Walker just wanted Ashe. “I’m sure you already know.”

  “Humor me.” The deadly beauty smiled.

  Unsure about the strange turn in conversation, he laid it out. “Chad and Dan flipped a couple of jobs with less than savory clients without my or Tank’s knowledge. They cut a deal with the feds to save their own asses.”

  “And the business?”

  “Booming. We hired new people, and… Come on, Eden,” he said finally, tired of the runaround. “Where can I find her?”

  “She has control issues that can turn into abandonment—”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t abandon her.” He slammed his fist on the desk with a growl. “My partners were a blip, a very bad one that I truly regret. Believe me, it will never happen again.” Walker barely held on to the last bit of patience he had left.

  “Ashe is basically Eden’s first kid.” Vann covered his wife’s hand with his. “She’s family, so of course we would be concerned.” No one broke eye contact in what he considered an old-fashioned showdown. “Your itinerary for the next few weeks has been sent to your phone.”

  “Wait a minute.” He pulled out his cell but didn’t see any alerts.

  Vann slid a burner phone across the table.

  “Welcome back.” Eden grinned.

  For a full-on minute none of it sank in. It had taken him years to rebuild his life after J8. Walker simply wanted no part of the agency. “Shit,” he muttered before he grabbed it and got up from the table. If he ever wanted to see Ashe again, he would have to play their game. “Freakin’ hell.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lightning crackled overhead with no sign of rain. Almost an hour past dusk, the sun had disappeared. Nasty tropical humidity clung to Ashe’s skin.

  She entered the oldest bar on Sugar Falls Island. Reggae blared over the speakers but couldn’t drown out the owners’ raised voices.

  While locals were used to these strange outbursts, newcomers usually decided to get their afternoon drinks somewhere else. Tourists wanted brightly colored wood shacks off the coast, not beaten-down dives.

  “Good, you’re here. I need a refill.” Mr. Chow shook his glass at her, and she snagged it on her way past. Only a handful of customers sat in the Tommy Bahama knock-off saloon. Even Mr. Roarke from the program Fantasy Island couldn’t save this bunch.

  “What are they fighting about this time?” She went behind the bar and tossed out his melting ice before she rinsed the glass.

  “Who knows? Fish, salad, what cut of French fries people wanted with their burger? Take your pick.”

  She poured the gin and tonic water into the shaker. “I’ve only been here for a couple of months, but the fights seem intense.” Ashe tossed the drink before she put a lemon on the edge of his glass and poured the liquor out.

  “They go through phases. Stick around for a while. You’ll see.”

  “I’d rather not.” Exiled to an island covered from head to toe with ex-spies, Ashe couldn’t wait to get off. They used the secret paradise for tourists with deep pockets.

  Several mansions equipped with a personal staff covered the one-hundred-fifty-mile mass of land. Fly fishing, spa treatments and snorkeling were presented to the visitors. Nevertheless, if anyone got out of line, they would be met with swift justice from ex-spies.

  “Come on, Ashe. You don’t want to stay here with us? Hell, at least it’s safe,” one of the locals pushed.

  “And do what? Make drin
ks until Dot and Barney can get their shit together?”

  “Well, duh,” Mr. Chow muttered over the rim of his drink. “You’re better at making stuff than they are.”

  “I heard that!” Dot screamed from the back. “And I can start charging you double if you like, Chow!”

  “What? No! I love the way you make that fruity thing. Ah, crap!” He shrugged.

  Pretty sure the gruff man had never drunk a fruity thing a day in his life, Ashe laughed.

  “Shut up already!” Dot hollered.

  Chow mimed zipping his mouth and concentrated on the drink she was making for him.

  “Who’s next?” Ashe asked. Everyone in the bar raised their hands.

  “What the hell, sweetheart? I leave you alone for five seconds and you already have a new job?” Every agent in the room went on alert.

  As Ashe’s heart beat wildly in her chest, Walker stepped out of the darkened doorway. “Stand down, old-timers. Eden sent me.”

  “What about that animal with you? Because that’s not normal,” the glass-bottomed-boat fisherman asked.

  “Morty!” Ashe squealed, slipping around the end of the bar. “You brought my cat.”

  “No, I stole a cat that you stole first.”

  The black Maine Coon slinked between Walker’s legs. “Come here, baby.” Ashe patted her thigh. Morty gave her the sweetest purr before he jumped into her arms.

  While she nuzzled the huge monster’s face, she kept her eyes firmly locked with Walker’s. Dark and sexy. A little rough around the edges, his beard increased the air of mystery that always followed him. “Took you long enough, Knight.”

  Closing in the space between them, he stood directly in front of her. “After three months, a sixteen-hour flight and a deal with the J8 devils, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I love you.” He nervously swiped at his forehead. “And I don’t want to spend another minute without you.”

  Never one to ramble, Ashe raised her eyebrow. “Okay, so what now?”

  “First, we get married, then take it from there.”

  The thought that it was crazy played in her head, but the unexpected warmth that spread throughout her entire body told her something else. “When?” she asked.