Rick

by Dana Archer

  I step over the bushes. Rick is there with a hand on my upper arm, steadying me, despite the shitty way I’m treating him. He’s a good guy—respectful and caring. Is it so surprising he loved Anna and Lena? Or that they loved him? Even if it wasn’t the forever kind of love.

  Ours can be, though.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I fix his beanie that barely stayed on through the loving we’d shared. My fingers linger against Rick’s strong jaw. Carnal needs stir, warming my belly. It doesn’t matter that we’d had sex minutes ago. I could love him all night, every night, for the rest of our lives.

  “I don’t want another chance.”

  Warmth fades from Rick’s blue eyes. “Then when I take my last breath, I’ll remember your words. Hopefully, the memory will be enough to guide my actions the next time I’m born.”

  I close my eyes before I roll them and lean into Rick. My lips connect with his stubble-covered skin. A tingle runs down my spine. I’m still incredibly sensitive. It’s Rick’s doing. He worked my body perfectly. Probably because of his time with Lena and Anna. He perfected his skills. I can either reap the benefits of the experiences that have shaped Rick or let them taint my reactions.

  What Rick and I shared was magical. Unforgettable.

  Mapping a path to his lips, I let my breath warm his skin. Rick settles his hands on my hips but makes no move to push me away. He doesn’t pull me closer either. He’s waiting. I can almost feel his anticipation, his excitement, and his confusion. I’m giving him mixed signals. I plan on correcting that.

  With my lips a hairbreadth above his, I draw his air into myself. I yearn for a connection to this man, something I can carry with me at all times. I’ll never have it. Todd made sure of it, but he didn’t close off my heart. I can still love, and I want Rick in my heart. I want our love to be stronger than a soul-bond. I want a tie to this man that’ll defy death. I’ll have it too.

  “You’ll remember my words, but will you remember why I spoke them?” My lips brush his as I ask my question that will hopefully make up for my childish reaction to knowing my true mate lived a life before me.

  Rick brushes his knuckles over my lower back. The hard glint to his expression eases. “You’re talking in riddles. Why don’t you explain it so we’re both perfectly clear?”

  Triumph grips me. I didn’t mess this up completely. “Yes, we should be very clear. Our souls are on the line.”

  Rick’s cell phone dings, likely with a text message. He groans as if annoyed by the interruption, but he yanks his cell out and looks at the display. His lips press into a thin line.

  My curiosity gets the better of me. I lean forward, trying to get a peek of the screen. He presses a button, turning the screen off, and slides the phone into his rear pocket.

  “Is something wrong?” I can’t help asking. I don’t like the way he was looking at his phone. Whatever message he got upset him.

  “Someone wants to meet with me tonight.”

  I glance at the moon. “It’s late. What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  Rick gives a half shrug and eases out of my embrace. “Not sure. Maybe it’s related to the case I’m working.”

  “What kind of case?” Although Ilan and Josh told me, I want to hear the details from Rick. I want him to tell me everything about his life.

  “A murder. I’m a Shifter Affairs agent.” Rick narrows his eyes as if he suspects my ignorance is fake. “Surely Josh told you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know anything else about you.”

  Rick lifts me and cradles me against his chest with an arm under my legs and another at my back. He moves in a jog toward my place. “I’m going to take you home, then head out to meet him.”

  He’s not promising to tell me more about himself. I bite my lip. My self-doubt surfaces. Maybe he doesn’t plan on revealing any other details with the way I reacted to learning about his past love life. I wouldn’t blame him. How would he know which facts I’d be okay with and what ones would trigger me? He doesn’t really know me well. Being true mates doesn’t automatically wipe away the learning curve of getting to know each other.

  “Will you come back to my place after you meet him?” I hold my breath and silently urge him to say yes.

  “Depends.”

  Pain stabs me. Who knew one word could cut so deeply? “On what?”

  “If I’m still living.”

  Oh goddesses. Panic quickens my breath. “Do you plan on dying?”

  “Never know,” Rick mumbles.

  “You can’t die.” I turn slightly in Rick’s arms and grip the front of his shirt. “I just met you, and I—”

  “Sometimes angels of death strike out of the blue. You don’t always know when your number’s been pulled.” Rick doesn’t look at me while he speaks. He scans the woods as if searching for danger.

  My chest tightens, and my wolf stirs. She senses my distress. I want to calm her, but I’m not sure I can. Rick’s scaring me with his unusual words. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” Rick slows his pace. His grip on me tightens. “Forget what I said. If I can’t return, I’ll call.”

  “Promise?”

  “Only death would stop me from keeping it.” Rick comes to a stop and studies me. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Yes.” Ilan taught me, then tried to give me a gun. I didn’t want to have one in the house with Peyton and Rey.

  “I’m going to leave mine with you, then. If Todd comes around trying to hurt you, use it. Don’t worry about the law. We’ll plead self-defense or we can run. Something. Don’t think about the consequences. Remember that your life is important. I want you to safeguard it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I understand.” There’s nothing else I can say. Rick demanded my trust. I gave it to him. Now I have to prove I’m a woman of my word. That’s what dominants do. If Rick says he’ll call me if he doesn’t plan on returning to me, he will. If he doesn’t… I swallow hard. I don’t want to think about the possibility. It would mean I failed my true mate.

  Fifteen

  Rick

  Meeting an angel of death is usually the last thing a shifter does. Sometimes referred to as assassins, they come in silence, acting on the direction of the Shifter Council or the highest levels of human government. Justice means nothing to the angels of death. Neither does compassion or mercy. They don’t judge. They don’t give second chances. They can’t be reasoned with.

  They also don’t send texts to their impending victims, which makes the message I got interesting to say the least. Would’ve been nice if he’d given some basis for demanding my presence. Work is the only thing I can come up with. Either he has a lead on Benjamin Tanner’s case or he’s looking to work with Shifter Affairs. Ella had mentioned about wanting to get an assassin on the docket. Their unique expertise can be invaluable in certain situations.

  With that rationale in mind, I climb out of my car and scan the rear parking lot of the Black Widow. At close to three in the morning, nobody’s around, not even the staff. I turn my attention to the shadows around the apartment over the garage I’m renting. There are no signs of glowing shifter eyes or movement in the shadows around my temporary home. No unusual scents reach me. I don’t see any obvious signs of disturbance. My wolf doesn’t sense anything out of the ordinary either. Had I not known an angel of death was waiting for me, I wouldn’t pick up on danger. I’d walk into my apartment and never walk out.

  My fingertips burn with the sharpened press of my claws pushing against the skin. The ache in my jaw reflects the deterioration in my mood too. I’ve always found the assassins’ way of doing things cowardly. I prefer looking my enemy in the eye, letting the felon know he or she won’t be escaping. I suppose that’s the major difference between an agent and an assassin. I seek justice. An assassin will take the life of an innocent as easily as a criminal.

  And one of the infamous angels of death wants to talk to me tonight. Alone.

  I
sweep the lot with my gaze once more, then head to my apartment. Thankfully, it came furnished and hooked up to utilities. I stopped by briefly yesterday afternoon to drop off the few crates and suitcases of stuff I’ve been hauling around with me for ages. I don’t plan on unpacking anything either. At least not until I can get a read on Mya.

  The mixed signals she gave me tonight left our future up in the air. My reaction to her anger didn’t help matters. I couldn’t stop it. My relationships with both Anna and Lena made me into the man I am today. I won’t lessen their importance. I sure won’t talk negatively about them either. They’re better than me. So’s Mya. I don’t deserve her any more than I did Lena or Anna, but dammit, I will be the man Mya needs, even if that means we take things slowly.

  Now’s not the time or place to be thinking about the future and all the possible paths awaiting me. I could be facing my death.

  A deep breath calms me, pushing back the primitive drives raging within me. I slow my steps for the briefest of seconds. The door to my apartment stands ajar. Likely the assassin I’m meeting left it open on purpose. The few I’ve met have been cocky enough to do such a thing. Getting a free pass to commit murder makes a man feel powerful, as if they’re gods who can toy with their victims before ending their lives. I’ve never enjoyed killing, but each criminal I take out means our world is a little safer.

  With a soft click, I enter through the basement and close the door behind me. Complete darkness enshrouds me. There are no windows on this floor. At one time, it was a garage. Now, it’s a room to pile junk. Makes it a great place for an assassin to hide. I don’t reach for the light switch on the wall, and I don’t walk straight to the stairs either. I close my eyes and listen.

  Humming from the furnace drowns out any heartbeat I might be able to pick up on. The moldy, dank scent clinging to this level covers up any evidence of my visitor too. There are no changes in air currents, indicating someone or something was moving in my direction. My wolf doesn’t sense any danger either. The absence of it bothers him. I share his concern. As a dominant, I pride myself on my ability to protect and react. As an agent, I’m not surprised at the lack of clues. The angels of death didn’t earn their reputation by being sloppy.

  Without bothering with the light, I take the stairs. My shifter genetics enhances my senses. I can make it to the second-floor door without tripping over anything. All the while, I assess my surroundings. Josh’s scent lingers in the staircase. So does Ilan’s. Neither strikes me as odd. Josh owns this place and Ilan was supposed to move some boxes left by the previous tenant, Josh’s sister, who apparently up and left out of the blue several months ago.

  The door to my apartment remains shut. I don’t hesitate, wondering if my assassin visitor is sneaking up behind me. If he’d wanted me dead, I’d have lost my head already.

  Leaving the door ajar, I enter my place. The scent of coffee hits me. My attention zeroes in on the wolf Royal who interrupted Mya and me the other night. Ilan’s back is to me, hiding his features, but his wide shoulders and distinctive scent give his identity away.

  “You’re an angel of death?” It’s no wonder neither my wolf nor I sensed danger close. We classified Ilan as a friend for the protective demeanor he showed toward Mya.

  Ilan looks over his shoulder. Sunglasses hide his eyes, but the smirk on his face gives me insight into his mood. He’s amused by my response. “I am. Do you want to exchange business cards, or will my word be enough for you?”

  “What do you want?” I’m not playing into his game, nor do I want to feed his ego any more than I already did with my shocked question.

  “What’s your interest in Mya?”

  I kick the door closed behind me and move directly to where the Royal assassin is sitting at the small table near the kitchen. “That’s none of your business.”

  Ilan dips his head slightly. I’m not sure if he’s acknowledging my statement or if he’s studying my aggressive posture. Those sunglasses hide more than his eyes. They obscure any insight I might gain.

  “You should know my stance on Mya is conflicted. It always has been.” Ilan pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, exposing deep orange eyes. The emptiness in them sets me on edge. No wonder he wears contacts around the humans. One look into Ilan’s natural eyes would send those around him into a panic.

  “Yeah?” I meet Ilan’s gaze as if he was my equal. I don’t care if Ilan’s a Royal or a heartless assassin. The moment he mentioned Mya, this conversation took on new meaning. I’d take on a league of assassins if it meant keeping her safe. “Why’s that?”

  “She’s the only assignment I’ve been given that I didn’t complete.”

  I move without thinking, wrapping my fingers around Ilan’s throat and yanking him to his feet. “You’re supposed to kill Mya? Why?”

  “Was supposed to kill her. Obviously, I didn’t.”

  “Then why are you still here? Waiting for a new directive? If so—”

  “Don’t threaten an angel of death. I’d be obligated to meet your challenge.” Ilan’s smirk turns into a grin. “But I do like your fearless attitude. It’s good to know my little sister has finally found a protector besides me.”

  The Royal wolf is talking in riddles. The term little sister is one used by male shifters to refer to female pack members whether they’re blood relatives or not. I have no time for Ilan’s play on words, especially not when Mya’s life is on the line.

  I release Ilan and cross my arms over my chest to avoid attacking this male. It’s always best to keep your friends and enemies close. At the moment, Ilan might fall into either category. “No games, assassin. Tell me what it is you want me to know.” Guessing at the meaning behind Ilan’s words will get me nowhere.

  “I was supposed to kill Mya, along with her human parents. They’d planned to video her shifting, then upload the video to the internet. The order stated Mya had been planning this stunt for months. She wanted money and fame. Her online forum posts were flagged, and I was called in to make sure it didn’t happen. I took out her parents, then went searching for her. Instead of planning her stunt, I found her crying on the shoulder of a waitress at the Black Widow.”

  “And you decided not to kill Mya because she was crying?” While I’m grateful things turned out the way they did, I can’t help but wonder why. Emotions don’t matter to assassins. Neither should tears.

  Ilan turns his attention to his coffee, adding powdered creamer and sugar. “Sara’s human, and she doesn’t know about shifters. Back then, even Josh didn’t.”

  Sara must be the waitress Mya turned to for comfort. Given that insight, there’s only one conclusion I can make. “You couldn’t make a clean kill because of Sara’s presence.”

  Stirring his coffee for longer and more vigorously than I’d deem necessary, Ilan nods. “Humans make an assassin’s job difficult. They’re full of emotion and hope. Everything’s got to have a positive spin.” Ilan stills his hand and raises his gaze to me. “You know what I mean. They talk about how everything is going to be okay. How you’re going to get through this. That I’m going to be there for you. Stuff like that. All the while, they’re crying too.”

  My chest tightens with a wave of emotions I can’t name. I push them aside. The regret will get me nowhere. I wasn’t there for Mya. No changing that. I’m just grateful Sara was around. This moment she shared with Mya saved her life, likely in more ways than one.

  “And I’m standing in the shadows listening to this.” Ilan whips the spoon a few more times in the mug until coffee sloshes over the side before tapping the spoon on the rim and setting it on the tabletop. “I came to two conclusions that saved Mya’s life while I had to endure that emotional drivel.”

  Silence descends while Ilan stares at his coffee and I hold my breath. Finally, I prompt Ilan, “They were?”

  “Mya was too naïve to have ever written the posts I read, and my wolves are the most obstinate animals any shifter has been born with. The more Sara and Mya cried
, the more protective my wolves became. There was no way I would’ve been able to end Mya’s life.” Ilan rolls his shoulders, cracking them, then drops his elbows to the table. “I ended up doing a little investigative work. Her parents were behind the whole thing. I took my evidence to the Council, and she was given a pass.”

  “As long as you watched over her to make sure she had no intentions of betraying our species’ secret.” It’s a guess, but a logical one. The Shifter Council isn’t known to be trusting and understanding.

  “Exactly.” Ilan stands and moves toward the window on the other side of the room. “And while I’ve been in town, I’ve looked out for Mya, putting out the word she’s under my protection. I’ve also stalked her a bit. For her own good.” Ilan turns his head just enough that his orange-eyed gaze snags mine. “You understand that, right? I feel nothing sexual toward Mya.”

  “I do.” If Ilan wanted Mya, Todd would be dead. I don’t doubt that one little bit. In a way, I envy the Royal assassin. Todd’s death would make my life a lot easier.

  Ilan grunts, then studies the parking lot again. “And because she’s stuck with that loser breeding partner of hers, I spent many hours watching him. Besides being a worthless excuse of a male, I can tell you he’s trouble. One of these days, he’s going to bring Mya down with him.”

  I didn’t need Ilan to tell me that. Meeting Todd was enough to convince me he’s a loser. The list of misdemeanors attached to his name is proof. “Trouble? As in he’s committing major crimes?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  Ilan shrugs. “I’ve never collected any. I’m an assassin, not an agent. My investigative work on Mya was a one-time thing with a goal in mind.”

  “Shifter Affairs is recruiting assassins for both retainer assignments and part-time agent work. You should look into it. If anything, you’d learn some valuable skills.”