Contents The Company DESCRIPTION Come Chapter One - James Chapter Two - Harper Chapter Three - Harper Chapter Four - James Chapter Five - Harper Chapt...
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Contents The Company DESCRIPTION Come Chapter One - James Chapter Two - Harper Chapter Three - Harper Chapter Four - James Chapter Five - Harper Chapter Six - James Chapter Seven - Harper Chapter Eight - James Chapter Nine - Harper Chapter Ten - Harper Chapter Eleven - Harper Chapter Twelve - Harper Chapter Thirteen - Harper Chapter Fourteen - Harper Come Back Chapter Fifteen - James Chapter Sixteen - James Chapter Seventeen - Harper Chapter Eighteen - Harper Chapter Nineteen - James Chapter Twenty - Harper Chapter Twenty-One - James Chapter Twenty-Two - James Chapter Twenty-Three - Harper
Chapter Twenty-Four - Harper Chapter Twenty-Five - James Chapter Twenty-Six - Harper Chapter Twenty-Seven - James Chapter Twenty-Eight - Harper Chapter Twenty-Nine - James Chapter Thirty - James Chapter Thirty-One - Harper Chapter Thirty-Two - James Chapter Thirty-Three - Harper Chapter Thirty-Four - James Chapter Thirty-Five - James ChapterThhirty-Six - Harper Chapter Thirty-Seven - James Chapter Thirty-Eight - James Chapter Thirty-Nine - Harper Chapter Forty - James Chapter Forty-One - James Chapter Forty-Two - James Chapter Forty-Three - Harper Chapter Forty-Four - James Chapter Forty-Five - James ChapterForty-Six - Harper ChapterForty-Seven - Harper Chapter Forty-Eight - Harper Chapter Forty-Nine - James Chapter Fifty - Harper Chapter Fifty-One - James Chapter Fifty-Two - James
Chapter Fifty-Three - Harper Chapter Fifty-Four - Sasha Coming For You - Part One Chapter Fifty-Five - Sasha Chapter Fifty-Six - Sasha Chapter Fifty-Seven - James Chapter Fifty-Eight - James Chapter Fifty-Nine - Sasha Chapter Sixty - James Chapter Sixty-One - Sasha Chapter Sixty-Two - Sasha Chapter Sixty-Three - Sasha Chapter Sixty-Four - Sasha Chapter Sixty-Five - Sasha Coming For You - Part Two Chapter Sixty-Six - Harper Chapter Sixty-Seven - Harper Chapter Sixty-Eight - Harper Chapter Sixty-Nine - Harper Chapter Seventy - Harper Chapter Seventy-One - Harper Chapter Seventy-Two - Harper Chapter Seventy-Three - Harper Chapter Seventy-Four - Harper Chapter Seventy-Five - Harper Chapter Seventy-Six - Harper Chapter Seventy-Seven - Harper Chapter Seventy-Eight - Harper Chapter Seventy-Nine - Harper
Coming For You - Part Three Chapter Eighty - Sasha Chapter Eighty-One - Harper Chapter Eighty-Two - James Chapter Eighty-Three - James Chapter Eighty-Four - Harper Chapter Eighty-Five - Sasha Chapter Eighty-Six - Harper Chapter Eighty-Seven - Sasha Chapter Eighty-Eight - James Chapter Eighty-Nine - Harper Chapter Ninety - Sasha Chapter Ninety-One - James Chapter Ninety-Two - Ford Epilogue - Harper END OF BOOK SHIT About the Author
Edited by RJ Locksley Copyright © 2017 by J. A. Huss All rights reserved. ISBN- 978-1-944475-31-4 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
DESCRIPTION
Some people are above the law. Those people are called COMPANY. Twenty-eight-year-old James Fenici has been an assassin since he was sixteen. He’s amassed debts and favors from countless Company brothers and participated in hundreds of Company jobs. But there are not enough favors in the world to clear his debt and make him worthy of the only girl he’s ever wanted. Eighteen-year-old Harper Tate is the girl who doesn’t exist. Born and raised on a megayacht in a tropical paradise, she was destined to be a secret until now. Now she must choose between two Company men; The one she loves or the one chosen to give her the world. Thirteen-year-old Sasha Cherlin is the girl who knows everything and understands nothing at all. Her future is filled with vengeance and death, but her dreams are filled with hope and a promise of
love. A high-stakes global game played with sex, secrets, and a savage thirst for power by the New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss.
Come
Chapter One - James
Even if I wasn’t looking… Even if I wasn’t watching… Even if I wasn’t obsessed… There’s no way in hell I could miss her. The beach is packed. It’s Saturday afternoon. And even though it’s a hot June, today is Orange County perfect. Seventy-eight degrees at eight PM and just enough wind to make her golden tresses dance around her heart-shaped face. The waves are just big enough to keep the surfers entertained as she eats her fast-food dinner from the steps at Pier Plaza. The sunset, a red mixed with orange that lines the horizon far off in the distance, sets a scene with warm light that falls across her bronze body. It’s the perfect evening. But this girl is the only thing I see. I’ve watched her for three months. She comes to the beach twice a day. Once in the early morning, just before Huntington Beach Pier opens. She does some crazy routine that probably does zero for her conditioning, that’s how easy it looks. Not easy for most. Easy for her. This routine—it’s probably
something she’s been doing since she was a kid. She comes out again each evening. More fast food, eats on the Pier Plaza steps. More seawatching. Even if there aren’t surfers out there to entertain her, the Pacific Ocean is what occupies her mind. She pays attention to everything. Everyone who walks by. She never talks to anyone. If the skaters on the bike path hanging out in front of the steps get too close, she leaves. If they engage her, she turns her head. They call her names sometimes, but she’s either deaf or very well-trained. She’s not deaf. I know she’s not deaf. I know where she lives. I know she’s hiding. I know I’m the last person she wants to see. I know she sleeps in boy short underwear and a tank top. I know she has anxiety issues because she keeps a bottle of pills in her bathroom. I know she never takes those pills. I count them. But every time I check, the bottle has been moved. So I know she thinks about them often enough to want to hold the bottle. I know she has a phone. But I also know she never uses it. I’ve checked the minutes. It never changes. I know how much money she has, what’s inside her fridge. I know she touches herself at
night sometimes. And she moans as she comes, her back arching for a second. I know she’s sad and she fights it off. I’ve read her journal pages. It’s not really a diary. She writes the pages each night, then goes to bed, wakes, reads them. Then burns them in the kitchen sink before she starts her AM routine. They always say the same thing. Please hurry. Please come to me. Please find me. Please don’t forget me. Please, please, please, do not leave me here all alone. I know a lot about her but I don’t know her name. Or who she’s waiting for. I have an idea, but that might be wishful thinking. I don’t know why she’s here. Or why I’m here, for that matter. I’m as unsure about all those things as she is that this absent prince will come save her. But I’m certain of one thing. This girl? She is mine. I’m the one who came to her. I’m the one who found her. I’ll be the one to keep her.
Chapter Two - Harper
“What’s your name?” The voice startles me because I had no idea anyone else was at the end of the pier with me. The waves are large this morning and they crash hard enough against the pillars below to envelop me in a mist of seawater. I don’t turn to face him. He has a smooth rumbling voice that tingles my insides and for a moment, I sense I’ve heard it before. I picture the kind of man attached to it. Someone big. Someone young, but not as young as me. I continue to scan the horizon, staring out at the Pacific Ocean, waiting for the sunrise. It’s mere moments away and I hate that he’s interrupting my sunrise. “Hello? Name?” he asks again. He’s someone used to getting an answer when he asks a question. He’s someone with authority, but not a cop or a sanctioned soldier. Cops have that it’s-nothing-personal-and-you’re-boring-the-shitout-of-me-so-just-give-me-answers tone. Soldiers who get paid by legitimate governments would not give a shit about me. So he’s not in the military. I grew up listening to voices of authority, taking note
on the ones who inspire, the ones who cower, and the ones you need to fear. This guy’s voice says he never cowers. He’s one of us. I know this immediately, with only those few words, I know. This is it. I give none of this away, simply continue with my quest to see the blue line where the sea meets the sky when the first light of day hits it. Why can’t people just leave me alone? “Woman,” he growls at me as he takes a few steps closer. He’s barefoot, I can tell by the way his feet scrape across the concrete pier as he walks. My heart flutters for a few seconds and I wonder if he’ll hurt me. Would he be allowed to hurt me? I’ve imagined my capture happening a million ways, but not this way. Am I ready? A hand rests on my right shoulder, gripping slightly as if to turn me around. This is a trigger for me. I don’t want him to see my face. I grab his wrist with both hands, bend over, and reach back with my foot and wind my ankle around his. I heave and do a very sloppy toss because he’s far heavier than anyone I’ve practiced this move on. He sorta tumbles off to the side instead of actually being flung over my shoulder, but that extra moment is all I need. I climb the railing of Huntington Beach Pier and dive into the mist.
I hit the dark sea with a small splash and then the muted underwater sound of crashing waves fills my head. I continue the arc of my entrance through a powerful swell, and then somersault and circle back, kicking off my shoes as I go. I resurface underneath the pier, get rag-dolled by an incoming wave, and crash headfirst into a concrete pillar. The pain shoots through my head and my body shuts down to take a moment to deal. My instincts are slow, my hesitation a mistake I might not live to regret, and then I open my mouth and take a breath before I can stop the reflex. I choke underwater, taking in more liquid, and then shoot upwards to the small glint of light in the approaching dawn. A hand grabs my ankle and I swallow water this time instead of taking it in my lungs. I kick, but my body is overwhelmed and confused trying to deal with multiple life-threatening situations. I give in and allow myself to be pulled back towards him. If this guy came off the pier after me, there’s no way he’s letting me go, and there’s no way I’m able to fight him underwater. I’ll drown myself. His hand leaves my ankle and grabs my upper arm instead, tugging me up to the surface. I break through gasping for air and choking on seawater. Adrenaline races through my blood, a primal reaction to the situation, a true fight-or-flight response. Every muscle tingles as energy is shunted
through my body. And as strange as it sounds, my only thought in this moment is how exhausted I’ll be if I live. Then I snap back to reality. I won’t live if I don’t deal with the hunter. I scream. His hand cups my mouth, hard, tight, like I just pushed him over the edge. “Quiet,” he commands into my ear as he flips me over on my back, his other hand reaching under my flailing arm, grasping my chest. “Relax, woman.” Woman? I’m just a girl. Can’t he see that? Can’t he see I’m just a girl? He swims towards the shore, dragging me along with him. Every few seconds the Pacific swells, saltwater pours into my mouth and nose. I swallow, choke, and then the man lifts me up out of the choppy sea so I can gulp some air before it all starts again. After several minutes of struggle his feet find purchase in the shifting sand and he stands, lifting me up and cradling me in his arms. This is my only chance, so I kick my legs up, flip and twist out of his grip, and make us both fall backwards into the crashing waves once more. I wriggle and he loses his grip on me, but just when I think I can throw him by swimming back out to sea, his hand clamps down on my ankle again. He yanks me back and a pain shoots through my knee as it overextends from the jerk. My shirt rides up along the sandy bottom of the ocean,
billowing around my face. Can my luck be any worse today? I cough and claw at the fabric that threatens to smother me, and this time, there’s no gentle attempt to ease my fears. He flips me over and drags me up the beach until we’re just out of the water, and then he collapses on top of me, his hot breath in my ear. His heaving chest on top of mine. Our heartbeats synchronized with fear or adrenaline or pain, I’m not sure which. “Please!” I moan as his full weight rests over my small body. “You’re crushing me!” He doesn’t move, just continues to breathe, his chest drawing in air, making his body move against mine in a way that suddenly feels more intimate than it should. I claw at his back, pushing against the thick muscles of his shoulders. “Stop,” he says after a few seconds. “You’re bleeding and this struggle will just make it worse.” “Get off me or I’ll scream,” I growl back at him. “Scream, then,” he says calmly, his breath not as labored now. “You’ll be arrested for jumping off the pier. I’ll say I saved you. That you were trying to kill yourself. If you scream, life gets complicated very fast. So go ahead. Tell the fucking world you’re down here with me, lionfish. I could care less.” His rational words, coupled with the pet name he just gave me, are a complete contradiction. I’m
suddenly very unsure of myself. “What do you want?” This time I’m not growling, because he’s right. He must know I can’t afford the attention a scream will bring. “And you didn’t save me, I was not trying to kill myself.” He laughs, causing his hips to grind against me for a second. My breath hitches and a small whimper comes out. This moment of weakness makes him prop his upper body up on his elbows and the seawater rushes in around my face. I panic and squirm, closing my eyes and my mouth, desperate to keep the water out. Strong hands slip under my head and lift it out of the danger zone, but it’s too late, the adrenaline is too much. The fear takes over and I begin to shake and cry. “Open your eyes.” I do not open my eyes. “Just get off me!” “Open your eyes and look at me.” “No, just do it. If that’s why you came, then just fucking get it over with!” And now I really do cry, because I just started a fight with a very big guy, jumped off the Huntington Beach Pier, got crashed into a support pillar, swallowed water, almost suffocated, and I’ve been caught. By this man who… who… who is making me feel things I have no business feeling. He does nothing. His breath is completely back to normal now and I wish I could say the same thing
about mine, but I can’t. So he just waits me out as I come to terms with my situation. I stop crying and laugh instead. Did I ever think it would end this way? Not in a fight but in total surrender? I am the weakest person alive. I am the weakest person who will— “It’s funny now?” His question stops the laughing. Because it’s not funny. “No,” I squeak out. “It’s not funny, but I’m scared.” My teeth are chattering from the cold water that relentlessly ebbs and flows. Covers me and then recedes, leaving nothing but the chilled air rushing in. He waits. I wait. The waves come in, the waves go out. His body is still and calm as it rests on top of mine and then his face dips down to my neck and he takes a breath as a wave recedes. “You’re bleeding. Does your head hurt?” I answer with a slight shake and I continue to struggle with my panic, trying to hold my breath so the sobs can’t escape, but failing miserably. His hands still cup my head, keeping the rushing water from invading my airway. After about a minute, my heart stops the wild rhythm and I settle into his hold. “Better?” he asks. I nod.
“Now open your eyes.” I draw in a steadying breath and obey, blinking back the water for a few seconds as his features come into view. “You don’t look like a killer.” He’s repulsed by my words, or maybe shocked. For a moment, at least. Then his expression is impassive again. I study it while he’s silent. His eyes are a brilliant green. And he’s so close I can even see all the little flecks of yellow and brown in them. I swallow hard and stare into his expectant gaze. “Now what?” He stares back at me and the moments of silence make things uncomfortable. He’s on top of me. And then, as if he’s reading my mind, figuring out that his touch is making me nervous, his leg changes position, his one knee drawing up against my hip. Then the other. I close my eyes and begin to cry again, because now I figure he’s gonna rape me and I just had random lustful thoughts about my rapist. “Why are you crying?” He sits up, so he’s straddling my body, holding me down by the shoulders. But he’s not resting the full weight of himself on me anymore and that’s a welcome relief. I open my eyes at the question because it throws me for a moment. Why is he asking me these things? “What are you going to do to me?” I sound like a stupid child.
He studies my face for a moment. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?” “Kill me, rape me, torture me, take me back. Or all of the above, in reverse order.” I try to avoid his stare but I can’t help myself. His face is so beautiful. His features so perfect. His hair is short and dark, no beard, but the stubble on his chin and jaw is the kind that says I’m too busy attacking young girls on piers, so I have no time to shave daily. As stunning as his eyes are, they might not be his best feature, because those full lips are calling to me right now. God, what is my problem? I change tactics. “Please, get off me, or just do what you came for.” “OK,” he says with a smile. And that’s it, the smile, that’s the best part of him. It’s wide and genuine. And he has perfect teeth. Perfect white teeth that don’t look like the teeth of a killer. “Let’s get down to business. I asked you your name, I’d like an answer.” What? “My name? You jumped off the pier and attacked me because I didn’t share my name?” “I saved you, woman.” My entire body goes flush with that word. Woman. Why is he calling me that? Surely he can see how young I am. I’m not a woman. Barely legal, as they say. And I feel like a very small child at the moment. “The one your parents gave you. Don’t lie to me,
I’ll know.” I bet he will. Should I tell him? I turn away and sigh. It hardly matters now. He’s caught me. If he didn’t already know who I was, then why is he so interested? “Harper.” “Mmmm.” He laughs a little. “Harper,” he repeats, like my name was a secret he was desperate for. “I like it.” He pulls me up to a sitting position and then stands, bringing me up with him. Before I can turn away or try any of my other killer moves out on him, he’s pushing me back against the concrete pillar. He presses his body against mine, his hands resting on either side of my head. “I figured you’d be an easy target, but I was wrong. You got a little lion in ya, don’t you. Some poison to go with it, right? Lionfish?” He smiles big now and dimples appear. One in each cheek. He’s quite adorable for being a killer. “I’ve got a bit of blueringed octopus in me, as well.” What? “I’m not typically surprised, especially by women. But I have to tell ya, Harper, the thought that you’d rather jump off a pier than be asked out on a date by me… well, it’s an ego bruiser, to say the least.” A laugh busts out of me before I can stop it. “A date?” “Most women,” he says, ignoring my question, “do not assume a guy is gonna rape her or kill her when he asks for her name.” He leans down into
my face, and my eyes can only concentrate on his lips. Is he going to kiss me? Just as he gets close, he changes direction and his breath pours into the shell of my ear. “I was really only looking to get laid tonight if you said yes”— the wetness gathers between my legs—“and that was going to be the end of it. A few Coronas and some rolled tacos on the beach. Or if you’re the fancy type, a seaside restaurant with an expensive bottle of wine to complement the surf and turf. The night ending with a nice hard and dirty fuck at your place so I can disappear in the middle of the night while you sleep peacefully, content with the multitude of orgasms I gifted you.” I swallow hard again and his palm comes up to my throat, his thumb caressing small circles against my skin. It stops on the thumping artery and it’s like he’s assessing my reaction by the flow of my blood. I hold my breath and he moves his hand, sliding it down to rest on my shoulder. “But that’s not how this is gonna go now, Harper.” “No?” I whisper, my mind totally blown by what’s happening. What’s happening? “No,” he says, his intent gaze pouring into mine. “I watched you all morning as you did your circuit. Pull-ups hanging off the railing of the pier. Running the steps that lead to the beach exactly fifty times. Sit-ups lying on the sand. And then the final
cooldown walk out to the end of the pier just before dawn. And the entire time, your eyes were sweeping the area. Looking for people.” “I never saw you,” I say, the panic back again. “No, I’m not someone who likes to be seen, Harper. I’m someone who likes to do the seeing. But I figured,” he continues, changing the subject back to me, “you were just being careful. Maybe a bit paranoid. Afraid of getting mugged by a crazy homeless person looking for drugs. Typical shit, Harper.” The way he says my name, God. Why is this man making me feel like this? “So I was curious. Just an ordinary kind of curious. The kind of curious I feel when I see an unusual bug. But diving off a pier—great form by the way, did you take diving in school?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Diving off a pier, to avoid telling me your name? Now that… Harper, that shit is downright intriguing.” “It is?” “Yes.” His lips touch my ear this time. His tongue slides in and flicks against my skin. I hunch my shoulders and let out a moan. “I still want the dirty fuck. But not right now.” “Oh God,” I whimper. “Just say it already, what do you want with me?” He pulls away. His hand comes back to my throat, but it doesn’t rest there. No. His fingertips are
prodding me to lift my head up and meet his gaze head on. I obey. It’s like I’m stuck in a trance. He’s entranced me. “I want to know you.” And then his mouth is on mine, his tongue probing, pushing for entrance. His hand goes to that spot between my legs where it throbs wildly as he creates friction, calling forth more wetness. His other hand goes to my breast, the nipple hard and bunched from the cold water, my skin tingling with anticipation, fear, and want. He tastes like salt and he kisses like the sea. Like a dangerous, killing, unforgiving sea that can do whatever it wants with my body. Toss me, twirl me, take me under and steal the breath right out of me. Make me powerless. And that’s exactly how I feel. His kiss becomes rough as he squeezes my breast and stimulates my clit at the same time. My legs are trembling so bad, I think I might fall. And even though no man has ever made me feel this way, and even though I want this more than anything—I make myself wriggle and pull away. “Stop!” And that’s all it takes. His support is gone. His body is no longer pressed against mine, holding me up. I slump down to the shallow water and draw my knees up to my chest, hiding my face with my hands.
And when I look up a few minutes later—he’s gone. Like he was never here.
Chapter Three - Harper
It takes me several minutes to gather myself together under the Huntington Beach Pier. The city is coming to life now. Dawn has come and gone while I was having a personal crisis and the streets are alive with foot and car traffic. Horns honk, people are laughing, bikes whiz by on the path. Even some early-morning beachgoers are present now. A game of volleyball is just starting up near the steps that lead to Pier Plaza. I stand and start making my way up the beach, sand scratching my skin inside my wet clothes. I drag the tank over my head so I’m just in my sports bra. That was not sexual. That was… an attack. That’s it. It felt sexual though. He said some very sexual things, even if all he did was steal a kiss. I take a deep breath and deal with my bare feet as I reach the cement. Having to walk the streets barefoot grosses me out to no end. I don’t mind no shoes on the sand, or the deck of a boat, or inside my own home. But anywhere else—gross. I climb
the steps that bring me to street-level Pier Plaza, looking down Main Street. I cross Pacific Coast Highway and head north one block, dodging bikers and early-morning joggers, and then turn right on Fifth Street, towards the police station. I live across the street. Well, not exactly across. The Mexican restaurant in front of my building is kitty-corner to the HBPD, but it’s close enough. And if my brother ever knew… I allow myself a smile and a laugh. Even though my morning sucked and some guy sexually assaulted me—but you liked it, Harp. You know you did—my brother would die laughing if he knew I was living right across the street from the cops. Cops in HB drive cars, sure. This city is more than the beach. But they have their share of shorts-clad hot men riding beach cruisers, too. And there are several of them standing outside the station drinking coffee when I walk past. I make a point of ignoring them completely. I’m definitely not in the market for a cop and the last thing I need is for one of them to take notice of me. Not that they would. I’m the invisible girl— except in the case of one very beautiful green-eyed man. I try my best to be as unattractive as possible. My hair is never styled, pony-tails only. I never wear makeup. I’m tanned and my hair has bleached strands that make it look like I spend a fortune
dying it in fancy salons. But I can’t help any of that. That’s just the natural me. Mr. Beautiful is the kind of man everyone notices. Tall—my chin only came up to his shoulders. Dark, yes. But with those brilliant green eyes, it made his brand of dark more exotic than most. And he was hard. I mentally shake myself for that Freudian slip. His muscles were hard. And thick. But he was hard in that other way, too. He was solid. And strong. And for those few moments when he was holding me there underneath him, gently cupping the back of my head to keep the rushing water from overtaking me as we regained our breath… he was everything I’m looking for. And everything I should run from. I cross the street at the Mexican place, then walk to the side yard where a six-foot wooden gate stands guard for the building behind. I work the latch, which is some stupid rope contraption that pulls a lever on the other side, and then enter the walkway that leads to the hidden apartment building. Only four people live back here. Two people live in the small studio apartments that divide up the ground floor. One older man lives in the secondfloor penthouse—which is a relative term, since it’s only two stories tall, but whatever. And me. I live in the garden-level apartment. Better known as the
basement. Even though I’m the only one on this level, I share the space with the building laundry, so my place is small. Only a half-galley kitchenette, a bathroom, and the living room that does double duty as a bedroom. If Beautiful had his way, he’d be fucking me here tonight. God. Where did that come from? He did get his way, Harper. He got your name. I shake my head and enter the building, walk past the laundry and into the mechanical room where I keep my key. I carry nothing on my person when I leave here. No phone, no key, no ID. When I leave this building, I am nobody. I cease to exist. It’s like that thought experiment—if a tree falls in the woods… If a girl is not noticed, does she still exist? I grab my stashed key behind the hot water heater and make my way to my door. Zero is my number. For mail and stuff, my address. Zero is my spot in this world. And it’s so appropriate to be nothing, and not all in a negative way, either. I like being nothing. I don’t mind being zero, because when I come home to this place, my little space of nothingness, I feel safe. Being invisible. Being nothing—a zero. It’s good. I’m not safe, of course. No one is ever safe. But I
need the illusion, now more than ever. Because someone, after living here for eleven months— eleven long and lonely months of no friends, no family, and no hope of ever having a normal life again—someone wants to know me. Not fuck me, although he did say that too. He ended the conversation with know me. The apartment is nothing special, but it’s not infested with cockroaches so I count myself lucky. I looked for that before I moved in and paid my rent up front for one year. Cockroaches. No. That’s worse than bare feet on the street. I have one more paid month and then decisions have to be made, because I’m out of money. This place might be small, have no ocean view, and be about the farthest thing from where I grew up. But it’s one block off PCH, one block from HB Main Street. It’s a five-minute walk to the sand. And it’s eighteen hundred dollars a month. The only way I’d be able to stay here after my pre-paid year is up is if I robbed a bank. I’m not that desperate. Yet. My phone vibrates on the counter and jolts me from my pity-party introspection. In a second my heart is racing again. Who the fuck? I walk over and pick it up just as the vibrating stops. ‘I know where you live.’ What? My heart is beating so fast, for a moment I think I might fall over and collapse. I stagger to a
chair and sit down, gasping for air in short little bursts as the fear takes over. I lean over and put my head between my knees just as the phone vibrates again. No. No. No. What’s happening? But I can’t think straight. The only thing I hear are the staccato beats of my adrenaline-induced heartbeat. The phone vibrates again and again, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with fear. I’m dead. I’m a dead girl. The phone vibrates again. I thought Beautiful was my killer, but he let me go. And now… this? I rock. Back and forth. I cry huge silent tears. If they’ve found me, then my life is over. I force myself to get up and stumble into the bathroom where I keep the pills. I haven’t used them in months. But that little white pill is calling my name. That little white pill is the only thing that will keep me from losing my mind right now. The bottle shakes, making the pills clatter around inside, but I manage to get a few to fall into my open palm. I gulp a handful and then stick my mouth under the tap and slurp water to wash them down. My phone is still ringing out on the counter, and even though I know the drug is not in my bloodstream yet, just the fact that I took the pills
calms me. I breathe for stretches of minutes, and after some time, I am calm. Thoughts of sleep jolt me from my slumped position on the bathroom floor, so I get up and walk into the living area where my bed is pushed up against the far wall to leave space for the chair and small coffee table. I grab the phone as I walk by and then fall on top of the messy bed, rolling around a little to get under the covers, and then close my eyes. The phone rings and now that I’m relaxed, I can deal. “I’m ready, motherfuckers,” I bark into the speaker. “Come get me if you know so much.” “What?” I sit upright as the voice of the beautiful man registers. “How did you get this number?” “I’m the only one who’s coming, Harper.” I press end on the phone and page through my missed calls. All him! That stupid asshole! They were all him! I go to the messages and begin reading. ‘Dinner’s at eight.’ ‘Beach tacos or fancy view?’ ‘Harper, I do not like to be ignored.’ ‘I’ll just come over, I’m just down the street.’ That message was five minute ago. Before the call. My phone rings again and I answer. “What do you
want?” “I asked you a question, I expect an answer,” he growls into the phone. I absently log the sound of people, cars, a siren that I can hear both inside my apartment as it leaks in from outside, and through the phone. He’s close by. Just outside my building, probably. Is he one of them? I’m not sure. “I’m confused,” I confess, the anti-anxiety drug kicking into full force now, making me slur my words. My body falls back into the covers. My head is spinning and my eyes are heavy. “I’m so confused…” “Harper?” Beautiful demands from my phone on the blankets. I reach down, fingertips feeling for it. My vision blurs as I bring it to my face and stare at the fuzzy keypad. “Go away, Beautiful,” I whisper to the fading light. “You can’t see me. I’m invisible. You don’t want to know me. Because I’m no one. I’m zero.”
Chapter Four - James
Her words stop me. I’m walking into her building, and her words stop me. Beautiful? And then the call ends with three quick beeps and I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at it. She took those pills. Her words were slurring. I scared the fuck out of her and she took those pills. I grab the key I had made and open her door. The place is quiet except for the mechanical hum of the air conditioning. I close the door and walk over to her bed. She’s curled up in a ball, clutching her pillow. Most nights this is how she sleeps. But it’s not night and she’s not asleep. She’s passed out. I grab the bottle from the bathroom and count the pills. Seven missing. Fourteen milligrams. Not great, but could be worse. These pills are not easy to overdose on. I know this shit. Pharmacology is my specialty. My calling card when I need to take care of business. The poison I use tells my superiors what kind of job it was. Anti-anxiety drugs are worthless for killing people, so she’s not gonna die, but she’s gonna be out of it for a while. I pull the covers back and she moans. Her clothes
are soaking wet, she smells like salt, and her head is still seeping blood. “Harper?” I pull her to a sitting position and grab her face. “Harper?” Her eyes roll a little as she slurs out an incomprehensible word. I let her lie back and then reach down to unbutton her shorts. They are stuck to her skin, so I have to tug them to get them over her curvy hips. Her underwear drags down with them. They’re black, like her sports bra, and for a moment I imagine her in lingerie. My dick is hard immediately. Her pussy is covered in fine blonde hair. Trimmed and neat. It stops my heart for a second. God. I’ve wanted this girl for months. I’ve imagined her spread out on this bed naked so many times, this is like reliving a dream. I pull her shorts and panties over her ankles and then lift her to sitting again. “Hold still,” I whisper as she moans. I tug the bra over her head and toss it down on the floor next to the shorts. And then I lift her up in my arms and hold her close. Her breasts press against me and then her arms encircle my neck and she leans in, pushing her face into my shoulder like she’s snuggling. Fuck. I want her so bad. She is mine. She feels like mine. I have an overwhelming desire to touch every part of her toned and tanned body. I want to push her up
against the wall and take her from behind. I want to fuck her mouth with my cock and her pussy and ass with my fingers. I’ve dreamed of this for months.
Chapter Five - Harper
Oh, God. The headache. I turn over in bed and smell… what’s that smell? My sheets smell delicious. Like a summer meadow. Fresh. I inhale and then remember why I passed out in the first place and sit upright, my heart once again beating wildly. I don’t smell like the ocean and my clothes do not stink of salt, even though I jumped off a pier. And my bed is not littered with sand. I look around, trying to assess what’s happening. Or what happened. When I fell asleep. My head is so foggy from the Ativan. I look over at my bedside table and spy the bottle. How many did I take? Three? Four? More? Too many after so many months clean. Enough to mess with my memory. But I only took them because I was freaked out. I thought… What did I think? I try to remember back. The pier. I jumped off a pier. Hit my head… my fingertips go to my left temple where the throbbing is. There’s no blood, just a scab and… stitches? I flick my finger back
and forth across the tiny knots and there’s a jolt of pain as this pulls the tender skin. Someone stitched my head. I withdraw the hand. Beautiful saved me. He stitched me back up. No, no, no! Oh my God! That’s not what’s happening here, Harper! He’s working for them! He has to be, how else would he get my phone number? And why was he following me in the first place? I silence the inner voice. I can’t stand it right now. It needs to just go away and let me react. Things need to be simple. If ever there was a time to rely on instincts, this is it. And the simple truth is, that guy attacked me, kissed me, and insinuated he was going to have sex with me. He works for them. I know this. I’m certain of this. I’m not sure what kind of game he’s playing, but I’ve met a few of the hunters growing up. He’s definitely one of them. All cocky, charismatic, and calm. He seemed very sure of himself. Didn’t he? But why didn’t he kill me? Or take me back? I look around for my phone and spy it on the table next to the pills. I scoot across the bed and grab it so I can search my messages. But when I open the log, there’s nothing there. Empty. Just as it should be. No one ever messages me. No one has this
number. But… he did message me. He asked me… damn. I can’t recall what, but I jumped off the pier when he asked me something and then I walked home, panicked when I got the message—the one that’s not here—and I took the pills and went to bed to ride it out. But… I look down at my clothes. I’m wearing a pink tank top and white boy short underwear. I smell my skin. Nope, no trace of the ocean. I smell like soap. I must’ve taken a shower. And changed the sheets? Because there’s no sand in the bed. None between my toes. The shorts and sports bra I was wearing should be on the floor where I usually throw them when I undress, but they’re nowhere to be found. I laugh as I get up and pad over to the kitchen to start some coffee. “I should get high on Ativan more often. Apparently stoned Harper is a neat freak.” Or… Beautiful came in, cleaned me up and stitched my wound, clothed me, changed my sheets, and did the laundry. I laugh at the thought. Or… God, I hate the incessant sub-vocalization of my mind. Why can’t it shut up? Maybe I imagined the whole thing? Maybe there was no man on the pier? Maybe I took the pills and
all that stuff was nothing more than an oversedation fugue. I really need to get out of this house. How long can one person talk to themselves before it’s considered a pathology? I have no idea, but I’m not into finding out. Maybe that guy was a dream, who cares. If he was here to take me back, I’d be back. I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing half naked in my kitchen making coffee. Screw the coffee. I need to go somewhere. Anywhere. I check the time to see how long I was out and it’s seven thirty. On cue, a rumble erupts from my stomach. I haven’t eaten all day. I grab a pair of cut-off shorts from my dresser, slip into a fresh bra, and shimmy into a white tank top. Hair is never more than a pony-tail, so I just smooth it over and pull it up. My feet find my flops by the door, I grab my key and head out. I stop by the mechanical room to drop off the key and pick up some cash. Just ten bucks. I have about eight hundred left to my name, but it’s hard to care when all I want is ten dollars and my stomach is beginning to hurt. Since there are only four people who live in this building, the chances of me bumping into them at any particular time are low. I love that, because right now everyone is the enemy. I appreciate people when I need something. Like the guy at the
Mexican place where I’m headed now. He gives me food in exchange for money. So I appreciate him for his taco-making skills. But I don’t want to know his name and I don’t want him to know mine. I want nothing to do with anyone. I just want to hang out in my strange state of limbo and chill. I’ve never talked to my neighbors. I know what they look like, I keep an eye out for weirdness, things that go against the grain. Different is bad. I like same. Same is good. Except for the beautiful man. There was no man. I dreamed that whole thing. Jumped off a pier! Ha. What a stupid move. But dreams are like that. You jump off piers all the time in dreams. And seriously, I will have really fucked up if he is real, because I gave him my name. I walk down the sidewalk that leads out to Fifth Street, open the gate, and steady myself to join the world. The restaurant is busy so I just get right in line, pretending to look up at the menu as I wait. I don’t eat here often, it’s too close to home to be a regular. But when I do, I get the same thing every time. Asada tacos, a side of rice, and a tea. Fifteen minutes later I have my greasy bag of food, some napkins and a plastic fork. The tables outside are full, so I head down to the beach to eat on the steps that line Pier Plaza. I pick a space against the wall
and get settled. I come here every night for the sunset. The city put in these stadium-like concrete steps for sunset and volleyball-watchers. Sitting here at sunset and waking up with the sun on the pier, those are the two constants in my life at the moment. The two things I can count on to keep me sane. It’s only eight right now, so I have a little wait for the sun to set. I scarf the food. Once I start, I can’t stop. It’s like I haven’t eaten in days. I’m just about to shovel the last forkful of rice in my mouth when my phone vibrates. My heart thumps. Once. It’s a giant thump that almost sends me into another panic attack, but I calm myself and reach for the phone, a small stream of light leaking out from the screen on the concrete seat next to me. ‘Tacos on the beach. Check.’ I stand up and whirl around, just as the phone vibrates in my hand again. I ignore it, still searching. He’s not here on the steps. I hop up on the concrete barrier that partitions off the various seating sections and scan again. How would I even know him? I don’t know his build, or his gait, or his height. I know his eyes. And the touch of his lips, the dance of his tongue. And none of that is helpful from a distance. My phone vibrates again so I jump down and check the screen.
‘You only see me if I want you to.’ ‘But you can see me any time you want?’ I text back. ‘I want to know you, and I always get what I want. BTW, I love the shorts, Harp.’ My hand flies to my chest, as if to protect my heart from the immediate hurt that floods me when I read the name. Harp. How dare this man insert himself into my life and pretend like he’s got a right to know me. How dare he interrupt my routine, take me out of the bubble of comfort that I’ve wrapped myself in. I grab the remains of my dinner, jog back up the steps, and dump it in the trash. Then I jaywalk across PCH, feeling a little like Frogger in the rushhour traffic, and turn the corner at Fifth to walk home. See? See, Harper? This is why you stay the fuck inside. I half walk, half jog all the way back to my gate and then let myself in the back. God, that thing is not very secure. Anyone can come up and pull that stupid piece of rope. I find my key and let myself into the apartment, closing the door behind me, locking it up tight, and then lean back against it so I can slump to the floor. This guy is a creep. He’s stalking me. Watching me, taking note of what I’m wearing, what I’m eating. My phone vibrates behind me and I jump.
I’m going to have to go to the police. There’s no way this can be anything but bad. No way. I will have to go to the police. What if he’s not one of them? What if he’s just some crazy rapist? Another vibration. I pick up the phone and turn it over to read the messages. ‘What day is it?’ What? ‘Do you even know?’ I huff out some air. ‘Wednesday,’ I text back. ‘Better check that calendar again, Harper.’ No nickname this time. Why? He saw my reaction out there on the beach? How? How could he know the name was what made me react? ‘Day, Harper. I hate having to ask you to do everything twice.’ I check the date on my phone, but that’s no help. I never keep track of the date. So I go into my calendar app and my eyes almost bug out of my head. Friday. Well, that explains the line at the Mexican place. And my hunger. I was asleep for three days. ‘I’m waiting.’ He can wait all he wants. He’s playing a game with me and I just quit. ‘Do you remember the bath I gave you after you took the pills?’
I can’t remember shit, a common side-effect with Ativan when you take too much. And someone had to stitch my head, change me out of my clothes, clean me up, wash my saltwater-soaked garments, and put me to bed. That someone really was him. ‘I enjoyed it. Every second.’ The tears fall down my cheeks as I consider the implications of what he’s telling me. I message back. ‘I’m reporting you to the police for rape, asshole!’
Chapter Six - James
Rape. She has got to be fucking with me. It makes me laugh, but seriously, this girl, after everything that’s happened, thinks I’m a rapist? I’m two yards away from her building door, but I take a little detour out to the alley to think this through. Rapist. I roll the possibilities over and over in my mind and only come up with one explanation. She has no idea who I am. I run my hands through my hair, pulling a little. She’s driving me crazy and all these months of watching her, all that pent-up want and desire, is clouding my thinking. If she has no idea who I am, then…
Chapter Seven - Harper
A pounding on the door makes me jump up from the floor. “Harper?” the beautiful voice says softly through the door. “Open up, Harp.” “Don’t call me that,” I say back. “You have no right to call me that.” “Open the door, or I swear to fucking God, I will kick it in and break the locks.” “I’m dialing the police.” “No, you’re not. You’re on the run. It doesn't take a guy like me to see that. Open. The. Door. I need to set you straight. Right now.” I pause, thinking. He kicks the door and the wood around the lock begins to splinter. “Stop!” “Open,” he commands. I reach over and flip the deadbolt. As soon as it clicks, the door flies open and he’s in front of me, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like it was that day under the pier. Only now, he looks furious.
And it scares the fuck out of me. I back up, my hands out to ward him off. But he continues forward, kicking the door closed with his foot, forcing me against the wall. “You think I raped you?” His eyes are blazing with anger as he stares down at me. They dart back and forth, looking me straight on, but not able to settle on one eye or the other. “Answer me!” he bellows. I jump a little and immediately I lose control and the tears start to well up. I cover my face. “Go away! Just leave me alone!” He yanks on both wrists, flinging my hands down, and then he cups my face and leans in closer. As close as he was the other day under the pier. My whole body begins to tremble. “You think,” he says, softer now, “that I raped you, Harp?” “Please don’t call me that. Please, please, please don’t call me that.” He lets out a long breath of air and removes his hands, turns, and walks away. I cover my face again and peek through my fingers like a child, watching him struggle with me, running his hands back and forth through his thick, wavy hair. He’s wearing a light blue t-shirt that hugs all the thick muscles of his back. The faded jeans look very old and there’s a hole in the ass that lets his checkered boxers peek through. On his feet are a pair of classic Vans that look like they were born sometime
in the eighties. He’s clearly dangerous, so this fashion contradiction makes me laugh at his implied harmlessness. He whirls around, puzzled. “Funny?” he asks me, his eyebrows up into his forehead with suspicion. “This is funny?” It’s his turn to laugh, but it’s clear he does not think it’s funny. “You have a strange sense of humor, Har… per.” He adds in the last syllable and tilts his head a little to see if I’ll react to the name again. I lower my hands and press myself back against the wall as he makes another approach. This time he does not touch me, simply presses his palms against the wall on either side of my head. I take a breath and look around, trying to avoid his stare. “Now, answer. Do you think I came in. Found you drugged and unconscious. Bleeding from your head.” He flicks his fingertips along my stitched wound, and I wince. “Cared for you.” His voice lowers at this. It’s barely a whisper. “Cleaned you up. Sewed you back together. Dressed you in the sweetest things I could find in your meager assortment of clothing.” I swallow hard as I picture this in my head. His hands on my body. His eyes on my body. Choosing my clothing and dressing me. “And then wrapped you up in a blanket and slept
next to you for forty-eight hours as you came out of your pathetic overdose of benzodiazapams—” “I didn’t overdose, I’m just not used to taking them anymore!” He places a hand over my mouth. “Shush! That was the second crazy thing you did that day,” he stresses. “So you think I came and did all that, and then raped you?” I look away, embarrassed. “Is your cunt sore?” I snap my attention back at the vulgar language. “Is it?” I shake my head no. “Well, then you can be sure, Harper. I did not fuck you. Because I don’t do anything half-ass. And if I was gonna fuck you, believe me, you’d feel the effect of my cock in your pussy for a week and the only thing on your mind would be when I’d come back and do it again.” Oh God! I’m throbbing from his words. I turn my head to hide the blush but his fingers slip under my chin and force my attention back to him. “Look at me.” I raise my eyelids and take a hitched breath from the crying. He stares back at me for a moment and then he leans down. Slow this time, not the crushing madness of heat we had under the pier the other day. His lips graze against mine, just a soft flutter of a kiss, and then he pulls back before I can react.
“Did you think about our kiss under the pier afterward?” I blush and try to look away, but his fingertips are back on my chin, urging me to look him in the eyes. “Answer me, Harper.” “Yes.” “Was it good?” I can’t help myself, I laugh. This makes him smile and those dimples appear. “Was it everything you dreamed? Because I can do better. I can do so much better if I disappointed you, Harper.” I blush again. “No, it was fine.” “Fine? Kissing you should be so much more than fine.” I look him in the eyes this time and tell the truth. “It was… spectacular.” I get more dimples at that admission. When I look up at his eyes, I’m entranced. He’s… hypnotic. “I’d like another,” I whisper, not even sure where that just came from. It’s true though, so I don’t take it back. I just stare at him. He leans down into my neck and nips my earlobe. “Would you?” he breathes into me. I can only nod this time. My capacity for speech has left. My whole body erupts in chills, and not the creepy kind. The kind I’ve never experienced before. “Right now?” he whispers. “Yes,” I answer back, just as soft.
“Well,” he says in his regular voice as he pulls away, “I think you have an appointment at the beach, maybe we can reconvene this”—he laughs —“whatever this is, afterward?” “What?” He takes my hand and leads me towards the door. I grab my key off the floor where I dropped it when I came in, and stuff it in my pocket. I’ve never left the apartment with another person before. It throws me off my safety routine. He holds my hand all the way to the wooden gate and then guides me through with a pat on my ass. I close my eyes and gasp at that move, but I don’t say anything because his unauthorized touch is gone a moment later. He resumes holding my hand. Like we are boyfriend and girlfriend just out for a Friday night walk. “This is weird,” I say under my breath. “What’s weird?” he asks back. I look up at him as we walk and he absently grabs the dark shades hanging off the collar of his t-shirt and slips them over his eyes. I miss his eyes immediately, but it’s almost sunset and we’re heading west, so the orange glare of the sun blasts down on his face, illuminating his skin like some bronzed god in a muscle-hugging t-shirt and holey jeans. He raises our clasped hands. “Holding hands is weird?”
“Yes, but…” I trail off and he lets it go because we’re at the light at PCH and Main now. We wait with a crowd of people heading to the steps for the sunset and it dawns on me. “My appointment is with the sun?” He looks down at me and smiles. “Is it? I always figured it was with the dusk. And the one in the morning is with the dawn. But it’s the sun, huh?” “You’ve been watching me.” He nods as the light changes and the crowd of people shuffle forward together, taking us up in a wave of momentum. When we reach the steps in Pier Plaza, there’s almost nowhere to sit. Friday night sunset-watching is very popular in the summer. I usually get here at least a half hour early on the weekends. “We’re late,” my new partner says as we approach. He bolts off to the right, tugging me behind him as he goes. And then he finds a seat for us, squished up against a pillar. He sits down first and I look dubiously at the small space left for me. He pats his knee. “Sit, Harper.” He draws me towards him until I plop down in his lap. As if I had a choice? When he wraps his arms around me and leans against the concrete pillar, I tense up immediately. I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to act right now.
He leans into my neck. “Relax,” he says softly. “I can’t help it,” I say back. “I don’t even know your name and you’re hugging me in public like we’re engaged or something.” “Later, Harper. Just enjoy the show. It’s about to start.” I give in. He makes me want to give in. And the inner independent and strong-willed girl inside me wants to object. But I don’t. Because I like it. He feels so familiar. He feels like an old friend instead of a stranger. For the first time in over a year, I feel safe. And since the one lesson I learned early was that safety was a gift, I decide to accept it. I lean back against his chest and I feel our heartbeats. Mine, then his. Then mine, then his. And after a while of this, they beat together. Everyone around us is talking and joking. Babies cry. Skaters do tricks off the wall on the other side of the bike path. But we remain quiet. Our world is slow and satisfying. The fiery orange ball of flames dips to the horizon and everything darkens. And then, like the sun was taking its time crossing the sky the entire day but is suddenly in the biggest hurry, it disappears. People clap and kids cheer. They do this every night. Some of them I even recognize, that’s how regular they are at the sunsets. I spy an older woman I see all the time, looking at
me. She shoots me an approving wink and I blush. She thinks this stranger and I are together. And why wouldn’t she? I’m sitting in his lap, his arms are hugging my waist, my head is resting against his chest. Our hearts beating in synchronicity. We remain like this until everyone around us drifts away. “Now?” I ask. “Do you want my real name? My associate name? Or my fake name?” “All of them,” I say through a long yawn. “Just one tonight. Pick.” I have a very bad feeling about this. “And the associate name is…?” “A code.” Oh. This is great. “What kind of code?” I already know, but I ask anyway because I need to be absolutely sure. “For what I do. A calling card, so they know it’s me.” “I have one of those too.” His chest rumbles with a laugh. “I bet you do.” “Do you want to know what it is?” “First mine, then yours. Pick.” “Real name.” “James Fenici.” “James,” I repeat in a whisper. “I like James.” “I like Harper.” “How old are you?” “Twenty-eight.”
“I’m only eighteen.” “I know.” He knows. Hmmm. But the look on his face as my age hangs between us captures my full attention. “Does it bother you?” He waits a few heartbeats before answering and this is my clue that yes, it does bother him. “It doesn’t bother me,” I add. Fingertips guide my chin so my head turns towards him and then his mouth is on mine, his tongue probing, asking me to open, I do open. And this time I touch my tongue to his. He flicks against it and it feels… so good. He ends the kiss and stands up, holding me in his arms for a moment before setting me down. “It doesn’t bother me either, but you’re tired. So I’ll walk you home.” He holds my hand again, changing sides when we get to the highway, putting himself between me and the traffic like a gentleman. But we finish our walk to my building in silence. When we get to the wooden gate we stop so he can pull the rope and open the latch. “What’s your code name, Harper?” He looks over his shoulder at me, like he feels guilty for asking. I stare at him, suddenly uneasy. Is this a trap? “You want to know this because you have a target?” It’s a bold question, but justified. If he’s here to kill me, I’d like to know. Even if he is wavering on whether or not to fulfill his contract.
“You’re not my target, OK?” But he doesn’t look me in the face when he says it. “You first then.” He smiles and holds the gate open for me and we walk down the path to the building, then head downstairs. I get my key out and I’m about to push it inside the lock when his hand rests on mine. “Tet,” he says. “My code name is Tet.” I look up at his face to try and figure out what he’s thinking. “Why did you tell me that?” “What’s yours?” he asks, ignoring my question. “You’re here for me, aren’t you?” He shakes his head. “No, I swear it. I’m not here for you. But I need to know where you fit in. Code name?” “I’m no one. Someone’s daughter, that’s all.” “Code name, Harper.” His eyes are still soft, like he hates to ask, but he has no choice. I swallow hard and bow my head. “Come. My code is Come.” He lets out a long audible breath of relief. A small chuckle follows. “That’s a dirty little name for such a sweet little girl.” I ignore his innuendo. “I could’ve been your target.” It unnerves me. The reality of what that means. “You’re not,” he says sternly. “You’re not and that’s all that matters.” “But I’m someone’s target.” He takes the key
from my hand, but this time I put my hand on his and it’s me who stops it from entering the lock. “Where do you fit in?” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. It’s so taboo. We could both be killed for these few words. But just like he needs to know where I fit in, I need to know his place too. Come is a verb. A verb code name means I’m a nobody. But Tet, I’m not sure what that stands for. I know all the ranks, but I’ve never heard of a Tet. He lets out a long breath and looks down at his feet, like he doesn’t want to tell me. “Number Six.” I shake my head and turn away, but he catches me by the waist and pulls me back. “Please don’t turn away.” “Six?” I cannot even comprehend it. “Six,” I say again. The organization my father is married to, indebted to for life—the same one he sold his children into when he joined, the same one that will take my children as well, should I live long enough to have any—is deeply compartmentalized. Everyone has a place. Everyone has a code. There are thousands of members all over the world. Most are innocuous. Verbs like mine. Come. Dance. Ride. Skip. They’re endless. The higher-ups have nouns. There are hundreds of them. Bear. Desk. Claw. Grass. The names are meaningless, just a label to put you in perspective. My father has a rank. The Admiral. There are
twelve members with ranks. But only ten people have a number. The assassins.
Chapter Eight - James
“Why do you look so familiar?” she asks. “No, wait, that’s not the right question. Why do you feel so familiar? Is it because you’ve been watching me?” Her eyes scan mine, searching for the truth, but at the same time second-guessing whether or not she actually wants to know it. “What’s your brother’s code?” The slap cracks across my face before I even have a chance to react, but once I do I take her out like any other threat. I grab her arms, twist them behind her back, push her forward with a knee to the ass, and take her down to the hard concrete floor. She struggles beneath me, slips out of my hold and does a half turn, just enough to thrust her foot into my abdomen. I grab her ankle, but she twists again, elbowing me in the neck. “Fuck!” I grab her foot, twist her body until she’s forced to roll and then hold her with an arm across her thigh and a hand on her calf. “You better snap my knee, James,” she seethes, her breath coming out in long gasps, matching my own from the sudden effort of the fight. “Because
if you let me up, you’ll regret it.” I lean into her a little harder, making sure she’s pinned good and tight to the concrete floor. I’m not quite sure if she’s serious. I know she’s capable. I’ve heard all about the mistakes they made with her upbringing. It was drilled into us in the debrief. She’s dangerous. Do not underestimate her. Never turn your back. Watching her all these months, the severity of the little warnings diminished as the days grew longer. She never got angry. She never raised her voice to anyone. She was no more intimidating than any of the other young girls on the beach. But the venom in her voice right now jars my memory and the warnings are back in full force. “Harper—” “No,” she snaps. “You’re here to kill me? Take me back? Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Give it your best shot.” She wiggles again and I lose my grip. Her knee comes up and almost connects with my jaw. But I’m the one who twists this time and she slides out from under me and bounces to her feet. She’s fast. And young. And angry. And cornered. I’m up a fraction of a moment later, but I back up and throw her the surrender hands to ease her down off the ledge. “Whoa, OK? I’m not here to do any of that.” “Why did you ask about him?” she snarls. “You
—” “Harper, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, honey. I’m a dirty killer, I get the job done and get the fuck out of Dodge. I’m not here to hurt you.” She just stares at me, shaking her head. “You’re trained to say that. You’re trained to make me believe you, to lie about anything and everything to get what you need. You’re trained to make me vulnerable and needy and weak—” “And so are you, Harper,” I bark, cutting off her rant and snapping her back to attention. “So. Are. You. You’re just as ruthless. More maybe. Because you plotted this for years, didn’t you? Maybe you’re playing me?” “Maybe I am,” she retorts. “You say they call you Come? And maybe they do. But that’s not your code, so don’t feed me that bullshit. At least I was honest. Do you really think I’d give you my number if I was here to kill you?” She swallows and I know I’ve won.
Chapter Nine - Harper
I turn away quickly so I don’t have to look at him. “Harper?” he asks softly. I have no words. I just have no words. “Harper?” He touches my shoulder this time and I shrug him off. “Don’t.” “I swear to God, I’m not here for you.” “Where were you last?” “I can’t say.” I already knew that. So I change the question slightly. “Where were you last year?” He pauses and I turn so I can see his face as he makes his decision. He looks like he’s thinking hard, counting back the months, maybe. But they are trained to do that, aren’t they? “I’m waiting.” I tap my foot like a petulant child and his eyes drop down to my flip flop and then he looks up at me and smiles. How could this man be one of them? I don’t understand how anyone with those dimples could be a killer. “I was fucking up a friend’s job over in a small, nondescript European country. Which is where all
my trouble really started.” “Not in the South Pacific?” I ask warily. Like he would tell me. “No. I don’t work that side of the world. Haven’t been back in there since I was assigned when I was sixteen.” He watches me as I process his words. Since he was sixteen. He’s been killing people since he was sixteen. “OK?” he asks, breaking the silence. “We good?” I shake my head and lean against the wall. He comes towards me and puts his hands on my hips and plays with my belt loops. “Harper,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m not walking away from you. You need to understand that. Accept it. I’m here now and I feel like I’m doing the right thing for the first time in my life. I want you. I want to be inside of you. I’ve waited patiently for so fucking long. And this was a stroke of luck. Being sent here and finding you.” I shake my head at this. “No, it’s a trap.” “Maybe,” he says, continuing his soft whisper. It disarms me and I want to give in, I really want to give in to him. But deep down I know what he’s capable of. I know because I was taught all the same tricks. “Maybe it was a setup. But I swear to you, I’m not in on it. I won’t ask about your brother again.” When confronted by the mark, placate them with any and all possible concessions. It’s a textbook
example and yet… I’m so falling for it. I want him to stay with me and never leave. I’m so lonely and needy and he has to know this. His hand cups my face and then his lips brush against mine. “Harper,” he pleads as he takes his mouth back to my ear. “Trust me, I’ll take care of you, Soldier.” I force myself not to react but it takes every ounce of training not to. “I know that’s what they really call you, Harper. The Little Soldier. A baby name, right? Since childhood. I know you and you know me, don’t you?” I pull back, forcing him back at the same time. I need to look at him. He is so familiar. I had to have noticed him on the beach or something. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just leans in and nips my lip until I squeal. And that’s all it takes. I melt. He senses my surrender and crashes his mouth against mine, hungrily, like he’s been waiting for this moment for years. “I want to fuck you right here in the hallway. Bend your ass over and take you from behind.” Jesus, I’m throbbing almost instantly. He pushes his thigh between my legs and presses. This time the throbbing turns into wetness. “I never—” I dip my head down, embarrassed. “I know.” “What do you want?” I look up at him now. His
green eyes do that searching thing again, where they dart back and forth, trying to read me. “I want you,” he says. “But why?” I fling my hand in the direction of the beach. “There’s a ton of women out there on the beach you can have. Why do you want me? I’m a kid.” “You sure look all grown up to me.” His rough characterization of me on the beach comes back. He called me woman. “I don’t feel like a woman. I feel like a child.” He rubs the back of his fingers down my cheek and I frown and twist my head away. But my body responds to his touch. I can feel myself flush with heat. “You’ve been here alone for months. I’ve watched you. I’ve been in your apartment. I found your key and your money in the little mechanical room over there.” My eyes dart up with these admissions. “You’re creepy, then. You’re a creepy stalker. And if that was the end of it, then OK, whatever. I’d just move on and forget about you. But you’re not just a creepy stalker, you’re my creepy stalker. A girl who’s got a target on her chest. And you’re a guy whose only purpose in life is to eliminate the target. So what am I supposed to think? That this is just some coincidence?” “We’ve got history, Harper.”
“Not the kind of history that counts for much, James,” I shoot back. “This is the kind of history that makes you want to change your name, move away, and start over.” “Is that what you did? Is that how you ended up here?” I let out a long breath and purse my lips together. “I’m not telling you anything. You’re trying to confuse me. Make me trust you. Then you’re gonna use me to do whatever it is you’re really here for. If they didn’t send you to kill me, then they want what they think I have. Or they want me to help you do something bad. Or…” He waits a few seconds. A longish pause, to see if I’ll continue. But it’s too real. I can’t say the last part. “Or what?” he prods. “Or turn you into something else.” I look up and he smiles. “That’s it, right? They might turn you into me. You have skills, little lionfish? Is diving off piers and fighting assassins just another day to you? Your code name might be Come, but you wanted to be Soldier, and look… now you are. All grown up. Dangerous. Lethal, they called you. They told me you were a lethal little soldier and I should stay far, far away. Call for reinforcements.” “Then why didn’t you?” I snap. “Because you are not my target. I’m not here for you.” “Then tell me why you’re here.” I challenge. “I
want to know now.” He smirks at me and shakes his head. I snatch the key from his hand and unlock the door. When he doesn’t stop me, I twist the handle and open it. Then I look over my shoulder. And that hesitation is my turning point. Because his mouth finds mine. Not hard and rough like an assassin, or soft and sweet like he’s caring for a child. But something in between. A man kissing a woman. I turn into him and his arms go around mine, his hands inside my clothes before I even know what’s happening. One hand slides down the crack of my ass and pushes between my cheeks, while the other heads north to grab the back of my neck. “I’m here for you, Harper. I want you.” That spot between my legs wants him too. But my brain is scared out of my mind. I push him back. “No.” He sighs and removes his hand so he can step back a few paces. “I’m not ready.” His chuckle irritates me, like he already knew that. Like I’m just a girl who teases men and then gives them nothing. “I’m not like that,” I say aloud, building my case for his silent accusation. “I’m not a tease. I just…” I have nothing. So I demand the one thing I know I can’t have to cover for my insecurities. “I need to know you better first.” I get a crooked smile in response. “You want to know if I like it rough? That answer is yes. If I take
you, I’ll take you my way.” “What? No!” I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “That’s not what I meant.” “You really want to know why I’m here?” He crosses his arms and leans back on his heels a bit. I lift my chin and meet his gaze. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I need that info or I can’t be with you.” He laughs at my childish demand. “Of course, little lionfish. You are the pretty girl with the poison daggers poking through her skin. You ask for the one thing you know you can’t have to send me away. Right?” My lips are sealed. He grabs hold of my waist again and pulls me into his chest. My arms go around his neck automatically, like I already belong to him. And then he leans into my ear and whispers, “I killed my brother, Harper. I killed Number Five. I shot him in the head and then I poisoned a man to settle a debt for fucking up that job I mentioned in Europe. I’m allowed to kill people if I need to. And I needed to kill both these people. But my bosses were not happy about it. They said I failed the psych evaluation when I came in for the debrief. They said I’m a danger to them, myself, and the world. But since they’ve spent the past twenty years training me to kill, they can hardly blame me for a one-time indiscretion. As long as it was just a single incident. They said I could unwind at the
beach. They wanted to see if some downtime would help—take the edge off.” I turn my head and look him in the face. His expression is hard even though his words stayed soft. His eyes are squinting, the frown lines on his forehead more pronounced, his jaw tensed as he waits for my reaction. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Harper?” I nod up at him. “Yes. Thank you.” He pushes me away and starts walking down the hallway. “Wait!” He doesn’t wait, just turns the corner at the little mechanical room. My feet are in motion as I chase after him. “Wait!” I pull on his arm and he stops outside the open door to the laundry room. The dryer beeps, signaling that someone’s load is complete. “Where are you going?” My heart is suddenly beating fast at the thought of him walking away. I get a sideways glance this time. Not his full attention. The glance that says I’m leaving. “I shouldn’t have told you that, I’m sorry.” He pulls away but I grab him again. “Just stop, please.” He sighs and does a few little headshakes, like he’s having some kind of internal debate. “That night you took those Ativan, I was on the phone with you?” He waits, so I answer with, “Yeah?” “You said, ‘You don’t want to know me… I’m no
one.’” He turns to face me head-on now, his expression blank, his mouth a flat line. His eyes impassive and empty. I can see it now. This is a killer’s face. The dimples are hiding underneath the frown. The emotionless facade of a hardened assassin. A man who sees death as nothing personal, just a job to be completed. “But you’re wrong, Harp. I’m the invisible one. You’re a beacon in the dark as far as I’m concerned. I’m the unknowable one. And if you were my contract, I would kill you.” He stares down at me with those impassive, cold, businesslike green eyes. “Just as sure as I did my brother. Because that’s what I do. That’s who I am. You might have all the moves, but you have none of the venom, lionfish.” He turns to walk away but I grab him again. “You wouldn’t kill me—” His hands grab me by the waist and yank me to his chest. “You think you want me? You think you want to know more?” He leans down and breathes into my neck for a moment. “Would you like me to take you, Harper?” Tingles erupt throughout my whole body and the throbbing between my legs is begging for more contact. More skin on skin. More conversation, more soft, whispered words. More of everything. I want more of everything. “Because I will. I’m that kind of guy. The kind
who’ll seduce a little girl and fuck her wild just because he can make her think she wants him so bad, she’ll spread her legs and do as she’s told.” “I’m almost nineteen. I can handle more than you think.” He laughs. “A baby who has no idea what to do with a cock in her mouth.” I’m ashamed to admit it, but instead of embarrassing me, his words hurt. “I’m not interested in the babies, Harper. I just take what I want. And you were right to demand to know me before you let me fuck you. Because you reminded me of what I am. Why I’m here.” He yanks his arm from my grip and turns again. My leg reaches forward and tangles with his, making him stumble, and then I grab his arm and twist. He reacts faster than I can plan the next move, and two seconds later he’s got me pinned to the concrete. Straddling my waist, hands holding me down, hunched over and leaning into my face. “You want me to stay?” I can’t answer because I’m not sure. He rises up on his knees a little bit, and then his hands release mine and begin to unbuckle his belt. I lie absolutely still. Once the buckle is out of the way, he makes quick work of the button, then the zipper on his pants. I swallow hard. “You will take my cock in your mouth.”
I lick my lips and the killer dimples appear in both cheeks. “I’m gonna take your throat first, Harper. Then your pussy, then your ass.” I’m not even sure what all that means, other than I’m gonna have sex. He takes out his dick and pumps it a few times, pulling it up towards his stomach, exposing the long vein, pulsing with blood as it fills and becomes hard and thick. “Put your hand around it, Harper.” I reach up and gently place my hand around his thickness. Immediately the wetness between my legs is back. I look up at his face for more directions, unsure of what I’m supposed to do. “Stroke me,” he says in a softer voice. “Harder,” he demands when I am timid. I squeeze harder and stroke up and down. Finding a rhythm like our heartbeats out on the beach. Is this the same man? I pump faster, and that makes his eyes close to half-mast. “Your little hands on my big cock, Harper. I love it. Now open your mouth.” I freeze. Staring at him. Deciding. “Open,” he says again. I obey. “Wider,” he whispers as he places his hands on either side of my head and crawls up my body. The tip of his dick touches my lips. “Should I tell you how I like it, Harp?”
I swallow and then force out a small laugh. “If you want it to feel good, you probably should.” He smiles and I relax a little. I’m not sure if I like him. James or Tet, whatever he wants to be called. He’s unstable. He’s a killer. He killed his own brother. But he and I are not that different. That’s the nature of this life we’ve been born into. I’m not even sure I want to do this, but I’m craving that intimacy he showed me earlier. I need the touch. So, so bad. And maybe he’s a sick fuck… but so am I. Really… we’re perfect for each other. Being force-fed his dick on the floor in front of the laundry room is not my dream first blowjob. But being left in this hallway, alone again—I can’t take it. I need a connection, even if it’s based on control and psychological manipulation. He eases forward. “Open wider.” I do, and he flicks his dick against my lips. I instinctively close my eyes and my mouth. “Open, Harper. And don’t close again until we’re done.” I nod and open my mouth but not my eyes. His tip is warm and smooth. “Lick it,” he commands. I twirl my tongue around a little, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, hitting the back of my throat. I gag and he withdraws again. “Get on your knees for me.” His voice has changed now. Lower, rougher. And for a moment I’m scared, but then his hand finds mine, and he pulls me up to a sitting
position as he himself stands. “Knees, Harper.” I scramble to my knees and before I even have a chance to settle he’s back in my mouth. Both of his hands go behind my head and he pushes himself inside me again. I gag and my hands grab his dick and push him away. “Hands on your thighs, Harper,” he commands. I obey and he stuffs himself in farther, his dick pleading with my throat to go deeper. I cough a little and this makes the killer moan with pleasure. I swallow and get the same reaction, only it’s too much all of a sudden and I begin to choke. “Breathe through your nose,” James says, petting my hair. I take deep inhaling breaths through my nose. “Now, flatten out your tongue in the back of your mouth.” I gag again, but his tip is still seeking out my throat. It pushes forward, then withdraws slightly. Saliva is pooling in my mouth to the point of overflowing, and the next thrust sends it dripping down my chin. The next time I gag his hands grab my hair and pull my head back so he can go deeper. “Oh, fuuuuck,” he groans, and then I feel the warm rush of release slide down my throat. “Swallow,” he whispers. I gulp until the warm salty liquid is gone and the pulsations in his cock subside.
He withdraws and my head falls forward. I sit back on my butt, wiping the spit off my face. I’ve never felt more humiliated in my life. His zipper goes back up and then there is nothing but silence.
Chapter Ten - Harper
The drier buzzes again. A signal that someone should be coming for the clothes very soon. James taps me on the shoulder but I don’t look up or acknowledge him. All I see is a long, sticky strand of saliva that is dripping down the front of my tank top. He taps again. “You can go away now,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry for keeping you.” He bends down and grabs my hand, then urges me to stand. I do. But I keep my head bowed in shame. I can’t believe I just gave my first blowjob to a stranger in a hallway. I’ve never had any illusions about my life. I’ve never bought into that whole knight thing you read about in girl magazines. I’m not the wannabe princess. But this? I snatch my hand from his and turn away. I stare at my feet the whole way back to my door. His hands grip my shoulders before I can actually enter the apartment, and then he twirls me around. “Just go,” I say, ready to cry. “I’m over it. Thanks for the good time.” His fingers dip under my chin and try to force me
to look at him. But I’m done. I’m in shut-down mode. That pliable girl who opened for his dick is gone. I’m pissed. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I nod, but keep my eyes on his shoes. “I hope you have a nice life, Harper. I won’t tell them I found you.” My head shoots up at that admission. “You are here to kill me!” “No,” he says back, his green eyes betraying a lost and desperate person inside. That person who hides behind this beautiful face and god-like body. Behind the man who walked hand in hand with me to the beach and pretended to like me so he could get oral sex from an amateur or whatever the hell it was he wanted. I stare up at him and he moves a little so that the light from the hallway above his head turns him into nothing more than a dark hovering shape. The symbolism is so appropriate. “Is that what we are?” I ask him. “Just dark shapes with no features? Is that all I’ll ever be?” He says nothing and I have my answer. “When you were little did you have a dream?” “No,” he says, turning his head so the light comes and goes. He’s human one moment, the dark amorphous killer the next. Then human again as he steps back and shifts his body, no longer facing me. “Well, I had one. We had one.” He turns back
when I say we and it hurts me so bad that he knows what that means. “We were gonna escape in the tender boat and say fuck them all. And we were going to live a new life.” I wait for some kind of acknowledgment. Or maybe an apology. For what? I’m not sure. He’s not responsible for what happened to us. “And now I have no we, James. There is no us. And I guess if I had been the one to pull the trigger, if I had been the one to make that decision to pull the trigger… like you did to your brother”—this gets his attention, but by the way his lip curls, I know immediately that’s not the kind of attention I want from James Fenici—“then I’d have nothing to be so pissed about. But that’s not what happened. I had a dream, James. And they took it away. So I dreamed a new one all alone. And if you get in my way…” I straighten my back and tip up my chin— accepting who and what I really am in this defining moment. I wait for him to look me in the eye. “I’ll kill you.” He gives me a little nod. A professional courtesy, perhaps. Or maybe it’s a ploy to keep me calm as he considers his options. “I know who you are,” he says. “All ten of us were briefed last summer. I know what you did. I know what happened to make you run. And I know what you have, even if I didn’t find it in that little room with your money and your key.”
He pauses to see if I’ll react, but we come from the same place. We were poured into the mold as children and then popped out as adults. We’re the same, maybe not equals, but still the same. So I know when to hold the cards tight. He’s gonna wait a long time for that reaction. When I don’t give him what he expects, he continues. “I’m supposed to turn you in, but I won’t.” “Why?” I laugh. “Because you’re an assassin with a heart? You fancy yourself a good person deep down inside?” He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m not a good person, deep or otherwise.” And then he turns and walks away. “And that’s why you just did that to me?” I call after him. I don’t want him to leave. This small taste of human interaction is like a drug and it’s been so long since I had a companion. “Is that why you humiliated me like some worthless whore?” He stops, shakes his head, and I can hear a small chuckle before he turns back. He’s smiling as he walks the few paces back towards me. “You think I humiliated you back there?” His head jerks to the end of the hallway where it turns the corner to the laundry room. “You have no idea, do you?” I force a shrug. “No idea about what?” He reaches for me. Slowly. Like a hungry person trying to steal a bone from a starving dog. I allow
him to pull me close one more time. I’d probably let him do anything to me right now, that’s how badly I want his touch. Even after he stuffed his dick in my mouth and came down my throat… I still want to be near him. “Harper,” he says quietly as he leans down into my ear. He takes my hand and places it on the front of his zipper. He’s hard again. His dick is long and thick, even through his jeans. “When my cock was in your throat. That moment”—he breathes into the shell of my ear, the warm air does a little dance with the sensitive touch receptors and I almost go wild—“right before I came in your mouth…” The throbbing and wetness between my legs is threatening to overtake my senses at the moment. I’m not sure how much longer I can last before I combust from the fire building inside me. “… when I was groaning with the pleasure of your tongue and the warm, wet muscles in your throat as you desperately tried to give me what I craved… that, Harper, is humiliation. Because in that moment, you owned me. All I saw was you taking my cock. Letting me do whatever I wanted to find my release. And you owned me. You had all the power, lionfish. Not me.” His hand is suddenly between my legs, pushing against my shorts. He pulls them aside and slips his fingers into the crease. “Has anyone ever touched you here?” The softness is gone and in its place is a
demand. A low rumbling, and almost angry demand. “Answer me,” he says, pushing his fingers further into my folds. “No,” I whisper. My body is out of my control right now. My head is spinning as his fingers dip deeper, and then withdraw, only to flick against my most sensitive spot. I lose my mind. My head falls backward against the wall and I moan. And then his mouth is on mine, his tongue dancing back and forth inside. I respond out of instinct, my tongue trying to mimic the dips and pushes of his fingers in my throbbing sex. He pumps hard and I gasp, but his mouth is back at my ear, whispering soothing things, soft things, comforting things. So I relax and let him do anything he wants. This is a pleasure I have never known. And I’d do anything to make it continue. “Now I have the power, don’t I?” I can only nod. “And if you were ready, Harper, I’d fuck you hard. I’d do things you can’t even imagine. I’d lick your pussy and make you come on my face. I’d fuck you in the ass and tie you up and spank your cheeks until you screamed my name.” I explode all over his fingers. Panting and heaving for more breath, my mind spinning and my legs buckling until I fall against his chest. “Now I’m in charge again. You see that, Harp? When you’re on your knees, my cock in your
mouth, you’ve got me, baby. You own me. Because the only thing on my mind is coming down your throat. When I’m rolling your clit between my fingers, I own you.” I moan. “Right?” he demands, twisting the folds between my legs and grabbing a fistful of hair. Yanking my neck back so I have to look him in the face. I nod. “Yes.” He withdraws his fingers and brings them to my mouth. “Suck, Harper.” I turn my head. “Look at me,” the killer in him demands. I look up. He holds up two fingers, slick with my own wetness, and puts them in his mouth. He withdraws, then touches them to my lips. I open without being told. “Lick,” he says in his soothing voice. I lick the tip of his fingers, tasting my own sweetness. He sticks them in farther, grinding his erection against my hips, and the pulsing between my legs is back. Just like that, I am ready again. The laundry room light flicks on around the corner and he backs away, taking his hard dick and his fingers with him. My body feels cold and empty now that it’s alone again. My arms wrap around myself instinctively and hug. A palm reaches across the space and cups my cheek. “You’re so pretty.”
I blush. After all that kinky stuff I just did, I blush at the word pretty. “You don’t believe me?” I shrug. “I don’t know,” I mumble truthfully. “I haven’t had a lot of feedback in that area.” “But you have a mirror?” He laughs as he says it. “Blonde hair, brown eyes, brown skin.” He shoots me the dimples and my insides tumble around like I’m being tossed in a wave. “Your eyes aren’t brown, they’re amber. It’s striking to see them in the light of the setting sun. And your hair is streaked blonde from years on the sea. That gorgeous brown body is golden, like you own the definition of tanned. And you’re the perfect combination of hard and soft. Killer and lover. Sweet and deadly.” He reaches around and grabs my ass. “I’m gonna take that ass,” he whispers, making the wetness pool between my legs. “Next time, I’m gonna take your ass and your pussy.” I swallow hard and stare at him, trying not to picture this right now. Because I’m so out of control, it scares me. “When you’re ready, Harper. Come find me.” And then he walks away and rounds the corner, calling out a, “What’s up, dude?” to the person grabbing their dry clothes in the laundry room.
Chapter Eleven - Harper
The shadow catches my eye as I roll and I sit upright instantly, staring at the empty chair across the room. Nothing. I look over at the clock. It’s 3AM and I haven’t slept in two days. I haven’t left the apartment since my last encounter with James in the hallway. I haven’t eaten, or showered, or met the sun. I’ve simply… existed. This guy. Never has anyone affected me like this. He’s all I think about. He seems so… familiar. And maybe it’s just because I’ve seen him out of the corner of my eye once or twice. He’s admitted to watching me. But that just doesn’t seem right. There’s something else… I kick off the light covers, get out of bed, and pad over to the kitchen where I’m keeping the pills. I’ve avoided them successfully these past two days, but I’ve had enough. It’s not safe to go without sleep. It messes with your brain. Makes you see shadows of beautiful men sitting in your living room while you sleep. It makes you wish for their
cock down your throat. Holy crap, I have problems. I eat three pills, chase it with water, and then pad back over to my bed and lie down. My heart and brain slow simultaneously. It’s a trick of my mind, I realize this. The drug takes a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in. But I slow anyway. I welcome it. My eyelids droop, then close. My shoulders relax as I turn on my side and let out a long breath. Some peace is all I want. Just some peace. And my brother. But he’s gone. So I’ll have to settle for my fake sedative-induced peace. The dawn erupts with a burst of orange across the water and the day begins just like any other. My feet are rocking with the waves, a gentle sway of balance I adapted to before I could walk. I was born on this ship. I drank my first milk on this ship. Crawled the deck, slept in a berth, and learned the fine art of getting wet on this ship. And even though my childhood was perfect—sun, sand, tropical islands, snorkeling and diving, exotic food and people and destinations—it all ends today. Today we are eighteen. We have never spent a night apart in our lives, but we may never spend
another one together again. Because by the time the sun sets… only one of us will be left. I jolt awake, the tears still in my eyes. I hate that dream, I hate that dream. Why do I have to relive that day of all days? Nick and I were entwined in the womb together, so tightly embraced we killed our mother during childbirth because we refused to let go. He was all I ever had that was truly mine. We were all either of us had. I was always the trophy. Not a princess, no. Trophy. Promised to a Company associate when I was six. I was molded and fashioned into this perfect thing. Something to look at, to admire, but not something that was allowed to have her own opinions about how she wanted to live her life. Or the man she would be forced to marry once she came of age. The training was an indulgence. I could not survive those hours Nick went away each day to train, so they indulged me. Every few years some uptight nanny would insist young girls did not learn martial arts and spend their days spear-fishing and I’d have to throw a fit. But the Admiral always gave in. I’d like to think it was because he had a bit of guilt over selling me off to an associate when I was a child. But he’s told me more than once that
he never regretted that decision. My twin brother, Nick, never had things so easy. He was expected to contribute in a big way. Even though we had physical training together I was never allowed to go with him to do the jobs. And those started when we were still very young. You can convince almost anyone that a nine-year-old boy is innocent of just about anything. Every time he left the ship I’d stand on the deck and look out across the sea. Watching for his return. It felt like… like I was holding my breath until I saw him again. Every time he left I cried out of fear. And every time he returned I cried from relief. He was not supposed to tell me about the jobs. But we are twins. Not identical, but we see ourselves as one. Not two. So of course, he told me everything. Not right after the job. The ship was never a safe place to pass secrets. But we were in port or anchored off some remote island almost as much as we were out to sea, so there was plenty of playtime on the reefs and in the tidal pools of random beaches. Since we were so well-behaved we were left alone. The crew ignored us completely. Nick’s trainers only paid attention when they were around, and since playtime on the beach is not a function of grown men hired for security, they never saw us crawl around on the rocks, or shimmy up a palm
tree to gossip about our lives under the long fanlike leaves. The Admiral’s gaze swept past every evening at dinner with a smug smile at our manners. He was never around. Our care was entrusted to others. We were, for all practical purposes, ignored. It took them many years to realize their mistake. And even though I feel a lot of satisfaction from overthrowing the Company yacht crew and making my escape, I’d rather relive those moments out in the hallway when James had his hands between my legs instead of that last day on the yacht. I turn over in bed, my mind still groggy from the pills, my body still seeking relief from the exhaustion that’s been creeping in since my first real orgasm. If I could only release again. Maybe I could relax? My hand slides down my belly and pushes past the elastic waist of my panties. I hesitate for a moment. I want so much more than this life. I’m so tired of being alone. I’m so tired of being lonely. A tear runs down my cheek as I move my fingers the way James did. Pushing them inside myself. Pumping as I picture the way he undid his belt buckle and released his cock. I wish I had looked up at his face. I’d give anything to have seen his face when he came down my throat. That thought is enough to trigger the release. But it’s small and unsatisfying. Only good enough to
amplify my drug-induced drowsiness as I turn over. I’m back in my dream. Only I’m on the beach, under the pier… under James. He grazes the back of his fingers down my cheek and then leans down and kisses each eyelid. “Sleep, Harper. You need to sleep.” He’s right. I need sleep so bad. But when he pulls away I grab his arm. The waves are coming in and out, and with each cycle, James slips down the sand a little. “Please don’t leave me,” I whisper, too late. He disappears into the dark water and I’m alone in bed again.
I wake with the worst headache. And my stomach is protesting the lack of… everything. I roll out of bed and stumble over to the kitchen sink, my eyes still half-closed. I open the tap and stick my mouth under, draw back to wince at the disgusting municipal water, then resume drinking until my stomach bloats. I wipe my mouth and pull the refrigerator open. Empty, save for a few condiment packets left over from a recent trip to Rocky’s Burgers. I need to eat. I slam the door and go turn on the shower, strip, wash quickly, and then realize I have no clean towels. I drip dry as I search for clothes. I drag the underwear up my wet legs and say fuck the bra. A
couple of stacked tank tops—both white so I don’t stick out—and another pair of cut-off jeans finishes the job. I comb through my hair, brush my teeth and slip my flops on as I drag the door closed behind me. My phone tells me it’s seven PM on Monday. I’ve lost six days of life since I met James on the pier. And really, this whole shut-down thing I’ve been doing is not very smart. What if he did turn me in? I was all drugged up on the Ativan, unable to react. I was barely functioning. I walk past the Mexican place. I ate there last time so I can’t go there again for a while. I don’t want to become friendly with the food people. I don’t want to be a ‘local’ and have them wave at me as I pass by. So I walk east, the opposite direction of the beach, cross over Fifth and head up Main to find some restaurant I’ve never eaten in before. It takes me a while because I’ve lived here for eleven months, so most of them I’ve entered at least once. But I’m jumpy now. The idea that James could’ve reported me and I wouldn’t have been able to react has me on edge. It’s dumb to be careless. Especially when I’ve come so far. I’m a success, right? I took something very valuable from a global criminal organization and eleven months later, I’m still alive. Is it by design? If it was so easy for James to pick me out, how hard would it be for the Company men
to find me? Have they left me alone for a reason? Did they send James to assess my state of mind? I pick a random eatery and scan the menu. I hate Chinese food, so I order the most benign things I can think of. Shrimp fried rice and a large Coke. I need the calories because the walk over has almost done me in. I eat alone and in silence as I gaze out onto Sixth Street. Chewing methodically. Thinking about life. James. His attention and the way it made me feel. His little speech on the division of power during sex. I have to admit, it makes sense. It put that filthy act in perspective and the longer I think about him, the more intense the throbbing between my legs becomes. I slurp my soda and gather up my trash, tossing it in the can as I leave and head back towards the beach. I’ve got a little while before the sun sets, so I take my time. Looking in the small shops as I wander down Main. When I get to Pier Plaza I walk right to the terraced steps and hop onto the first pillar, standing up to my full height. I shield my eyes from the sun and look north. Scanning for him. He said, Come find me. But how? He’s the one who found me. I turn slowly, dropping my hand from my face as the sun beats on my back. I scan the other side of PCH. Watching for men standing still, pretending to do things like look at a phone or window-shop. But
there is no one who looks like my James. I hop down just as more people start appearing and then make my way to the bottom terrace and park myself against a short pillar in front of the grass. A few yards off there’s a group of skaters doing tricks off the low wall that separates the bike path from the sand. I lean against the rough stone, my chin resting on my knee, and watch them. They are my age. All blond, tanned, and shirtless. Handsome even. I don’t normally notice the boys around here. I’ve been too busy being invisible to take notice or worry about stupid teenager things. But I’ve seen one of them before. In fact, now that I think about it, I’ve seen him a lot. He surfs in the morning and skates at night. Like this beach is his whole life. His smile is easy and appears often, as does his gruff laugh. I sigh as I watch him on his board. He makes it do all sorts of things that appear to defy gravity. He falls, laughs, gets up, does it again. His friends are all the same. Loud, energetic, beautiful. He looks my way and I’m too sad to even try and pretend I haven’t been staring. He waves. I don’t even blink. He turns and starts talking with his friends and then they bump fists and he flips his board up, grabs it by the front wheels, and walks towards me. I sit up straight and panic. Shit. He walks up smiling. “Hey,” he says, dropping his
board and sitting down next to me. “What’s up? You here alone tonight?” “I’m always here alone,” I reply as I study his face, looking for intentions. God, are all boys beautiful? Or is it this beach? I’ve never paid much attention, but two in a week, that’s some good luck. He puts out his hand. “Scott.” My hand finds his automatically. “Nice to meet you, Scott.” He smiles and his blue eyes lift at the corners. “Not gonna tell me your name?” I pull my hand back and lean into the pillar, trying to make myself small. He looks away, scanning the crowd to the left and right. Then the pier. When he’s satisfied, he drags his eyes back to me. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I’m speechless. “That guy you were with the other night?” he adds. “All curled up on his lap like a pet.” “I think you have me mixed up with someone else.” “Oh,” he says, nodding his head and looking straight ahead. “OK. Well, then would you like to go for a walk? See the sunset somewhere else?” I consider my options. Obviously he’s not interested in the sunset. So I guess I can assume this is an invitation to fool around. And last week I’d have said no thank you automatically. But this week… I realize now why girls chase boys.
And vice versa. “Where’d you have in mind?” I ask, forcing myself to stare him in the face. He gives me a crooked grin that is actually quite inviting, and then reaches for my knee and squeezes. “Girl’s choice.” “I live down the street.” He stands and extends his hand to me. “Let’s go, babe.” He holds my hand as we cross Pier Plaza, chatting at me like we’ve been friends forever. “My bro Danny…” I could give a shit about his bro Danny and how he cracked his skull doing some skater trick that sounds too ridiculous to be true, but what do I know about skater tricks? I only feel his hand in mine. Just like James. Is this all they have to do? The beautiful ones? All they have to do is hold your hand to turn you stupid with lust? I’m certainly well on my way to idiocy, that’s for sure. I can only imagine how I’ll melt into a puddle of goo when I get what I came for. And after that… I have no idea. When I turn up Fifth Street, there’s flashing lights at the police station, so I turn left on Walnut and take the back way through the alley. I stop us outside the back gate, suddenly nervous about going inside. “This you?” he says, nodding his head to my
building. He pushes me against the garage and then his hands are on my hips, dipping behind me to caress my ass. His lips are descending on mine before I can even answer. And then… He’s ripped away and flung to the ground, his head bouncing off the concrete. James is staring down at him, clenching his fists, looking like he’s in professional mode. “Stop!” I say, standing between the new guy and the assassin. “You have no right.” James looks at me and narrows his eyes. My insides drop, like I just jumped off a cliff, that’s how terrifying he looks. He points to my new friend. “Really? This asshole? He picks up a different girl every night. And if you were fucking paying any attention at all, you’d have seen that!” Skater dude is back on his feet, picking up his board, and already walking away. “I’m outta here.” He turns, walking backwards for a few paces. “And for the record, asshole, I asked her if she was yours. She said no. So you got some work to do.” And then he drops the board, hops on, and a few seconds later he’s turned the corner, out of sight. James turns back to me, grinding his teeth, clenching the muscles in his jaw. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” I raise my chin in defiance. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He grabs my shoulders and pushes me back against the garage. “You wanted to fuck him?” His eyes are darting back and forth, searching me, waiting on the answer. “Maybe.” His hand comes up and palms my throat, his thumb making little circles under my chin. “I give you a taste, then back off to give you room, and you take home the first asshole who asks for your name?” His erection presses against my belly and he dips his forehead until it rests against mine. My heart is racing, but for once in my life, it’s for all the right reasons. I reach for his face, threading my fingers through his dark hair. “You’re mine,” he growls. “I told you to come find me when you were ready.” “I looked, but no luck. So I played the only card I had. And look at that.” I smile with satisfaction. “Here you are.” I tilt my head up and meet his gaze. The sun is gone now, only the light of the stars illuminates him. And still, I see everything so clearly. “I didn’t have to find you, James. All I had to do was make sure you found me.”
Chapter Twelve - Harper
He turns away, but not before I catch the grin. His back expands as he takes a breath. Probably to tuck down his amusement so he can keep playing the pissed-off asshole routine. All my life people have assumed I’m stupid because I’m quiet, I never interrupt, and I follow directions. But I’m quiet because saying less is always more. I never interrupt because you always miss the parts better left unsaid when you don’t let people finish. And I follow directions because it keeps things on an even keel, sailing pun intended. I haven’t always felt this way about things. But back when we were little I once asked my brother why he was always so accommodating with the demands of the Admiral. We were about eight and I was spending my days that summer learning how to sail the ship to windward, while he was working in the galley, learning how to cook potatoes or something. But his answer that day has always stuck with me. ‘Pick and choose your battles,
Harp.’ I thought about that piece of advice endlessly since that day. Pick and choose your battles. Accept that you cannot win every time, until you’ve got a sure thing. Battles are always a win and lose. Give and take. And ever since then I’ve been saving up my losses for the only battle that counts. The one that wins the war. So when the strong wind comes and wants to take me off course, I lower my sails and go with the current. I save that loss up for another day. But all these things are conscious decisions. I am attentive, but silent. I have come to terms with my life, but—hopefully— only for the moment. “So you were trying to make me jealous.” He turns back to me, his expression a flat line again. But I already know he likes the devious side to Harper. “I was,” I reply. “Do you know what happens when I get jealous?” He steps towards me and puts both hands around my neck, his thumbs caressing my jaw in those little circles that will have me dreaming about them later. My body responds with the now familiar tingling between my legs and I am suddenly hot with want. “No,” I say softly. He stares at me for a few moments and then dips his mouth down to mine, resting his lips against my lips. “Who’s in charge, Harper?”
“You are,” I reply obediently. He gently knocks his forehead against mine and huffs out a laugh. “What are you doing?” “Being good. You want to be in charge, then be in charge. I’m not a control freak.” He takes my hand and pulls me towards the building. I dutifully follow him in. We descend the steps to the basement side by side, and then he leads me into the mechanical room and gathers my key from behind the loose cinder block where I hide it. He shoots me a glance to see if I’ll carry on about him knowing where it is. But I don’t, so he leads me back out, opens my apartment door, and waves me through. I stand there in the little entrance, waiting for his directions like this is his place and not mine. He stops and stares at the closed door before turning. Like he needs a moment to make a decision. When he turns his eyes are aflame with passion. He puts his hands on my arms and pushes me back against the wall. His thigh wedges between my legs, rubbing against that spot where I know all my carnal desires can be fulfilled, and I moan. He takes that as a yes to his unspoken question and his mouth finds mine. He bites my lip and takes me by surprise. I whine at the pain and then taste the blood but before I can react to that, his tongue is licking it away, tangling with my own tongue inside my mouth for a few
seconds, then he latches onto my top lip. “Mmmmm,” is all I get out before he nips that one too. I raise my hand to push him off but he grabs my wrist and hoists it up above my head. “Do that again and I’ll tie you up.” I take a deep breath and look away. So very unsure of what I’m doing. “Limits, Harper? You better say so now. This won’t be some romantic fairytale fuck you’ve read about in books.” Shit. There have to be limits. Right? “Do you trust me?” When I look back, his gaze is serious. So very, very serious. I shake my head because this question is easy. “No, not really, James. I mean, I want this. I do. But what we have is like a… a… tenuous respect and nothing more. Like the way you respect a large dog you’ve never met before.” His eyes dart back and forth. It’s his tell, I realize now. His darting eyes are weighing in on me, letting me know he’s formulating an opinion. Which is good, I guess. Either he’s reevaluating me or he never really solidified one in the first place. He brings the hand above my head down to my side and kisses me on the nose. “OK.” “OK?” God, please don’t let him change his mind! “James, I—” He places his fingertips over my lips, then leans in and licks the one he bit and sucks on it for a
second. “I need to know how you want it, Harp. Or I might go too far. And…” He cups my face in his hand and pulls me close, right up next to his hard thickness inside his jeans. “And I don’t want to do it wrong. It’s a big deal for you. Even I understand that. I might hurt you so I need to know what you want.” What do I want? I want to have sex. And feel the pulsations of an incredible orgasm. “I need to know if you’re sure.” “I’m sure,” I say quickly. “I am, I swear. I want to and if you stop this now, I’ll go find that skater guy!” He smacks my ass. Hard. I yelp and try to scoot away from his hand as it comes back for more, but he holds me tight and this time the smack hits my bare thigh. I squeal loudly at that one. “Say you’re sorry,” he says, staring me in the eyes. “Sorry, I was just—” “You were just trying to bait me, and I don’t like it.” He stares down at me, his eyes narrow and his jaw sets. He’s totally not kidding about that so I chew on my lip, taste blood, and then nod. “OK, I’m really sorry. It was a bad joke. I’m not interested in Golden Boy back there.” He eyes me suspiciously, but I can tell he’s more interested in being playful
than angry. Even so, I nod and reassure him. “I swear.” “So you’re ready?” His fingertips slip under my tank top and then his whole palm presses against the bare skin of my waist. His hands are a little cold and this temperature difference sends chills up my whole body. My nipples perk to attention immediately. I put my hand around his neck and lean up on my tiptoes and peck him on the cheek. “I’m ready.” “No limits?” “Just… be nice.” I smile sweetly because I don’t know what else to do. I have no clue about any of this shit. Some of the things he’s said I don’t even understand. He thinks I’ve been dreaming about my first sexual experience growing up? Well, he’s wrong. I never read any books about how other girls experience a first time. I had one very clinical discussion about sex with a retired Company medic when I was sixteen. And it was not very enlightening beyond don’t do it until you’re married, because I was promised to someone back when I was six, and that promise dictated that I be a virgin when I was given away. He growls into my neck. “Fuck, Harper. You’re driving me crazy. You gotta tell me what not to do, or I swear, I’ll do it all. I’ll just do it all.” “I don’t know what to tell you. I just want it to feel good. I just want you to touch me and make me
feel good. Make this loneliness go away for a little bit. Make me…” I stop and look up at him. His attention is rapt. Like he’s hanging on my every word. “Make me feel wanted.” He lifts my top over my head in one move. My nipples bunch up as the cool air touches them, and then his fingertips roll one back and forth. My heart begins to race inside my chest, my breath becomes ragged and uncontrolled. He palms my breast and his lips find my mouth, his tongue thrusting in this time. Not waiting for a response, just taking me the way he wants. He unbuttons my shorts and drags the zipper down. His other hand slips down my panties and finds my completely soaked folds. “What do you call this?” he says, thrusting his fingers inside me. I laugh. “What?” “Pussy,” he whispers. “You call it your pussy next time I ask. When you want me to lick it”—oh God, I almost orgasm at the thought—“you say, ‘Please lick my pussy, James.’” I can’t breathe. And I don’t think I can say that without exploding. His fingers begin a slow thrust and my knees go weak. “Would you like me to lick your pussy, Harper?” The way he says my name. The way he touches me. The way he does pretty much everything right now. I’m at his mercy. “Please lick my pussy, James.” I’m surprised he heard my words, that’s
how low I speak them. He picks me up in his arms and carries me over to my bed. He sets me down so I’m sitting on the edge and then pushes on my shoulders until I lie back. “Lift your hips.” I lift and he drags my shorts down my legs, stopping to kiss my inner thigh and then nip the sensitive skin there. My back arches and I feel slick between my legs. His mouth pulls back and his hands resume their task, pulling my shorts and panties past my knees, letting them slide down to my ankles. He removes them and tosses them on the floor. “Open your legs.” I blush a bright red, I know it. Because my face is suddenly very hot. “Open, Harper.” Oh, God. I open my legs and close my eyes. The wetness practically gushes. He passes a few fingertips right down the crease of my slit. “Holy fuck. You are so ready. I like my women shaved, Harp. Since you’re so new at this, I’ll let it go. But later, once we get the basics out of the way, I’m gonna shave you.” “What? No!” He crawls up my body, stopping to suck on my nipple, then takes it between his teeth. I buckle my back and whine until he lets go and continues to kiss his way up my neck. I about die. “That’s not a limit you can negotiate. When we figure out what the fuck we’re doing you can get waxed regularly.
But for now, this will have to do.” I’m stuck on the word we for like five whole seconds as he crawls his way back down, placing his face between my legs. We? But my thoughts evaporate into nothing but bliss when his tongue touches my pussy. It flicks back and forth right on my spot and then he grabs me behind the knees and pushes my legs up and open, licking the entire length. “Ohhhhhmmmm,” I hum out as his tongue begins to do these little swirl patterns. I arch my back, making him lose his rhythm. His palm pushes down on my belly, hard enough to keep me in place. A fingertip plays with that sensitive spot and I am about to lose myself in the ecstasy when everything suddenly stops. “No, Soldier. You may not come yet. Not until I give the command.” “What—ohhhh.” His tongue is back, but then withdraws again. “What are you doing?” I’m flushed with excitement and my legs are beginning to tremble with the buildup. “I said, not yet.” “But why? That’s the whole reason—” His fingers withdraw and then dart up to my nipple to pinch. I squirm, but his palm is still firmly pushing down on my stomach. “Ahhh!” “We can talk later, Harper, but for now be a good little soldier and do as you’re told. When I want
you to come, I’ll let you know. Until then you fight it. Understand?” I stare at his eyes. They burn bright with his desire. His mouth has traces of my wetness and I lick my lips. “OK.” The squeeze on my nipple abates and then he reaches up to my mouth and traces my lips. His fingers smell like me. Like my desire. I open my mouth and suck on them, tasting my sweetness like I did the other night in the hallway. James groans at this move and I feel a moment of power. He’s right. Sex is power. I have some power over him. This man who kills people for a living can be at my mercy if I listen to what he likes and learn how to please him. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” He smiles when my answer is more sucking, more licking. I trace my tongue alongside his finger and then his other hand is at my entrance again. Rolling the little bundle of nerves between my legs in his fingers. I suck harder and he moans, letting me know I’m doing it right. “I want your mouth on my cock again, Harper.” “Me too,” I answer. And I do. I want to watch his face when he comes down my throat this time. I want to witness that power he says I have. I want to experience his release with him. “Later, little soldier. I’m gonna fuck you hard first. Then we’ll shower and explore a little more.”
His fingers begin to pump inside me and my hands fly down to his head, pushing his face back to the v between my legs. “More, please,” I beg. “I want more of your tongue. I want you to lick me, James.” When I say his name he growls and grabs my wrists in one hand. “Put them above your head, Harper. And don’t move them until I tell you.” I obey immediately and I’m rewarded with his tongue against my clit. He flicks it back and forth a few times and then his whole mouth covers my pussy, sucking until I am close to the explosion. His hand returns to my belly, reminding me to control it and I throw my head back and pant as I look up at the ceiling. “Good girl,” he praises. “You’re such a good girl, Harper.” “Hmmmmm,” is all I can manage to that. I’m so fucking close. “I’m going to count. When I get to three you may release. Not two, not one, not four. Three, Harper.” I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, three.” I push against his fingers, trying to push him farther inside me. He pumps me hard several times, hitting a spot inside that makes me call out his name and grab the pillow above my head. “Ohhh. God.” “One,” he says just before he lowers his face to my clit again. He sucks hard this time, making the orgasm slow with the sensation. I relax just as his fingers increase their rhythm and he removes his
mouth to say, “Two.” This time his tongue swirls gently against my clit and the explosion builds again. Little by little, with each passing second, I begin to lose control. He doesn’t stop this time, but his palm on my stomach reaches up and twists my nipple to bring my focus back. I bite my lip and the tiny bite he made in my skin opens up again and I taste blood. I’m just about to be calm when he grabs my whole breast and squeezes. He thrusts his fingers inside me, his thumb brushes up against my clit and he takes it in his mouth to suck. I almost lose my mind with the build-up, and only his firm grasp of my breast keeps me focused. I wince and clamp my pussy around his fingers. The sensations between my legs stop and before I understand what’s happening, his mouth is on mine. His tongue is both sweet and sour with the taste of myself. He pulls back a fraction, his fingers still pumping wildly as I writhe underneath him. “Three,” he whispers. My orgasm comes with a long moan and then his whole hand is working my pussy as I ride out the wave, bucking myself against his palm, looking for more friction, more everything. I see stars and my world goes dark. My heart races and his lips kiss me over and over again. “You did good,” he whispers. “You did so good. You’re perfect, Harper. You’re so perfect.” He continues to kiss me, his motions inside me slow
now, but not completely stopped. When I finally relax he withdraws his fingers and I open my mouth as I wait for him to slide them inside and place them on my tongue. I lick and suck as he watches, his eyes filled with desire, his expression content with my performance. He removes his fingers and then leans down and kisses me deeply. Slowly. He explores me. His hands on my body, rubbing up and down my thigh, then dipping into my folds again to flick my clit. I moan. It’s still so sensitive. “Are you ready?” he asks. I open my eyes and look at him as I nod. “Yes.” “Are you willing to give yourself to me now?” I nod again. “Yes.” “Are you sure you want me to be the only one you ever fuck for the rest of your life?” My brow furrows in confusion. “Because you’re mine. If I’m your first I’m going to be your last. So I need you to be sure.” He watches me as I process his words. “Are you sure?” He’s so beautiful. My characterization of him that first day was dead on. His eyebrows raise at my silence, but I reach up and brush a stray piece of dark hair from his eyes. “I’m yours, James. I swear it, I’m yours.” And I mean every word. “I know you are. You’re mine, you were meant to be mine.” He gets up from the bed and stands before me. “Undress me, Harper.”
The way he uses my name in his soft commands gives me a thrill. My whole body tingles as he waits. I stand in front of him for a moment, taking in his body. And then I grab the hem of his tight black t-shirt and lift, slowly dragging my hands over the rock-hard surface of his abdomen. His muscles ripple underneath. His body is tanned a golden brown like mine. I pull the shirt up to his arms and then he takes over, whipping it over his head and throwing it down on the ground. “Have you ever—?” I know what he’s asking, so I just shake my head no. “God.” He stops and just stares down at me. Stares into me. “How did this happen?” My whole body is overcome with heat and I actually hold my breath. Because I agree… something about this is so… improbable. But then he reaches for me, pulls me into a gentle embrace, and all my doubts evaporate. My hands instinctively fall down his chest. His skin is taut and firm. Every muscle well-defined. He has no markings at all. No tattoos, no scars. “You’re absolutely perfect,” I whisper. “It’s all yours. If we do this, I’ll be all yours.” I smile at that. “You promise?” He suddenly cups my face and leans in to kiss me. “Forever. If we do this, you’re mine, forever.” That’s so confusing, but I’m not in the mood to
think. I only want to react now. I kneel on the floor and look up. I want to remember him like this. Looking down on me with pure adoration. My fingers unbuckle his belt slowly and I catch the sudden intake of breath when my hand passes innocently over his hard cock beneath the soft fabric of his pants. I watch carefully to see if he likes my touch and his eyes are at half-mast. His hands go to mine and remind me what I’m doing. I unbutton his jeans and drag the zipper until the length of him is visible beneath his boxers. I swallow, a little nervous. But then I pull his clothing down in one movement and his dick springs forward. I look up as I take it in my mouth, licking the tip. His head falls backwards and his mouth opens when I seal my lips around him and suck. He palms my head, pushing me forward to meet his cock. I try to mimic the way he sucked on my clit— swirling my tongue and sucking on his smooth head. He growls, “Yes, Harper. Just like that.” I open my mouth wider and try to take his full length, but he stops me with firm pressure on my head. “No, baby. I just want a little tease. I’m gonna come inside you, but not down your throat.” Thoughts of birth control flit through my mind briefly, but he reaches down and picks me straight up into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, his cock pressing against my belly. He turns us
around and sits on the bed, keeping me in his lap, then kicks off his shoes and jeans so we are both naked. His hand reaches between my legs and finds me as slick as I was when I orgasmed. “You’re ready for me. Lift up, put my cock in your entrance, and then ease down.” I swallow and look him in the eyes as he smiles. “Go as slow as you want. I’m not in a rush.” I take a deep breath and nod. Then lift up a little, grab his cock, and rub it back and forth against my pussy until it’s very wet. The tip slides inside me easily, and for a moment I think that’s all there is to it. But then I ease down and he fills me up beyond capacity, stretching me. I gasp as the pain threatens to overtake me, but James cups my face again and tilts my chin so I have to look at him. “Slow, baby. No hurry. Go slow. Enjoy me. Enjoy how I feel inside you.” I swallow hard and lift up a little. Feeling his slick cock slide against my skin. I lower just a little bit, stop when it hurts, and rise up again. I do this over and over again, and with each time, James groans. “You feel so good,” he assures me. “You’re so tight,” he whispers in my ear. “Try to go a little farther now, baby. I’m dying to be inside you. All the way inside you.” My body responds to his requests like they’re an
order. I want this too. I want him inside me more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. I let him sink deeper into me, biting back the shock of pain and the gasp that wants to escape. I bury my head in his neck and pant hard. His hands go to my ass, urging me to move the way he wants me to. I give in to him. I am his. He lifts me up, almost to the point that his dick is threatening to escape my pussy. But then he slams me down on his lap and the pain shoots straight up my spine. It threatens to overtake me when I feel his fingers playing with my ass. They press against the tight muscles and I gasp, the pain from my disintegrating hymen forgotten as he explores me in a new way. I moan into his neck, the new sensations almost too much. “Can I come, James? I want to come so bad. I want to come on your dick.” “This is all about you, baby. If my cock inside your pussy feels good to you, then come all over me, Harper.” My name on his lips sends me over the edge. My body arches as I throw my head back and moan out his name. “James…” As soon as the contractions begin to slow, James wraps his arms around me and lies back on the bed, pulling me tightly to his chest. His hips begin a punishing rhythm underneath me, thrusting himself
deeper and deeper inside me, his balls smacking against my ass so hard, reminding me of his fingers a few minutes ago. We come together this time. We explode into an orgasm that makes me blind and helpless to think of anything but this perfect man beneath me.
Chapter Thirteen - Harper
He scoots up towards the head of the bed, keeping himself inside me as we move together. He collapses back on the pillow and hugs me close. “Harper, God, I can’t believe we’re here.” I scrunch my face up as I ponder that question. “What do you mean?” He rolls, removing his cock from me, and then flips me around and pulls my ass up to his hips. “Sleep,” he says. “We’ll finish this in the morning.” I frown as I lie here. Running all this back in my mind. His sudden appearance on the pier. The way he dove in after me. I guess it makes sense that he fingered me for the missing girl. But then… if he’s really Number Six, he would’ve called this in immediately. If he knew who I was, then he’s asking for a death sentence by not calling it in. “Sleep, Harper,” he says with a little more authority. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” I wiggle out of his grip and get up. “Where—” “The bathroom,” I say back defensively. I suppose it’s a bad time to actually start using my head. I mean, I just gave him my virginity. The
Admiral will go ballistic. And if James is Number Six, then he knows this. Maybe he’s on the run too? Maybe he’s my father’s enemy? I close the bathroom door and start the shower. I feel dirty all of a sudden. It felt good, hell yes, it felt good. But now that my need has been satiated and my mind is clearing—I have questions. I have a lot of questions. Like… how long has he been watching me? He hinted at months. Months? That makes very little sense, really. He said he killed his brother, Number Five, and they needed him to take some downtime. Evaluate him. I can see that. You don’t kill another Company assassin with no consequences. And you certainly don’t kill your brother. I would kill to have my brother right now. I’d do just about anything to have my brother. I start the hot water and watch my naked self in the mirror as I wait for it to warm up. Why am I still here? In this apartment? In this town? On land? Is it really possible that the Admiral has no idea where I’m at? I mean, I was careful when I left. I poisoned the entire ship. They were sick as dogs, even the captain, so we were dead in the water about sixty miles south of Tahiti. I might even have killed some of them. I have no idea, because our ship has a very nice tender boat. One of the nicest in the world, just like the super yacht that carries it. And since my entire life, from birth
to that moment when I opened the garage door and lowered the tender out onto the sea, was spent sailing the oceans of the world on these massive yachts, driving it straight to the port all by myself was not at all difficult. We’ve been to Tahiti lots of times. So many times I was recognized. And welcomed. Of course, I’ve never showed up alone before, but this was the day after my birthday, I told them with genuine excitement. The adrenaline coursing through my blood was making me jittery, but the local customs agent took it as nerves from being on my own for the first time. I got everything in order at the dock, paid the fee. And took a cab straight to Faa'a International where I boarded a plane to Hawaii. I stepped off that plane Harper Tate and boarded the next one as Jillian Stewart. And when I landed in Los Angeles I was free. I had one backpack, but it contained a key. A key my brother gave me the day before our eighteenth birthday. I have no idea how he got a hold of it, but I didn’t ask. Because that was our last day together and I was still in denial that he would leave without me. It’s not like he had a choice. They took him. But he left behind the key. There was an address and a number engraved on it. I took a cab to the UCLA Library, rode the
elevator up to the fifth-floor quarter lockers. And found my future. Thirty thousand dollars. A phone number. A phone. A flash drive in the shape of a fish. And a bottle of Ativan, with a warning on the outside from Nick not to take them unless it was absolutely necessary. It took us six months to wean me off them. It was a long process and even now, after being mostly clean for almost a year, I still run to the pills when things get overwhelming. And then I took my money, called the number, took a cab to the address, paid the rent in full for one year, and sat down in that solitary chair in the living room and waited. It took me weeks to settle in. I looked over my shoulder everywhere I went. I imagined my life if I had stayed one more day. Married off to some old man. That’s what my father was planning. It was no secret that Nick and I would be separated on our eighteenth birthday, but they kept this little marriage deal quiet until I was sixteen. Then ever so slowly, hints would be dropped. Oh, Harper, you will make some lucky man very happy when you turn eighteen. Hints like that was how it started. But by the time I was seventeen they were overt. Which dress do you like for your wedding, Harper? the shoppers in port would ask me. But I am quiet. I don’t interrupt. And I pick and
choose my battles. There is no point in fighting until I can win the war. Have I won? I have a beautiful assassin in my bed. I’m still free. He didn’t kill me—he fucked me. I’m falling for him. He makes me feel safe. I want to be next to him. Even now, I want him. But maybe he’s just as good at picking battles as I am? There’s a small knock at the door. “Harper,” James says quietly. “Everything OK?” he doesn’t wait for my answer, just turns the handle and opens the door. I smile at him. I can’t help it, he’s so damn beautiful. “Shower?” he asks, nodding his head in the direction of the steaming hot water spraying down in the tub. I nod and smile. He walks over to the shower knobs and adjusts the temperature, then pulls out the top drawer of my vanity and finds a new shaver. I raise my eyebrows at him. Not about the shaving. I believed him when he said he’d do it. But the fact that he knows where I keep the shavers means he’s checked out my entire apartment when he was in here stalking me. “Does that creep you out?” he asks, like he’s reading my mind. “Yeah,” I answer back, nodding. “Why were you watching me?” I try not to be accusatory, but that’s how it comes out. He takes my hand and leads me over to the
shower. He steps into the tub and I follow. He stands under the spray of water and closes his eyes as he drags his hands down his face and then he shakes his head, sending drops flying in my direction and messing up his hair in a way that makes me crave his touch. He steps out of the water and gently maneuvers me in his place. I tip my head back and enjoy the pulsations and the stream flowing down the back of my head. I step away and drag my fingers over my eyes so I can watch his soapy hands massage my arm. “Once I made you, I had to figure out who you were. I had a good idea. I’d seen the pictures they circulated a few months earlier. They knew you were here in the LA area, that passport fooled no one once they accessed the security footage. So I suppose that’s why they wanted me to take my time off down here in the OC.” “Do they know where I am exactly?” “I haven’t reported you,” he says simply. But that’s not really an answer. “Won’t you get in a lot of trouble? For keeping me a secret? Won’t the Admiral be pissed when he finds out?” “Maybe he doesn’t find out?” His hands move onto my thighs. Lathering them up with soap. Dragging his palms all the way down to my calves, then sliding back up and dipping between my legs
to tease me. He gets my pubic hair filled with bubbles and then taps my inner thigh lightly. “Open your legs, Harper.” He reaches for the razor while I spread my legs. I trim myself down there. It’s not wild and uncontrollable, so he places the razor at the apex and gently removes the hair from the front. His fingers probe between my folds as he continues, making me wet and wanting as my skin becomes smooth. He takes my hand and places it over the shaved area. “Feel it, Harper.” I pass my fingertips across the area and enjoy the feeling. He places his hand on mine and we both move up and down my crease. He pushes my fingers inside me, then he kneels down, picks up my leg, and places it over his shoulder. His face dips between my legs and he licks. God, I just want to die. Just fall into a heap of nothing as I relish the pleasure he’s bestowing on me. All thoughts of his secrets and devious ways evaporate. I’m at his mercy once again. I come almost instantly, this orgasm just as powerful as the rest. I slump against him as he washes my hair, then turns the water off and gently pats me down with a towel. “We’re not done yet, Harper.” I gaze up at him, in awe of his beauty. His ability to be gentle and soft with me, even though he counts as one of the most dangerous men in the
entire world. I might be falling in love with a killer. He leads me naked back into the living area, stopping in front of the chair. “Bend over,” he says in that calm voice. I look over my shoulder at these words. He smiles and my fear begins to melt. “Trust,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” And then he pushes on my back until I bend over the chair, exposing my ass to him. He begins a slow rub of each cheek, kneading my supple muscles and occasionally passing over the backside of my pussy. He kneels down and begins to lick again, his fingers joining in until I’m primed and ready once more. I’m sore from all the attention, but then he removes his fingers and probes at the little bud of my ass. He slips a finger inside and I gasp. “Oh, that’s painful,” I say as he removes it. “Relax,” he whispers into my neck. “I’m too tired to go slow right now. I’d like it hard and fast this time. So we’ll try new things next time.” And then he bites my shoulder and thrusts inside my pussy. I struggle under him, the pain ripping through me this time. He was not lying, it’s not gentle and it’s not slow. But his hands caress up and down my thigh as he whispers sweet things. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “You drive me wild,” he moans as he pulls back and then thrusts again. This time the pain is less, and each time after, the pleasure overtakes it.
When he’s confident I’m OK, he stands back up, his hands on my hips. And then he fucks me. Hard. Like a man fucks a woman and not the way a man fucks a girl. He makes me a woman. And even though it hurts, it feels so good. It feels so fucking good I can’t imagine not wanting him to take me like this over and over again. He pulls out and turns me around, thrusting me to my knees in front of him, and then he comes all over my chest. I watch his face this time. He throws back his head and opens his mouth in a groan of pleasure. And I see it. I feel it. The power I have over him is as real as the power he has over me. He leads me over to the bed and lays me down. “Be right back. Stay still and I’ll clean you up.” And then he strides into the bathroom and closes the door. At the same time his phone vibrates on the floor and I look down. It must’ve fallen out of his pants earlier. I don’t mean to spy, but it’s lit up on the floor, staring at me. I squint to see the words. It’s an address. I read it to myself and then commit it to memory. Another text comes in, making the phone vibrate again. All set, this one says. The bathroom doorknob jiggles and I turn over
quickly, grabbing the pillow and covering my face to feign sleep. If he’s bothered by the lit-up message on the floor, it’s not apparent to me. Because his step never falters as he makes his way over to the bed. “Harper,” he says as he pulls on my shoulder to turn me back over. I open my eyes slightly, smile, and then close them again as he wipes the warm washcloth up and down my breasts. A few minutes later he climbs into bed with me and pulls me into his chest again. He kisses me on the head and leans in. “You’re mine now, Harp. You’re mine now. No matter what happens, you’re mine.”
Chapter Fourteen - Harper
When I wake he’s gone. There’s a note on the counter and a shitload of cash. I count out the bills as I stand there naked. Seven hundred and forty-two dollars. He carries a lot of money on him. The note says—Go grocery shopping. You’re too skinny. Be back soon. That’s it. Be back soon. But tomorrow comes and goes. And more and more tomorrows come and go. And still James does not come back. I stare at my phone, willing him to call me. Why didn’t I get his stupid phone number when I was spying on his useless text messages? I stand in the little mechanical room looking down at my stash of cash. I have fifteen hundred dollars now. And an address committed to memory. My backpack is stuffed with clothes and necessities as I leave my key and take my money. Maybe I’m coming back, maybe I’m not. But I’m leaving nothing behind. I’m tired of waiting around for the people I care about to come collect me. I’m tired of wondering if Nick is dead or alive. And
even though it’s only been a few days, I’m tired of wondering about James as well. I’m tired of being invisible. I’m tired of being quiet, and patient, and following directions. But most of all, I’m tired of the endless pause my life has become. I’m going to find the men who took the one person in this world I can trust. I’m gonna get back the brother I lost or I’m gonna die trying.
Come Back
Chapter Fifteen - James
A kid. I squint at the feral girl sitting on top of a rolling ridge across the prairie and revise. A teen. Which is even worse. I grab my binoculars and focus on her face. She’s scowling at me, her dark blonde hair littered with leaves and twigs. I pan down to her outfit. She’s a poster child for a surplus store. She looks like she’s been living out here on the scrub for weeks instead of days. And that is not a good sign. I press the button and the window on my side of the truck lowers. I give her a few seconds to say something. Yell or stand. Something. But she just sits there, staring at me. Her long ratty hair is blowing in the wind and her face is streaked with dirt. There’s a little bit of smoke rising from the ridge behind her. I whistle out a shrill call and yell, “Let’s fucking go!” The wind blows my words away and she sits still,
so I figure she didn’t hear me. But then— movement. She raises her hand like she’s gonna wave. I even have a split second of relief. She flips me off, stands up, swats the dirt from her ass, and then turns and walks down the ridge. Out of sight. “Fucking Merc,” I mumble under my breath as I put the truck in park and open the door to go chase after her. He sent me some GPS coordinates last week and told me to pick up a package for him. I’m a few days late because of Harper, but that asshole said package. He never said kid. It’s early morning, the sun is barely rising off to the east, and the frost that gathered on the short prickly plants overnight is beginning to melt, making my boots slick as I trudge over to grab the girl. I do not owe Merc this favor. My debt was cleared months ago. But having Merc owe me a favor is something I can’t afford to pass up. I need to get Harper’s shit straight with the Admiral and get on with this job. I’m up against a deadline and since all my friends in the Company are now officially dead, Merc is really my only option when it comes to outside help. So I make my way across the Colorado prairie, heading after this little shit who thinks she can flip me off, and my temper is building to a crescendo when I make it to the top of the little ridge she was
sitting on. I look down at her camp. What’s left of her camp. There is a pile of dirt covering what might have been the little fire she had going and a few bentover blades of grass where she might have slept last night. But other than that, it’s bare. The gun is in my hand before all these thoughts even process as I scan the landscape. She picked a good spot, I’ll give her that. These rolling hills are perfect. All you gotta do is lie flat on the other side of one to make yourself invisible. “Merc sent me,” I yell. “I’m supposed to pick you up.” I back down the ridge a little and squat to the ground. I’m not sure who this kid is, but I can take a good guess. Sasha. Orphaned last Christmas and sent to live with her grandparents, she’s Merc’s responsibility because he’s the one who got her father killed. I’d heard that the grandparents’ ranch was set on fire this past spring, killing everyone on the property after a propane tank exploded. But I was too busy with my own shitstorm of problems to care if this low-level Company kid was among the dead. Clearly she was not. “Sasha!” I yell. “Merc fucking sent me. Now get your ass—” An arrow goes whizzing by my head and I duck to the ground and flatten myself out. “What the fuck—” “You’re lucky,” she yells back at me from off to
my right. “I’m not a very good archer. I have a gun too, and I promise you. I do not miss.” Jesus fucking Christ. What is with the girls these days? Since when are they all wannabe assassins? “Sasha, calm the fuck down. I’m here because Merc sent me. I’m supposed to hold on to you—” “Hold on to me?” She snorts off to the left now, and she’s a lot closer than she was. “I’m not his property.” I sniper-crawl over another ridge off to my right, peek, then spot the top of her dirty blonde hair one ridge over as she makes her way back where she started out. She’s not a bad stalker. And she’s fearless too. If she thinks I’ll let her off because she’s a kid, she’s dead wrong. Or maybe she’ll just be dead. “I’ll leave you here if you want, you crazy little shit, but first we’re gonna make a phone call so I can collect on my favor. I didn’t come a thousand miles for nothing.” As soon as I stop talking I bolt for another hill off to the left, pop my head up and see zilch, then make another mad dash one ridge over. This time I smile because she’s right in front of me. “I don’t want to talk to that asshole—” I pounce on her from behind before she can finish her sentence. She groans as I take her to the ground, winding my leg around her middle so I can
pin her down, and then I grab her arm at the bicep and press against her elbow. “Hold still, Assassin Smurf,” I growl into her ear. “Or I will snap this elbow.” She struggles for a moment but I apply more pressure and she cries out in pain. “I’m not fucking around. I don’t know if Merc let you get away with this bullshit, but I’m Tet. And if you ever threaten me again, I’ll snap your puny little neck.” She stops struggling at that remark and I lean into her harder just in case she’s trying to lead me into a false sense of security. She’s as bad as fucking Harper. Who the fuck authorized this girl’s father to train her? From what I know of him, he was an arms dealer. Code name Rancher. Which makes this girl more than a nobody, but not by much. Just another girl to be given away to just another boy who would then be tied to the Company for life. “Sasha?” I ask, once her breathing has mellowed out and she’s been still for a minute or so. “Are you Sasha?” She doesn’t answer me. “I’m Tet. We can do this one of two ways. You come with me and I hand you over to Merc. Or I kill you and tell him you were eaten by wolves.” “There’s no wolves out here,” she snorts. “Oh, yes, little girl. There are. And there’s one on top of you right the fuck now.” I feel her stiffen
under me and I allow myself a smile. “Now, are you ready to do as you’re told? Or should I just end this now? Because I need to get back on the road either way. With you or without you, I’m heading south in five minutes.” “Fine.” She gives in with a growl. “Where’s your real camp?” I ask as I get off her and then hoist her up to her feet by the hood on her jacket. She can’t weigh more than a buck. And this I find funny. After decades of trying to raise girls who are meek and follow orders, the Company has two unauthorized, out-of-control females on their hands. “Over there.” She points north. I push her to get started, and she takes the hint and begins walking down the ridge. I have my FN Five-SeveN pressed into her back, just to keep the threat alive. But she marches on until we finally crest a ridge and I see her digs. She’s well-supplied. In fact, I have a little wave of jealousy that she’s been out here camping like this all by herself. What I wouldn’t give to have a few weeks alone on a deserted Colorado prairie with nothing but survival on my mind. There’s a pile of feathers in one corner, pheasant from the looks of them. So she’s been eating well. Her sleeping bag is rolled up and attached to her pack. Which is also stuffed full and has gear hanging off it from carabiners. She grabs a camo cap off the ground and slides it over her grass-
littered hair, and then hoists the pack up onto her small shoulders. Her back is to me, so I’m not sure what she’s looking at as she stands there in silence. But I take note of the direction. North. I know she’s not from Colorado because all that shit last December happened up in Wyoming. And her grandparents’ ranch where she was living since her dad was killed was up near Montana. So north. I give her a few seconds to say goodbye and then grab her by the pack on her back and turn her around. Her dirty cheeks are streaked clean from the tears and I soften a little. She can’t be more than thirteen and her whole life was stolen from her. None of this is her fault and she’s at the mercy of an assassin. I stick my gun back in my side holster and tug on her a little. Get her feet started. She walks dutifully, her head down. The little killer who’s been living alone out here on the prairie is gone now, and all that’s left is the broken shell of a girl who has no place to call home and no people to call family. “Hey,” I say to her after we load her stuff in the back cab of the truck, get in, and slam our doors. “I’m not sure what Merc’s got planned, but he’ll think of something.” I put the truck in gear, moving forward on the dirt road as I stare at her for a few seconds. A wave of sympathy washes over me. She
has the look of defeat on her. Her lips are frowning, her chest is rising and falling, her breaths coming out in rapid succession as she struggles to maintain some dignity. Her eyes are dark, but I know they’re blue because I saw them back out on the scrub when she turned into the rising sun. “But until then you’re with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She swallows once. A hard one, like she’s forcing shit down. Keeping the bad shit locked down deep inside. “I know what I’m up against. You don’t have to sugar-coat life for me. I’m used to living the lie. I’m used to living with death now.” She turns her head away and presses it against the window as the desolate scrub passes by. “Yeah,” I say as I get on the empty highway that will take us to the little airport down in Burlington so we can fly back to California. “But you know what they say about men who have nothing to lose, right?” She turns her sad face back to me. “What?” “They have nothing to fear. When you’re at the bottom, the only way out is up.” She’s quiet for a few seconds as she thinks about this. “But I’m not a man.” She turns her blue eyes up to meet my green ones and swallows down the tears once again. “No, you’re a kid.” I soften a little as I look at her young face. It’s not her fault we were born into this
fucked-up world. “And I haven’t got much left to lose either. So we’re a team for now, OK? We’re in this together until I say otherwise. You need to trust me and do what I tell you.” “I don’t want to go back to Merc. He’s crazy. I want Ford.” “Ford,” I snarl at her, making her head snap to attention. “Fuck Ford. You think that asshole is better than us because he’s not a Company man?” My eyes are blazing, I know it, because she looks scared. “I asked you a fucking question, Sasha.” “No,” she mumbles and then turns her head and presses it back against the window. “The last fucking name I want to hear is Ford. Fuck Ford. He’s a killer too. You don’t know him like I do. He’s a killer too.” I grab her shoulder and she turns back towards me again. “You got it?” A few tears fall down her cheeks as she nods out her feigned agreement. But I don’t care if she’s scared, if she’s lying to me, or if she wishes I was dead. There is no difference between me and Ford. None. And the sooner this kid figures out we’re all the same, the better off she’ll be.
Chapter Sixteen - James
I light a cigarette in the ALCO parking lot in Burlington, take a drag, and blow it out as I wait for Sasha to change in the bathroom. For a tiny town in the middle of absolutely nowhere, it’s got everything you need. Good thing, because the Smurfette looked a little too much like a crack addict to take on a private jet. I slide my shades down my face to lessen the morning glare from the sun as she exits the store, all cleaned up. Her hair is back in a ponytail—most of the leaves and shit are gone, but a few stragglers remain. I swat them off her head as she passes and she turns and punches me in the arm. I laugh and push her off. “Lighten up, Smurf. I’m just trying to make you look presentable.” I take one more drag on the cigarette and toss it, then get in the truck. She takes her time getting in and pulling the seatbelt across her chest. I take a moment to study her. She looks better with her new shorts and t-shirt, but she’s still a complete mess. I turn the ignition and rev the engine. “Well, it will have to do,” I sigh. “You looked like you were
living out there in the scrub for months instead of days. You lose your mind or something?” Her head turns towards me slowly and she’s got a… look. Yeah. I’m not sure about that look. “What?” “Days?” she snarls at me. “Fine,” I say as I pull forward and make my way to the street, then turn left towards the airport. “I admit, I was a little late. But hey, I was busy with a girl back in Cali. She’s my key, and a job is more important than a package.” “Package?” she growls this time. “Kid, I’m just repeating what Merc said when he told me to pick you up, OK? That’s not what I’d call you. Pest maybe. Shitty archer, pain in the ass —take your pick. But if I had known he was talking about a kid, I’d have made an effort.” I cross through the intersection and head south. The airport is small and so is the jet, just a five-seater, but it will get us to where we need to go with one planned stop near Vegas for cheap fuel. It’s only a couple miles south of town and it looks more like a cornfield than an airstrip. But I’ve flown out of here lots of times, so I know it’s legit. My pilot is a local guy I use when I’m avoiding. He keeps his mouth shut and takes my cash. And that’s all you can ask for. I park the truck in the small lot and open the door. Sasha makes no move to get out and I shake my head and sigh. “Look, none of your problems are
my fault, OK? I’m your knight, kid. Me. So get your little ass out of the truck and do what I say.” That look again. It’s just a flash but it has me worried. She’s got something to say but she’s holding it in. I let her keep her silence for now because Harrison is coming out of the small building and pointing to the jet off to the left. We meet up halfway to the plane and shoot the shit while Sasha looks off in the distance. His jet is nice, not big, but nice. He uses it to shuttle people from Denver over to some famous golf course up north a little ways. We all climb the steps and then he closes things up and starts his pre-flight stuff. Sasha settles in the bucket seat across from me and stares out the window again. A few minutes later we take off and then I get up to grab some drinks from the cooler. I hand her an OJ and she takes it, shakes it, twists open the cap and swigs it down like she’s starving. “Hungry?” I ask her. “What do you think?” she sneers. I shrug and drink my own OJ for a few seconds. “You had a pile of pheasant feathers on the ground. So I assumed you were eating well.” She shakes her head and huffs out some air through her nose. “What?” I feel like I’m missing something. “What’s got you so disgusted?” She shoots me a deadly look and I raise my
eyebrows at her, a warning she either misses or could care less about. “So Merc called you, huh?” I squint at her. “Yeah.” “You sure about that?” “Yeah.” “OK,” she says as she turns her head away. “Why?” She knows something. I’m sure of it now. “How’d he sound?” She looks back at me. “Merc?” Yeah, she’s trying to trap me. “It was a text.” “So how’d you know it was him?” “Because we got a system, kid. That’s how.” “You sure about that system?” I smile at her and nod. “School me, midget.” “Funny,” she says. But she’s the one who’s smiling now and it’s making me nervous. “Your cute nicknames for me. It almost makes me feel like you care.” “Don’t jump the gun there. I’m just the delivery man.” “Well, I find that hard to believe, since you don’t even know who sent you to pick me up.” “It was Merc,” I say through clenched teeth. “Sure, if you say so. But the last time I talked to Merc was in March. He’s my emergency contact, you know. You’re no one special. So I called him to tell him my grandparents were dead and since Ford put him in charge of me because he got my dad killed on Christmas Eve, it was his job to help me
out. And you wanna know what he said to me?” Her eyes are tearing up so my answer to that question is no. Not really. But she doesn’t wait for an answer. “He said, ‘Suck it up, crybaby. I’m busy. If you can’t manage on your own, there’s a school for Company orphans up in Montana. I’ll let them know you’re coming.’” She stares at me. Hard. And I get a sick feeling in my stomach. “Who sent me?” “Wouldn’t you like to know.” We unbuckle our seatbelts at the same time and she’s standing in the aisle before I’m done. She’s a quick little fucker. I get up slowly and take a step towards her. It’s a stalk, complete with narrowed eyes, like she’s my prey and I’m about to take care of business. She holds her ground. “You wanna know how long I was really out there, Six? Or do you want to keep walking through life pretending you’re a good guy and all the evil you represent is normal?” I stop a few feet away and clench my jaw. I hate this fucking kid right now and I don’t think I gave her my number, but she sure the fuck knows who I am. “Whatever happened to you, that has nothing to do with me.” “No?” She swallows down her fear. And I know that’s fear. I specialize in fear. And everything about her body—from her face, to her tense muscles, to her stance—all of it says fear. “And yet
here you are. With me. In a plane. Going to the wrong place. Working for the wrong man. You’ve been set up. This is a big joke and everyone but you is laughing.” I grab her by the throat and push her to the floor. “Hey!” Harrison calls. “Not here, Tet. No kids get hurt on my ride.” I let her go, walk back to my seat, and pick up my orange juice. “How long then?” She’ll answer this question. She wants me to ask. It’s a long time, I realize now. That’s why she’s so wild. It was a long time and she’s dying for someone to know how long she’s been out there living like a savage. Sasha picks herself up from the floor and takes her seat across from me again. “Three months.” I make no move. I make no sound. I do not acknowledge her in any way. She wants accolades for surviving. And I’m not gonna hand them out for a few months of camping. She holds my stare and then looks away. I wonder if Harper is wild like this? I’ve been able to control Harper, but she’s mine. I’m using sex to rein her in and make her submit. This one is not mine. Plus she’s way too young. She doesn’t think I’ll beat her. Kill her, maybe. But beat her, no. Kids who come from loving families are dumb like that. She’s got no fear of my fists because from what I know of her father, she was well-loved before they killed him. I’m not
interested in changing that. So I won’t be hitting her. And now I can’t kill her. Because Merc was not the sender of that text. She’s not lying about that. She knows who sent me and she’s not gonna tell me if she’s dead. “I got a message too, James.” Did I tell her my name? “What’d it say?” She stares at me for a few seconds. I hold her stare. “GPS coordinates.” “Yeah, and?” I wave her on with my hand. “When I got there, there was a bunch of gear waiting. And a new phone with a text message.” She stares at me again, waiting. And I swear to God, if this kid was a man, I’d punch his face in right now. I’d break a finger for every second he made me wait. I take a deep breath. “And the message said?” “It said, I’ll send him soon. That’s it.” She’s lying. She is fucking lying. I know it. But I nod at her. Because she’s not gonna tell me shit right now. She hates my guts. “Then how’d you know I’m being set up?” “Because I got another text last night. And that one said, Tell Six she left.” The blood rushes out of my face. I get up and walk to the cockpit. “Harrison, I’m using my phone.” “I got a satellite phone right there,” he says, pointing to the bag of gear on the seat next to him.
“Sorry,” I tell him as I go back to the cabin. “I need a secure line.” I punch in Harper’s number. It rings. And rings. “Hello?” God, my whole body fills up with relief. “Harp, baby, where are you?” Silence. “Harper? Can you hear me?” I get the disconnect beeps and lose the call. Shit. I redial and she picks up on the first ring. “Harper, where are you?” “Why?” she growls. Fucking girls. I change tactics, because clearly she is not happy with me. “I’m on my way back. I just want to make sure you’re OK. Safe at home.” Silence. “Harper. Tell me you’re at home.” “I’m at someone’s home. But not mine.” Fuck. I look over at Sasha and she’s smiling. Enjoying the show. “Just tell me where you are. I’ll be there soon to pick you up.” Harper hesitates and then gives in. “I’m in the desert. In front of a green house. Is that your house? The address that was sent to your phone the other night. You know, that night you left me.” “Calm down, soldier.” I’m the one smiling at Sasha now. Brat. “Fuck, I’m so relieved. You’re sneaky and I’m not happy that you didn’t stay put. But I’m glad you’re there because at least you’re safe.” “I’m not there and I’m not safe,” she snaps. “I’m
lying under a bush across the street, watching for people. I’m so paranoid, my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest.” She takes a breath and I realize she’s scared. “And I went for my pills and do you know what I found?” Fuck. “Candy!” she screams. “You changed my pills out with candy! You asshole!” I hold the phone away from my ear and look over at Sasha. She’s back to being the smiling one now. “Harper,” I say calmly. “No one is coming to that house, OK? It’s a safe place and I want you inside. So get up off the ground.” I wait but I don’t hear movement. “Are you getting up?” There’s some shuffling and then she says, “I’m up.” “OK, now walk across the street, open the gate, and go into the garage.” I give her a few minutes to walk up the long driveaway. The gate closes, then the side door to the garage squeaks as she opens it. “OK.” “There’s a key in the tailpipe of the car. A small silver one. Use it to go inside the house and wait for me. If you’re scared or you have trouble there’s guns in the trunk. They’re all loaded with a cartridge in the chamber. So be mindful.” Silence. “Harper?” “Got the key,” she says with a trembling voice.
“How soon will you be here?” Oh, she’s so scared. I feel terrible but I do not want her getting any ideas about taking those pills again. “Soon, OK? I’m only a few hours away. So very soon. You gonna be OK?” She sniffs. “Yes.” “I miss you,” I say, turning away from Sasha’s sneer. “I can’t wait to see you again. And I’m glad you’re not back at the beach. You’re fine right where you are, it’s no big deal.” She’s silent on the other end. “You sure you’re OK?” I prod her. It’s weird to think of her as vulnerable. The Company has done nothing but talk up how dangerous she is. And yeah, if she really applied herself, she’d give me a good fight. But she doesn’t seem all that interested in fighting. I glance over at a smirking Sasha. Unlike that wild thing. She’s out looking for an excuse to brawl. “Just take a few deep breaths. Were you followed?” “I don’t see how. There is no one out here for miles and I walked here from town. But—I’m so afraid they can see me. It’s so open out here.” “You walked?” “You’re breaking up, I’ll—” And then the line cuts us off. Fucking airplanes. I go back to the cockpit. “We’re getting off in Vegas.” Harrison grunts, so I just walk back to Sasha and take my seat.
“You owe me now, James.” “I don’t owe you shit.” She smiles her I win smile and crosses her arms. “I could’ve let you go all the way back to California only to find her missing. But I didn’t. I helped you. And that means when I need it, you have to help me.” I glare at her. “Who sent me?” “I’ll give you one guess.” I don’t need one guess, because I already know. And that means he’s been watching me this whole time. But she’s wrong about one thing. I have not been set up. I made a deal and I’m seeing it through. “I’ve been set up too,” Sasha says like we’re in this together. “I’m not a player, I’m just a pawn.” “Do you know for sure who sent you out there?” “I don’t need to know who, Six. The only thing that matters is why.” “Why then?” “You,” she says. “I was sent out there for you. And where did you just come from?” I wait for it. “How likely is it that you showed up in Huntington Beach and found her waiting for you?” Jesus, this kid knows more about my job than I do. “But you’re OK with this setup.” I watch her face, but she’s good. Or she’s psycho like the rest of us and the lies pour out second nature.
“I’m as OK with it as you are. Unless, of course, you haven’t figured it out yet and I’m telling you something you don’t know.” “Then what’s your plan?” I ask, ignoring her dig, because I don’t know. I’m off balance a little. After my last job I was not… all there. I failed the debrief psych evaluation. I lost a little bit of time. I lost… a little bit of me, maybe. “Wait it out and see what happens. Just like you.” She smiles and her perfect white teeth gleam in a stray beam of sunlight. She looks harmless like that. If you disregard her ratty hair and mismatched ALCO clothes. “I know who set you up,” I say through a curled lip. “So let’s not pretend.” God, this girl. I’m starting to feel some serious hate for her. “You only know what they tell you.” “And you know more?” “Yeah. Because I’m a kid. And you know what? All you guys have ignored me for so long, I don’t exist. I bet you don’t even remember meeting me, do you? You only saw my father’s guns that day.” I search my memory. “I was never in Cheyenne. Sorry, Smurf.” “No, but you were in Boise that year I turned nine. You bought four FN Five-SeveNs and two thousand rounds of cartridges. That was a nice paycheck for us. We bought that cabin. You know, the one where my father was killed?”
I just stare at her. “I remember all the hunters, James. All of them. And you can tell yourself that Ford is just like you. But you’re wrong. He’s not.” My whole body heats up with anger now. Fuck this kid. “He made me kill my brother. Did you know that? He cashed in a debt Merc owed him. For you, Sasha. Everything that’s happened to me this year, all that shit that made me unstable in the eyes of the Company? That’s all your fault.” She swallows hard because I’m not James right now, I’m Tet. Number Six. “So if I were you, I’d shut my fucking trap and become invisible. Because you don’t want this kind of attention from me.”
Chapter Seventeen - Harper
I trace my finger down the body of the vehicle. It’s not a car I’ve ever seen. It’s not open-topped, like the Jeeps everyone drives near my old beach. My fingers catch on a logo on the side of the dusty black body. I bend down and squint my eyes in the dark. Hummer. I’ve heard of those. I would probably not be able to drive this thing since I have never actually driven anything bigger than a golf cart on land, but I know how to work a trunk at least. I walk around back and open the cargo area. It’s smaller than it looks from the outside, but then I notice it’s been modified with some kind of storage system. Two long shallow tubs are hidden underneath the false floor of the back. I pull one out and it’s filled with gear. First-aid kit. Basic hygiene things. Other things I can’t identify, but it looks like a bug-out kit to me. Nick had one. Hell—I laugh as I shift my pack against my side—I have one. Only this one in the back of the Hummer looks… legitimate. Mine’s filled with cut-off shorts and tank tops. An extra pair of flip flops and some
hair ties. I push the bin back in and pull out the second one. Inside are two guns, like two dozen boxes of ammo, and extra magazines. James said the guns are loaded with a round in the chamber. I know what that means. Dangerous. We had guns on the ship. Lots of guns. But I have never so much as touched one. I am a hand-to-hand kind of fighter. Yeah, they could pick me off with a bullet. But I’ve always figured that anyone who kills the Admiral’s daughter is gonna end up dead sooner rather than later. So I’ve never worried too much about being so inept with weapons. But now? I’m not so sure that my familial relationship is a benefit. Still, how hard could it be? As long as I don’t accidentally shoot myself. I take one and stuff it in the waistband of my shorts like I’ve seen the guards wear them on the ship. I don’t want to shoot this gun. I don’t even want to hold this gun. But it’s stupid not to have it on me when it’s available. James said he’ll be here soon and even though my hands are shaking from fighting the panic, the thought of him being so close is calming all by itself. I push the bin back in but it stops before it reaches the end. Something’s in the way. I pull the gun bin all the way back out and set it on top of the cargo area.
A notebook is flattened up against the back. I peer into the darkness as I make sense of what I’m seeing. Hello Kitty. My heart begins to beat faster. A pink Hello Kitty notebook. Worn and bent. Like it’s been through hell. Like it’s seen things. My hands are shaking as I pull it out and take it over to the side door where I came in. The sunlight reaches it and the familiar cartoon hits me so hard, I almost fall over. This is my notebook. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, open the dirty cover, and try to come to terms with what I’m seeing. A drawing. In pink crayon. I turn the book sideways so I can see it clearly and my heart thumps out of rhythm. A harp. I turn the page and there is sloppy printed handwriting in pencil that’s too faded to read in the dim light. I take a moment to allow the significance to sink in. He… James… is someone I know. I push the bin back in the cargo area, close the back door, and exit the garage, walking quickly over to the back porch of the prefabricated house. I step lightly up the stairs, shove the house key into the lock and open the door.
The air-conditioning is on full blast and the cold air assaults me and takes my breath away for a moment. There’s a cell phone on the counter and it’s flashing an icon on the screen. Was someone just here? I close the door behind me. How hard can it be to shoot a loaded gun? Just pull a trigger, right? The gun and the notebook trade places in an instant. “I’ll shoot you, whoever you are!” I yell. I hold the gun with the barrel pointing up. I might not’ve ever shot a gun before, but I’ve seen how it’s done. I know how our guards carried them. I’m in the kitchen. It’s newly remodeled and open to the dining and living room, which only has a few pieces of furniture, so I know that no one is in this room with me. I stalk along the wall towards the bedrooms, checking each one, and each closet. I check the bathrooms, the pantry, the front porch, and a small coat closet. No one. I’m totally alone. I go back to the phone on the counter with a little relief, and then press the home button to wake it up. Someone was in here. The flashing icon is there and it says New Message. I press the tab and a text message pops up. We’ll talk soon. Don’t forget why this is happening. There’s a little icon at the end of the text that looks
like it might be a mushroom. And that’s it. I grab the phone and hold it to my chest. Is this Nick? Was he here? Someone had to drop this phone off. Oh, I’m so happy! I run to the front door and throw it open. I want to scream his name. I know he’s not gonna come back to me now, not if he left me this message, but I want to scream out how much I love and miss him so he’ll know. But I catch myself and stay silent. I need to hold it together. It’s so close—the worst year of my life is almost over. I just need to hold it together a little longer. So I lift my hand and pretend he’s walking down the driveway and I wave to my imaginary brother. And then I go back inside, close the door, lock it, and slump down to the cool tile floor and let the tears out. After almost a year of missing him, he was here. I read the message over and over and over again. I read it thirty times at least. God, I’m grinning from top to bottom, that’s how happy this message makes me. And even though I want to save it so I can read it again, I erase the message and start checking the phone. There are no calls or contacts. But there’s one picture in the photo album. And that makes my heart beat fast again, but not out of happiness. At first glance it just looks like a picture of Nick and I, playing on a beach. I know the beach, not the
exact name, but I know where it was. The Caribbean. Which means it was our birthday. Because we spent every birthday in the Caribbean until we were sixteen. But in this picture we are young. Six. I know this because there’s balloons tied to the thatched-roof cabana in the background and they all have sixes on them. Sixes. Which is funny, almost. I mean it could be. If that wasn’t a teenage James sitting in the sand with me, holding a Hello Kitty notebook in his hand as I bury his feet in the sand. I get up and dart to the kitchen where I left the notebook. I can’t take my eyes off it for a few moments because the memories come flooding in. How in the world did I not recognize him? “Do you like your present?” He’s holding the pink notebook so the sand doesn’t get all over it. I just smile and nod as I continue my task of burying him in the sand. “What’s your name?” the man asks. I look up at him and grin. “You have to guess. That’s the rules.” “Jane,” he says. I just laugh. “Pete.”
This time I giggle uncontrollably. “Pete! That’s not a name for a girl!” “Just tell me, no one will know.” I shake my head at him. I know which rules can be broken and which ones can’t, and giving out my name is a no-no. “The Admiral said we can be friends.” My dad did say that. I heard him. But that’s not enough to break the rules. No names. That is the number one rule. Only codes. But codes are even more secret than names. I will get a whipping if I give out my code to anyone. But if no one knows my name or my code, then why bother having them? “This is my party,” I tell the man to change the subject. He’s staring at me and his eyes are so green, I stare back. We are both being rude, but I can’t help it. It’s like a pretty fish when I’m snorkeling. The pretty ones can sting you, that’s what Nick says. I’m not supposed to touch anything pretty under the water. But that lionfish was so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself. “I’ve been stung before,” I tell the man, as I continue with my task of covering him with sand. He frowns at me. “By what?” “Jellyfish mostly. On my feet. I step on them sometimes. But”—I hold up the tip of my finger and he squints at it—“the lionfish get me here.” I grin at him but he’s not smiling. “I touch them.”
This man’s eyes are pretty like the lionfish. “Why in the world would you touch—” “I’m six today,” I tell him so he won’t think too much about the lionfish. I like to touch them. I want to feel them. And the stings don’t always hurt. I’ve been stung four times, but I’ve touched a lot of lionfish. I don’t always get stung. I know which parts to avoid now. “I know,” he says back in that deep rumbling voice. His body relaxes. “I’m Six today too.” I tilt my head and stare at his green eyes as I continue to pile sand on his feet. Most grownups don’t want to play with me, and I’ve never had a hunter even look at me before. But he’s not a hunter yet. Today is a special day for him too. I stand up and run over to grab a stick near my towel and then dart down to the wet sand. The tide is going down and this is the best time to draw. When the tide is coming in, it erases your pictures. But when it’s going out, they stay until the sun bakes them and the wind makes the picture shift back into nothing but ripples. I fall to my knees as I get to the water’s edge and then look over my shoulder. He’s watching me carefully. “I’m going to draw you a picture!” I yell back at him. He nods and smiles as my father walks up and sits down next to him. I know they are talking about me, but I don’t care. I’m drawing a picture. I draw
notes first. I read piano so I can make all kinds of notes. I copy the song I was writing last week. It’s a simple one, but it’s a sweet melody that I’ve been humming for weeks before I decided to write it down in notes. I draw the piano next. And me, playing it. I draw a guitar and a violin. And my dad comes over to see what I’m doing and not breaking any rules before he leaves. I look over my shoulder as my dad walks away with the green-eyed hunter. My dad puts a hand on his shoulder and they talk about serious things. I can tell by the look on their faces. And then they both look at me and the hunter shakes his head. My father puts up a hand and smiles, pointing over at me, then he claps him on the back and turns away. For a minute I think that the hunter will leave with him, but he turns towards me and starts walking. My stick begins drawing out the final instrument as he stands over me. “That’s a nice picture.” I look up and he’s shielding his eyes from the sun as he studies me. “It’s for you. A present.” “What’s your name?” he asks me again. “Lionfish,” I answer back, giggling. “That’s my hunter name, what’s yours?” He laughs with me now and tsks his tongue. I’m
not allowed to ask these things, but he’s not either. And he did anyway. “You made that up.” “So make one up,” I challenge him back. “You remind me of sea grass so I will call you sea grass.” “Sea grass! How boring.” “But…” I can’t stop my smile. My cheeks get all hot. He squats down next to me now and his gaze falls over my drawing. My heart beats a little faster. I wonder if he can see my secret? I want him to see it. I want him to guess. But I don’t want to be caught giving out such important information. So I keep talking. “But your eyes are green like the sea grass. And I saw a manatee yesterday eating sea grass. You remind me of that.” He lowers the hand he’s been using as a sun shield and I can’t stop looking at him. “And your eyes are amber, like the lionfish.” Amber… I’ve never heard of that color before. I will have to look it up. “Sister!” Nick calls from down the beach. I lean to the side so I can see around the hunter and spy my brother. He’s not happy. “What?” I call back. Why is he mad? “It’s time for cake,” Nick says as he runs up and grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. He glares at my new friend as I’m tugged away. But a few feet up the beach I turn back and catch the hunter standing up to follow us. “Don’t forget your
present!” I yell at him. He has a puzzled expression and then glances down at the sand drawing and smiles. I hope he never forgets that present. Because I want him to remember me.
Chapter Eighteen - Harper
I drew him a harp. Right in the middle of all the other instruments. This makes me smile even though so much shit’s going wrong in my life right now. Finding out that James is the man from the beach all those years ago is gonna require a lot of thinking on my part. How do I feel about that? What are his intentions? I have a lot of questions but right now I allow myself to smile. When I finally told him my name out there under the pier, it was a very special moment for him. A moment he’d waited almost thirteen years for. And it felt special to me too. He’d smiled. I like it, he’d said. And back when we turned Six, James stayed that whole day for my party. He sat across from me at the table. He clapped when Nick and I blew out our candles. He handed me another present when we were alone later. A set of colored pencils to draw in my new notebook. That night I drew a picture and I wished the green-eyed man Happy Six Day. I hope you’ll be
my friend, I wrote at the end in my childish handwriting. The next morning he was gone. And so was my notebook. I cried for days over that loss. Even though my six-year-old self could not understand why, my eighteen-year-old-self can. I fell in love with him that day on the beach. Maybe it was only a childhood crush, but it felt real. My mind wanders back to my father during this period. He left James with Nick and me all day. We didn’t even have a nanny, just James. And later, after we were back on the ship and the celebrations were coming to a close, Nick was carried off to our room after falling asleep on the observation deck. But James stayed behind with me. Just a few more minutes. That’s all we had. James spent the entire day with me. We turned Six together. I hold the notebook, praying to whomever is in charge of wish-granting that there is something inside this notebook. Something more than this little drawing by me. And for once, as I turn the page, my wish is granted. I almost have a moment of regret. Like I used up something special asking for the handwriting inside this book. But then I read the first page and I know, if I’m never granted another wish in my life, it was worth
it. Because it says… Dear Lionfish, I hope you had a happy Six Day. I stole your gift. You’ll probably cry when you find it missing tomorrow, so I’m sorry about that. But I need your innocent words to remind me why I do what I do. Why I will become what I will become. And why I had to tell your father no. I hope one day you’ll understand. There is no name, but at the bottom of the page he says: P.S. I’ve been thinking about it and sea grass is still pretty boring. But I might like to give boring a try. James. How could I have forgotten him? I knew he felt familiar, and one day twelve years ago is not grounds for remembering. But all the things that made him special to me that day made him special to me under the pier too. There’s so many things to process with this one short note, but then I flip the page and find more. And more, and more, and more. Every page of this notebook is filled with his block-style
handwriting. The entire book is nothing but uncensored James. I flip back to the second entry and read the date. My birthday. One year later. There’s a picture of me stuck between the pages, taken from a distance from the blurriness, but it’s clear enough to make me smile. I had on a floppy orange hat. I remember it so well. It was made out of denim and I thought was the coolest thing. Add in my white sunglasses and my green bathing suit and I was a statement in second-grade fashion. Dear Lionfish, I guess I have to watch you from a distance since I turned down the Admiral last year. But that’s OK. I’m used to it. Everything I do in life is from a distance. And since I’m only seventeen, I’ve got a lot of long-distance living ahead of me. I hope your year has gone better than mine. I’m glad you have no idea what really happens in this world, because I’d die a little inside if you knew. My little sister is gone. My mother had a breakdown, and my father ignores us. My first eight assassinations are history. I was shot twice, tortured once, left for dead, and rescued. I guess the only thing that matters this year was the rescue. I appreciate the rescue. They tell us not to get
attached to each other. The other hunters are not supposed to be our friends. Never, ever has a face looked so friendly as One’s when he came to get me. And now I have a debt I might not be able to pay. Your friend, Six
There is another date and another entry the next year. Dear Lionfish, I need to get this out in case you ever read this. I didn’t come here to spy on you from afar. I was ordered by your father. It seems he has a hard time accepting no for an answer. So my assignment is to sit in this restaurant and watch you play on the beach. I’m good and drunk right now, so I apologize for my sloppy writing. But accepting someone’s daughter as payment is more than even my assassin’s soul can handle. I do not want you. I will never want you. Six
Good God, I didn’t expect resentment. I close the book and all those happy thoughts I had a minute ago are gone. He doesn’t want me. My heart beats fast again and I take a few deep breaths to calm it. Harper, be reasonable, that inner voice says. That was a long time ago. He was very young. Eighteen. He was eighteen that year. Not a kid anymore. And not a novice assassin either. I take the book over to the couch and settle back against the plush light green cushions. He has a thing for green. The house is the same color outside. I open the book to the fourth entry. My birthday three years later. Dear Lionfish, Once again, your asshole father sentences me to baby-watching. Once again you play on the beach. And once again I sit here and think about how many people are dead this year because of me. Ten. Ten more people added to my tally. You’re still a cute little blonde girl. How old now, nine? I’m nineteen. A fucking man. You know what I was doing for my last birthday? Take one guess. This year I was invited to a private island. Right across from the one you’re on. Your father left me binoculars and I resisted watching you for almost the entire day. But the islands are not that far
apart and I heard your squealing laughter when they brought out the cake. And now I can’t take my eyes off you. I don’t want you. No amount of innocent smiles will make me love you. Because you are everything wrong with this dirty, dark fucked-up life I live. Six I have to swallow down the bile rising up from my stomach as I finish. Surely he didn’t feel this way every year. Did he? Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Seven years pass and with each letter, the words are more venomous and hateful. But the last entry is not addressed to me and it was not on my birthday. It’s dated a few months ago. Dear Amber,
Let every life I take in your name be the proof of my love. James I don’t know why, but the fact that he signed his name James instead of Six hurts more than the love part. Because this Amber person meant something to him. More than me, that’s for sure. I disgust him. My age especially—he made that clear in letter after letter. When he told me back in Huntington that he was not bothered by my age, I knew he was lying. But this? This is much more than being bothered. It’s almost… repulsion. I’m just a lionfish. What did he say to me back in Huntington? The pretty girl with the poison daggers poking through her skin. That’s how he sees me. For real. He’s here for one of two reasons. To take me back to my father or to take me for himself. And I’m not sure I like either option. Because from the way it’s looking, he’s got no real feelings for me beyond what I can do for him. I’m just a way forward into revenge. I think back to the message from Nick. We’ll talk soon, he’d said. Nick is the one I trust. Not James. And if Nick knows where I am, then I’m not in any
danger from James. Nick would not leave me some place to get hurt. He’d give me instructions to follow and get me to safety. So, if he didn’t give me bug-out instructions, I need to stay put. I stick the little notebook in my pocket. I really do not want to have that conversation with James. At all. I don’t want to hear the excuses. I don’t want to hear the fake promises he has ready for me, should I stop being compliant. I don’t want to watch his face when he lies. He will lie. I’ve always known he was lying, didn’t I? I’ve always felt it. And when he does lie… I reach into my pants and pull out the gun. I’ll be ready.
Chapter Nineteen - James
I hate this kid. Most of the time I’m OK with kids. I sorta like them. If I wasn’t a killer, and my children wouldn’t become property like I did, then yeah, I might have a kid. But this Sasha girl. I have nothing. No feelings whatsoever. And that’s weird, because a few hours ago I felt sorry for her. I bought her some clothes. I picked some leaves out of her hair. Like I was on my way to caring. Or at the very least, giving more than zero fucks about her. But not anymore. Because she’s lying. She’s lying and even though I can guess what she’s hiding, I don’t like having to guess. I like being in on the plan. So I’m pissed about the lying —and she shot an arrow at me. I’m still sorta pissed about that too. “Fucking kid.” “Fucking hunter,” she snaps back. “You’re like ten years old. No swearing.” “Fourteen.” “Twelve.”
“Thirteen.” She’s pushing my buttons on purpose now, sitting on the other side of the aisle. It’s only a fivepassenger plane, so she’s not that far away. A few feet. But the gulf of hostility between us seems insurmountable. Her eyes are wide and alert, her body posture tense and ready for an attack. And I don’t blame her for that because if we weren’t up in a plane, I’d be choking the life out of her until she gave up her secret. But I need Harrison. I do not have time to find and vet another pilot. Especially since Merc is busy. He’s my go-to for off-the-books shit like that. “Almost there, folks,” Harrison calls from the front. Just keep cool, Tet. Just keep cool until you get her alone. Then all bets are off. I might not have ever killed a little girl before, but there’s a first time for everything. I crack my knuckles. “I’ll fight back,” she says, just loud enough so I can hear but Harrison cannot. “I won’t let you get me.” I nod but stare out the window closest to me, not meeting her gaze. “I’m shaking, kid. Quaking in my fucking boots.” “You should be.” I laugh a little at her arrogance. “They always laugh at first.” I look over for that little crack and she smiles like
she’s won. “You think you’re me? You think that half-assed training your father provided is equal to me?” Her face scrunches up when I mention her father. “You’re nothing, Sasha. Nothing but another girl to be sold. A piece of property. Your father killed himself out there that day. He was caught doing all sorts of—” She hurls herself across the aisle at me, her hands reaching for my throat. “Shut up!” she screams. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I’m trying to untangle her when she’s thrown across the aisle and back into her seat by Harrison. “You,” he says, pointing a gun at her. “Sit your fucking ass down on my plane or I’ll tie you up.” “Fucking kid,” I mumble. “And you.” Harrison points the gun at me now and I lift an eyebrow. He does not flinch. “I know what you are. But you’re dead without me to land this thing. So keep your hate to yourself until you get off my fucking plane.” He’s right. If Sasha and I want to kill each other, then we need him to put us back on the ground first. I look over at her and she’s looking out her window, crying silently. I can only tell by the erratic in-and-out pattern of her breathing and the abrupt rise and fall of her chest. I look out my window as well, happy to see the familiar desert below. This is where we go. The
North American hunters. When we need time, or space, or help… we seek out the desert. I know Merc has a few places in the desert. It’s the heat, I think. People hate it—hell, I hate it. But it’s refreshing. I like the burn. The dryness too. It envelops me. It dehydrates me. We’re landing in Jean, not Las Vegas. It’s about thirty miles south. We stop here all the time. It’s cheaper to fuel up here, fly to LA or San Diego, then stop again on the way back to Colorado. I wish I could say that I didn’t travel this route all that often, but over the past year, this flight plan is as familiar as the desert below. I don’t like to think about this year. Nothing good happened this year. It’s been an endless stream of killing. One after the other after the other. And all of them were people I knew. “Seatbelts,” Harrison barks from the front. “We’ll be on the ground in three minutes.” I fasten my belt and the familiar click across the aisle tells me that Sasha does the same. She’s more in control. Her sadness, or anger, or frustration— whatever the fuck’s driving her right now—is tucked away for another time. And I’m with her. My anger is gone too. In its place is just the guilt. And hate. Not for her, or any of the other people on this earth who deserve my hate. But for myself. How many dead bodies does it
take for an assassin to grow a conscience? The landing is smooth and the deceleration quick enough to make me struggle to keep my body pressed against the seat. But all of this—the flight, the pilot, the landing, the destination—it’s familiar and I like it. We taxi towards the terminal and I unbuckle my seatbelt and walk up to Harrison. “Hey,” I say as I clap his shoulder. He flinches. And that kills me. That he thinks I’d come up here to hurt him. Maybe Harrison and I aren’t friends, but I’d like to think he trusts me a little more than that. “Sorry for the trouble, OK? We’re good still, right?” “Yeah, sure,” he says. But I know that answer. It’s not good at all. “I mean, look, Harrison, I might need another ride. Ya know? So I need us to be good.” He turns to look at me, then glances down the aisle towards Sasha. I look too, but she’s hidden from view. She’s still huddled up against the window back there. “She’s a little girl, Tet. Treat her like one.” I shake my head and squeeze his shoulder. “She’s not, Harrison. She’s not a little girl. She’s very dangerous.” He starts to turn away, so I add what he needs to hear. “But I’ll do my best to remember what she used to be.” He nods a little, but he doesn’t look at me again. “I’m gonna check into the Gold Strike for a few
days. You have my number if you need it.” And then he stands up, pushes me back into the aisle, and starts opening the door to let us out. “Let’s go,” I call to Sasha. She unbuckles herself and stands up. I wave her forward to exit ahead of me, but she shakes her head. No trust. I go first and shake Harrison’s hand on the tarmac. Sasha, to my surprise, does the same. She says, “Thank you,” in a very polite little-girl way that makes me wonder. Is that all she is? Or is she the killer I imagine her to be? She walks up next to me and her gaze finds my face. “Now what?” I slide my shades down to cover my eyes and then blow out a breath of air. I don’t want to think about what’s next. I just need to forget for a day. “What do you need, Sasha?” “Huh?” I turn and start walking towards the casino. She follows. “Are you hungry?” She almost snorts. “Hungry?” She laughs again. “I’m wondering how long I have to live. The last thing on my mind is the breakfast buffet at the Gold Strike.” “OK,” I say, giving up. “We’re going home then.” She laughs at that word too. And it’s absurd, right? Home. It’s not my home, it’s not her home. It’s just
a place I keep in the desert to dry out after the kill. A place where the sun can bake the dirt off my skin and boil away the bad blood. “I have no home, James Fenici. I have nothing. I’m here because other people control my destiny. I have no free will, or opinions, or dreams. I exist only for orders. Right now, your orders. Is that what you’re looking for? Is that what you want? Obedience? Surrender?” “You wanna walk away?” I stop and look back at her, raising my sunglasses so she can see my eyes. “There’s the fucking door. Ya can’t miss it.” I pan my arm out towards the desert across the 15 freeway. “I’m just the delivery guy, Sasha.” “That sounds like a declaration of innocence, to me. Or at the very least, non-affiliation. And we both know that’s about as far from the truth as you can get. You’re nothing if not affiliated, James. You’re nothing if not guilty.” “Whatever,” I say, giving in and letting her win. “Let’s just find our ride.” My heart’s not in the fight anymore. My heart’s tired of fighting. I turn and continue walking towards the Gold Strike Casino and I don’t look back. But when the doors whoosh open, the little Smurfette follows me inside. We get about ten paces before security stops me. “What?” I ask, annoyed.
The guy is big, bald, and has a look to him that says professional. He nods behind me so I turn. Sasha is peeking around another equally professional-looking guard. “I can’t come in!” she says in an uneven voice. So she is a kid. The little brat isn’t as cool as she seems. “All right,” I tell the guard. “Sorry, I’m not used to having her around. I just forgot. We’re hitting the buffet anyway.” I backtrack, pluck her by the shirt, and steer her to the right where the restaurant is. We don’t wait to be seated because there’s a sign that says, Seat Yourself, and I choose a booth that faces the front of the casino. Sasha slides in her side of the booth and I grab two menus from behind the salt-and-pepper shakers and flop one down in front of her. “I’m not hungry.” “You’re a bad liar, Sasha. Besides, you hinted on the plane you’ve been starving for months. So cut the martyr act and pick some food.” The waitress comes a few minutes later and I order myself a coffee and her an orange juice, then go back to the menu. “What’re you getting?” I get the silent treatment, so I lower my menu to look at her. Her eyebrows are knitted together so tightly I have to laugh. “Just choose some breakfast.” “I thought you were in a hurry to get home.” Her accent on the word is meant to be mocking. But
you don’t need to be a mind-reader to understand that’s longing and not contempt. “We need a ride. I can’t call a taxi from around here, they’d remember us. I can’t steal a car, we’re lying low. And we can’t walk, it’s too far. So we gotta wait for the right opportunity. And that won’t be for another few hours.” The waitress comes with our drinks and Sasha gulps hers down as I order the buffet for both of us. “Might as well fill up before we go.” “What opportunity are we waiting for?” Sasha asks as she sets down her empty orange juice and wipes her mouth. I smile at her. “Patience, Smurfette. Watch and learn from the master. Come on.” We scoot out and go grab food from the buffet. Say what you want about Vegas, but these people know how to do up the all-you-can-eat buffet. Sasha gets a plate of everything. I’ve never seen a kid eat so much in my life. Actually, this girl gives every grown man in the place a run for his money. She goes back for fourths. But it passes the time until a little past two a group of loud old ladies come in. Ready to chow down after a day of bingo and slots. Sasha catches me watching them and kicks me under the table. “Don’t stare at them.” I empty my fourth cup of coffee and throw a twenty down on the table. “Come on, that’s our
cue.” “What cue?” She stays sitting, but I get up and walk away. If she’s gonna hang around she needs to learn to follow. She’s been on her own too long, and that’s not good. She’s rogue. And that’s worse. Because if she’s not trying to get me killed with her secrets and setups, then she’s valuable to me and I might keep her around. But only if she can follow directions. The last thing I need is Soldier Smurf going AWOL when I need her the most. I get all the way to the front door before I hear her flip flops behind me. One tick mark for keeping Sasha. “Hurry up,” I say over my shoulder as I slide my shades back down. The heat outside is well into triple digits and it blasts my face like I’m standing in front of an inferno. No humidity like the beach. No biting wind like this morning in Colorado. Just breath-stealing desert heat. “We gotta go around back. That’s where they keep them.” “Keep what?” she asks, as she skips a little to keep up with me. “Just go along, OK? I got this.” We walk around the building and I search the long line of busses, looking at the name plates above the front windshield. I sigh with relief when I see it. Sandy Valley Community Center. I chose Sandy Valley for a base house for two
reasons. It’s cheap. And it’s got a shitload of old ladies who love to gamble. Almost every day they pile in a bus and come out here in the early morning. They get tired and grab lunch, then head back on the bus so they can get home in time to take the afternoon nap. I knock on the door and the driver whooshes it open. “Help you?” I dig in my wallet and pull out a Sandy Valley Community Center Transport card. Then point to Sasha. “My kid sister’s coming too.” He looks at my card, squinting at it a little. It’s legit. The city recreation manager is a Company employee. Well, was. She’s dead now. And while I might be the only guy on the planet who has a card like this, the dude cannot find any good reason to tell me no. So he just shrugs and hands it back. “Welcome aboard. Take any seat you want.” Sasha and I hop up the steps and I have a little moment of pride when she does not automatically take the last seat in the back, but instead takes one that faces the aisle. You sit in the back and everyone sees your face straight on. But if you sit in the aisle, they only see your profile. Her dad was a good teacher and I’d hate to have to kill her. But I will if I have to and the more she obeys, the higher her chances of survival climb. A little while later the old ladies come back. They
are all pretty spry for their age and don’t need help or anything. But since we’re taking up two seats that weren’t filled on the way out here, I stand and let a grandma have my seat. It’s a thirty-minute drive back into Sandy Valley, and from there it’s a three-mile hike outside of town to my little patch of desert. We head south, Sasha complaining the whole way. And by this time the afternoon sun is brutal. I stop at the edge of an empty expanse of acreage and shield my eyes. “We can cut off about half a mile if we walk through the desert instead of the streets. Come on, we’ll be there in like twenty minutes.” I head out into the scrub, my boots kicking up sand and dirt, but when I glance back, she’s still back there on the sidewalk. “What?” I shout at her. She’s been good since breakfast and right now I need her to stay that way. I’m not in the mood for this kid shit. “Let’s fucking go!” She lifts her foot and waggles it around. “Flip flops, James. You are out of your fucking mind if you think I’m crossing that desert in flip flops.” I walk back to her and grab her by the shoulder. “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. Now let’s go.” “No,” she says, wiggling free. “There’s rattlesnakes. If I get bit by a rattlesnake you’ll either have to leave me out here to die or rush me to a hospital for antivenin. And something tells me you’re not in the mood to blow our cover to save
my life. Because a teenager who’s been missing for months coming into the emergency room with a rattlesnake bite a thousand miles away from home will definitely make the news. So excuse me for not having more faith in you, but that’s how I’m rolling right now. I am not”—she crosses her arms in front of her chest—“walking across that desert in flip flops.” I just stare at her. For several seconds. She shifts her stance, puts her hand on her hip, and puckers her lips as she shakes her head. This is her limit today. Not the actual rattlesnake bite, but the possibility that getting bit will blow her cover. And mine. And that I can respect. “OK,” I say with a smile. A smile that might have a touch of pride in it. “You win. But we’re still cutting across—” “No!” “—the desert. But I’ll piggy-back you. How’s that?” She looks down and laughs. I turn my back to her and she hops on. Her flip flops fall off immediately, so I bend down and she scoops them up. And we walk. She talks in my ear for a little while. About how Bugs Bunny always sees a mirage when he’s in the desert and have I ever seen a mirage? She talks about the heat, guesses the temperature, and what time the sun might go down.
And I wonder about that as well. Because we’ll be home before sundown and maybe, if I’m lucky, Harper and I will have that moment to ourselves. God, I miss that girl so bad now that I know she’s so close. And after about ten minutes of this, Sasha falls silent. Her head’s heavy on my shoulder, her body limp in my hands, her arms loosen around my neck. I’m sweating like crazy and I’m sure she’s soaked too. But she’s asleep. Out here in the hundreddegree heat with a man she met this morning. I sigh a little. Because I know she’s caught in the web of lies the Company is telling. Just like me and Merc. Just like Harper and Nick. We’re all caught in the web. And the more we struggle the harder it becomes to escape. As I move forward I can see the crappy little prefabricated green house in the distance. It’s nothing special. But for now, it’s home. There’s no one in this neighborhood. It looks like there were once houses and stuff out there, back in the sixties maybe. There’s some sort of playground across the street from me—the only thing left is a metal slide and a swing set with one crooked swing. But the area also looks like everything was razed. Like someone decided it needed a do-over, cleared it down to the dust, and then forgot all about their grand plans. The lots are big, far apart, and the driveways are
long. So even if people did still live out here, we’d have some privacy. Not much, because there are no trees, just scrub desert. Enough though. I set Sasha down as we reach the cracked and buckling sidewalk. She’s quiet. Her ten-minute nap was just enough to subdue her fiery temperament, but not enough to make her enthusiastic about reaching a place that’s not home. But I’m excited. I smile a little to myself as we walk up the dirty driveway. The sun hasn’t set yet, got a few hours left probably. Enough time to tackle Harper and take her into the bedroom. I positively grin at that thought. And then Sasha and I reach the porch, climb the concrete steps, and I’m just about to reach for the screen door when it’s kicked open and the barrel end of a gun presses against my temple. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Chapter Twenty - Harper
I press the gun against his skin as I play my next move in my head. “Harper,” James says. “It’s me.” “Pfft. I know it’s you, asshole. That’s why I have the gun.” I look over at the girl he’s with and squint at her. “Who’s she?” “Harper, lower the gun.” “No. I don’t trust—” The next thing I know, I’m pressed flat against the front door. “Are you gonna be good?” James asks, his face so close to mine I am forced to look him in the eyes. “Because I just piggy-backed this kid across the desert, I’m sweating my ass off, and this was not the welcome home I was expecting.” He leans into my neck and those familiar prickles are back. All those feelings he brought out in me back at the beach are rushing through my body as heat and trembling and desire. “Answer me, Lionfish.” But that? That shit snaps me back. I jab him in the ribs with my elbow, twist my foot around his calf, bend over, grab his wrists, and then throw myself
backwards. He collapses back onto the porch. I wriggle free, bounce up, and then I’m about to make a grab for the gun when I realize the little girl is pointing it at both of us. “Stop,” she orders me. “You’re gonna shoot me?” “You were gonna shoot him!” she laughs. James is already up and going for her. She allows him to take the gun and then we all stand there, breathing a little too heavy, suspicion in our eyes, dripping with sweat. “What the fuck, Harper? Jesus Christ. You fucking girls. I’ve had it with your emotional bullshit.” He looks over at his partner, pushes her a little and then nods towards the door. “Get inside.” “What’d I do?” she whines. “I got the gun back!” “Just go.” She stomps off like the kid she is and then James brings that steely glare over to me. I do not give in. I am in the right here. This asshole has a lot of explaining to do. He’s not on my side. I’m a job to him. A dirty promise. A dark obsession, maybe. He tucks the gun inside his jeans and steps forward a few paces, halving the distance between us. “Don’t come any closer, James. I’m warning you.” “You’re warning me what?” he asks in a whisper. “You’ll lose all control, fall to your knees, and take
my cock in your mouth?” My mouth opens into a little o-shape because I can’t hide my shock. Dirty talking might be my downfall if I don’t stop reacting. I take a deep breath and pull myself together. “That’s not going to work this time. I know who you are.” He smiles at that. Smiles. “You’re a killer, you’re a liar, you’re—” And then he’s right up next to me and my thoughts are all jumbled again. He’s hot and sweaty and normally this should just gross me out. But all I see is the beautiful. “What else?” he asks softly. His fingertips slide up my bare shoulder to caress the nape of my neck. “Tell me what else I am, Harper.” I swallow as he pulls me into his chest. “If you know me, then tell me what else I am.” “My promise. You’re my promise.” He squeezes me gently and then rests his chin on my head. “I thought you knew. All these years, I thought your father would’ve at least given you a picture. Or had you spy on me from afar.” James’ words come out with such longing, such surprise, such… amazement. He wins again. All I hear is the beautiful. “Like you did me?” “Yeah,” he laughs. “Like that. I watched you grow up. Every year your father sent for me on your birthday. And I want you to know, Harper, that I turned him down every time. I never wanted you—”
“I know you never wanted me, asshole.” Bitchy Harper is back with that admission. I pull the little notebook from my pocket and then push James off me. “Because I found this and it spelled all that out pretty clearly.” He looks at it for a few seconds and I can see his mind whirling. Because he can’t deny it. “That’s true.” He nods, agreeing with me. “Everything in that little book is true. It came from my heart.” “Your heart? You hated me!” “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t hate you, Harper. You were just a little girl caught up in this shit. How could I hate you?” I untangle myself from his embrace and step back. I need space between us. Because what he says now and what he felt then are polar opposites. How do I reconcile this? “I have your own words in here, James!” I shake the book at him and he snatches it out of my hand and flings it carelessly over the porch railing and into the dirt yard. But I am not deterred. Either I let him know I’m not some piece of clay he can mold with his dirty talk and smoldering gaze, or I’ll end up powerless to resist him. “Is lying so second nature to you that this means nothing? You don’t even sweat the fact that I have proof, I read your own words. You’re not what you say you are, yet you smooth it over
with the word cock? How fucking dare—” His mouth crashes into mine. His hand fists my hair as his crushing kiss overtakes all my thoughts. “No!” I push him back, but he’s ready for me. “Stop, Harper. Forget this book, it’s nothing. It’s just confusion left over from a different guy.” “I bet you’d like that. Just forget all the nasty things you said about me. Sure. I bet all I have to do is forget that you loathed me and then rename myself Amber, right? Then you’d be all over me—” “What did you just say?” He shakes me by the shoulders as he stares down into my eyes. He’s angry now. “Answer me!” “You wrote her a sweet little letter at the end of my notebook, James. So sorry, a cock and a kiss won’t cut it because whatever you’re doing is all about her!” He opens his mouth. Then turns around and goes inside. I follow him in but he’s already down the hallway, gone from sight. A few seconds later a door slams. I look across the room at the girl and she gives me a small shrug. “He’s been moody all day. I’m sure it’s not you.” I glance back at the hallway. It is me. Or at least it’s the name Amber that set him off. “But at least he didn’t threaten to kill you. He threatened me a lot today. But I forgive him. And so should you.” I look over at the girl again. “Why?”
She lies down on the couch and closes her eyes, tucking her hands between her legs like the airconditioning is giving her a chill. “Because,” she says through a long yawn, “he’s all we’ve got.”
Chapter Twenty-One - James
I slam the bathroom door behind me and turn around. “Fucking hell.” I’m presented with my face in the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve looked at myself in months. And I’m sorry I chose this moment to make the reacquaintance because I look every inch a killer. My eyes are wild, my dark hair is longer than usual, and it’s got an unruly look. Like it’s putting up a resistance to the wind and the dust and the thousand miles I traveled since the last time I thought about it. And my mouth—the same mouth that can kiss Harper in that soft and tender way, so foreign to me —looks severe. There’s a crease in my brow and lines around my eyes. I punch the mirror and it cracks from the center outward. Blood drips from my hands. There has never been a moment in the last twelve years where my hands were not soiled with blood. And no amount of hot desert air will ever dry it off. Is this how Sasha saw me all day? Crazy? Am I
crazy? The psych eval came back crazy. That’s why they sent me to the beach. “Unwind, James,” the Admiral said. “Relax.” And then his fucking daughter shows up. And that—that was not in the fucking plan. At least I don’t think it was in the plan. I had a blackout around that time. I can remember the order to go to the beach, but then… nothing until that day I saw Harper for the first time. I’m pretty sure the blackout time can be counted in hours, not days. But I have no real proof. Life was a blur after Tony… Adjust, the Tet voice inside me whispers. Adjust, James. Why the fuck did I write that letter to Amber? Why the fuck did I write that stupid fucking letter? Why’d I write any of that shit? “Fuck!” I punch the mirror again and this time pieces of it drop off and clatter into the sink. I look at myself between the cracks. A guy who’s pushing thirty, traipsing around the American West with a little girl, trying to get back to his child bride—even if she is all grown up now. It’s sick. And now Harper not only realizes she was given to me on her sixth birthday, but she knows I refused to accept the gift. And even if I could convince her that my rejection was for every altruistic reason imaginable—she was practically a
baby, she was a bribe, she’s not a piece of property to be traded for favors—none of that matters anymore because I wrote that letter to Amber in the book and Harper read it. A pledge of revenge. A pledge to kill in her name. A light knock comes from the door. “James?” It’s Sasha. “What?” I seethe. “Are you OK?” “Go away,” I growl. She leaves after that so I strip down, take a shower to try and wash this day off me. Amber. I don’t want to go there. I never want to go back there. The blur of the moment. The confusion. Tony. Fucking Tony. And Ford. How is that asshole still weaseling his way into my life? How do I talk about Amber without talking about Tony? And I can’t do any of that without fucking Ford. I finish up with my shower and grow some balls. Two girls have me locked away in a bathroom. But as pathetic as that is, it makes me grin and eases my temper a little. Gives me some much-needed perspective. Shit, James, Tet says in my head, just put on your business suit, you pussy. Put on the suit and go to work. I can tell Harper anything she wants to know—it’s called a debrief. I was debriefed after Tony and Amber and I held
it together then. No, asshole, Tet interjects, you got sent to the beach to unwind because you failed the fucking psych eval and then you blacked out. Well, technically. Yes. But I turned off the emotions. Like always. I recalled every detail of the days leading up to that job. I told it just the way it happened. And I can do it again. I wrap a towel around me, grab my gun, and head across the hall to the bedroom. All my safe houses have certain things. Basic clothes. Some rations to hold me over for a few days. A 4x4 vehicle packed with survival gear and weapons. So I put on a pair of jeans, tuck the gun back in my pants, and swipe a hand through my hair. I can do this. Debrief. No emotions. I don’t have a suit, but—I slide my sunglasses down onto my face —this will have to do. No eye contact, James. Right. No extra details. Stick to the story. I go out to the living room but the girls are gone. I check out front. Nothing. I go through the kitchen and check out back. And there they are. The garage door is open and they are sitting on the hood of the Hummer. Harper is holding my goddamn pink notebook in her hands, fondling it like it belongs to her. And I guess it does, doesn’t it? I gave it to her
when we became six. And then I stole it back. She’ll want to know why you took it back, James. Right. I need to face that truth if I go out there. Twelve years of waiting has come to an end. This is it. I walk over to the fridge, pull it open and grab a beer from the door. If you have to hit the safe house a beer is mandatory. I twist the cap, take a swig, and look out the window over the sink. I can see them from here. Harper glances at the house every now and then, like she’s waiting for me. You can do this, James, the inner Tet says. The voice that talks to me during all my jobs. Keeps me calm. Rational. On high alert. I set the beer down, open the door—and hesitate. But Tet is there. Tet is always there. I got this, James, he tells me. And then I push through the screen door and walk onto the back porch and take a seat on the bottom step. They both stare at me. Anger comes off Harper like heat. She swallows and turns away, looks into the evening sun that is beating down on her body, making it a rich gold that matches her hair and eyes. Lionfish. Hunter. Lover. Just like me. Killer. Tet decides to start there. I clear my throat and Sasha looks over at me, her eyebrows raised as she waits to see what I’ll do.
I kick my bare feet out in front of me and lean back on my elbows. “I know what you’re thinking.” Sasha continues to stare. Harper shakes her head but does not look my way. “You’re thinking he’s crazy. He’s a liar. He can’t be trusted. He’ll kill me if the right deal comes along.” Harper does look over for that remark. I smile at her and she squirms. Sasha squints at me. She knows more than Harper about what’s going on, that’s for damn sure. No kid is that calm and sure of herself unless she knows something. So I start with her first. I get up and walk towards them, stop in the center of the driveway so I’m blocking the sun from Sasha’s body. And then I point to her. “But you and I, Smurfette, we’re exactly the same.” I smile because her cool expression drops a little. Just enough to let me know this is the right way forward. “I am a killer. I kill people. That’s my job. But before we talk about why I haven’t ditched you yet, let’s get it all out in the open. OK?” I don’t need to look over at Harper to know that she’s paying very close attention. “Let’s do a tally. Would that make you feel better? You want to know my tally, girls?” They both stare at me. I wait for the little shake that says, No, Tet. We do not. But everyone wants to know. I hold up my hand and pretend to count bodies as I
tick off a finger. But there are not enough fingers and toes in this driveway to count up all the people I’ve killed. I’m not counting kills. I’m counting years. “Let’s see, year one, that was eight. Year two, seventeen. Year three they had me cleaning up a drug cartel on the Mexico Arizona boarder to stop the Juárez beheadings. So I’m pretty sure that qualifies as genocide. Sixty-four Mexican government employees got the shaft from me that year.” I keep going, never missing a beat. “Year four I was on vacation. Winding down at the beach is what they’re calling it these days. Year five— twenty years old—I only had one job that year but it ended up destabilizing six African nations. Just enough to allow Company-run corporations to slip in and take over some critical industries.” “Diamonds?” Sasha asks. She knows a lot of shit she should not know. Her father did her no favors. “No, not diamonds,” I lie to her. “And year six?” Harper asks, like she’s unaffected. But I know better, I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. I look away and pick it back up. “Year six I was off again so I did jobs with a guy I’d met a few months earlier.” “Merc?” Sasha interrupts again. I smile at this. “Yeah. Fucking Merc.” She scowls
at his name. There is no love lost between Merc and the Smurf. “He’s not that bad when you get to know him.” “Whatever,” Sasha grunts. “I hate him.” “Year seven,” Harper prods. She’s digging, I realize. Looking for something. About Nick, maybe. “That year I spent with my brother, Tony. He was twenty, I was twenty-two. We were in for almost the same amount of time, they started him early. Had him doing local jobs in Southern California all through high school, put him in the US military at eighteen. He was just finishing up his two-year contract with the Marines that year. But he was in love with this girl.” I look over at both of them now. “Not a Company girl. And he wanted out, so he applied to the SEALs, thinking if he could just hang on to the military affiliation, the Company might let him have a life.” “Did it work?” Harper asks. “I fucking blew his head off three months ago. What do you think?” “Why did you kill him?” Sasha asks. “It was a job.” Tet’s answer comes out so fast it surprises even me. “Years eight and nine were spent running a shadow government in San Pedro Sula, down in Honduras.” “So,” Sasha interrupts. “You weren’t just killing people. You were helping too, right?”
I want to lie to her so bad. Harper’s watching me, a little bit of hope in her eyes. “No,” I say, choosing to tell the truth. “I wasn’t in San Pedro Sula to fix things, Sasha. The government down in Honduras is as corrupt as the cartels.” “And year ten. When I was turning sixteen, what were you doing then?” Harper redirects to the more recent years. The years that changed everything. The only years that matter right now. I stare at her as I recall that day. It was confusing for me. It’s confusing for me now, but I’m trying to be honest, so I tell her the truth. “Looking for you, Lionfish.” She sighs at the name. It’s been tainted by the words in the journal, so I soften her hurt with more truth. “I did show up that year. No plane ticket that time, but I showed up anyway. You guys stayed pretty close to Anguilla, so I knew where to look.” “We went to Tahiti that year, and the next two after.” I shrug. “I know that now, but I did my best.” “Did you want me that year?” she asks, a little bit of hope spilling out with her words. Again, I want to lie. But I don’t have it in me to put up the pretenses. Besides, she’s gonna find out the truth sooner or later. “Not enough to admit it.” “But you do now, right?” Sasha chimes in. “You want her now, even I can tell that.” I look over at Harper, but she’s shaking her head
and putting up her hand, shutting down the talk of her. She may or may not want to know more about that, but right now she’s on a mission for other information. “And the years between then and now? You said you were in some European country last year. But it sounds to me like that’s not your territory.” “It’s not. But I’ve been on special assignments since then.” “Mmm-hmm,” Harper says, pissed off. “So your tally, James? What’s your final tally?” “Too many to count.” She throws the notebook at me and jumps down off the Hummer hood, but I grab her wrist before she can escape, pulling her close until I can secure her by her shoulders. And then I lean into her ear and go in for the kill. “What’s your tally, Harper? How many have you killed? Do you even know?” Sasha blows out a long breath like she can’t believe I just went there. Harper shakes her head. “I’m not a killer. I don’t know why they tell you those things. I’m not a killer.” “I am,” Sasha says, trying to break the tension. “I got four, James. When they came to blow up my grandparents’ ranch. I got four.” I have to smile and appreciate that. “I know, Smurf. I heard. How many, Harper?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she
tries again, clearly nervous about the new direction this conversation is taking. “You probably don’t. You probably have no idea. Because you left the ship. You left them all there to die and never looked back. So how could you know?” She turns her back, head still shaking. “You can judge me if you want, but the truth is, Harper, we’re all killers here. Even you, baby. And your tally puts my first year to shame. Because you got thirteen souls, right out of the gate.”
Chapter Twenty-Two - James
Thirteen. I can almost hear the echo in her head. She leans over to swallow down the bile before it comes up. She knew. She knew she had to have killed some of them… but… thirteen. Yeah, that surprised everyone. “What’d you use?” I ask as I put a hand on her shoulder and instead of shrugging me off, she lets it stay. Her body is hot and it feels like touching fire. “Because it certainly did the job.” “Visine,” she says calmly. “Several bottles of Visine in the water pitchers at dinner. There were a lot of guests on the ship that night. Too many for me to pick out my new husband. So I poisoned them all.” Clever. “Well, then you and I are more alike than you know. Because the poison you used is actually one of my calling cards.” I look over at Sasha. I think she’ll appreciate this little factoid. “The active ingredient in Visine is tetrahydrozoline.” I look back over to Harper. “I told you under the pier last week I had a little blue octopus in me. And the
active poison in the blue-ringed octopus is tetrodotoxin.” “Tet,” Sasha says with a smile. “That’s why you’re called Tet?” I nod, but my eyes are still on Harper. “You used my calling card, Harper. Because when I want to kill someone for personal reasons and not get in trouble, that’s the way I have to do it. My assigned poison is tetrodotoxin, not Visine, but it’s got tet in the name and that’s too close.” This changes everything. Everything I’ve been told over the past year is tainted with the view that they might think I killed all those people for Harper. How the fuck am I still alive? The blackout, James, Tet whispers in my head. They know you’re confused. They know you’re missing time. And that—that makes me laugh. “What’s so funny?” Harper snaps at me. “I killed thirteen people and you’re laughing? Is my father even alive?” “Do you care?” “Of course I care!” “As far as I know he is. I have not spoken with him for a very long time.” I’m the one who turns away now. Because this will require a lot of thinking on my part. The problem is suddenly a puzzle. Who is who? How does it all fit together? Who is calling the shots? Why was I really sent to
the beach? What the fuck happened in those hours I lost? “Is there a way to find out?” Sasha asks. “If the Admiral is dead?” “I’m pretty sure there’d be some sort of global alert if the Admiral was dead.” I should push Sasha for her answers too. I really should. But she’s being very good, almost on my side, so now is not the time to shake things up. “So now what, James?” Harper looks down at her feet. She’s facing the sun still, and it’s about to set, so the bright glow from earlier is gone. I wanted us to be together tonight so we could watch the sun go down again, get her back in her routine. But the rippling orange and yellow colors across the Pacific Ocean were magical. Beautiful and filled with promise of a new tomorrow. The dissipating, diffracting light playing across the hot current of air in the desert has a hopeless feel to it. This desert sunset feels like the end. “You have to make a choice, Harper.” I take her hand and turn her around. “You trust me and let me lead the way.” I stop to search her for doubt. She holds her eyes steady, unlike mine. My eyes dart all over the place, waiting for lies, for pretenses and ulterior motives. But I don’t find any of that in Harper. I find grief.
“Or you can go your own way. You’re not my contract, Harper.” I slip my hand behind her neck. She’s sweaty from the heat. Her shoulders are turning pink from the sun and when she looks up at me, her eyes are pink too. She’s had enough for one day. “You’re not my contract, and if you stay with me, I promise to take care of you. I promise I will keep you safe. I promise that the only way they will hurt you is if they kill me first.” “Because I belong to you?” “Yes.” God, that makes me so happy there’s no way in hell I can hide the smile. “You belong to me. You’re mine. So if you stay, you need to understand that. You’re mine.” “And you want me now?” I slide my fingers down her arm and tug on her hand until she takes a step toward. “I’ve always wanted you.” She stares into my eyes, so intent on finding motive there. But she fails. Because I’m telling the truth. “Sasha,” I say as I turn and lead Harper over to the porch. “Bedtime.” ‘”Bedtime!” Sasha snorts. “I don’t have a bedtime!” “Whatever.” I ascend the stairs with Harper and take her back inside. “But we’re going to bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Three - Harper
I let James take me away. Back into the house where the air-conditioning isolates me from the outside and makes me feel protected. Which is absurd, because James just admitted to being responsible for something akin to genocide. Maybe what the Company does is good. I’ve been told my whole life it is. They keep things in check. The assassins take out very specific targets to stabilize world governments, world economies, and preserve the future of freedom. But that’s the kind of bullshit Nick and I used to read in comic books whenever we could get our hands on them in a port city. Superhero stuff. He was fascinated by it, since he was being trained to assassinate people too. He believed in them. He made me believe in them. Until we learned I was sold. And even though that book says I was promised to James, I’m having a hard time accepting it. Why would the Admiral give me to some killer? Wouldn’t he want me to be safe? How could I ever be safe with James? I study his muscular back as he
leads me down the hallway to the bedroom. He’s a dream in the body department, but the shit inside his head is something else. Something I might not be interested in seeing more of. Tet. It has a whole new meaning now. And the fact that I used his calling-card poison to kill… what does it mean? For me? For him? How did the Company interpret what I did? And how did he not know? He told me he was briefed right after I ran last summer. Didn’t they tell them how I did it? Didn’t they assume he was in on it? We walk into the last bedroom and he closes the door. The room is dusky, but he makes no move to turn the lights on. Instead he walks over to the window and closes the blinds until the place is near dark. He stares at the covered window for a few seconds and then lets out a sigh. “Where do you want to start?” My body goes still. “What do you mean?” He turns and tips his chin up, like he’s building up his confidence. “I’m not gonna talk about it in front of the Smurf, but whatever you want to know, here’s your chance. Ask me. Ask me anything.” I’m momentarily stunned. I think I should take my time, have a plan of attack for getting the truth from him because this might be my one and only chance. But the question rolls off my tongue like it was waiting all day. “What happened to Amber?” “My brother shot her in the chest on the last job I
did.” “Why?” His jaw clenches. “Because she got in his way.” “Is that all it takes for you guys? Just get in the way? And that’s enough to forfeit a life?” His eyes narrow at these questions, hopefully because he’s thinking it over and not because I’m pissing him off. I shift my weight from one foot to another, the silent moments ticking off from a clock on the wall. “Sometimes.” “Is that why you killed your brother? Because he killed Amber?” “Not specifically, no. It was a combination of factors. He was my target. Your father wanted him eliminated, but in addition to that I owed my friend Merc a favor. Merc owed his friend Ford a favor. Ford wanted Tony out of his family’s life. I had two contracts on him.” “And… there was never a moment where your inner self said, ‘Hey, James, this is the guy you grew up with. You’re not gonna kill him. You’re gonna find a way not to, or you’ll die trying?’ Because if I was ordered to kill my brother, that’s what my inner self would say.” “I did think that, Harper. And there was a brief time where I thought I could pull it off. But everything went wrong, people showed up. Amber showed up. She wasn’t supposed to be there. And
her sister, Ashleigh… she was Tony’s high-school sweetheart. He risked everything to try and keep her out of the Company, faked his own death. Abandoned her right before she gave birth to their child. And then Ford appeared. He found Ashleigh. And Ford decided he wanted what Tony walked away from and made it happen.” “And Tony wanted her back.” “He was not about to give her up after all he did to get to that point, especially to that guy. But Tony never saw me coming.” “They never see you coming, do they?” “I’m not the kind of guy who likes to be seen.” “And Sasha? How does she fit?” James looks away quickly, then recovers. It’s fast, but I catch it. Nick and I used to play a game when we were kids. Who could tell a lie better. Who could spot a lie better. I was always a better spotter than liar. And that momentary glance away was the tell-tale sign of a lie. “Sasha is… collateral damage. Left over from a job Merc did last Christmas. Merc is responsible for her because he got her father killed in an off-thebooks job, but somehow Ford claimed the Smurf and decided Merc owed him a favor for fucking up her life. He and Merc go way back, so…” James throws up his hands. “Merc took that debt seriously and called in a debt I owed him.” “So Merc cashed in his debt to Ford by having
you kill Tony. Because you owed Merc. And debts are… meaningful?” He nods and it rings true. And yet it’s not the whole story. But I’m not very interested in Sasha now. I’m interested in us. James walks over to me and takes my hand. “Harper, listen to me. OK?” I nod and then he’s pushing me to sit on the bed. “None of that matters right now. It’s fucked up, I get it. I killed my brother. But he had a hit on his head. He was a dead man whether I did it or not. No amount of running or new identities would ever erase that. And Amber, she wasn’t a girlfriend. I did care about her. But I left her behind years ago. Years, you understand? I had a bodyguard put in charge of her, they fell in love, I guess. She married that guy. OK? She wasn’t a girlfriend. Ever. Yeah, I loved her in some way, but it wasn’t the way you think. I liked the idea of keeping her out of my dirty life. I just wanted to keep her safe. And I did. She moved on, got her own life. But then it all fell apart and that letter, you need to understand, that letter was regret for my failure to keep her safe and nothing else.” I don’t know. Some of what he’s saying makes sense. “But why did you hate me so bad? What did I ever do to you? I was just a kid.” He pushes me back on the bed and my stomach does little flips inside. But at the same time, I don’t
want sex to be the reason I let this go. I need more. I put my hand on his chest to ward him off, but he grabs my wrist and hikes it over my head, pressing it into the mattress. “Now listen, Harper. Hold still and listen.” His eyes plead with me and I nod. He swallows hard and then scoots up next to me on the bed so we’re lying together. He places his fingertip on my forehead and then lightly drags it down the bridge of my nose and pauses on my lips. My mouth opens of its own accord and I nip at it playfully. “I never hated you, Lionfish. I loved you the very first moment I set eyes on you when you were six.” “You did?” He nods. “I did. But loving a six-year-old is wrong. You have to understand that. It’s so dirty, there’s no way I could deal with the powerful draw you had on me. And that was before you were promised. The Admiral paraded you out on the beach that day for me. You were in that little ruffled bathing suit that made you look like a Swan Lake ballerina. You were the cutest fucking thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Perfect. And innocent. And sweet.” I smile at that characterization of me. I’d forgotten about that ridiculous bathing suit. I threw a tantrum to get it in some hotel gift shop the day before. And normally a tantrum is the last way to
get my father’s attention. But he gave in. Did he give in on purpose? To parade me? That makes my stomach sick. “I wanted you to be my age so bad that day.” We both laugh a little at that. “You have no idea how hard it was to listen to your father talk about you and have to turn down his offer.” He stops to cup my face and plant a soft kiss on my lips. “You will never understand how much it hurt to say no. I wanted you. But it was wrong, Harper. Accepting a child bride as payment and promise for a job was wrong.” I sigh a little. I can certainly see that. And before I knew he was my promise, I was repulsed by the thought of belonging to someone in that way. I felt sold. But with James, it’s… different. “I want you now, Harper,” he says, like he’s reading my thoughts. “I have you now. And I know you want me too. But if I’m wrong, here’s your opportunity to say no.” I can’t move. This feels permanent. Like this yes or no answer will decide my fate. “I’ll take that as a yes,” James says. And then his bare chest is brushing up against my body and his mouth takes what he came for. Me. His tongue twists inside my mouth as he lifts up my shirt, gently at first, but then he loses patience and lifts me up off the bed and drags it over my
head in one swift move. Before I can even appreciate the coolness next to my bare skin his hands are on the button of my shorts. Then the zipper. “Take them off,” he commands softly. I wiggle them down my hips, over my knees, and then fling them away with my foot, my eyes never leaving his. He grins and everything I saw under the pier that day, back before I knew for sure that he was a killer, all those thoughts flood my mind. How beautiful he is. How he holds my attention with his gaze. How he makes me throb with want and longing. My hand goes to the bulge in his jeans. He’s so hard against my hand, the throbbing between my legs becomes an uncontrollable ache, letting me know that I am very close even though we haven’t even started yet. “Harper,” he says, bringing my attention away from my pulsing need and back to him. “Yes?” I answer back in a whisper. He smiles and lies down next to me as he lets out a breath that sounds a lot like a sigh. I feel him relax and then he takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “I’d like a do-over.” “What?” I laugh a little. And in that instant, that laugh changes everything. I put aside my tally and the Admiral, and the loss and sadness I’ve been feeling since my brother split us apart last summer.
The sensual mood breaks with the laugh as well. But in its place comes something else. In its place comes… “A do-over,” he says again. His fingertips find my belly button and the light touch traces little concentric circles around it. And then he releases my hand, flips on his side—propping himself up on his elbow—and extends his hand again. “I’m James Fenici, nice to finally meet you.” I bite my lip to stop the tingling in my nose and throat that comes before tears. He takes a deep breath like he might be worried his gesture will go unappreciated. But he’s got nothing to worry about. I extend my hand and we join together in a new way. “Harper Tate,” I whisper. He flops on his back and then reaches for me, pulling my cheek up to his chest as he puts his arms around me. “Miss Tate, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted your name. I’ve been thinking about you for almost thirteen years. And I’d like to erase that little pink notebook. I’d like you to forget all of that stuff. Because those were the words of a man trying to convince himself he was not in love.” He leans down and kisses me softly, his hands cupping my cheek as he grabs hold of my lower lip and then releases it. “But I am in love. I fell in love with a six-year-old. I’m sorry, it’s fucked up, but that’s just how it happened.”
“I fell in love with you that day too, James.” “But I’m not sorry for telling your father no, Harper. I’m not sorry because it was a test. Men don’t give away daughters like you.” I look away and shake my head. “But he did. I don’t understand that part.” James turns my head back to him with a gentle touch to my chin. “A man worthy of his daughter would say no, Harper. He was never going to give you away. And now that I have you here, I have to ask you.” My heart does that now-familiar thump. “Ask me what?” He slips out from under me and pulls me up to a sitting position as he drops to his knees on the floor. I cover my mouth to hide the smile. “Harper Tate,” he says. “Will you trust me?” My whole face goes hot and tingly and I look away to hide my reaction. James guides my gaze back to him again. “Don’t turn away from me, please.” I stare down as he gazes up. And then I notice how naked I am. His bare chest is pressed up against my knees. His breath is tickling the inside of my thighs. My heart beats faster as all these senses crash together like I’m caught in a wave. Suddenly I’m trembling. He slides his hands up my thighs and grabs my hips so he can scoot me to the edge of the bed. He
places himself right in the v of my legs and then looks up at me, awaiting my answer. “I don’t know…” “Just give me a chance, OK? Get to know me a little, and give me a chance.” He leans his head down to kiss my belly. “You have to trust me.” His eyes dart back and forth as he searches for doubt inside me. But he doesn’t find it. I might not know what’s really going on. I might not understand what he’s asking. But I do know that trust can be easy if you want it to be. You either do—or you don’t. You believe in the love and loyalty and good intentions —or you don’t. “I don’t trust anyone, James. Except Nick.” He gets up and sits on the bed. “So why’d you come here?” I stand, unashamed of my nakedness, and move across the room. It’s too small so I reach the wall with only a few paces between us, and then I’m forced to turn and look at him. “I don’t know. I’m tired of waiting for things to begin, I guess. I have no idea why I’m here.” He’s nodding his head as I talk and then he stands up and covers half of the distance between us. “Keep going,” he says. “Tell me, just find those feelings, those words… and admit it to yourself and then to me. Tell me why you’re here.” I stare at him. His scent is different now, the sweet
scent of soap lingering on his bare chest. I want to touch him so bad. I want to run my fingertips down the hard muscles of his chest. I want his hands to cup my face as he kisses my mouth. I want my legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes himself deep inside me. I want, I want, I want… “I want you,” I finally admit. “I waited for you to come back, but you didn’t. And I’m so tired of waiting for people. I’m so tired of being everyone’s afterthought. So I had this address in my head. The text came in while we were together, and I memorized it.” “This place could’ve been anywhere, Harper. It was a big risk.” “I need a little risk in my life, James. I’m tired of standing still.” “Then”—he steps forward and the gulf between us evaporates—“take a risk on me. I’m on your side, Harper.” “No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re on no one’s side. You’re only here for your own interests.” He stares back at me for a few seconds and nods in response. “You’re right. But baby, the only thing I’m interested in right now is you.” I don’t have anything to say to that. The talk is over. The truth is on the table. I can either play another card or fold out of the game. And I’m a terrible decision-maker, so I opt for both. “I want
you. I came here because I want you,” I say as my hands touch the top of his shoulders, resting over the curve of him, like they have always belonged there. They cup the hard muscles, then slide down a little and James pushes me backwards until my knees reach the edge of the bed and I am forced to sit. His large hands grip under my knees and part my legs as he settles in front of me. And then his mouth is on my pussy.
Chapter Twenty-Four - Harper
It’s a long, slow—so agonizingly slow—lap of his tongue up my slit. He pauses at the crest of my sex and flicks his tongue back and forth until my hips come right off the bed. My fingers weave through his hair and then they grasp hard, pulling his whole face towards me. He sucks on my clit, just a slight suction at first. But that’s enough. More than enough. I’m grinding now, unable to control my desire. And the orgasm is coming fast, it’s building to a climax that might be monumental in scope, that’s how fucking astonishing it feels to have James’ mouth on me. I wait for him to pull back, to deny me like he did last time. But he doesn’t. He thrusts his tongue against my clit, alternating with sucking and lapping, until I’m writhing and the only words in my mouth are his name. “James. James. James.” My back buckles as the sensations crest and crash, over and over again, and James never stops. He rides the wave of pleasure with me until, after almost a minute, the aftershocks subside enough to
allow me to breathe again. “I’m so jealous,” I finally say once I’ve calmed my racing heart. “I’m so jealous of all the other women you’ve given this kind of attention to.” “Well,” he says as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, “you’re goddamn lucky you were a virgin when I came along, otherwise I’d have a hit list for anyone who ever touched you.” Before I can tell him that’s an inappropriate joke, he sits down and grabs my shoulder. “Flip over. We do it my way now.” Before I know what’s happening, I’m face down on the bed. I peek over my shoulder to watch him fling his jeans across the room. He shoots me a crooked grin and I start to get worried. He said something about —“Ow!” My train of thought is obliterated in one swoop of his hand as it smacks down on my ass cheek, leaving a sting behind. Before I can put together a coherent objection, he’s straddling my upper thighs and massaging the sting away with his rough hands. “That was a love tap. Just to warm you up.” He rises up on his knees, then places his hands on my outer thighs and pushes my legs all the way together. The fingers search for my pussy again, but this time they slide right past my ass. That feels so fucking good. I moan. “You like that, Harp?”
Before I can answer his finger drags the wetness leftover from my orgasm up into my perfect pink bud. I brace for the pain I felt back at the beach apartment when he tried this same thing. But this time he’s slow. And gentle. And he goes back several times for more of my slick juices. “Will you —” “No. Not tonight. I just want you to know how good it can be. I want to take my time, make you want it. Make you beg for it.” “What if I want it now?” I chew on my lower lip as I try and look over my shoulder at him again, but he leans his chest over my back, trapping me underneath him. He lifts his hips and one hand goes to his cock. He flicks it back and forth, still dragging the wetness from my pussy to my ass, and every few seconds, he stops to push his thumb against the tight muscle at my entrance… until… it slips right inside. “Ohhhh,” I moan. And it’s not a bad moan. It’s not a moan of pain or pleasure, but some elusive mixture of both at the same time. I’m throbbing again, and it’s like James can read my mind, because even as I become distracted by the new sensations, he’s twirling my clit with his fingertip. Dragging, dragging so, so slowly, up and down the crease of my opening, all the while he pushes his thumb farther inside me. “Do you want my dick in your ass yet, Harp?” he
asks, pressing his lips up against my ear, sending a jolt through my entire body. “I’m ready to beg for it.” He presses his mouth into my neck and kisses me, getting mostly hair for his efforts, but he’s chuckling, so I know he doesn’t care. “I do love you, Harper. I’ve loved you for so long. But now I want more than love and sex. I want to know you.” He lifts his hips again, but this time, his cock finds his mark and he thrusts himself inside my pussy. He rocks back and forth, still teasing my asshole with his thumb. He repositions himself so he’s straddling my upper thighs now and this changes everything. All the feelings I just experienced pale in comparison to the sensation of his dick sliding past my ass cheeks as he fucks me from behind. “Your fucking ass is beautiful. The way it hugs my cock as I take you.” Oh God. That’s the only thing I can think of. Oh God, oh God, oh God! And then he flips me over again and before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing me down to the ground. I hit the cold tile floor and the sting on my knees registers for a brief moment, but then James pushes his cock towards my mouth and I open for him. Everything else is forgotten as I look up into his eyes. Now. Now I can see the truth in him. “Fuck me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t wait for a second request. His cock slides past my lips and I flick my tongue along the underside of his shaft. My eyes never leave his and even though he’s definitely the one in charge right now, even though he’s one of the most dangerous men in the world, and even though I’m the one on my knees—I have the power. He gives everything to me when he throws his head back and explodes down my throat. I have the power. But that’s not what makes me happy. It’s the way I receive the power that makes all the difference. I have power because he gives it to me.
Chapter Twenty-Five - James
I’m out of bed in an instant, reaching for the gun that’s not there, as I try to wake up from a night of sex-induced deep slumber. Where the fuck is my gun? Harper is standing next to me, pulling on her top. Her shorts are hanging off her hips, half-zipped, a phone sticking out of each pocket. Before I can make sense of what I’m seeing, she whispers, “What was that noise?” “The Smurf?” I answer as I find the gun on the floor and check the chamber and the mag. The FN Five-SeveN holds twenty rounds. Twenty is more than enough. A scream jolts us into action and we bolt for the door at the same time. I push Harp back. “Stay here,” I growl down at her. “I’m not kidding.” I don’t wait for an answer, just open the door and press my back against the hallway as I maneuver towards the living room. Where the fuck did we leave the Smurf? Outside? But no, the TV is on, cartoons are playing softly. There’s wrappers and stuff on the coffee table like
she’s been helping herself to food. I notice the open back door in the kitchen and hear the whine of a dirt bike engine at the same time. “Fuck!” Harper’s next to me and we hop down the porch steps in tandem and run for the garage. “Get in,” I bark at her. The keys are in a magnetic holder to the left of the tailpipe, so I grab those, get in, and start it up. “Where did they go? Did you see where they went?” I pull forward out of the garage. “That way.” Harper points behind us, to the desert beyond the back yard. There’s a cloud of dust. “Did someone take her?” I ignore her. This kid isn’t going anywhere without me until I say so. I gun it. “Hold on!” I yell to Harp over the roar of the engine as we bounce along the scrub. I glance in the rear view and there’s a trail of decimated yucca plants. “Oh my God,” Harper says as she grabs the handle above the window. We gain on them and the biker looks over his shoulder at us, then increases the throttle and pulls away on a flat stretch of hardpacked sand. The sun is just starting to rise and the glare blinds me for a moment, but it blinds him too, and he swerves west to avoid it. Harper has her head out the window pointing at something up ahead. “There’s something up there. What’s he heading for?”
Mesquite trees are lined up in the distance, signaling there’s a dry river bed up ahead. They are thick, big enough to possibly stop the Hummer if I try to plow through them. “If he can make it to the river bed he can lose us. Harper,” I say, pointing to the gun tucked under my thigh, “grab the gun. When I pull up next to him, you shoot out the tires, OK?” “What? No! I don’t shoot guns! I’ll hit Sasha!” “How the fuck do you not shoot guns?” But the conversation drops off when I hit a good-sized ocotillo plant. Instincts kick in and we both shield our eyes from the onslaught of flying limbs that splatter against the windshield. “Fuck! The ocotillos are everywhere!” It’s like someone planted the tall twiggy bushes on purpose to keep off-roaders away. “Harper!” I grab her by the arm. “You drive, herd him towards that wall of ocotillos over there! I’ll shoot out the tires and even if he gets away, the thorns will—” “James! I can’t drive!” “What the fuck? How the hell?” But the biker is on to me and he swerves. I head the opposite direction, anticipating his evasive move, and direct him back where I want him. “I don’t see Sasha! What if she’s back at the house?” She’s right. Fuck. “There’s a scope in the back, Harper, get it out
and look. I think she’s slumped over on the tank.” Harp climbs in back and starts fishing through a box of gear on the floor. A few seconds later she gasps. “She’s on the tank, but she looks dead!” I swerve again to keep the biker going towards the ocotillos and not towards the line of mesquites. He guns it, mistaking the dried stalks as dead tree branches, and throttles through the wall of thorns. I follow, but unlike him and Sasha, I’ve got a windshield to protect me. The bike swerves severely, and they are going forty-five or fifty miles an hour at least, so for a moment I panic, thinking he’s gonna kill the Smurf with a wipeout. But he recovers and now that he’s through the wall of thorns, he’s got a straight shot to the riverbed where the wall of mesquites will let him slip by and stop us dead. Harper opens the sun roof and sticks her head out. “Shoot that fucker, Harper!” She ignores me, but she’s climbing up through the sunroof. “What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass back in here and get this gun!” The bike is way out ahead now, more than fifty yards, and the whole thing is looking more and more hopeless when he begins to slow. “The tire’s going flat from the thorns!” Harp yells. “Pull up to him, James, pull up next to him and I’ll shoot the other tire.” She reaches down and grabs the gun, then lifts herself back up through the sunroof. But
this time her legs disappear. She’s on top of the fucking roof! She’s gone crazy!
Chapter Twenty-Six - Harper
“Pull up closer, James!” I yell down from the roof. I might not be able to shoot and I might not be able to drive, but I can fight hand to hand like a motherfucker. I’m not nearly as helpless as people think. We swerve one way, then the other and my body goes sliding across the roof. My fingers latch onto the sun roof opening and my feet brace against the roof rack and I hold fast until James straightens out the Hummer. The dirt bike is slowing considerably now, but the wash is not far away. If the biker makes it through the mesquite trees and down into the dry river bed, he can ride that flat tire right into town. And then we’ll lose Sasha. Maybe I just met her, but she’s with us. And that means she’s important. “Shoot now, Harper!” James yells from below. He’s pulled up close, within a few feet. “Shoot!” I throw the gun down into the cab because there’s no way I can shoot that thing and not hit the little girl slumped over the top of the tank. She’s bleeding from the thorns, I can see that now. The
biker has a helmet on, so he’s just fine. But poor Sasha. “What the fuck are you doing?” James swerves as he yells and my body goes careening off to one side again. I grab the sun roof as I slide past and pull myself back to the driver’s side where I can see the bike. James has the gun now, he points it, but we hit a bump and the shot misses. The Hummer and the bike slow at the same time once we all realize there’s a large gully less than thirty feet away. This is it. If he gets into that thing, we’ve lost. James swerves to avoid a spiky desert plant, and that brings us to within a few feet of the struggling bike. I’ll take it. I pull myself into a crouch, then launch myself at them like a missile. I hit the biker in the back and he collapses forward on top of Sasha. The bike swerves beneath us and then we’re sliding sideways on the sand. My legs burn as millions of grains of dirt turn into an endless sheet of sandpaper, but I manage to keep his body between me and the ground. The bike comes to a stop but I keep going for a few more feet. This gives the biker a chance to grab a gun from a shoulder holster. I feel nothing. No pain. The only sense I have at the moment is sight. The only thing I see is a killer with a gun. I scramble towards him at the same time he gets a
shot off. The bullet passes so close to my shoulder I feel the breeze of luck. And then I see red. I see red and my world is silent as the counter-move presents itself in my mind. I breathe, once, twice, and then I’m upon him. He lands a punch square on my cheek and my head snaps to the side, but I compensate. I feel nothing in a fight. I only see. And what I see now is my opportunity. So while his fist is following through in an arc required by the laws of physics, my hands are wrapped around his helmet. I squeeze tightly, and then… I twist. The span of a breath changes everything. I dislocate the head from the spine in less time than it takes to breathe one breath. His body goes limp just like that. Life. Ended. It’s that easy. His head falls into my lap and then the red subsides and the rush of reality snaps back into my forward senses. I hear yelling. James is yelling for me to stop. I look down at my hands as they tug on the helmet. “Stop!” he screams. “Do not take that helmet off!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven - James
“Stop!” Fuck! I grab Harper’s arm and drag her away from the body before she can take that helmet off. “Over here, Harp. Over here!” Her eyes are wild with the fight and this is the moment when I realize something. This girl is everything they ever said about her. She is lethal. She snapped the biker’s neck like she was tearing a chicken leg off a roast. Her breathing is labored, but not fast. Which means she’s not working off adrenaline. She’s working off experience. Only people who’ve been trained to react first and think later can avoid an adrenaline rush. Hell, my heart is about to jack itself out of my chest this very moment and I didn’t even do anything. But I sure the fuck saw something. I saw a sweet girl just take the life of… I rub my face with my hands to hide from her for a moment. “Sasha?” When I look up Harper is crawling over to the Smurf. Who is fucked up. I snap out of my
shock and go over to help get the bike off of her. “She’s still alive!” Harper says with hope in her voice as she checks for a pulse. “It’s… not strong.” Her elation deflates and I bend down and pick the kid up. “Sasha?” I take her to the Hummer and Harper follows, opening the door so I can sit her ass in the back seat. “Sasha?” I ask, louder this time. I lift up an eyelid and find her pupils unresponsive and contracted down into pinpoints. “Drugged. She’s been drugged with opiates.” I put my ear to her chest and listen for a few moments. “Slow. She might’ve been given too much.” “What do we do?” “I have a med kit in the cargo area. Watch her for a moment.” You know there’s something wrong with your profession of choice when naloxone is standard in your first-aid kit. I open the kit and search for the rescue pen. It’s dosed for a full-grown man, so administration to a hundred-pound kid is more of an art than a science. But considering the alternative might be dying from opiate overdose, it will have to do. I uncap it and thrust it into the meaty part of Smurfette’s arm, then depress the plunger. There’s only two real possibilities for pinpoint pupils. Opiate overdose or pons dislocation, a fancy name for a deep-brain injury. If it’s drugs, the naloxone will reverse the opiates and she’ll come
out of it with sand rash and thorn scratches. If it’s the other… then she’s brain-dead. Harper scoots into the backseat with Sasha and positions herself on the table-sized partition that separates the two bucket seats. Harper lifts her head and then I pick up the feet, and we drag Sasha’s body onto the flat surface so she can recover. Harper talks softly into her ear and then the Smurf starts to wince. I walk back over to the biker, trying my best not to notice how his neck is bent at the wrong angle. How does this bother me? After all the killing I’ve done? How can one dead body bother me so bad? I don’t answer that. I can’t think about it now. I just want to get the fuck out of here before Harper starts asking questions. I reach into his leather jacket and pull out a gun and a phone. “She’s getting better!” Harper says excitedly from the Hummer. “That’s great, Harp,” I say automatically. But one hundred percent of my concentration is on the phone in my hand. Because it’s vibrating. I press the home button and it lights up an alert. Scheduled message sent. A second later I hear another vibration. Only this time it does not come from the phone in my hand. I get up and walk to the truck to find Harper staring down at a phone that is not hers. One of the two she was stuffing in her pockets when we left the
house. “A message,” she says as she stares down at it. “What’s it say, Harper?” If my heart was beating fast before, then it’s about to explode right now. “Tell me what it says.” “It says…” She hesitates and then seems to change her mind, because she holds the phone up. “Yesterday I got a message from… well, I thought it was Nick.” “What’s this fucking message say, Harper?” She stares down at it for several seconds and I’m so impatient, I almost rip it out of her hand. But then she looks up at me, scared and pale. “‘Tock. Tock..’ What’s that mean, James?” “I dunno,” I sorta lie. I might know, but… “There’s a mushroom—” She stares at the message again and squints. “What?” My heart rate increases as I scan the area. “What about a mushroom?” But when I look back to her, she’s scowling down at the phone in my hand. A phone that looks exactly like the one she’s holding. “Is that your phone?” I shake my head. “Whose phone—” But she jumps to a conclusion before she finishes. And then the lethal girl launches herself at me. No, not at me. Through me. She hits me square in the chest and knocks me over, scrambling to her
feet in a rush. I grab her ankle and she falls on her hands, kicking and screaming. But I hold tight. No fucking way is she taking that helmet off. No fucking way. Because if that message was from Nick, then that dead guy on the ground might be her brother.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Harper
“Let go of me,” I cry. My heart hurts. Oh, my God, does my heart hurt. Please, please, please tell me I did not just kill my brother! Please God! I slam my bare foot into James’ chest and he stumbles backwards just enough for me to slip away, scramble to my feet and run over to the body. “Nick, Nick, Nick…” I just keep saying his name as I try to pry the helmet off his head. James is on me again, pulling me away, wrapping his arms around me as he talks calmly in my ear. “Calm down,” he says. “Calm down and I’ll let you go and we’ll check it out together, OK?” “No, no, no!” I wail. “No!” “Harper,” James says as he pins me down to the ground, straddles my hips, and then wraps his lower legs around mine so I can’t get him off me easily. He’s learning. “I need you to calm down.” He leans all of his weight on my chest now, and he’s very heavy. Heavy enough to make me stop talking because there’s not enough breath in my lungs. “Enough,” I beg. “I can’t breathe!” He eases up slightly, not enough to let me breathe
comfortably, but it takes the crushing pressure off. “Now listen to me. You will calm the fuck down or I swear to God, Harper, I’ll tie you up until you do as you’re told. You are out of control.” He leans into me again to make his point, and I whine in response. “Do you understand?” “I need to know right now, James. I need to know.” “I’m gonna check, not you.” He eases up again, to test my response I think, but I give up. What’s the point of fighting over checking a dead body? “You OK?” I nod. And then he’s off me. I sit up and watch. The sun is starting to come up now, so there’s enough light to see a few details. The color of the bike. Orange. The hair sticking out from the helmet in little tufts. Blond. I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop the wail when I realize that. James grasps the helmet and twists. But the neck is broken, so it jiggles back and forth in a sickening way that makes me lean right over and puke. “I can’t watch, I can’t watch.” “Don’t watch, Harp,” James says as I cough and gag. And then all I hear is, “Oh, fuck.” I roll over and press my face in the sandy ground and cry. “It’s him, isn’t it? It’s him!” And them James is next to me, his calming hands rubbing my back. “It’s not him, Harper. It’s not him.”
I roll back to look James in the face and sit up to see for myself. “It’s not him!” James pulls me into his chest and kisses me on the head. “It’s not him, but I know that guy.” “Who?” Tears of relief are running down my face and I have to wipe my face. “Someone who should be dead.” “What?” I ask, still a bit slow from trying to process everything. “What do you mean?” “I mean…” James hesitates, like this isn’t something he wants to talk about. “I mean—” “He means,” Sasha says behind us, “he killed them all. Or so he thought.” We both turn around to find Sasha sitting up in the back seat. Her face is all bloody, her arms and legs covered in thorn scratches from the kidnapper riding through a wall of ocotillos. “It was a setup, James,” she elaborates in a voice so devoid of emotion chills climb up my spine and prickle the skin at the nape of my neck. “I told you it was a setup.” And with those words she cracks and my chills evaporate. Her lips tremble and then she’s crying. James gets up, pulls me to my feet with him, and then he walks over to the girl. “Hey, it’s the drugs, OK? You’re coming off some drugs. Just try and relax.” “No, it’s not the drugs. It’s…” She trails off as she wipes her nose.
What a fucked, fucked, fucked-up way to start a day. “It’s what, Sasha?” James prods in that cool assassin voice. “It’s what? If you’ve got something to say, now is a really good fucking time to say it.” She drags the back of her hand across her face one more time. “I don’t know much, but”—she points to her kidnapper—“I just want you to know I’m not a part of that. I don’t know what I’m a part of, but it’s not that.” She looks over at me now. “I’m not a part of that, James.” “Do you know why he’d take you, Sasha?” James asks. She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter who I was working for yesterday, because today”—she looks at me again—“I work for no one. I’m not anyone’s pawn, or killer, or Smurf.” She snarls that last word out as she looks over at James. “I’m just a kid. I’m tired. I want to go home. I want Ford.” I glance over at James to see what he’ll say but he just nods and leads me over to the Hummer. “Get in,” he says. It’s not his assassin voice, it’s worse. Because even though his words are calm and his volume is soft, it’s a do-not-fuck-with-me command. I push Sasha until she scoots over the table hump and then James closes the door and jumps in the driver’s seat. He puts the Hummer in gear and does a U-ie, then heads back the way we came.
“What about the body?” I ask as it disappears out the back window. “Who gives a fuck? He was already dead anyway. Like the kid said, I killed him last year.” I don’t know what that means, but Sasha snorts and mutters, “Well, that was a huge fail,” under her breath. James doesn’t hear it, or maybe he pretends not to hear it. He says nothing back to her. When we get to the house he parks in the driveway and sits for a few seconds. We sit with him. In silence. And we wait for our orders. Because life just changed. We’re no longer some ex-Company associates playing house. “Harper.” He does not turn to look at me or even glance in the rear-view to see if I’m listening. But I am. “Harper, I’m gonna be honest with you here, OK? I know you took something with you when you left the yacht last summer. Everyone knows you have it.” And now he does turn to look at me. “I need it. Where is it?” My mind is racing with suspicion. Why now? After all these months, why now? Why are they coming for me now? Is everything he said to me a lie? “You need to trust someone besides Nick, Harper. Because Nick’s not here.” He studies my face to gauge my hesitation. I say nothing.
“Is it back in the OC? Just let me know what direction to head, Harper. Because people are gonna die.” He lets out a long breath. “What you have is very important.” “Important to who? My father? You’re working for him, aren’t you?” “Do you think this is over? Do you think one twice-dead assassin changes their game? You’ve been playing for years, so let’s cut the shit. You and Nick are doing something. You two managed to get the upper hand and that’s why you’ve been left alone this past year. But they made their move today, Harper. Game starts now. We’re outta here in ten minutes and we’re heading west.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine - James
“Every room has a box, Harper. Check each one, pull out anything we might need, and pack it in the back of the Hummer.” She nods and walks off so I take my attention back to Sasha. “You, come with me.” I walk down the hallway and wave her into the bathroom. “Take a seat.” Sasha sits on the toilet lid while I grab a t-shirt from the bedroom. I go back to the bathroom and shuffle through the first-aid kit from under the sink. I grab some antibacterial gel, some bandages, and then turn the hot water on and grab a washcloth off the rack on the wall. I start with her legs and wipe them down. She has a lot of tears but no sobs. And that is just sad. I move on to her arms after I finish her legs. Then her face. I get a new washcloth for her face, there’s so much blood. “You’re gonna be really sore, but you’re OK. So try not to think about it.” I look her in the eyes as I wipe her forehead. “Can you do that?” She swallows hard and nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve been trying not to think about it for months now, James.”
“I know. And you’re doing a really good job.” Her chin quivers for a moment, but she gets it in check before she loses control. “And I know you have a secret. And no amount of asking or demanding is gonna make you give it up before it’s time. So I’ll drop it. But I need to know, kid. Are we working for the same guy or not? Because you seem to have a lot of information about me and I seem to have none about you.” She turns her head away, looking at the blue shower curtain. “I think we are on the same side. Is that good enough?” The relief I feel at not having to kill this child is almost overpowering. I smack her on the knee and she cries out with a wince. “You can wash up properly when we get to the next safe place.” I dab the antibacterial gel on her wounds. “But this should get you through.” There’s a gash on her thigh from the bike wreck that needs a bandage, so I fasten one of those on her and then wash my hands. “James?” she asks quietly as she waits. “What?” I say as I pack up all the crap and stuff it back into the box. “If I have to stay with you until this is over, then can you please…” “Can I please what?” I open the door and wave her forward. The screen door smacks against the house as Harper loads up the Hummer. “If you’ve
got something on your mind, spit it out.” She stares up at me with those blue eyes and she looks eight or ten instead of thirteen. So fucking young. Too fucking young to be doing this shit. “Can you make sure if I die, then I don’t die for nothing?” I turn her around and push her towards the kitchen before she sees my reaction. Because nothing… nothing prepares you for words like that coming from a kid’s mouth. “Look, Smurfette,” I say, playing the asshole role. “You work for me now. So there’s no checking out on my dime. You wanna get yourself killed, then you do it on someone else’s time. You got it?” She nods and keeps walking in front of me. But I catch her wiping tears as she fishes a pair of sneakers out of her backpack and slips them on. I wait patiently as she meticulously laces them up, and then we leave the house, pulling the door closed behind us. Harper’s in the passenger seat, waiting for us. I open the back door for Sasha, and she climbs in and buckles her seatbelt. “You get everything we need?” I ask Harper as I close the door. I catch a nod from her as I walk around to my side, then get in and start the engine. “Where are we going now?” Harper asks. “Merc’s got a place in Palm Springs. He’s not there at the moment, so we’ll hole up there today and decide what the fuck we’re gonna do.”
Someone did this to the kid and someone absolutely is setting me up. I need this drive to think about it. I need time to put these pieces together. Because this is all wrong. None of this shit is adding up. We had a plan, this… thing this morning was not in the plan. I get silence from both girls. So I just flip a bitch in the front yard and head on out, taking the back roads into California, then crossing over Interstate 15 into the Mojave National Preserve. “Turn off your phones and give them to me.” I wait as the girls shuffle through pockets and then three phones are presented in my waiting hand. I chuck them all out the window, then fish mine out of my pocket and do the same. The girls turn around to watch them disappear as I buzz the window back up. The dash thermometer says it’s a hundred and fourteen degrees outside, but inside we’re all cold and it’s got nothing to do with the air conditioning. We’re killers. And isn’t that what they always say about us? Cold-blooded? Like the lizards scurrying across the sand-covered highway. We’re all cold out here.
Chapter Thirty - James
“What did you mean back there?” Harper asks once there’s nothing to look at on this drive but Joshua trees and the occasional flattened snake in the road. “When you said, ‘Someone who should be dead.’” I glance over my shoulder to see if the Smurf wants in on this conversation, but she’s sprawled out across the central console, sleeping. “Check Sasha’s pulse for me, will you? That opiate antagonist I gave her wears off, and if they dosed her too high, she’ll be all drugged up again.” Harper leans into the backseat with a loud, annoyed sigh as she grabs the kid’s wrist and a half a minute later she says, “Sixty-eight.” “OK, she’s pretty good.” “Well, I’m not, James. I need some answers. Nothing about you makes any sense and I want to know why all this is happening.” “I could say the same thing about you, Harper.” I give her a sideways glance, then take my attention back to the rough desert terrain. I consider how to fill her in without fucking things up too bad and
come up with evasion. “Back when I was just some teenage punk who thought being an assassin would turn me into a better, stronger, faster killer version of Boba Fett, I asked why a lot too. But I learned pretty fast that why was a dangerous question. Why are people after Sasha? Why are you and I together? Why is Sasha with us? I mean, really, besides being Company kids, what do we have in common?” She’s silent. Maybe thinking, maybe avoiding. I make it easy for her. “Killing, Harper. That’s what we have in common. Do you know who was at your birthday dinner that day on the boat?” I glance over and she shakes her head at me. “You poisoned everyone by lacing the water, some,” I stress, “more than others. But of those thirteen who died, nine of them were section leaders. All ranking officials. Do you know what that means as far as Company organization goes?” She knows. But she’s quiet so I fill it in for her. “Restructuring. Promotions, new ranks, new leaders. Now ask yourself, who benefits the most by restructuring?” Her silence is starting to piss me off, and I’m tired of babying her. “Your father, Harper. He’s the head guy, he calls the shots, he has enemies, maybe some who think they can run the Company better than he does. He takes them all out in one act. Only he never gets his hands dirty.”
“So he used me to do his killing?” She lets off a snort. “Right.” “That surprises you? I mean the man was gonna give you away to me when you were six years old —” “James,” she snarls. “That’s highly unlikely.” “I agree, it was unlikely he was serious, but he made the offer just the same. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough to use you in that way enough to make you believe he could use you in other ways? Did you hear the offer?” I ask her. “Do you want me to repeat it word for word so you can decide what his intentions were?” “That’s not what I meant. I mean, he might’ve said that to you, but he didn’t really mean it. You said yourself, it was a test. He would never give me to you.” “Why, because you’re so out of my league, you can’t imagine your father deeming me worthy?” “I’m not answering that. It’s stupid. You already said you knew that the offer was not real, so why this resistance to admit what you already know?” “Because you’re missing the point, Harper. The point is that he’s capable, regardless of his intentions.” “He has nothing to do with my actions on the ship that night. It was—” She stops short and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. “It was who, Harper? You and Nick?”
She shakes her head at me. “How would my father know?” “How would he know, Harper? Come on, who gave you that plan? Who told you to use Visine?” “It’s just something we had on board.” She shrugs. “Visine and ocean swimming go together.” “It was a good plan.” I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a fantastic plan. But don’t you think it’s a little convenient that a bunch of old cronies got offed by a poison that points right to Assassin Number Six?” “I didn’t know anything about that Tet stuff, James.” “No.” I look at her. Stare at her. “No, you didn’t. But Nick did because he was one of us. And if he wanted your father dead, well, then your father absolutely would be dead. And since thirteen Company cronies are dead and your father is not, he was obviously in on the plan. So what’s his endgame? What’s your endgame?” I look over at her as she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up, then looks back to the road. “Freedom, James. All I want is my freedom.” “And you need your father alive for that? The person who was gonna enslave you in the first place?” Harper huffs out a breath and starts shaking her head. “You sure do ask a lot of why questions. I mean, for someone who was taught to shut his face
and do what he’s told. And that answer is God’s honest truth. So now it’s my turn. Why was that guy back there someone who should be dead?” I give Harper a quick glance, then deflect the question for a few more seconds as I swerve to miss a tortoise crossing the highway. Her bare feet are propped up on the dash and she’s leaning back against the door so she can get a straight view of me. “One of my recent jobs, that’s all.” “So what did he do? To deserve an assassination by you?” “I have no clue, it was just an order.” “But you failed. So…” “I thought he was dead,” I growl at her. “I didn’t fail. Something else happened.” “Oh.” She sighs, and then mutters, “OK,” at me, tiring of my evasive answers quickly, and for that I’m grateful. I’m not in the mood to talk about what I’ve been doing the past two years. “So how come you haven’t killed Merc?” Sasha, that little faker, asks from the back. “Why would I kill Merc?” “You killed all the rest. So how come not Merc?” I scowl at her in the rear view. “You killed all the other what?” Harper asks now. Fuck. “Assassins.” Sasha again. “He’s supposed to be the only one left besides Merc. So I’m just curious, why Merc? Because he’s not a nice guy. He’s not a
good guy. He’s not a Company guy either. He’s nasty and mean and since I knew all those other assassins you took out, even if it was just casually, I just don’t get it.” I say nothing. Because this is yet another puzzle piece that requires some thinking. How the fuck does this kid know so much about my business? And who the fuck is setting me up? And if Sasha and I are actually working for the same person, that’s one thing. But I’m not getting the impression that’s the case. In fact, all my previous loyalties are coming into question at the moment. Who do I trust? Whose plan is this? “There’s more, you know,” Sasha continues in the wake of my silence. “More what?” I laugh out the words in an attempt to feign amusement. “More assassins. More than you know of. Lots more.” I am not amused. “I don’t want to talk about it, OK? Just a couple more hours and we’ll be in Palm Springs. Until then, shut the fuck up.” “James,” Harper says in a calm voice. “It’s better if we all know what’s going on.” “The Smurf back there is the only one who knows what’s going on, why not ask her.” “He’s crazy,” Sasha says as Harper turns back to her. “They’re all crazy. You had to have seen them growing up, right? Even if it was just briefly, you
had to have seen them. It’s not easy to miss the fact that you have to be psychotic to do a job like this.” “Sasha, I’m not gonna say it again. Shut the fuck up. I’m not the crazy one here, OK?” I look over at Harper and she’s got that look in her eyes again. That same look she had back in Huntington when she was trying to figure out if she was my target. And she has no fucking right. No fucking right. “I’m not the one who just jumped off the roof of a moving vehicle to tackle a dirt bike. I’m not the one who just snapped a man’s neck like it was nothing. I’m not the one who’s been living in the middle of nowhere for three months. You two”—I point to Harper and then jerk my thumb in the direction of the back seat—“you fucking girls are the crazy ones.” “Hmmm,” is all Harper says. Sasha keeps her mouth shut for once. And that’s how they leave it. With me being a dick. I try to forget about the question and just drive. I don’t want to fight with Harper. She’s the only fucking reason I’m doing any of this. Fighting with her defeats every objective I have. I just want to get out of this goddamned sun, close the curtains, make everything dark, and— “I think I know why he didn’t kill Merc.” “Why?” Harper asks quickly, turning around to see Sasha.
“Because Merc is gonna kill him.” “That’s fucking it!” I swerve the Hummer over to the almost nonexistent shoulder, and slam on the brakes. “You shut your fucking mouth, kid. Or I swear to fucking God, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” Harper asks, her eyebrows raised up to the ceiling. “She’s got legitimate questions, James. And to be honest, I’m interested in the answers. Who was the guy who took her? And why was he sending me messages?” “Harper, use your fucking brain. Why do you think he was sending you messages?” “Why? If he knew where to find me, then why didn’t he just take me? Why play this game? I’m sure my father has a reward out. Or a hit.” “Oh, is that where we’re at again? You think I’m here to kill you? Did you know the Smurf is a killer too? Or did you not put that two plus two together yet?” “Don’t insult me, Tet. I figured that out, thanks.” “Then maybe you’re her target and not mine? How about that?” “So why hasn’t she killed me?” “I haven’t killed you either, but you still think that’s my job. And while we’re all playing let’sconfess-to-shit-we’re-not-doing, what’s your job, Harper? Who the fuck are you and your brother after?” “Oh, snap!” Sasha says.
“Shut up!” Harp and I yell together. “She’s playing us, you do realize that, right? I mean, you can see that now, right? She’s egging us on, making us fight.” “I’m just trying to tell you something,” Sasha squeals. “Something you don’t know but I do. And you know what? Forget it. You don’t deserve my help if you’re gonna treat me like a traitor! I was kidnapped for her!” She shoves Harper on the shoulder and Harp slaps her hand off, turning around like she’s gonna dive back there and start a real fight. “Sit back, Harper,” I growl as I yank her by the arm and push her against the door. I pull back onto the road before one of these girls decides to get out of the car. I am not in the mood to chase them down in this heat. “I don’t want to travel with you anymore,” Harper says as she crosses her arms and turns her back to me. “I’m leaving when we get back to civilization.” “I’m leaving too. I’d rather die than go back to Merc. I’ll find Ford on my own.” Called that one. Fuck. Thirty minutes ago I was having warm fuzzies for that little brat and dreaming about Harper’s lips wrapped around my cock. And now this. I drive in silence as the anger and resentment
lingers in the air like a cloud of dust. I roll over all the possibilities in my head, replay the conversation to figure out where it all went wrong. And then make a decision to take one for the team. “OK,” I say. “OK, what?” Harper asks without looking at me. “Two years ago,” I start. “Two years ago I had a meeting about my brother.” I check Harper in my peripheral vision, then the rear view. Both girls are listening, I know that much. “Lots of people wanted him dead and I can’t say I disagreed. He was one fucked-up individual. I admit, I am one fucked-up individual. But Tony… Tony was the worst of all of us. He was too young when he started doing jobs. Three years younger than me, and I was only sixteen. I was sent away, learned my trade and completed my contracts in faraway places, filled with faces I never cared about. Entire populations of people who meant nothing to me. It was a movie. A video game. A book. It was not me killing and they were not real people. But Tony did jobs in fucking San Diego on the weekends and went to school on Monday like he was just another kid. He never had the chance to dissociate.” “Dissociate?” Sasha asks, leaning forward into the front seat. “What’s that mean?” “They tell me,” I continue, irritated with her, “they being the Company shrinks—that the
dissociation from society is normal. Key, really. It’s the only way to kill people for a living and not go off the rails. Of course, we all go off the rails. That’s why there’s only two of us left. And I’m the only one still here.” “You really killed them all?” Harper asks, appalled. “I really did.” “But,” Sasha interrupts, “there’s more than ten assassins, James.” “Thank you, Sasha. I’m so fucking glad you’re here to school me.” I catch her rolling her eyes in the rear-view. “I know there’s more than ten fucking assassins.” “Who gave you those jobs?” Harper asks. I don’t look at her as the words come out. I just stare straight ahead. “Your father.” “Why?” “I have no idea. I just do what I’m told.” “You’re lying,” Harper says. Her anger is almost dripping off her, that’s how hot she is right now. “You’re lying and I’m sick of it. Just tell me what the hell is going on before you get us all killed!” “Harper, believe me, if I fucking knew, I would. But I don’t know what’s going on.” “What if more assassins show up?” Sasha asks. “What do we do then?” “You don’t do anything. You let me handle them.” “Pow,” Sasha says quietly as she shoots her finger
at the windshield, her arm extending between Harper and me. “They’ll be dead with a shot to the head.” She laughs a little and sits back. “He’s probably gonna kill Nick, Harper. Just like you killed your brother, huh, Tet?” I don’t take her bait. I let it ride. Because if I stop right now, I’ll snap her little Smurf neck and leave her body in the desert.
Chapter Thirty-One - Harper
Just like your brother… I replay that sentence in my head over and over. She emphasized your when she said that. But why be so obvious? This kid is confusing me. One second she’s on our side—if we even have a side—and then the next minute she’s not. She’s creating problems for James on purpose, like she’s warning me not to trust him. And this just pisses me off. That this stupid thirteen-year-old girl thinks I’m dumb. Of course, I do my best to play dumb, and in fairness, she didn’t catch the show when I snapped the guy’s neck during the daring rescue. So I should cut her some slack. But nothing about this group makes sense. Nothing about what we’re doing makes sense. If James is after Nick because my father ordered a contract on him like the other assassins, then why all this bullshitting around? I have no idea where Nick is. I’m pretty sure he’s not waiting for us in Palm Springs at this Merc guy’s house. So… “What the hell are we doing?” “Taking a piss, Harper,” James says as he pulls off
the road and into a parking lot and stops the Hummer in front of a place that claims to be a visitor center. There are two cars in the parking lot. Including us. “They have food here too. Next chance is couple hours away.” “I want food!” Sasha says as she opens her door and jumps out. I open mine as well, and the heat blast is so powerful I almost can’t breathe. All three of us hurry under the shade of the front awning and then sigh with relief when we enter the airconditioned building. “Here,” James says to Sasha as he thrusts some cash at her. “Get something for everyone.” She smiles at the bills and then trots away. I’m still watching her, wondering about her story, when James tugs me off in the other direction. We head towards the bathrooms and just as I’m about to pull away and go into the ladies, he ushers me into the men’s with him. “What are you doing?” I push him off me, but it’s too late. He’s already got both my wrists and I’m being forced back against the wall. “Really?” I laugh. “You’re gonna take me by force in a government building?” He glares at me, those hypnotic green eyes of his deathly serious. I shut my fucking mouth and stare back. Is this a fight? “You still think I’m a rapist?” “You have a thing for manhandling me,” I snap
back. I have lost my patience with this man. “Why are you with me then, Harper? Because you might not think I know you very well, and that’s probably true, I’ve been a watcher in this relationship so far. And one day a year and three months of stalking barely count. But here’s what I do know about you. You might not be able to kill me outright, but you’d put up a damn good fight. And if you didn’t want to be in this restroom with me, you’d be somewhere else right now.” I yank my wrists free and push him off me with two solid palms to the chest. He rocks back just far enough so I can slip under his arms, and I turn to stare at him. “You’re right. I would, so what do you want?” “Your brother is not my hit.” “The hell he’s not! Even I can figure that shit out.” “Even you?” James laughs. “Please. Spare me the stupid blonde routine, OK? I know better.” “You were contracted to kill all the other assassins and that includes Nick, doesn’t it?” “No,” he says, the clenching of his jaw a warning that I’m beginning to push him. “You’re lying.” “So I’m a liar now too? A rapist and a liar.” “Don’t forget brother-killer. Or was that a lie too? Is he still alive?” The look I get in response almost makes me piss myself. But it’s too late now, so I
take it a step further to see how much James can take. “If you’ll fulfill a contract on your own brother, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to mine?” He turns away from me, walks to the door, reaches for the knob, and then he twists the lock and turns back. “Loyalty.” And to my surprise, his one-word answer is low, almost a whisper, yet powerful enough to make me pause. “I’m a loyal employee. But I’ve only ever worked for one guy. Myself. My brother broke his word to me. He killed someone I cared about in front of my face. He was about to steal his ex-girlfriend and baby away from a safe home and bring them into a life that would get them both killed in a matter of weeks. So regardless of how you feel about what I did, my brother had to die to save these other two people. It was a call I made in the heat of the moment. I saw a chance to set things right for my niece, to free her from Company life, and I took it. You of all people should understand what that little girl’s life would be like if the Company got a hold of her. If she fucking lived. Because I had a little sister and she sure the fuck isn’t around anymore. So if my little niece was taken, she’d be promised to some old fuck as soon as the next assassin got a hold of Tony. So I’m not fucking sorry. He’s dead. I did it. And it was the right thing to do.” I hold my breath through that entire explanation
and then it comes out in a rush as he finishes. His jaw and fists are clenching in unison, like he’s got so much tension and rage building, he has to let it out slowly and with complete control. Otherwise he might explode. “Who do you work for?” I finally manage. “Me. I work for me. How about you? Who do you work for?” “I don’t work for anyone. I’m not a hired killer.” I snarl out the words, but it has no effect on him. “No, you kill for free. You kill for yourself. So it looks like we’ve got something in common after all.” I huff out a few incredulous breaths at that remark. “Boy, Sasha is right. You are delusional if you think my escaping a life of sexual slavery with some old man—” “I’m not that old—” “Tet,” I cut him off. “You are insane if you think my father was giving me to you. OK? No offense, because you’re hot and I’d go back and do it all differently if I thought you really were the guy I was promised to. But there’s no possible way on earth that’s the case. OK? So yeah, I killed a bunch of people to get away. And I’m not sorry either. I’d do it again and never think twice!” I bite my lip as my hysterical words echo off the tiled walls for a moment, and then the place goes quiet.
He takes three quick steps towards me and I back up instinctively, but I hit the sink. And then before I can come up with another plan, he’s pressed up against me, standing over me almost. His stare is captivating because everything about his expression, his body language, his breathing—all of it says this moment counts. His hands hover over my shoulders and then he gives me a crooked smile. “Harper,” he says calmly. “What?” I snap again. “I want you. I’m going to touch you. I’m not fighting with you anymore. It’s a waste of time. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you right here, right now. In this goddamned desert shithole bathroom even though you deserve to be fucked on a tropical beach or somewhere with a mountain view, or, hell, even the goddamned Hummer would be better than right here. But you know what?” I swallow down my surprise. “What?” “You gotta make the most of what you got. And we’re not on a tropical beach or in front of a goddamned beautiful mountain. And fucking Smurfette is probably out in the Hummer. So this is all I got.” “None of this has anything to do with the fight we’re having.” He smiles and then nods at me. “Oh yes, it does. Because here’s the thing, Harp. We are about to have makeup sex. Right the fuck now. And if you
don’t want me to do that, then feel free to finish this fight properly. You ready?” “So you’re gonna force me.” “I’ll count to three so you can have a few more moments to decide. One.” My heart begins to beat wildly. “What the hell—” “Two.” His hands are still hovering above my shoulders but now they slowly descend to rest on my upper arms. “Three.” I expect to be turned around, pushed against the sink, and fucked from behind. But that’s not what I get at all. His hands descend down my bare arms, stopping at the elbow for a brief moment to caress the soft skin on the underside. And then they continue down to my waist. He eases them underneath my tank top, and then places both palms flat against my skin. “I’ll take that as permission to proceed, but feel free to stop me at any time.” And then his strong hands grab my waist and place my ass on the edge of the sink. He cups my face and leans in, his lips lightly touching mine. I kiss him back. With tongue. I can feel the smile on his lips. Because he knows I gave in with that tongue. He won this fight hands down. I am out for the count before the bell even rings. “I win,” he whispers into my mouth. “I’m not here to fight with you. I’m not here to trick you.
I’m not here to kill your pain-in-the-ass piece-ofshit brother. I’m here for you, Harper. And that’s all there is to it. And if I have to yank your cute little ass into a roadside bathroom to make you understand that, I will. Every single time. I will. You and me,” he says, pointing to each of us. “We are the only ones who matter.” I shake my head as I try and absorb this. “I don’t understand any of this, James. Why, why, why? All I want to know is why?” “Why, Harper? I have no why answers. Your father, your brother, Sasha probably, they have the why answers. But your father and brother are lying and Sasha is very close to copping out on her own. So we’re gonna let all this run its course and you’re gonna follow my lead.” I don’t know what to say. Some of this makes sense. Especially Sasha. She wants to tell us what she knows, but she’s holding out for reasons that have nothing to do with loyalty to the people working against us. She’s holding out until she can trust us. So he’s right about that. I rest my head on his shoulder as he unzips his pants, pulls out his dick, and grinds his hips against me. “Lift up,” he says, his voice still soft but controlling. I lift up and then my shorts are dangling off my ankles. Then his hands slide under my ass, lifts me up,
and he walks me across the bathroom and pushes me up against the heavy wooden door. His cock slides in, but so slowly it’s driving me crazy. “Harder,” I whisper. “This doesn’t qualify as fucking the shit out of me.” He chuckles against my ear as he slides out, again, so very, very slowly before entering me again. “You’re wrong, Harp. You’re so wrong.” His hand slides over my behind and one finger finds the bud of my ass. I moan a little as he pushes it inside, and then something overtakes me, and I’m pushing back against the pressure. “More,” I pant. “I want more.” “Baby,” he growls, “you will get all of it very soon. But right now this will have to be enough. Now, put your hand under my balls and hold them, like you’d hold something very precious.” My hand is in motion the second he asks. I love when he tells me what to do during sex. It’s so completely fucking hot. My fingertips find the soft skin of his balls and I cup them gently, moving them back and forth in my palm. “Yes, that’s perfect, Harper. I want them in your mouth.” I’m already struggling to be let down so I can make his wish a reality, but he stops me. “Not here. Because I will want to fuck you all night long once I get your head between my legs.” He removes my hand and lifts my fingers to my lips. I suck on them the way he likes. They slide in and out slowly, like we’ve got
all the time in the world to orgasm. Then the door handle jiggles next to my hip and then comes knocking. A man’s voice talks in Spanish. “Ignore him,” James whispers. “He is no one to us. I meant what I said. We are the only ones who matter.” The man knocks again, talking louder this time. But James responds with a hard thrust and I moan. Another thrust, another moan. And I realize he’s doing it on purpose when the demands on the other side of the door become furious. “Me,” James says, lowering his face so I have to look him in the eyes. I instantly forget the commotion on the other side of the door and all I see is the soul he’s hiding behind the green. “Only me, Harper.” He leans in and bites my shoulder, making me squeal. “Yes, do that again.” And he does. He fucks the shit out of me. Slowly. Taking his time. Thrusting his hardest. Ignoring the world on the other side of the door until he spills himself inside me, calling out my name as I moan his. We collapse into an embrace, a hug really. And wait for the aftershocks to dissipate. And now there are more voices outside. Someone threatening to call the police. I raise my eyebrows at James for that one.
“Please,” he says, probably loud enough for the people outside to hear him. “It’s the fucking Mojave Desert. I’m pretty sure no one’s coming.” And then he sets me down and grabs a few wet paper towels to clean me up. “Thank you,” I whisper, as he holds my shorts open so I can step back into them. He even pulls up the zipper and buttons them up. And then, when we are good and ready, he unlocks the door and opens it up. We get angry stares from the little Mexican guy, a thumbsup from some teenager, and a look of disgust from an older couple. “Sometimes,” James says, stopping in front of the old people, “you gotta grab that moment, ya know? I just never know which ones will be the lifechangers, so I treat them all the same. We had a fight. And then we made up. Life is good again. So”—he does a little bow to the smirking old lady, who is charmed by his honesty—“my apologies.” He holds my hand, swings it, actually, until we reach the Hummer, and then he opens my door for me and goes around to jump in his side. “Well,” Sasha says. She’s lying down on the seat of the Hummer stuffing her mouth with multicolored candy worms, sweating like crazy because it’s hot as hell in here. “If you try and explain what took you so long, I will plug my ears and sing la-lala. So just don’t.” “Finally,” James says as he starts the Hummer and
puts it in gear. “I have a way to render the Smurf speechless.” And me too, I think to myself as I stare at the desert going by. Me too. Because slow and honest will get me every time.
Chapter Thirty-Two - James
I like the thought of the desert when the blood is practically dripping off my hands after a kill, but experiencing it outside of an air-conditioned house, that’s another thing altogether. And the 1992 Hummer is not known for its awesome airconditioning power. We might be in hell. But the desert is a hell I can relate to. It’s a hell I belong in. It’s a hell that calls me over, invites me in, and offers me sanctuary from my sins. The desert heat is a penance I joyfully accept on the off-chance that suffering in the heat is enough to dry the blood on my hands. I hate the fucking heat. I hate the fucking desert. But when you deal in death, you must atone in all ways possible. And my motto is, Things can always get worse. Hell could be worse than the Sonoran Desert in the summer. Hell could be the Sonoran Desert in the summer with ninety percent humidity. “Um,” Harper says, as we stare at the shack Merc
calls ‘the Sonoran safe house’ from the tepid comfort of the climate-controlled Hummer. “I don’t think it has air-conditioning.” “It barely has walls,” Sasha adds. “I’m not going in there. I bet there are more rattlesnakes inside than there are outside.” She’s probably right about that. “Come on, you two are exaggerating. It’s fine.” Fucking Merc. That asshole never comes through for me. Ever. Who has a shithole for a safe house? Mine are stocked with anything you could need on the run. I got guns, I got a vehicle, I have first-aid kits in every bathroom. I have dry goods in the pantry and — “Let’s get a hotel,” Harper offers with a wave of hope in her voice. “I’m sure Palm Springs has nice hotels. It’s a resort town, isn’t it?” She makes a face as she looks around. Right. I’m getting the feeling she hates the desert too. I turn the engine off and the air-conditioning stops. The three of us begin to sweat simultaneously. All of a sudden we can’t get out of the Hummer fast enough. “Come on, let’s just rest a little bit and then we’ll see how we feel once the sun goes down. We should at least stay the night, then start again in the morning.” “It’s lunchtime, James,” Sasha says with an irritated clip as she smacks the back door closed.
“Sunset is practically tomorrow.” I take Harper’s hand and ignore the Smurf. She can go wherever she wants. I’m not her keeper. We make for the front door as Sasha checks for snakes and Harper drags her feet behind me as I tug on her. Merc’s place looks like it was built by mud-hut dwellers in ancient times. The kid was wrong, walls are the only thing it has going for it. Thick—I’m talking like three feet thick—adobe mud walls. I know this because the front door is recessed back about that same depth. I grab the handle, then pull back from the sting of burning metal on my palm. Fucking desert. I use my t-shirt to twist the handle and find it unlocked so the door swings inward. A rush of cool air smacks us in the face and all three of us say, “Ahhhh,” in surprise. “It does have air-conditioning,” Sasha says. We all move forward into the house and then I close the door. “No, I think it’s just naturally cool in here because of the adobe walls.” We’re standing in a small foyer in front of a flight of steps leading down to a sunken room. Up here on the terrace is another room off to the side. It’s got bars on three sides. “It’s a jail,” Harper says, looking up at the cell as she walks down the stairs to the living area. “An old jail, from like the cowboys and Indians days,” Sasha adds. “I bet Jesse James stayed here.
Or some other famous outlaw.” She laughs and looks at me. “Like you, James.” “Like you, Smurf.” “Merc belongs in a jail,” Sasha says as she follows Harper. “If that asshole has a style, this is it. Retro poky. But it’s better in here than outside. I guess we can stay. These couches look comfortable.” She’s right, the couches do look comfortable, and the coolness makes everyone love it instantly. It’s a helluva lot nicer on the inside than it is on the outside. I have my gun ready in case there’s someone here, but I know where Merc is, and it’s not anywhere near Palm Springs, so it’s just a formality. “Is there a kitchen? And water? I want to take a shower. I’m still gooped up with blood and dirt.” The morning’s bullshit comes rushing back to me. I’d already forgotten about the kid’s drugged-up bike ride this morning. It feels so long ago. “Knock yourself out. I’m sure there’s a shower somewhere.” I pull Harper over to the couch. It’s just some old comfortable thing with a white sheet over it to keep the dust off, but I do not care. I plop down and then pull her into my lap. “We can stay a night, right? Have some alone time?” I waggle my eyebrows at her. God, I just want to settle for a little bit. Hold her close for a night and forget about shit. Is that too much to ask for? “Shit,” Sasha calls from another room. “James,
you better come in here.” I push Harper up and we find Sasha in a pretty decent modern kitchen. It’s got new appliances and stone countertops. It even has a six-burner stove. “Nice,” Harper says as we look around. But then I notice what Sasha is staring at. A phone. “What the fuck?” I look over at Sasha and she’s shaking her head. “I didn’t,” she insists. “I have nothing to do with this phone. At all.” “And it’s lit up,” Harper says. “Like the one I found at your place, James.” “What fucking phone at my place?” “Remember? I told you about that phone that was waiting for me on your kitchen countertop. When I came in it was lit up and there was a message from Nick on it. That was the phone the assassin was sending messages to after he took Sasha.” I shake my head. “No, you did not tell me that.” “Yeah,” she insists. “I thought it was from Nick, and it said, ‘We’ll talk soon. Don’t forget why this is happening.’ And it had that little mushroom icon, like the one on the message this morning.” I don’t want to hear about a mushroom. There’s no way that can mean what I think it does. I look away from her so she can’t watch me struggle to make sense of this. This whole fucking job is a mess. Nothing has gone right.
“James?” Sasha tugs on my t-shirt. “Should we listen to it?” I turn back around but Harper already has it in her hand. “Listen to it?” “There’s a message,” Harper says as her finger swipes the screen. It takes everything in my power not to snatch that phone right out of her hand. Her finger connects with the right button and there’s some static as a voice cuts in and out. “That was not in the plan.” And then the phone beeps to signal the message is over. “What plan?” we all say together. I play the stare game with them. They look at me with narrow eyes. I shoot them back a silent don’t-fuck-with-me and then direct my attention to Sasha. “It wasn’t me.” She’s shaking her head. “That message was not for me.” I look back to Harper. “That was Nick?” She nods. “But… I don’t know what he’s talking about. None of this makes any sense. And don’t even bother asking me what the plan was when we left last year. He never told me.” I believe her. So I don’t ask that question. I just need some fucking time to think. I need some answers. I need a way to get those answers and I need to make contact. “Well,” Sasha says as she puts her head on the counter. “I’m tired. Nick is obviously not gonna come try and kill us. That would make no sense.
Let’s just stay here. I don’t want to drive any more. Besides, that message could’ve been for Merc, right? I mean, this is his house.” Harper shoots me a look. “Your friend is working with my brother?” I don’t answer, just let the question hang there. I change the subject back to Sasha. “I thought you were worried about snakes inside, Smurfette?” She yawns and walks off. “You guys can do what you want. But Merc’s like my default adopted father, so the way I see it, I own this place. I’m gonna find a bathroom and clean up. Then I’m going to sleep.” We watch her walk out of the kitchen and then Harper turns to me. “That kid is like a pendulum. She swings in every direction. I thought Merc was the devil?” I don’t know what to say to that, either, so I change the subject. “Do you want to stay?” She gives me a wicked little smirk. “Do you?” My grin is so wide, she starts laughing. “I do,” I whisper in her neck as I pull her close. “We need some down time. It’s been go, go, go since we met. I can use some peace.” She wriggles free and puts a hand on my chest. “No more sex.” “What?” I almost choke. “It’s not right. I have so many personal questions for you. Questions I should have answers to if
we’re together. And if we’re not together, then none of this is appropriate.” “Harper,” I say softly as I grab her hand and twine our fingers together. “How much clearer do I have to make it? You agreed to be mine when I took your virginity.” She pries her hand free of mine and then walks back out to the living room and sits down on the couch again. I sit next to her and she lays her head down in my lap. “Things have changed though.” I play with her long golden hair, making sure to touch the back of her neck with each pass once I figure out it makes her shiver. “What things?” “I mean, everything that happened today, James. I killed a man. You admitted to killing all the other assassins. My brother leaving cryptic messages. Who’s this message for? Me? I guessed that the first one was for me, but it was in your house and that one might’ve come from the guy I killed. So maybe it was for you?” She tips her head back so she can look me in the eyes. “Do you know my brother?” “I’ve met him, of course. I’ve seen him every year on your birthday. So yeah, I know him. But this morning’s message was clearly not him. Why would he kidnap Sasha?” “Why seems to be the only question we are able to ask right now. Who do you work for?” “I told you, I work for me. Who do you work
for?” I counter. “I work for me too, I guess. And Sasha seems to work for whoever she’s with. So how do we know whose side we’re on?” I swipe a few stray strands of hair off her forehead. “Trust me. I know what’s best. If you just trust me, Harper, it will be OK.” I lean down and kiss her on the nose. “You and me, Harper, we’re in this together. I’m the only one you should always trust. No matter what’s happening. I’m the one you look to. Because everything I’m doing is for you and me. Not just you, not just me. But both of us.” “But I don’t even know you, James. Trust is something you earn. And I’m not sure you’ve earned that kind of trust. I think you’re hot. And sex with you is something I want to get used to. But back under the pier, that first day you came to me, you said you didn’t just want to fuck me, you wanted to know me. And so far you’ve done a pretty shitty job at getting to know me. All you really did was fuck me. In fact, you know nothing about me outside of those one-day birthday trips. And I know even less about you. So which one is it?” She sits up and turns around, tucking her feet underneath her so she can be eye level with me. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you want something convenient and fast filled with sex and that’s it. Or you want something meaningful and you earn the trust that comes with it.”
She stops talking and I’m still playing her words over in my mind. It comes across as a hesitation, so she makes to get up. But my brain kicks in before her feet find the floor and I pull her back onto my chest. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll tell you anything you want.” She thinks for a moment and I imagine every horrible question she can possibly dream up. What did it feel like to kill the first time? Why did it take them so long to rescue you when you were captured? Do you think your parents love you? Why didn’t they fight harder to keep you safe from the Company? Do you miss your brother? What happened to your sister? I draw in a breath, running all the ways in which I’ll have to lie to her when these questions are asked. But all of that’s unnecessary. Because her question finally comes out. And everything about it throws me off my game.
Chapter Thirty-Three - Harper
“What was the best present you ever received?” I ask him. “As a kid, like a little kid. Because the best present you ever received as an adult was me.” I bat my eyelashes at him to let him know I’m not mad. And I’m not mad. I’m not trying to push him away, I just need more… details. More personal things. More job things. More killing things. Getting to know someone is a process. And I don’t want to skip it. I don’t know if I love him, but I like him. A lot. And knowing he’s been with me since I was a kid, even in just that small, distant way once a year, it means something. It makes him more than just a guy. He’s a guy who knows things about me. About my family. And he still wants to stick it out. Or… he’s using me to get to Nick. Which might be the case. And this is a good way to figure that out as well. I have trust issues. I know this. But either way, getting closer—more personal—this will meet the objective no matter what. He’s watching me with a very skeptical look as I think all this through. Probably a mirror of the confusion I’m battling
internally as well. “Well…” He clears his throat. And then he pauses so long I decide to pick it up. “I’ll go first. OK?” I tip my head up and smile. He’s considering his options, I can tell. He’s trying to decide to be honest or lie. If I want something from him, I need to give it first. This is how they work, right? The assassins thrive on favors. You owe me, I owe you, and we’re even. So I lie back down in his lap and start. “My best gift was not that stupid Hello Kitty notebook you gave me.” His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and I bite my lip to stop the smile. “It was a fish from my brother.” James threads his fingers through my hair and that feels so good, I want to close my eyes and moan. But not yet. “He always gave me presents when we were small. Little things. An extra piece of fruit at breakfast. Rocks and seashells. One time he made me coconut dolls.” I smile so big when I think about this and I almost let the sadness seep in and ruin the moment. But I push that down and remember how happy he made me. “That was a great present too. And he scraped all the coconut husk off the shell, except where the big bushy eyebrows went. And I had a mom and dad and a brother and a sister. The perfect family.” The sigh comes out before I can shut it down and James traces the curve of my lips. “That was such a good
present. But the very best present was a lionfish.” I look up at James again and he’s shaking his head with a grin. “He caught you a lionfish?” I nod. “He did. I was obsessed with them. I told you that day we became Six that I touched them. And I did. Every time I saw one snorkeling my hand just reached out.” “And they didn’t sting you?” James asks with a laugh. “They’re venomous, you know.” “I know. And I did get stung, like four or five times. My dad was so pissed, he finally said I wasn’t allowed to snorkel anymore.” “This was before or after the present?” “Before.” “So Nick gave you the forbidden fruit. And you were allowed to keep it? On the ship?” I nod as I remember. “Yeah. We had a nice tank. We were twelve. Old enough to take care of it ourselves. It was big too. Of course, we had a guy on board who really took care of it. But back then Nick and I felt like we were in charge. We had a pufferfish too.” “You did not.” James laughs. “Pufferfish venom is another calling card of mine.” “We did,” I exclaim as I try to sit up and make my case. But James pushes me back down into his lap, and I’m too comfortable to fight it. “That came after. Because one day we came upstairs and all the
fish were dead. Oh my God, I cried so hard over those fish. No one knew what happened. My father was furious. I’m not sure if it was because I was crying like an idiot over it, or the inconvenience of replacing them. But we cleaned up the tank and a few weeks later we were near a reef and Nick got permission to go catch fish.” “And he came back with your lionfish.” “He did.” “He loves you, I guess,” James says as he drags some hair off my forehead. “I know.” “Did you ever give him such a fantastic present?” I shake my head but suddenly it’s difficult to talk as a lump of sadness appears in my throat. I swallow it down and find my voice. “I could never think of something special like he could.” “I think you were his something special, Harper. I’m sure he didn’t need a present to let him know you loved him.” “Yeah.” I sigh. “But I wish he had something to think about like I do. The feeling when you receive a gift from someone who loves you. And everything about that gift says you’re special.” “Well,” James says through his own sigh. “I can’t think of a single gift I’ve gotten that actually… meant something.” “You never got gifts?” “No, I did. Cars. Trips. Shit like that. Shit rich kids
get. But to me, they were just things. Were you spoiled, Harper?” “Hmmm.” I think about it for a second. “I guess. I had a nice life.” “Did your father buy you things instead of spending time with you?” “No, we didn’t get a lot of frivolous presents. And my dad hardly spent any time with us at all. We were mostly ignored except at dinner or parties. But when you live on a two-hundred-and-twentyfoot yacht and your whole life consists of sailing around the tropics visiting paradise, that’s probably enough to qualify as spoiled.” And so that was my life. The beaches, the boats, the water. And once a year on my birthday, a party. I think back to those birthdays, but they mostly run together. Presents, beaches, swimming, fireworks… They all run together except for one. “What did you think when you first saw me?” He sucks in some air and when he exhales I close my eyes and picture that day again. “Well,” he says softly. “That day on the beach when we both became Six I thought you looked like a sea nymph who would sing a song and I’d lose my mind from the beauty of your voice.” “You are such a liar,” I snort. He pokes my armpit, testing to see if I’m ticklish. I am, so I squirm, and then his hand slips to my breast and finds the hard pebble of my nipple. He pinches it
and I moan a little. “You want to know what I thought about when I saw you in Huntington that first time?” My hand slides up my stomach and I place it over the top of his and then grip him a little harder and rub my breast using his hand. “You’re turning me on, Lionfish. You know that, right?” “Tell me what you thought, James. I want to know.” My eyes close again. He slides his hand underneath my shirt and squeezes the nipple again with no fabric to dampen the pleasure. “It was my first day in HB. I had an apartment on PCH. I had some ripped Levi’s. Some vans. Some expensive sunglasses. Just fitting in like I do wherever I’m sent. And I had just finished taking a walk down the pier to check it out. It was just about sunset, and it was cold that day. Rainy and cloudy. So no one was paying any attention to the sunset.” “Except me,” I say softly. “Except you. I spotted your hair first. Then there was this break in the clouds and the sun hit your face in a way that turned your brown eyes to this incredible gold, and your hair was like a beacon on that gloomy day. Your beauty called to me, the same way it did back when we turned Six. And I knew the very second I saw you. You were my only reason to live.” I tip my head up so I can see him and he’s got a
sad frown on his face. “Because you had to shoot your brother?” He looks away and he takes a deep breath that lifts my whole body up with the effort. “There’s no one left for me to love but you, Harper. My brother is dead, my sister is probably dead. They took her that first year I was working because my mother was ‘getting ideas’ about my little sister’s promise. It was hard to get upset about my lot in life before that. I mean, that was just how it was, ya know? It never occurred to me that I was allowed to be outraged at the thought of my baby sister being promised to a man. So she disappeared. A few years later one of my contracts was shooting his mouth off before I pulled the trigger and he claimed he killed her. I took him at his word, because you know what? The idea that my sister was kidnapped as a toddler and given away as a child bride is just more than I can deal with.” “God, I’m so sorry. They never told me about the marriage stuff either. Not outright anyway. Not until I turned sixteen. And then that’s all they talked about.” “But your brother made sure that day never happened. Well.” James stops to correct himself. “No, that’s not true. You took care of it yourself, really. But either way, the gloomy sunset day was like… an ending to the bad things. That’s what I told myself. And then the day I finally decided to
ask you your name, I wanted it to be dawn instead of dusk. I didn’t want it to be an ending, I wanted it to be a beginning.” I picture him in his sorrow on the beach. “I was sad too. Missing my brother so bad my chest hurt all the time, and I used to hold that bottle of pills so tightly in my hand, I’d have sore arms the next day.” “But you never took them. I used to count them every night.” What? I’m back from the moment and I need more answers about this surveillance he was doing. “Who sent you to the beach?” “Your father.” “So he was watching me.” “Probably.” “You were watching me for him?” “I guess. It was not a job. I was on leave. And I never reported to him. Not one thing I did on that beach was reported.” I’m silent for a long time. Long stretches of minutes go by and the only thing that registers is the feeling of James playing with my nipples. Every now and then he squeezes a bit and the nowfamiliar wet feeling between my legs makes me squirm. “Do you want me to keep going?” he finally asks. “Will I want to hear the rest?” “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“Do you want me to know the rest?” “Yes, I do. I have wanted to say these things to you since the day under the pier.” I tip my chin up so I can see him better and nod. “OK.” “I followed you home after the sunset. I broke into your apartment that night. And every single night thereafter. I watched you—” And as soon as he says this part, his hand slides into my shorts and slips down to play with my pussy. “Did you touch me?” I ask, my breath becoming faster as his fingers begin to explore my folds. “Or did you just watch?” “I touched you.” “Where?” I slip my hand inside my shorts and begin to caress my clit in slow circles. “Here?” “No,” James says softly. And then he pulls his hand out of my pants and brings it to my lips. “Here.” His fingertip traces the curve of my lip again, like he was doing earlier. But this time it’s slick with my own juices. “Did I suck you?” “I wish,” he laughs. “No. I was afraid to wake you, so it was a very small touch.” “Did I ever moan?” “Yes. It drove me crazy.” “Did you want to fuck me?” He slides his hand back into my shorts and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I dreamed about
fucking you. Every night.” “Did you masturbate as I slept?” “Yes,” he whispers. “Show me,” I whisper back. He draws in a sharp breath, staring down at me. “Sit up on your knees,” he commands. I get up, my heart beating faster at the prospect of watching him. “Take off your shirt.” I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head as he unfastens his pants. His dick is so hard it springs forth once the confining fabric releases it. “Take off your shorts.” I stand up, unbutton them, and let them slide down my legs. He takes his shirt off and then stands up next to me and lets his pants drop before sitting back down. “Kneel and put your head here,” he says, patting the top of his thigh. I never stop looking him in the eyes as I kneel and lay my head on his leg and my hands automatically begin to stroke his muscled calf. His cock is only a few inches away and I want to put it in my mouth so bad I tremble. But then his large hand grabs hold of the shaft and begins to pump. I watch as he grows even bigger and it scares and excites me at the same time to think of that inside me. After a few strokes he stops. “Get it wet for me, Harper.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Suck it.” OK, sucking I can do. I lean forward and touch the tip of my tongue to his head, licking off the pearl of wetness that has already gathered there. “Deeper, baby,” he says through a moan. I open wider to take in more and then his hand is on my head, forcing his cock down my throat. I breathe through it like he taught me last time he did this. “Good girl. You’re a very good girl.” But his pressure increases as soon as the words are out and I gag. He doesn’t let up and my mouth fills up with saliva. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. “Make my dick wet.” The pooling saliva drips out of my mouth and onto his cock, then slides down towards his balls. “Rest your head back on my leg, Harper. Relax now, and watch.” I do relax. His cock is slick with my saliva and he pumps it in long strokes. I can tell he’s squeezing hard by the way he groans when his hand fists the top of his head. When I look up at him, he’s staring at me. “I did this in front of you when you slept sometimes.” “Did you want to stick it in my mouth?” “No.” He smiles when I have a look of surprise on my face. “No, I always fantasized about you waking up and watching me and then you’d stick your fingers in your pussy and we’d masturbate together, coming at the same time.”
“And then what?” I open my legs and finger myself, making sure to keep my head on his thigh. His eyes never leave mine and mine never leave his. “And then I’d kiss you and tell you it was just a dream. And you’d close your eyes and go back to sleep.” “You didn’t want to fuck me?” “Shit,” he laughs. “Yes, Harper. I wanted to fuck you. But not like that.” “You’re so weird.” “Why’s that?” He kneads my breasts, twisting my nipples gently every few seconds. “I just don’t get you. You want me, but you feel guilty for wanting me. It’s because of the promise? And my age? You hate that I’m young, don’t you?” “Jesus fucking Christ, no. Just thinking about how young you are makes me want to fuck you harder.” “Then what do you want that I’m not giving you?” He waits a few beats and it makes me so nervous I want to scream at him. “Tell me,” I finally beg. “Just tell me what you want. I’m ready to do almost anything.”
Chapter Thirty-Four - James
“Trust me,” I tell her as I pull her up off her knees and have her straddle my lap. “That’s it. I feel like I’ve fucked that up along the way and I’m not sure how to get it back. You think I’m here to kill you or your brother. And I’ve told you over and over, that’s not my job.” I put my fingers on her lips and she opens her mouth to suck. And holy motherfucking shit, all I can think about is stuffing my cock down her throat again. “Let me finish before this body wipes my mind of all coherent thoughts.” She giggles a little, like I’m kidding. And it pisses me off that she’s not hearing me. So I grab her face and hold her a little too tight. “Harper,” I say sharply as I fist her hair and make her gasp. “Listen to me. You’re not the job. But there is a job.” Now she’s listening. “Who?” “It’s not a who. Just trust me. Either you do or you don’t. Everything I’ve done since we became Six, whether I realized it at the time or not, it was all for you. For our moment. For a future that does not involve being in debt to anyone, especially the
Company. So no matter what happens, I need you to understand this. Everything I’m doing is about you. And your safety.” “You’re going to do something bad, aren’t you?” I throw up my hands a little at that statement and roll my eyes like a teenager. “I’m an assassin, Harp. You know what I do. I wish I could tell you no, I’m a good guy and I’ve always been a good guy. But I’m not. I’ve never done a good deed in my life. Not really—not for real, because if I was helping someone, then it was to gain a favor or pay a debt. But I want you, us,” I add quickly. “I want us more than anything else in the entire world. The fucking second I recognized you out on the beach watching that ugly sunset, that’s all I can think about. And yeah, having you rubbing up against my cock as you sit in my lap right now—that’s all part of it. But just part. And the sex is not enough.” “You want things like… marriage? And babies?” she asks with a puzzled look. “Don’t you?” She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want my sons to be made into soldiers or my daughters turned into trophy wives. And I don’t want to marry some old man who only wants me for sex.” “I just told you, I want more than sex and I’m not that old. Twenty-eight is not that old.” “James, how many times do I have to explain this? You are not my promise. My father is using
me to make you do things.” “It’s working.” It’s really fucking working. That bastard can ask me to do anything right now and I’d do it if it meant I could keep her. “Then I want you to stop. I don’t want you to play his games. Just run away with me. We can go anywhere. A big city where no one has a face. We can start again and forget all about the Company.” “Please, Harper.” I shoot her a sidelong look. “You cannot be that naive. The Admiral’s daughter and the last assassin. If ever there was a pair begging to be hunted down and killed, it’s us.” “Then let them try. Let them hunt us. Let them kill Harper and James and then maybe we can live again as other people. As new people.” “You want to fake our own deaths?” I laugh. “It would never work. They’re not stupid, Harp. They have endless resources, they have satellite surveillance, they own entire towns. If we were stupid enough to run away for real, they’d hunt us down like dogs to make sure we never talked.” “So it’s hopeless?” She’s got a sad pouty face on and I’m suddenly tired of this depressing conversation. I stand up, cupping her ass to keep her body close to me, and then walk across the room to the hallway closest to the kitchen. There’s a bedroom down here, I think. I walk with her head resting on my shoulder and stop at a door. “Open it,” I say.
She leans down a little, making her still-wet pussy rub against my stomach. The door swings open and presents the master bedroom. I walk her over to the bed and then ease her down gently, straddling her hips as her body settles into the soft down comforter. “Nothing’s hopeless, Harp. But this is an area I forbid you to go. You’re not in charge of finding our future, I am.” “But what if you need help? I’m not allowed to help?” “No. And we haven’t properly talked about what happened this morning with that—” Shit, what do I call it? “Murder?” she finishes with the word I was trying my best to avoid. I scoot down until my cock is nudging towards her entrance, pushing against her clit. She tries to open her legs, but my knees have her locked together. She whimpers as I thrust the head of my dick into her crease. Her folds are so wet, I have no problem sliding right inside her. Fuck, she feels so damn good. I ease out slowly, making her breath all ragged with panting and little moans slipping between her perfect lips. “Harper,” I say as I cup her face once again. “Look at me, Harper.” She opens her eyes, just enough to be legitimately open, but with my next thrust they close again. “If I tell you to stay put, what do you do?”
“Stay where I am,” she answers dutifully. But I’m not convinced she means it. Hell, she looks like she might come at any second. She’s cunning. And she’s got moves. I need to hammer this home. “Tell me why.” “What?” She opens her eyes now because I’ve stopped moving inside her. “Jesus, James, I’ll listen, OK?” “No, that’s not enough. Tell me why you’ll listen.” “Because you said so.” I shake my head at her. “Wrong answer. If I tell you to do something and you do it, the reason you do it is because you trust me. You understand?” “I trust you.” “Why do you trust me?” “James—” I lean down and kiss her softly. “Tell me why,” I whisper into her mouth. “Tell me, Lionfish. Why do you trust me?” My hips grind against her, moving my cock deeper inside her. She buckles her back and moans as her body protests the depth of penetration. I pull back and she groans, thrusting her hips towards me now, asking for more. “You trust me because I love you.” She opens her eyes and smiles. “You understand now? You trust me because I would never”—I cup her face harder as my movements inside her gentle—“ever hurt you. Do you understand that? If I tell you to walk through
fire, it’s because I know beyond a doubt that you are fireproof. If I tell you to take a bullet, it’s because I know that you are bulletproof. If I tell you to walk away from me, it’s because you know I will come back for you. No matter what I tell you to do, you will do it, and you will be safe because I said so. Because I love you. Because you trust my love.” I stare at her and she holds the moment with me, but then my pace quickens and the gentle lovemaking becomes more urgent. I can feel her body writhe beneath me, and even though we’ve only had sex a few times, this is her signal. “You will follow orders, soldier,” I say as I unlock her legs from between my knees. I hike her ankles up onto my shoulders and pump hard. She gasps and squeals with each penetration. “Say yes, sir, captain. Say yes, sir.” She explodes under me, murmuring something close to a, “Yes, sir, I will, yes, sir, I’m yours.” And that’s all my cock needs. I come inside her, spilling my seed into her, hoping against hope that we are creating a future together. Creating more than just me, more than just her. Making us. It’s every kind of love I’ve ever felt. It’s a gushing of emotion. It’s a promise and a conclusion at the same time. This chorus of long, satisfying moans wipes away all the blood years, all the contracts, and all my sins. It cleanses me in a way the desert
never could. It doesn’t dry me out, it fills me up. If death is a deal, then love is a promise. “You fill me up,” I growl, biting into the soft flesh of her neck until her back buckles and her fingernails claw into my back. “You fill me up and make me realize—” “Realize what?” she breathlessly prods when I don’t finish. Our hearts are still racing, pounding against each other, feeding off each other as they pump life through our veins. Pump life back into us. Take us away from the past and towards the future. I don’t even know how to convey what it is I’m trying to say, but words just pour out of my mouth like water. “You take away the dark emptiness, Harper. You take away all the years of indifference and dissociation and right now”—I cup her face again—“right now, this is more real than anything I’ve felt in years. Maybe ever. This feels like something new. Something apart from what I was and a way forward into what I can be. This feels like hope, baby.” She stares up at me, her expression solemn, her eyes searching, her brow worried. “I’m afraid to hope, James. I’m afraid to hope because I just think hope is a trap. Hope makes you want things that won’t come. Hope breaks your heart.” “Not my brand of hope, Harper. This isn’t about luck, baby. This isn’t about circumstances or fate or coincidence. It’s about construction. Building, from
the bottom up. It’s layer upon layer of secrets and debt. It’s level after level of subtle calculation and overt completion.” She tisks her tongue as I collapse on top of her, and then pushes on my body until I fall off to the side and wrap her in my arms. “All those words are meaningless unless I know what you’re doing. And you’re not telling me anything specific. And you know I’m not on any kind of birth control, right?” My eyes get heavy from the perfect combination of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Jesus Christ, woman. You did not hear a word I said. Just fucking trust me already.” I lean in and kiss her, this time with tongue and lingering, and we exchange breaths like lovers. I’m all talked out. Completely wiped out. But just before we drift off I feel her gentle touch as she moves my unruly hair away from my forehead. And then the press of her sweet lips as she whispers into my ear. “I trust you, Six. But you need to trust me too.”
Chapter Thirty-Five - James
“…you need to trust me too,” she whispers. I don’t answer. I can’t answer and besides, we’re too tired to talk about it now. The house is still cool enough to want her close, so I pull her towards me and place her head on my chest and just enjoy the moment. Things can change pretty quick in my line of work, so the moment is all you have. She falls asleep before me so I just lie here, twisting her long hair up in my fingers. For a guy who has no boundaries, no rules, and no oversight until after the fact, I’ve played it pretty straight with the Company since I took my number. I do what I’m told. I get the orders and I fulfill the contract. Death is my job. And even though most of the people who received my brand of justice over the years were walking scum and I had no regrets— hell, not even a slight hesitation—none of those killings were personal. Death is just a job. A contract is nothing but business. And I’ve always been on board with the business.
But I’m tired of the job. I’m tired of the killing. I’m tired of being flown into places with no knowledge of anything other than my target. I’m tired of making nice with locals, and sometimes the targets themselves, just to get the lay of the land before I blow the whole place apart. Figuratively, you know. I don’t often blow whole places up. But I have. I’m tired of making friends, getting people to trust me, and then backstabbing them. How many disappointed looks have I seen over the years? Too many to count. But Tet, the inner James starts up, did they haunt you? Did you care? Nope. Not even once. I should be haunted by the dead, or at the very least, have a little bit of self-doubt over whether or not what I do is for the greater good. But I don’t. And it’s not because I’m a believer. No, I’m not much of a believer at all. The Company can preach that sermon to me all they want. I will nod and say yes, sir to their face, but I have a built-in bulldozer and its only job is to clear away the shit they’re selling and leave my conscious clean and level. It’s because unlike Tony, I was trained right. I might be ready to shrug off the dissociation right now, but separating myself from reality got me through.
Why should I have remorse? Does a cashier have remorse for taking people’s money in exchange for goods? It’s just a fucking job. Harper moans and pulls away from me, the heat of our combined bodies too much, even though the thick adobe walls keep this place pretty comfortable. I let her have her space. She deserves to rest. It’s been a long fucked-up day and it’s not over yet. I get up and start the shower in the en suite bathroom. Merc’s place is not bad at all. And even though the outside is the shell of an old jail, the inside is clean, cool, and modern. I don’t know how much time he actually spends here, but it looks to be more than just an occasional squat house. He won’t be interrupting our visit though. He’s got his hands full with a personal job. This place has plenty of feminine touches that tell me he’s had women here, maybe even living here with him at times, but I know for a fact there’s no fucking woman calling this place home right now. Merc has a… checkered past when it comes to keeping girlfriends alive. I’m not saying he kills them. I’m just saying they often meet an untimely end. He admitted this to me himself back when we first met. I dropped that subject quick and he never brought it up again. And I didn’t get the impression he was avoiding it either, he just lost interest. Sasha is half right about Merc. He’s not the right
guy to take care of her. But she could do worse. She could get me as her adopted caregiver, for instance. As bad as Merc is, I’m worse. I definitely would not have left her alone out on the Colorado prairie. But not for altruistic reasons. I’d have put her ass to work. She’s not at a professional level, not even close. But she’s competent. And that makes her an asset. If she can be trusted. And I’m not sure she can. I wash my hair real fast, then finish up and wrap a towel around me and put my dirty jeans back on. I have no idea if Harper thought to pack me clothes, but I’m not about to go fish through the Hummer to find out. I leave the shirt off since it’s warming up in here, and go looking for the AC. I find the modern thermostat in the living room near the kitchen, and turn the temperature down and then make my way to the kitchen to check the food supply. And this kitchen he has, damn. He must cook or something, because the six-burner stove and the French-door fridge are telling me he knows his way around a frying pan. Inside the fridge is a selection of bottled water, some OJ, two bottles of wine, six beers, all with different labels, and some condiments. How thoughtful of him to leave us drinks. I smile at that as I grab a beer, fish the new phone out of my jeans pocket, and kick back on the couch as I play the message again.
“That was not in the plan.” No, none of this was in the fucking plan as far as I can tell. If it was, I never got the fucking memo. I blame it on the blackout. I bring up the keypad and dial my secretary. She picks up on the second ring. “Law offices of Poslow, Poslow, and Twifter. This is Janet, how can I help you?” “Janet, Poslow Senior here. Do I have any messages?” “Yes, sir, you got a call this morning from Mr. Twifter. No message, just wanted to know if you checked in. And Poslow Junior called as well. He left a contact number.” “Give it.” I key the number in as she talks, then give her a polite, “Thank you,” and hang up so I can press send again. I let out a long breath as I listen to it ring. Merc picks up on the second ring too. I love consistency. “Jasus fucking Christ, where the hell have you been?” “Traveling. You think I have hidden wormholes I can pop in and out of to get places or what?” “Yeah, well, Twifter is not happy, asshole.” “Twifter can kiss my ass. None of that shit this morning was me. But anyway, we’re here. Thanks for the beer.” I take a swig and let out a long, “Ahhh,” trying to piss off Merc, but that’s when I see the Smurf watching me from the jail cell up on the foyer terrace. “Call you later,” I say, and then I
press end on the phone. “What the fuck you doing up there?” “Who the hell were you talking to?” she snarls back. “Merc.” I hold up my beer and give her a pretend cheers. “Obviously that phone call was Merc. Before Merc, who the hell were you talking to?” “My secretary.” She stares at me and then gets up and walks to the jail cell door. That little shit was sleeping up in that jail cell. What a freak. “Why? I ask her. “You got a problem with me making calls?” She walks towards the steps and stops at the top. She’s all sweaty and flushed from the heat, and her hair is still wet from her earlier shower. The scratches from the thorn run-in this morning are still there, but now that the dried blood has been properly washed away, they are not so bad. She looks better and worse all at the same time. She looks unstable. “When you make a call to an associate from a phone that’s supposedly not secure, a phone that had some cryptic message you tried to blame on me, then yeah. I have a big fucking problem.” “Watch your fucking mouth around me, kid. Or I’ll smack the shit out of it.” She reaches behind her and pulls out a gun and points it at me. “Is that right?” “You better shoot me right the fuck now. Because
if you don’t, I’ll kill you just for pointing that weapon at me.” She reevaluates her target and decides on a spot above my head. Smurfette is clever. “Who were you talking to?” I eye the diameter of the chamber on her weapon and guesstimate .40. “You sure you can handle that thing? It’s got a nice kick to it. And if you miss me, I won’t miss you.” “I don’t miss. And I’ve been shooting this Glock for a while now. So I’ll happily take my chances. Now, who were you talking to?” “I already told you. My secretary, checking for messages. And Merc, returning a call.” “You were checking in. Who’s running this operation?” “I thought you knew?” She thinks about this for a few seconds. Gives it some consideration before she answers. “I know who I’m working for. I know who sent you to get me. And I don’t think we’re on the same side anymore.” “That’s too bad then,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders. “I was just beginning to like you. I was starting to hope I wouldn’t have to kill you.” “Funny,” she says with a coolness that sends a chill up my arm. “I was thinking the same thing.” My guffaw echoes off the ceiling and I have a genuine moment of amusement. “Looks like we’re
at an impasse, then.” She stays silent, but her hard stare never wavers. “So let’s make a deal.” “I don’t make deals with terrorists.” Another laugh bursts forth. “Kid, even the American government cuts deals with the terrorists these days. So dismount the high horse and listen.” She waves her hand at me, like I need her personal invitation to keep talking. I ignore her bravado because she’s earned it at the moment, and start picking my way through the minefield. “You have a measurable objective? Or just doing recon?” “Why would I tell you that?” she snorts. “I must look like an idiot to you. You must think I’m a joke. And that’s fine, you know. Because I like to be underestimated. If those guys out at my grandparent’s ranch had assessed me properly, well, I’d be dead right now, wouldn’t I? So be my guest, Tet. Give it your best shot. But I’ve grown up around every scumbag killer you can imagine. I know how to pick out the good ones. And it only took my nine-year-old self thirty seconds back at the Boise gun show to figure out you were never even in the running. You… are a very bad guy.” My fists are clenching the entire time she’s talking and by the time she’s finished, my palms are aching to hit something. It’s not what she said that pisses me off. It’s what she didn’t say. But I’m the professional here, so I keep my cool. “Yeah, got it.
You still worship the ground Ford walks on. He’s the hero and I’m the villain.” “You and Merc are both the bad guys. I saw it in Merc too. Before he got my dad killed he was just another asshole. But after the accident I had a lot of time to think it over. He’s not really an asshole.” She pauses. Choosing her words or reconsidering or who the fuck knows what this little monster is doing. I get impatient. “What is he then?” “Evil,” she replies with a cold edge to her voice. “He’s evil, just like you. You’re using Harper to get to Nick.” “Another good guess from the Smurf. But sorry, not the case, kid. I’m not even remotely interested in Nick at the moment. I’m not saying it will stay that way forever, but that’s not my objective. And while I am using Harper for lots of things—sex for one. Comfort. Passion. Friendship. Conversation. Take your pick, because I am using her for all those things right now—I’m not using her to get to Nick because I don’t need to. And I’d just like to make it clear that I won’t be doing anything that could hurt her. So if you’re suddenly feeling loyal to the Lionfish, you can rest your weary mind. I’m on her side.” “I don’t believe you,” she says immediately. “I can respect that,” I tell her back. “I can. I’m no one to you. You think I’m scum. You think Merc is
scum. And maybe we are. But there’s another level of low beneath me, Sasha. There’s people out there who eat the scum like me alive. Bottom-feeders. And you’re on the verge of scum yourself, so I’d like you to put down the gun, sit on that step right there, and listen to my offer. We can decide what to do about the impasse once you hear it. But you can’t act out of ignorance. Your father taught you that much, I’m sure.” Her mouth tightens at the corners when I mention her father. It’s pretty clear she does not put him in the company of scum. But whatever. He was an illegal arms dealer working for a shadow global governance. In my mind, he was every bit as scummed up as the rest of us. She steps down, then lowers herself into a seated position as she lowers the gun. “Good girl.” “Don’t, Tet. I grew up being patronized.” I throw her a nod. “Fair enough. You do not know who I work for. It’s not Merc. He’s not involved in any of this, OK? He’s off doing recon on a project you will probably be interested in. Paybacks, Sasha, always come due in our world. And someone got your dad killed, but it wasn’t Merc. We know who did it though.” “You do not.” “Shut up and listen,” I scold her like the child she is. “Because I’m not fucking around right now.” I
stare her down until she looks away and then I continue. “He knows who did it. And maybe the reason he’s gonna get his revenge has nothing to do with you, but does it matter why he sets things right? Does it matter why he gets his payback? Do you care if the person who ruined your life is dead for your reasons or his?” She takes a deep breath as she thinks it through. “He’s gonna kill the person who set them up?” “What do you think happens to people who get caught in Merc’s net, Smurfette?” She visibly shivers. And that pretty much says it all. I’d be shitting my pants if Merc was coming to kill me, that’s for sure. He might not be a trained Company man, but that fucker has no scruples. He never blinks. “So here’s the deal, OK? You’re gonna keep quiet about what you just heard and I’m gonna ask Merc for proof that the job was done.” She starts to object, but I raise my hand and stop her words before they start. “And I promise you, everything I’m doing is good for us.” “Who’s us?” she snorts. “The three of us, kid. You, me, and Harper. We’re sorta stuck together. So I’m making you a professional promise right now. All right? Whatever I do from here on out, it will be in our group interest.” “What if it’s in the best interest of the group that I die?”
Jesus, she has trust issues. I stand and walk towards the stairs. She never moves. I take each step slowly until I reach the top, and then I sit down and put my arm around her shoulder. She flinches, but that’s expected. “Sasha, if you trust me right now, I promise I will get you the proof you need from Merc and I will take care of you until you decide I’m an asshole and you can’t stand to look at me for another second and walk away.” Her shoulders slump a little and I can almost feel the sadness inside her. “I think you’re lying.” “So tell me no deal.” “I can’t. You know I can’t.” She turns her face up to me and she’s got tears streaming down her cheeks. “I think I need you, James.” “I think I need you too, Sasha. So give trust a chance.” She wipes her tears and hands me her gun. I handle the pistol, checking the weight, then the chamber—fully loaded. “You been carrying this the whole time?” I ask, trying to lighten up the mood. “Yeah, that’s my gun. My dad gave it to me last year for my birthday.” She sniffs again. “He even put in a new barrel and got me a suppressor for it.” “You ever shoot anything with it?” She nods. “One of the guys who tried to kill me on the ranch. I picked three of them off with a rifle, but this last guy thought he got away.” She turns her head up at me and smiles through her tears. “I
hid in his truck cab. Then shot him through the window.” “Sounds pretty dicey.” I try to imagine that scene and make myself stop. “It was.” She sniffs again but it’s not the wet midcry sniff like it was a few minutes ago. It’s an I’mover-it sniff. “So you’re pretty serious about this job stuff, Sasha? Because I really need your word that you will not talk.” I hold out her gun and she stares at it for a few seconds before taking it back. “I could use a backup, kid. I don’t like to get people involved in my jobs unless I have to, but I can’t have you doubting me. Or”—I put a finger under her chin and make her look me in the eyes —“making Harper doubt me. It’s gonna be hard enough to get this shit done without complications. I need you on my side, Sasha. And if you’re on my side, I’m on your side. Got it?” She nods and swats my finger off her chin. “Got it.” “Got what?” a wet-from-the-shower, fresh, delicious-looking Harper says from down below. She’s dressed in clean shorts and new tank top, black this time, and she’s got some cute sneakers on her feet. “What’d I miss?” I stand up and walk down the stairs. “Not much. Just making sure Sasha knows we’re all in this together.” I look back up at the kid and wink.
“Right, Smurf?” “That’s right,” Sasha says as she gets to her feet and comes down to join us. She looks at Harp and produces a smile. And if it’s fake, I’m convinced. “He said we’re partners now. So you know, when we find that buried treasure we’re after, I get a cut. Right, James?” “Buried treasure. Right, kid. You’re in.” And then Sasha takes Harper’s hand and leads her towards the kitchen as she talks about food. Her crying jag is over, her sadness tucked away, her smile in place, and her attitude adjusted. The relief I feel at procuring her cooperation is real. Sasha Cherlin is not a kid you want to fuck over without a plan.
ChapterThhirty-Six - Harper
“I don’t think there’s any food in here, Sasha.” “I bought us food at the visitor center, remember?” “Ohhhh… I forgot. What’d you get? I’m so hungry!” She goes over to her backpack and pulls out a plastic bag and then begins emptying the contents on the kitchen counter. Chips, those disgusting orange crackers, a half-eaten bag of gummy things, a chocolate bar that looks like it melted then congealed, and four sausage sticks. Even though I have not eaten in two days, my stomach flips over just thinking about that food. “James!” I call out. “Yeah,” he answers back a few seconds later. What’s he doing in there? I walk towards the living room and find him pulling on a shirt. “What’s up?” he asks. “I’m hungry and Sasha only bought junk food.” “Hey,” Sasha complains. “It was a vending machine, what do you expect?” “Can we go get something real?” I smile sweetly
at James because his eyebrows are all knitted together, creating some serious worry lines across his forehead. “Just some tacos or something? Please, I’m so hungry.” His worry lines soften and he smiles at me. “Yeah, OK, we gotta eat, right?” He looks over at Sasha now. “Are we all in agreement that we’ll spend the night here?” “This place is practically my home,” Sasha says with her new attitude. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here while you guys go get food.” “Negative, Soldier Smurf,” James says. “Get your shoes on, we’re sticking together from now on.” Sasha laughs at her nickname and then runs off to grab her things, while James puts his hands on my waist. “You look… fuckable.” “Mmm.” I place my palm on his perfectly muscled chest. He draws in a breath as I let my fingertip trace the outline of his nipple and when I look up his mouth is already there. His lips are soft right now. He gives me a small open-mouth kiss, and pulls away, then comes back to nip my lip the way he does. My hands automatically wrap around his neck. I am eager for more. Whenever he’s near, I feel a want inside me. I want to touch him, lick his beautiful body, wrap my legs around him, and never let him go. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper impulsively as he continues to gift me with his small, tender kisses.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” “That’s not true and you know it. We have to part sometime. What does our future look like? You will have jobs to do. Like Nick. You’ll leave me standing here on the deck of the boat, waving. And my heart will crash and burn every time, thinking I will never see you again.” “Harper—” “Don’t,” I cut him off gently. “Don’t say that’s not how it will be, because we both know it will. I want to do things with you, James. More than just sex. I want to have dinner with you, and go on vacation with you, and celebrate things with you. Like birthdays and Christmases. It’s a child’s dream to never be away from the ones she loves. I understand that. But I’m getting so used to you, James.” I look up at him and he’s frowning. “I’m getting so used to you, it scares me. Because I know this is only our beginning. All the struggles are out there yet. In front of us. Things we have to get through to have some kind of future. And I can’t do it, James. I’m not that strong of a person. I need pills if I have to stay behind and wait to hear if you’re still alive.” “No,” he says, tipping my chin up to make me look him in the eyes. “No more pills, Harper. Promise me. They’re a crutch and they make you weak and vulnerable. Your father gave you those pills to control you, don’t you understand?”
I disentangle myself from his embrace and turn my head. “If you’ve never been overcome with panic, then you have no idea what’s it like. I feel like I’m dying, James. Like my heart will come flying through my chest and life will be over. And if I don’t take the pills, then my mind starts in. Imagining my own death. Imagining the end. Giving in to the inevitability of it. If I don’t have the pills I give up.” I look back at him and swallow. “You take that giving-up feeling away. You make me feel safe… you’re like my cure. But without you…” I just shake my head. His hands find my waist once again and he pulls me close and the heat of his body combined with the heat of his stare makes me want to melt into him, make myself part of him, and never let him go. “I can’t promise you we’ll never be apart. It wouldn’t be honest. But I can promise you one thing. If I leave you, I will come back.” “How long will it take you to come back?” I ask, desperate for something to hold on to. “Give me a number of days. So I can count them.” He laughs at me and I laugh with him. “Harper.” “I know it’s stupid, but just give me a number. Five days?” “Five?” He laughs again, but it’s a hearty laugh. A genuine laugh. Like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Five days.” He breathes the words out. “It’s not very long. I can’t get much of
anything done in five days, Harp. How about fourteen?” “Fourteen!” Now it’s my turn to laugh. Only I’m appalled. “Nick was only ever gone for ten days at the most before we turned eighteen. And I about died of heartbreak that time. And now he’s been gone for three hundred and thirty-four days!” “Shhhh,” he says to me. “Stop now. Ten days I can promise. OK?” “I don’t know,” I waffle on the ten days. Ten days feels like forever too… “Ten days. You can count them.” “And you won’t be late?” I plead up to him. “You won’t forget?” “I won’t,” he says as he kisses me once more. His fingertips thread though my hair and he pulls back just enough to whisper in my mouth. “I promise to never be late.” I sigh with relief. But it’s just a small relief. It’s stupid to ask for this promise because there are so many ways for him to break it. I’m just setting myself up for disappointment and heartbreak. “OK,” Sasha yells from the living room. “I’m ready.” James kisses me one more time and then leads me back to the living room. “I’m so hungry, I want seafood,” I tell him. “This is the desert. You might have to settle for fish tacos.”
“Oh.” I let the disappointment slip out, but then I recover so my sucky attitude doesn’t ruin our night. “OK, fish tacos are fine.” You’d think I’d have taken advantage of all the fresh seafood while I was living at the beach, but I didn’t frequent any of the nicer dining places. I only ate takeout. I’ve never had a fish taco. We usually ate on the ship when we were in port. But if we did go to a restaurant, it wasn’t the beach huts where one usually finds fish tacos in the tropics. But if that’s all I can get here, I’ll take it. We pile in to the sweltering Hummer. Sasha complains loudly about the hot leather seats and scoots over to sit on the ‘hump’, which in a Hummer is as big as a table. There should be a nice long bench set in this thing so a person could use it as a bed. But no. Two regular-sized buckets and the table thing in the middle. “Sasha, sit your ass in a seat,” James barks at her. “And put your seatbelt on.” She does what he says, but not quietly. I peek back at her and smile. We feel sort of like a family. James is talking about restaurants as we pull out of the long driveway, then wait for a lone car to pass before turning towards the late afternoon sun and heading into the actual city of Palm Springs. Sasha talks about things kids think about. Things I might have thought about last year, like the shimmer you see on the road off in the distance
when it’s hot out or the different types of cactus. Back when I was a kid. Back before I gave up my family for this life of waiting. I know James is lying about the ten days thing. But he knows, no matter what my head says about it, my heart will believe him once. And I just have to hold out hope that once is all it will take for him to come back for me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven - James
“What’s this place?” Sasha asks as I pull into the Palm Destiny Resort valet. “What’s it look like?” I ask back. I gauge how much time until sunset and come up with an hour and a half, maybe. Merc could live a little closer to town if you ask me, but whatever. So far Harp and I have not had a proper sunset. But this restaurant is on the top floor and has a view of the pool, palm trees, and the mountains—so it faces west. The perfect sunset is within our grasp. Even if I do have to share it with Smurfette. “A hotel,” Sasha says dryly. “Why are we at a hotel if we’re going out to eat?” I look over at Harper as we wait for the valet to finish up with the car in front of us. She said she wants to have dinner with me and celebrate shit. Like families do, that’s the way I took it. And while the Smurf in the back is not part of my plans for the future, she’s a partner for now. So she’s family too. “The lionfish wants seafood, so seafood she shall have.” “This looks like a place you need reservations,
James. I bet we can’t get a table.” “Reservations. Pfft. Please, Harper. A little bit of faith.” The valets appear, opening doors for the girls, and I get out and shake the hand of the guy on my side. I slip him some cash. “Park it outside where you can see it, please.” And then I walk around the dirty piece-of-shit Hummer and take Harper’s hand. We’re not dressed up, and the top-floor restaurant typically requires top-floor attire, but they won’t be turning me away. I lead the girls inside and then take them over to a seating area filled with plush couches and chairs. “Watch TV for a sec, will ya? I’ll be right back.” I peck Harp on the cheek and go looking for my contact. I bypass the front desk, the concierge, and all staff wearing anything that resembles the kind of uniform required when you work with customers, and instead head straight for the door that says, Housekeeping, Employees Only. I bump right into a large older woman wearing a maid’s uniform. “Can I help you?” she asks cautiously in her thick Spanish accent. “I’m looking for Raul,” I reply back. She eyes me with suspicion, making the lines on her forehead come together in a v pattern. “Who is asking?” “Six.” “OK,” she says, sucking in a breath, like she’s preparing for terrible news. “I am tonight’s Raul.
What you do need?” “Dinner,” I say with a smile. “For three, top floor.” She laughs. “Dinner?” She laughs again. “Dinner,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Whew, I OK with dinner. I do dinner for you, Mr. Six.” It comes out Meester Sex, but that’s just fine with me. I bet she thought I had a body cleanup job for her. She’s a maid, after all. That’s what Company maids do. “You go upstairs,” she says, scribbling something down on the back of a business card that has a sailing yacht on it and says, Tate Global Engineering. She hands me the card and I flip it over to read the script. Company Man. “You go up, I tell them you coming.” “Thank you,” I tell her as I leave the way I came in. When I get back to the lobby Harper and Sasha are huddled next to each other as they watch TV. They could be related, that’s how alike they look right now. Long blonde hair. Sasha has blue eyes, and Harper’s are brown, but they both have petite features. Small noses, small mouths, and lean bodies from years of being outdoors. “Let’s go, girls.” I wave them to me and they both come quickly. “What’s wrong?” I ask them. “Harper thought she saw someone she knew outside.” “Who?” I ask as I hold the elevator doors open for them.
“I don’t know,” Harper says, looking over her shoulder. “He just looked familiar. Some guard we had on ship. But that’s silly. He was a personal guard, and they never leave the ship.” We’re silent as the elevator takes us to the topfloor restaurant. She’s probably imagining things, but I don’t like the new vibe in the air all of a sudden. The doors part a few seconds later and before us is the grand dining room. The maître d’ smiles widely, even though we are not dressed. Being Six has certain perks. Getting your ass kissed by a glorified waiter is not usually up there with my top ten, but right now, it’s number one. Because I just want Harper to have a nice evening. “Your table is waiting, sir,” the maître d’ says. And then he waves us forward to the waiter. We are taken to the far side of the restaurant and seated in front of a window with a view that impresses even me. “Wow,” Sasha says as she takes a seat facing the window. “I bet the sunset is fantastic.” I look over at Harper and smile. I sure the fuck hope so. The waiter calls off the day’s specials and Harper’s eyes light up with the mention of fresh fish flown in daily on the weekends. The waiter takes drink orders and as soon as he leaves Harper leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “A fish taco stand this is not.”
“No fish tacos for you, baby. Not unless we’re sitting on the sand in some Third World beach and washing it down with a bottle of beer.” “That sounds just as good as this.” “Yeah, but there’s no beach here, so fish tacos are out. Now what’s it gonna be?” Both girls look over the menu and that makes me smile inside as well as out. They can both use a nice normal dinner for once. I’m pretty sure Harper has not had a sit-down dinner since she left the ship. And Sasha… well, I doubt she’s ever had a formal dinner like this. I glance down at the menu, opt for my usual, and then turn to Sasha. “You gonna get the buffalo burger?” She shoots me an annoyed glare. “Why would you assume I’d want the buffalo? Because I’m from Wyoming?” “You were in Wyoming, James?” Harp asks. “No, I found Kamikaze Smurf camping out in the middle of Colorado.” “Alone?” Sasha lowers her head and pretends to be busy with the menu. “It’s a long story,” she mumbles. “Harper,” I say to distract her away from the long story. “What are you getting?” “Hmmm, the grilled mako shark with pineapple rice, I think. How about you?” She smiles sweetly at me as the bright sun hits her at an angle and illuminates her bronzed shoulders.
I lean in and grab her thigh, then fist my hand in her hair. “Fuckable. You are simply. Fuckable.” “Hello?” Sasha says. “I’m right here.” And then the waiter appears and I rattle off my order. “Chilean seabass for me and the mako shark for this lovely lady.” The waiter nods and murmurs something about good choice. I’m making him nervous but I don’t care. “Sasha, what’s it gonna be?” “The buffalo burger.” I hold in my snicker, but she hears it anyway and shoots me a glare. “What? It’s the only thing on here I recognize.” I turn back to the waiter. “The buffalo burger for lovely lady number two.” He nods and retreats. “Pffft, like you really think I’m a lovely lady,” Sasha says. “I think you’re a little shit who has no idea how good she’s got it right now. Better?” I shoot back. “James,” Harper admonishes me with a kick under the table. “Be nice.” “This is me being nice.” Her hand on my thigh captures my attention and all thoughts of Sasha disappear. “Harp”—she giggles—“don’t start something you can’t finish. They have a men’s room here too.” “You wouldn’t dare!” “Oh, I don’t need a dare to fuck you in a public restroom, darling.” She tries to withdraw her hand but I capture it before she can, and then I slide it
tight up over the top of my thick hard-on. “You do this to me, you pay the price.” I place her hand on the table and lean in to her ear. “If you do it again, I’ll take you right here on the table. Don’t test me.” “Oh my God,” Sasha says. “La-la-la. I can’t hear you.” She closes her eyes, covers her ears, and shakes her head. “La-la-la…” “So, Sasha. What’s your job in the Company?” Harper asks, changing the subject and managing to make me more uncomfortable than I just made the Smurf. “Nah,” I say, waving a hand at Sasha. “We’re not talking shop tonight. This is down time.” “I disagree, James,” Harper says. “I saved her life this morning and I hardly know anything about her. We’re living in the same house and we’re traveling together. So I want—” “No,” I interrupt. “Not—” “Hunter,” Sasha says, ignoring me and cutting me off at the same time. “You’re a girl. You’re not a hunter,” Harper says with a laugh. “I am a hunter. My dad raised me to be a hunter and he was in charge of training all the hunters before this current group. So I’m even legitimate.” Fuck. “You’re not the first Six, James,” Sasha sneers at me. “Conversation. Over. Let’s move on to something
else.” She redirects her attention to Harper. “I’ve been trained to hunt. I’ve been around the hunters my whole life. Not you,” she says to me. “They kept you away. But some of those guys you killed this past year? They were my friends.” “Friends? Please. How many times could they have been passing through Wyoming? Or picking up guns from a western gun show? A handful at the most.” “If you say so,” she says sweetly. I might not know her all that well, but I know her well enough to understand what that means. “You’ve got another secret you’d like to share?” “I have lots of secrets.” “Um,” Harper interjects. “You’re right, James, let’s talk about something else.” “No,” Sasha says. “Let’s talk about secrets. I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours, James.” “James,” Harper says, turning to me and placing her hand on my thigh. It’s a diversion this time. “I don’t want to hear secrets, OK? Secrets are darkness. Secrets keep the darkness alive. I hate secrets and I don’t want to know them.” I remove her hand from my thigh and place it back on the table, never losing eye contact with Sasha. “Sorry, baby. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up. You first, Cocky Smurf.”
Sasha smiles broadly and then turns her head and shoots me a sideways glare that makes her look every bit the hunter she claims she is. “OK. My secret is…” She smiles over at Harper now. “I met someone special last summer.” “Who, a boy?” Harper asks, eagerness in her voice. Apparently this is a secret even Harper can get in on. Sasha has to bite her lip to stop her smile. “Yes.” She slowly pulls her gaze from Harper and redirects it to me. “Nicholas Tate.” The entire restaurant goes silent. Or maybe not. Probably not. I think it’s just that I stop hearing everything because the only thing I do hear is an echo of those two words. “Pardon me?” Harper says. “My brother went to see you?” Sasha is still looking at me. Her mouth moves and if I was a little bit closer to her, I’d slap my hand over it to stop her secret from spilling out. But I’m not. So it does. “He’s come to see me a bunch of times.” “You’re lying,” Harper says. “How would he find his way to Wyoming?” “Does it matter how?” Sasha asks. “I mean, really, that’s not even in the top million most important things to ask about what I just told you.” “What should we ask then?” I finally come back to reality to deal with what she’s saying.
“Oh no. Not until you tell me your secret, James. Then if you want to keep playing, we can. But now you owe me.” You owe me. She said the same thing on the plane when she told me Harper was not at home. “Make it a good one, Tet. Because mine was a bombshell.” I take a deep breath and look over at Harper. She’s gone white. Her perfectly tanned face is sheet white. “Have you seen him lately?” Sasha shakes her head, like she’s saying no. But that’s not what she’s saying. “No more questions until I get a secret from James. And don’t lie, James. I’ll know.” I have so many questions. And I want them all answered. But I have very few secrets, at least none that can be revealed at this table right now. I roll them around in my head and make a decision. “You want to know why Merc isn’t around? The details? Not what I told you earlier.” She weighs this internally and then gives me a slight nod. “That will do for starters.” That will do for enders too. Because that’s the only one I have that won’t ruin everything. “The person who killed your father was US Senator Channing.” She swallows, and then nods. “I knew that.” “You did not know that. You guessed it, but now you know. Because I just told you. My turn. Who
—” But then the wait staff is here with our food, looking very uncomfortable as they serve us. I wait until the food is all on the table and then we all thank them like the polite people we really aren’t. “That conversation is over,” Harper says. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just eat.” She’s on the verge of tears and I’m instantly sorry. I lean in and whisper, “Just enjoy your dinner. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined it. I just wanted you to have a nice night.” “It’s not ruined, James. It’s fine. I just… I just want to talk about normal things tonight.” She picks up her fork and cuts into her shark steak. It flakes apart like it’s supposed to and she smiles when it touches her lips. “This is really good fish for being out in the middle of the desert.” “I caught a shark once,” Sasha tells her. “Me too!” she says excitedly. “Deep-sea fishing was something we did a lot.” “I’ve never caught a fish in my life,” I admit. “What?” Even Sasha joins in on this conversation. I’m sure she’s thrilled about being better at fishing than me. And as is starting to become the norm, we drop the deep dark secrets and talk about nice things to make Harper happy. Growing up on megayachts. Growing up on cattle ranches. Growing up on the beach. There’s no mention of the Company. It’s a dirty
world we live in. It’s dangerous and deadly—we know this. But we don’t have to talk about it right now. Those secrets aren’t going anywhere. We’re carrying them around on our backs like a cross. Or, maybe more fittingly, an albatross.
Chapter Thirty-Eight - James
The sun is just starting to drop on the horizon, already washing the sky in a haze of red and orange. In about fifteen more minutes, it’s gonna be perfect. I don’t want to miss it, so I kiss Harper on the head and push back my chair. “Be right back, gotta take a piss.” I make my way through the tables to the short hallway where the restrooms are located and push the door open. The attendant nods to me and then goes back to his feigned towel-folding. I whip my dick out at the urinal and do my business. I don’t talk to the attendants. I’m not a snob, I just want to finish my piss and get the fuck out of the bathroom. The door whooshes open, so I look over and see the attendant make a quick escape. He must read minds. I give myself a shake, zip up, and then turn to wash my hands. “Hello, James.” It’s been a long time, but there’s no mistaking who the man is entering the facilities. Tall, dark, and yes —he fits the bill in all the cliché ways. The oncebrown hair is graying a little at the temples, but not
much. And maybe it’s a trick of time, since I was so young when we first met, but he looks the same to me now as he did that day on the beach when he offered me his daughter in exchange for my freedom. The funny thing is, I never wanted my freedom back then. I wanted to be Six in the worst way. He should’ve asked Tony. Tony would’ve jumped on the chance to kill his way out of the Company. But he didn’t ask Tony. He asked me. I never wanted to kill my way out of the Company. I wanted to kill my way in. Careful what you wish for. You just might get it, Tet says in my head. “Your boys are getting sloppy, Admiral. She spotted one as soon as we got here.” “How is she?” the Admiral says back, ignoring my statement. We may not have had a lot of face-toface meetings over the years, but we’ve talked hundreds of times by phone. I know him better than most and ignoring my dig on his security is typical. He likes to control the conversation at all times and he hates to hear about less than perfect performance. But he does hear it. And I know for a fact he will speak to that guard later. There is zero tolerance for fuckups in our line of work. “She’s well, I hope? I realize you’ve only been in contact for a very short period of time, but I expect her to be well.”
I’m suddenly imagining Harper bent over a couch with my finger in her ass. He will kill me if he finds that shit out. No doubt, promise or not. I turn the water on and begin washing my hands. “She’s doing real good, actually. She’s happy. She wanted seafood tonight, so this place worked out perfect.” “And you’re on track? With the mission?” What mission? Jesus fucking Christ, how many mission do I have going right now? “Yes, sir,” I say calmly. “One hundred percent on track.” “And the files? Has she… mentioned them? A hiding spot? Something?” “No, sir,” I reply as I turn the water off and reach for a towel. “But I haven’t brought it up yet. I had to leave for a little bit, so we just reconnected.” “Yes,” he smiles. “Are you enjoying my gift?” I smile back. What fucking gift? But of course I don’t say that. Because I have missing hours… Or days, Tet adds inside my head. It might be days. “Yes, sir. Much appreciated.” “She’s wild, isn’t she?” “Wild…” Who? Harper? “Her father was an important man at one time, but his loyalty was questioned. Never proved, obviously, or he’d have been dead a long time ago. So I expected the girl to have a similar nature.” Sasha. He sent me Sasha as a gift. To do what? “Yes, sir, she’s a little shit. But fairly easy to manipulate. Do you have something specific you’d
like me to use her for?” “Her father was wild as well,” the Admiral says, ignoring my words once again. “So the apple and the tree, right?” We share a small chuckle. Ha ha, yes, the apple and the tree. I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about. “And my son?” I shake my head. This I can answer and it’s even the truth. “No, sir, nothing on his location.” “Well, I have to say I’m a bit surprised by that. You haven’t done much, Tet.” The Company name stings a little, I have to admit. I’ve always been James to him. Or Six, but only once that first day. It’s always been James. “My time’s not up, so I’m not worried.” “If the child has not given up his location yet, then she’s of no use to you. Have you questioned her about it?” I feel like I’m coming in on the middle of a meeting, that’s how confusing this shit is. Did I miss a message somewhere? What the fuck was I supposed to do with Sasha? “We were just talking about it at the table, actually. So she’s close.” “Good. Get that location tonight and I want her eliminated before dropoff.” “Yes, sir,” I say automatically. “Drop off is still on schedule.” “Don’t cut it too close, understand?” His dark
eyes bore into me. “I have a deadline too.” “Sir, I understand. We’ll be on our way tomorrow.” “Excellent.” He smiles at me and I force one back. “I’ll see you soon. Please bring me good news.” “Yes, sir,” I say, but he’s already turned his back, walking out the door. I wait a few seconds, then follow and make my way to the bar. “Pack of Reds, please. And a lighter.” The bartender walks off and returns a few minutes later with my smokes. I am not a big smoker these days. In fact, I officially quit three years ago. But ever since Tony, I’ve been using them to think things through. And right now, I need to do a hell of a lot of thinking to understand what just happened. You know what happened, Tet says in my head. “Elimination order,” I whisper to myself. The bartender is only a few feet away and he catches my words, shoots me a terrified look, and quickly walks off. There’s no smoking indoors in California, so the only thing on my mind right now is getting the fuck out of this place so I can get a nicotine fix. I slip my pack into my pocket and walk calmly back to our table. Harper and Sasha are laughing about something. They clue me in and I laugh too, but I have no idea
what was said. The Admiral’s words are echoing through my mind. I want her eliminated before dropoff. The girls stand and I throw some cash down on the table for a tip. My meals here are complimentary, there is no check. But the girls won’t know that, so when Harper starts questioning me about what took so long, I tell her I paid already. She buys it, laces her hand in mine, and she continues her conversation with Sasha as we start walking out. The windows are on the left and I look out over the valley, towards the looming mountains. A feeling of doom washes over me. A leftover reaction to the Admiral’s order, maybe. Or maybe it’s from the approaching darkness. Because that sunset I wanted to see so badly is long gone.
Chapter Thirty-Nine - Harper
James is quiet the whole drive home, and this bugs me. So much about him bugs me. It’s like one second he’s everything I need right now, then that gets turned off and he’s back to being the job. Plus, I admit, I’m falling pretty hard for him. All it takes is a look and I’m wet between my legs, secretly begging him to touch me. And after he said all those things to me last night about trust—if I tell you to walk through fire, it’s because I know you are fireproof, and the ten days’ promise—it’s like he knows just what I need. Like he’s got the inside scoop on how to make me feel desirable. And safe. He knows how to push all the right buttons. He takes the anxiety away. Hell, the past few days have been so easy for me in terms of keeping the anxiety in check. But why them? Why am I here with these two? It’s just weird. There has to be something the Admiral wants from James to give me to him. The only other explanation is that the Admiral is setting James up. But for what? And why? The Admiral made that
offer twelve years ago, so how can all this be related? Shit, I have no idea. James turns into the long driveway that leads us back to the house, and I notice Sasha is quiet in the back. I turn around in my seat and she’s sprawled out across that table thing that separates the buckets. “You didn’t make her put her seatbelt on?” “No?” James answers absently as he parks the Hummer. “Well, hardly matters now. We made it home and she’s still alive.” Maybe this is a stupid example, but earlier he’s demanding she buckle up and sit straight, like her safety is second nature. But now he’s… distracted. Sasha is off his radar. James gets out and then opens Sasha’s back door. I watch from the front seat as he nudges her. “Wake up, Smurf, we’re home.” Home. Hmmm. This is not home, but again, he’s using a term to evoke feelings. Is it for himself? For me? For Sasha? Or is it genuine and it’s for all of us? I just can’t tell. He slaps her on the leg and she kicks him. I have to chuckle at that. But James just pulls her out of the backseat and throws her over his shoulder. “Let’s go, tough kid.” I get out and follow him to the door. Sasha is half awake now, kicking and complaining for him to set her down. He opens the
door with one hand and flips her over, making her squeal as she is unexpectedly placed on her feet. “When I say move, soldier, you move.” He winks at her. “Or I’ll make ya move, brat.” She growls at him and then stomps off down the hallway towards the room she’s using. “I’m ready for bed,” James says as he shuts the door behind me. “You ready for bed?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and leads me over to the other hallway where our room is located. We don’t even bother turning on lights. The moon is half full, and there are enough skylights in this place to allow the moonshine to filter in and give it a surreal quality. Once we get inside the bedroom, James closes the door, reaches behind his head, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. “I’m fucking exhausted. Tomorrow we’re heading back to the OC.” I’m a little bit stunned at this revelation and I lose a whole second through hesitation. “Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us?” “Yeah, probably,” he says, unapologetically. “They’ve been looking for you all year, Lionfish. I highly doubt it’s secret. But I just got a message about some missing files that were found.” “What? How?” I recover quickly but that’s my second hesitation in this conversation. I’m not sure it’s quick enough. “I mean, how did you get a message?”
“I used the bar phone at the restaurant. I have an answering service. Merc and I share one, actually. It’s not covert or anything. 1-800-Rent-AReceptionist or some shit like that. We leave voice mails on there. And Merc left one saying he found some intel on some files your father’s been looking for.” He eyes me, asking the silent question. “I don’t have any files, James.” “Obviously not these files. Because these files have been traced to someone else. And I’ve gotta go collect them.” “So you’re on a job? You’re gonna kill this person?” “Whatever it takes.” He smiles at my revulsion. “I’m kidding, Harper. Shit, have some faith in me. I’m capable of getting everything I need without violence. Look at you,” he says as he wraps his hands around my waist. “I talked you into being mine. Not a shot was fired.” I smile at him. But inside my mind is spinning. Did someone find the files? Jesus, I hope not. We’re well and truly screwed if we don’t have those files. “Come on,” he says as he leads me over to the bed. “Come sleep with me.” I can’t say no to that. Not even if I wanted to. I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed. The covers are all disheveled from our earlier tryst, but they are soft and easy to appreciate. This Merc guy might be a cold-hearted killer according to Sasha,
but I am in love with his house. I could totally picture myself living in a cozy place like this. The adobe walls keep the place cool, but it’s warm in all the ways that count. How bad could a guy be if he owns a place like this? James scoots in next to me, his shoes gone, but not his jeans. “Aren’t you gonna get undressed?” “Aren’t you?” he asks, teasingly. I slip my shorts down my legs and kick them until they fall off the bed. He leans in and kisses me. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye. Is it OK if I ravish you in the AM?” What? Oh my God, I think that was a rejection. “Um… you’re not in the mood?” I have no reference point for this. He’s been dripping sex since we met. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close to his chest until I position myself with my shoulder in the crook of his arm and my cheek over his heart. I listen to it beat for a few moments. Steady. Calm. Strong. I think I love that sound. “Not true at all,” he says, kissing my hand. “I’m just…” “Just what?” I’m anxious for a moment. Because something is wrong and he’s on the verge of telling me what’s bothering him. “Stressed, I guess.”
“About me?” I ask, lifting my head up off his chest so I can look him in the eye. “No, this job and stuff. That’s all. Not you, Harp. You’re the only good thing in my life right now.” “You just need to think?” “Yeah, baby,” he says in a whisper that tells me he wants this conversation to be over. “Nick used to get like that. All withdrawn and moody. Need to plan shit, Harp, he’d say. Sometimes I’d play music for him when he was like that. He’d sit in the saloon and pretend to read, and I’d play the harp or the piano.” This makes James chuckle in a very sexy way. It rumbles up through his chest and caresses my face. “You do not play the harp.” I smile. “I can play the hell out of a harp.” “One of these days I need to hear that. I’d like nothing more than to think all my worries away to the sound of you strumming a harp.” God, that makes me so warm inside and I am wishing so hard for a harp right now to ease his mind. “I can give you a massage if you want.” I don’t wait for an answer, just sit up. “Turn over. This will make you feel better.” For a second I’m afraid he’ll reject me this way too, but after a slight hesitation he turns over onto his stomach and props his hands under his forehead. This makes the muscles of his upper arms look delicious enough to lick. I’m about to lean
over and do it too. “I think there’s some little lotion samples in the bathroom. Go get them.” Ah, my bossy man is back. I like him better this way. I jump up and make my way to the bathroom in the dark. “Leave the light off in there, I don’t want any lights on tonight. Just in case.” “Just in case?” “I think they’re under the sink.” I drop it because I’m not interested in talking about bad shit right now. I find the little travel-sized bottles of lotion and grab three. I go back over to the bed, put two on the bedside table, and then twist off the cap. “Mmmm. This one smells like flowers.” I straddle his thighs and my pussy is instantly throbbing as the rough denim of his jeans presses against the sensitive area. Jesus, I’m going to regret this if he’s really not in the mood to fuck me tonight. I lean over his back and drip the lotion all over him. He sucks in some air through his teeth and mumbles something about it being cold. But then my hands take over and his mumbling ceases. I knead the muscles in his lower back first, moving my thumbs in an outward pattern. I’ve never given a man a massage before, but I’ve had lots of spa days at various resorts. So I know what feels good. I work on that for a few minutes, then ease my
way up his spine, being gentle in this area because that’s how I like it. When I get to his shoulders I have to reposition myself because I can’t reach. I straddle his waist this time, and he and I moan at the same time. “Take your panties off, Harper,” he says in a whisper. I roll off him and have those panties off so fast he barely notices. I straddle him again and this time he growls. “You’re wet.” “I am,” I say as I squirt some more lotion on his upper back this time. I begin working on his shoulders, gripping his muscles tight enough to make him moan and then easing up as I move down his arms. Each time I do that, I rock forward a little, rubbing myself on him. I’m not sure what that feels like on his end, but I’m in heaven and my desire is building. “Do you like that, Harper? Do you want to get yourself off on me?’ I bite my lip. “Um, that’s not really what I was thinking…” “I want you to. Rub your pussy on me. I want to make my whole back wet with your come.” My mouth is making a little o-shape as this request echoes in my brain. “Do it,” he says again. “Now. And don’t stop rubbing my shoulders. That feels fucking fantastic.”
I gulp a little air and resume his massage as I begin my own. I lean forward, gripping his shoulders as my pussy glides against the dip in his lower back, and then when I move backwards, I slide my hands down his arms. “Harder,” he whispers. I’m not sure if he wants me to grind on him harder, or for me to massage him harder. So I do both. My hips begin to rotate back and forth, pushing on him, slipping back to the firm muscles of his ass, all the while I massage his shoulders. I have to lean way over in order to reach and this makes my breasts lightly brush against his shoulder blades. “Take that shirt off,” he demands after a few passes of my confined nipples. I have that shirt off so fast, he’s barely done speaking, and then I’m reaching under him to unbutton his jeans. He rises up on his knees for a moment, my body still lying across his, and my fingers frantically free his cock. Then he lies back down and I begin pulling on his pants until they are down far enough to allow him to kick them off. And for the first time… I appreciate his body for what it is. A thing of pure beauty. I was surprised to find he had no tattoos when we first met. Killers and tattoos seem to go together. But now I know why. He is beautiful. His body is not a blank canvas.
It’s a masterpiece. Adding to it would detract from its perfection. I place my pussy over the top of his ass again, leaning forward, letting my breasts dangle down to caress his shoulder blades as I move my whole body back and forth across his chiseled back. My nipples perk to attention and everything beneath me becomes slick with my own wetness and the heat we are creating. “Come, Harper. Come for me, baby.” Our breathing becomes loud and heavy, ragged and on the verge of gasping as my belly rests in the curve of his lower back and I twist my hips and place my hand between my legs. “No,” he whispers. “No hands, Harper.” “This isn’t enough. I need more, James.” He flips over so fast I lose my balance and fall over to the side of him. His hands wrap around my waist as his hard cock pushes against the slit of my pussy. I grind against him. “Put it inside me, James. Please,” I beg. He pushes me up so I’m straddling his waist again, only this time I’m facing him and I can see the desire painted all over his face. “You’re not getting off that easy, soldier.” “Please,” I pout. He shakes his head and pulls me forward by my arms. “Come up here,” he whispers. “Come up where?” I’m confused.
“Put your pussy over my mouth.” I almost come from that request. In fact, I gulp down air. “Now, Harper. I don’t like asking twice.” I nod and scoot forward. He licks his lips and I lift my hips up and straddle his head. A flick of his tongue almost does me in, and I take in a huge breath and hold it. He pushes my hips up a little and then says, “Grind on me, baby. Grind on my face.” I can’t even think straight, those words… I move my hips back and forth, dragging my clit over his scratchy jaw. At first it’s too rough, but then my pussy is so wet, I only feel the contours of his chin. I am close, so very, very close… but when he reaches around and inserts a finger into my ass— I’m done. I’m gone. I’m moaning out his name. His tongue is flicking my clit, then he places his whole mouth on my pussy, tightening his grip on my hips, and sucks. I lose all control. I gush all over his face. I might’ve joined the O game late, but I’m on the team now. There is nothing better in this world than this man making those feelings burst forth from my body. The shudders of pleasure continue for several waves, and when they finally dissipate he throws me off to the side, gets up, and stands in front of the bed. “Kneel, Harper. Now.” I am not even close to recovering from my
orgasm, but I scramble to do what he asks. I don’t want to keep him waiting. I lower myself slowly to the floor, my knees soothed by a rug in front of the bed. His fingers thread though my hair and pull it back into a ponytail. “Do you want to know how I like it, Harper? Do you want me to tell you how to suck my dick?” Oh God, this question. He asked me this that first night. I swallow hard and nod my head. “Yes, James. Yes. Tell me how to do it right.” He smiles and fists his cock, pumping it, even though it is rock hard. “Open your mouth, tilt your head back, and take it down your throat. Breathe like I told you before.” I open and the tip, already wet with anticipation, enters my mouth. “Don’t suck yet, just take it in.” The length of his cock slides to the back of my throat, bounces against my soft palate, and I gag. “Shhh,” James says softly. “Stop, just breathe through your nose and watch me, Harper. Eyes up here.” I focus on his face, watching him watch me. “Now, baby, put your left hand behind your back, and cup my balls with your right. Oh, fuck,” he moans as I obey. “Fuck, yes, that feels good.” His eyes close for a moment and this affirms that what I’m doing is making him as crazy as he makes me. I grip his balls tighter. They overflow my small hand and they are drawn up tight. And then he begins to
grind his cock against my throat. “Swallow me, Harper.” At first I think he’s gonna come down my throat, but then I realize he wants me to move my throat muscles against the head of his cock. I swallow for him and he growls. “Yes, do it again.” I swallow again, then again, and then again. And each time his fist pulls my head forward and his hips push against me. There is so much saliva in my mouth I begin to drool. I’m still watching James, my attention is only on his face. I feel that power I have again. I own him right now. He will do anything to keep his dick in my mouth. I open more, gag a little, swallow it down as best I can. And then he opens his eyes and says, “Groan for me, groan against my cock, Harp.” The noise is a natural reaction to how fucking horny I am. The groan rumbles up through my throat and I can tell he’s close, and I’m preparing myself for the gush of hot semen when he pulls out, dragging a long string of saliva with his cock. He lifts me to my feet, pushes me against the dresser and hikes my leg up. “I’ll take your pussy over your mouth any day, baby. Pussies are made for cock.” And then he thrusts inside me, lifts me up by the ass, sets me on the dresser, pushing me back against the mirror, and he thrusts until we both explode. He collapses on top of me after the last pulsing wave is finished. “Goddamn, Harper. You drive me
wild.” I have to bite my lip to stop the laugh. If he only knew. “That’s how you like your cock sucked?” He chuckles. “Yeah, that right there was fucking heaven.” He’s breathing hard into my neck and I’m almost horny again. But he lifts me up, slaps my ass, and walks me over to the bathroom. “Shower time.” He sets me back down on the counter but my arms are wrapped around his neck and I can’t make myself let go. “I know you said you’d come back for me, James. But I can’t do it. Please don’t leave me. Please, please, please.” He frowns down at me, unable to give in to my request and unable to lie. “Ten days, Harper. I’ll never be gone longer than ten days.” “I can’t live ten days, James. I won’t make it ten days without you. I swear, I won’t. So much can happen in ten days.” “You will, baby. I promise. I’ll make sure of it. But just relax. I’m not going anywhere. That’s just a what if. It’s not real.” “It’s not real?” I’m desperate for anything so I latch on to this. He shakes his head. “Just a what if.” But this what if just makes me think of all the other what ifs that might happen. What if those files are really gone? What if Nick is dead?
What if James really does leave? And the worst what if of all. What if he doesn’t come back for me?
Chapter Forty - James
Harper is breathing deeply, completely exhausted. I’m exhausted too, but sleep seems to be very far away right now. What a motherfucking day. How does all this shit happen in one day? That kidnapping was this morning. That murder was this morning. I still don’t know what that was about. One thing is clear about that—it wasn’t us. It wasn’t us as in the job the Admiral has me doing. And it wasn’t us as in the job I have going with Merc. And it wasn’t us as in the job I have keeping Harper safe. So Jesus Christ, James, Tet says in my head. What other job do you have going? It’s a good question. You know what would be cool? If fucking Tet would take over when those blackouts occurred. Right? That’d be awesome, even if it meant I was certifiable. Because at least I’d have answers. But reality, James, I tell myself. Stick to reality. Who else is involved? Sasha, obviously. A lot of this shit today was about Sasha. And just what the fuck? It’s like this
kid was dropped in my lap to… No. That can’t be it. I laugh to myself. But how fucking perfect would it be to send her? Especially after that meeting with the Admiral. Eliminate her, he said. What if he told Sasha the same thing? I mean, it’s crazy. That little Smurf against me? I laugh. She’s good, for a kid. But not good enough. Not even close. Harper is pretty good too. But she can’t shoot. Hell, she can’t even drive. I sit up in bed and look over at her. Sleeping so soundly, oblivious to all that’s happening behind the scenes. Must be nice. I get up out of bed and pull out a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt I brought in from the Hummer after our shower, and then I grab my gun and go looking for my new target. I’m barefoot, so I stalk down the hallway and out into the living room. It’s totally quiet. The moon lights up the room well enough to see, but not much more than that. There are way too many shadows in here for my comfort level. Any one of them could be the kid. I stalk down the hallway and check the first room. Nothing. The door is closed to the second room at the end of the hall. I walk quietly up to the door, lean in to listen, then knock softly. “Sasha?” I turn the handle and peek in. “Sasha?” There’s a strong breeze coming in from somewhere, like the window is wide open, but all
the windows in this house are long and skinny, up near the ceiling. Or skylights. I look up, and for half a second I think this is it, the little fucking Smurf is hiding up on the ceiling like some Company version of Spiderman. She’s not up there. But there is a skylight up there. And it’s open. That’s where the breeze is coming from. There’s a ladder leaning up against the wall, slanted at a severe angle. I stand underneath the skylight and call up. “Sasha! You up there?” A shadow appears over the entrance to the roof. “Yes.” “Can I come up?” She peeks cautiously over the side. “I guess.” I stuff my gun in my pants and climb. She’s on the other side of the roof when I step out of the hole. “What are you doing?” I ask, walking over towards her. She’s got a hand behind her back so I figure she’s been having the same doubts about me as I’ve been having about her. “Looking for something.” “Oh.” Hmmm. “Like what?” I sorta laugh. “It’s a roof.” She nods up at the sky with her head, never taking her eyes off me. “Did you know today is the summer solstice? The longest day of the year.” “Fuck, well, it certainly felt like the longest day of my life.”
“Right?” she asks, smiling a little. And then her smile drops into a frown so fast my heart skips. “What?” That question is all it takes for her tears to start. “What? What’s wrong?” She walks over to the short adobe ledge around the roof and takes a seat. Her gun comes out from behind her back and she wipes her face with the back of her other hand. “We had plans today.” “Who?” Fuck, what’s she talking about? Plans? To kill me? Does she have a partner? Who is her partner? All this shoots through my mind as she pulls herself together. “My dad and me,” she finally manages through her tears. “We had plans to go to some secret place where ancient Indians marked the solstices using stones lined up like a wheel on the ground. And I used to know the name of it, but…” She sniffs and shakes her head. “I’ve forgotten what it’s called. And you know what?” Her eyes are all teary with sadness as she looks over at me. I kneel down where I am so even though we are a good twenty feet apart, we’re at least eye level. “What?” “I forgot about him too. I forgot all about him until I went to bed and then saw the date on the digital clock on the nightstand.” Fuck. She’s thinking about her father. “And I know you said to try not to think about things, but it’s really hard.” She lets a little sob
loose. “And my body hurts from this morning. I’m not a complainer, James, I swear. But I don’t feel so good.” She drops the gun on the ground now and then wipes both hands across her face. “My head hurts. And my shoulder hurts. I don’t even think I can shoot that gun. You were right earlier. It’s got a lot of kick to it.” I don’t know what to say. Is she playing me? Is she really sad? Is she really hurt? What the fuck am I supposed to say? The silence goes on for too long and she takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Merc was right, I guess. I’m a crybaby. And you hate me, don’t you?” “I don’t hate you,” I reply, a little defensively, blowing out my own long breath. “I just don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know why you’re here.” She shrugs, then winces as her hand goes to her shoulder. Well, pain I can deal with. So I start there. “I have a med kit in the pull-out drawers in the back of the Hummer. Take one of the tablets called Motrin before you hit the sack.” I don’t know what to say about the father thing. I’m no good at this shit. I’m the last guy to look to for sympathy. All I know is business. Death is my business. I walk over to her and kneel down so I can see her Glock. And then I pull out my Five-SeveN, pop out the magazine, pull
the barrel back, and empty the chamber, letting the cartridge fall out into my palm. “Here,” I say, handing it over to her grip first. “You wanna trade guns, Smurf? This thing’s nice and light. Almost no kick at all. Just a .22 round, but you know, the shape of the bullet gives it velocity.” She takes the gun, then the mag. Every few seconds she sniffs as quietly as she can, trying not to call attention to the fact that she’s crying. “Cop killer,” she says as she pops the magazine in. “Yup, that’s what they call them. Cop killers. You know why, right?” She nods. “Because the cartridge goes through Kevlar.” “Yeah, that’s why.” She knows her shit. “Load it up. You wanna shoot it?” She sniffs again. “Where?” I smile and pan my arms wide. “Here. There’s no houses for miles. No one’s gonna care. Pick a target. Shoot something.” She scans the area, making a little circle as she does it. Then she points off in the distance. “How about that sign at the edge of the property?” “Wow. You’re cocky, huh?” She smiles at me and I smile back. “I tell you what. If you hit that target in this light, I’ll let you keep that gun forever. We can trade, huh? I’ll take that Glock off your hands and you can have this Five-SeveN.” She gets a wide grin but tries to hide it. “I can hit
that target.” “Show me. Pretend your dad is watching you. Right now. He’s looking down on you and he sees you with me, and maybe he’s a little worried.” My voice drops and she looks up at me, her face a mess of grief, but at the same time I know she’s listening. She wants to hear something real from me. She needs something real from me. “He’s probably a little suspicious of my motives. And maybe he’s worried that I’m a bad guy. So show your dad you can handle me just fine. Shoot that target and take my gun.” She stares at me for a moment. “Are you a bad guy, James?” I nod slowly. “Yes.” “I’m a bad guy too.” “So I guess we’re even,” I say back. “Maybe,” she says as she takes aim. She draws in a long steadying breath, then breathes out and squeezes the trigger. The Five-SeveN is loud, but the ping of a bullet going through a metal sign echoes for a second after the gun blast dies away. That’s all we need to confirm her aim was true. “If we’re even,” she says, turning back to me, “then what do we do?” “Well”—I reach down and pick up her Glock, check the magazine, finger the thread on the barrel where a suppressor would fit, then stuff it in my pants—“I guess we need a plan.”
“I guess we do.” I nod as I stand. “I’ll let you know when I get one.” And then I walk back over to the open skylight, half expecting to hear the crack of a high-velocity round being fired before crashing straight through my head. But I hear a long, sad sigh instead. I guess her trust—even if it’s conditional, temporary, and precarious—is the best I can hope for at the moment.
Chapter Forty-One - James
I go back inside, walk straight through the house, go out to the Hummer, open the door, sit inside, and slam it shut. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing? I weigh my options in my head. I imagine all the ways in which each path could make life better. Then worse. Every decision has a consequence. Every moment in my life accumulates to this moment. And this moment will determine my next moment. Life is a tower. A very tall tower. Decisions lead to actions, and action stack up—one on top of another, on top of another. And sometimes you know why you’re clawing your way up that tower, but most of the time, it’s just pulling yourself up, hand over hand. Finding each foothold one crevice at a time. And every now and then, as you climb your tower, there’s a bridge. And you stand there looking across that bridge, but you know that’s too fucking easy. There’s no other side. If there was another
side, you’d hop off the fucked-up tower you’re climbing and try something new. But there’s no other side in sight. Just a bridge. So it’s a risk. Do you keep climbing? Do you use all your stacked moments to lift you up towards the ending you’ve been envisioning since you started this journey? Or do you step onto the bridge and cross over into the unknown? I guess it comes down to regrets. Not things like, Did I kill the right people? Or, Did I do my job the best way I know how? No. Life is not about work, it’s about… love. Unless, of course, your work is what you love. Do I love my work? I pull out my phone and call the number from memory. It rings and rings and then finally goes to voice mail. “Harrison,” I say in a low voice. “Call me back, I need a big.” I end the call, go back inside, find the smokes I bought at the bar, and then walk out the back door so I can enjoy them. I flick the lighter and take a deep drag, then let it out and a little bit of comfort and relief floods into my bloodstream. I walk out towards the sign Sasha just shot and when I get there, I turn and look up to the roof. She’s gone now. Maybe back to bed. Maybe she’s pacing inside, weighing up her stacked moments too. Considering her options as she decides whether or
not to step out on to that bridge. I flick the lighter on the sign since the half-moon has dipped behind some clouds and it’s darker now. It’s just silver, but then I realize I’m looking at it backwards and walk around the other side of the post. There’s no fence. It’s just a post in the ground facing the empty desert. But it does have a message on this side. It says, I shoot everyone, and there’s a bullet hole smack in the middle of the sign. Sasha is a damn good shot. My phone buzzes in my pants and I let my cigarette dangle as I fish it out and press the green tab. “Yeah,” I say. “What kind of favor do you need?” Harrison asks. “You still in Vegas?” “Yeah, till tomorrow, why?” “I need you to pick something up in Colombia.” His laugh is so loud I have to pull the phone away. “I’m not doing drug runs, asshole.” I take a drag on my cigarette and let it out. “Not drugs, you freak. I’m gonna place an order for you to pick up, but I need it tomorrow night. Can you do it or not?” “Dude,” he says, laughing. “That’s a three-leg journey at least. It’s gonna cost you a ton of dough.” “Money is not a problem. I just need this package. Tomorrow night. Delivered to Orange County.”
“I can, but you will owe me more than money.” “I’d expect nothing less. Look for deets soon. Later.” I press end and immediately key in another number. It reroutes several times, making loud clicking noises that would usually have me on high alert for wiretapping. But this is just how it is when you want to talk to Roberto. “Hola,” a woman’s voice says. “Roberto Moreno Diseñador.” “This is Tet. I have an order and I am sending someone to pick it up tomorrow.” “Yes, sir,” she says, switching from Spanish to English effortlessly. “How can I help you?” I give her my request. It’s nothing special, at least for Roberto. But they don’t sell them here in the States. At least not of this caliber. And I need the best for this job. I end the call, text Harrison the details, and go find Sasha. “Come in,” she says softly after I knock on her door. I open it up and she’s curled up in a chair on the far side of the room, still holding the gun I gave her. “That was fast,” she says through a yawn. “I hope it’s not some crackpot idea that will get me killed.” “Well, you can let me know afterward, OK?” She stares at me for a few seconds and I can almost see her mind spinning with questions. Will she ask them? Will I answer them?
I don’t think I can, not yet anyway. “Medicine Wheel or something like that.” “What?” I shake my head at her randomness. “That place my dad was gonna take me today. Something about a medicine wheel. And he had special permission to go up with some Native American friends because normally it’s closed to the public on the summer solstice.” “Sorry, kid. I have no idea.” “It doesn’t matter,” she says, her expression blank. “Who cares about stupid stuff like that anyway.” She turns away from me, curling her little body up in the chair like she’s cold. But this is the desert. It’s still almost eighty degrees out in the dead of night. Her posture is just another defense mechanism to protect herself from all the hurt. And not the physical kind. She’s got plenty of that tonight too. But missing that trip with her dad, that’s the kind of pain that can’t be fixed with a pill. Not easily, anyway. “Hey,” I say after her eyes have been closed for a few minutes. “Stupid medicine wheels are the only things that count, Sasha. How about… how about I make you a promise. For when this is all over.” “What kind of promise?” She asks the question out of duty, it seems. Because she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes. “I’ll take you to that place. We’ll find it and I’ll
take you there.” The tears start to fall down her face. “It’s too late. The solstice is today. I missed it and I don’t want to go anymore.” I have nothing to say to that. Do you convince them? Kids, I mean. Is that what parents do? Convince them that they really do want to go, they’re just acting like… well, kids? Or do you take them at their word? I’m not sure. So I just get up and walk out. It seems like a cowardly move on my part, but fuck it. I’m not her father. She’s not my kid. She’s not my problem. She’s my solution and nothing more.
Chapter Forty-Two - James
“We should’ve left last night,” Sasha whines. I swear to God, if this kid complains all the way to Huntington Beach, I will not be held responsible. Already this morning she’s complained about the lack of breakfast, her lack of clean clothes, and her sore body. “It’s soooo hot.” The air-conditioning is on full blast, but even though the sun just came up a half hour ago, it’s almost a hundred degrees outside. “I’m hungry.” “Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever shut up? I’m ready to drop your ass off on the side of the road.” Sasha lets out a big sigh and I glance over at Harper. She’s been quiet the entire ride. I reach across the center console and tap her on the shoulder. She pulls her distracted gaze away from the window and smiles half-heartedly at me. “You OK? You haven’t said much since we left.” “Yeah, fine. Just hungry.” She looks away again. “OK.” I scan the horizon and see some civilization coming up. “We’ll get off at the next
exit.” I know why she’s quiet. I told her I was going back to the OC to get some files. That has to be it. She has them stashed somewhere and she must’ve felt pretty confident about the hiding place, otherwise she would’ve taken them with her. But I checked her backpack. There is no flash drive or papers or any other means of containing information that I can see. And her unease this morning is proof enough. Those files are stashed and we are headed right for them. When she escaped, as she calls it, she hopped a plane to Hawaii, changed her name and credentials, and then hopped another plane to LA. From there she was tracked to the UCLA library. And that’s as far as they got. Meaning the Company forensic surveillance team. Because for some odd reason there was a power surge at the library that day. About three minutes before Harper entered the building, to be precise. And even though the general power kicked right back on, the security systems went down. All cameras were affected. Accident? Hardly. Everything about that day was coordinated by Nick. All the surveillance footage show a confident and purposeful Harper making her way through two international airports, changing identities, accessing a cab in LA, a city she had never been to before.
Then navigating her way around UCLA campus like she’s been a student there for years. In fact, she had a UCLA ID, she was wearing it around her neck just before she entered the library. There was no footage of her coming out. After that she was back on the record. New cab procured, ride out to Huntington Beach, dropped off at the Main Street Pier. Paid with cash. She got out, walked north one block, turned up Fifth, and from what we can tell by the street cams in that area, she went straight to the apartment. There’s a gap in the footage at that point. Obviously she took the apartment, she technically still lives there for another few weeks. But I didn’t find her right away. And I was not given orders. I learned all this way after the fact. My original explanation about why I was watching her was true. I’m obsessed. I want her. She’s mine. My information comes to me in different ways. Like the Sasha thing. The Admiral says he sent me to get her. OK. I had not expected that, to be honest. The receptionist thing Merc and I share is not a secret. I’ve had the same arrangement with lots of different operatives over the years. So it does not surprise me that the Admiral figured it out… it’s just… Why would he care about this one little girl? That part makes no sense. I check for Sasha in the rear view and find her
watching me. I smile at her. “We’re gonna stop soon. There’s a restaurant up here, I’m sure of it.” I look back over to Harper, but she’s got her cheek pressed up against the window, her back angled towards me. She’s avoiding something. Maybe it’s the files. Maybe it’s me. But either way, this day is starting to feel… off. And when I get that off feeling things are building up to something. Something big. I’ve been in this business long enough to understand intuition is your best friend. Right now my intuition is screaming at me to be careful because this is the endgame. Or at the very least, the beginning of the end. The Admiral got in touch last night. And that can only mean one thing. Nick is about to pop back up. I searched her apartment almost every day back in Huntington. The Admiral might’ve said I was on leave, but once I found her, I knew that was not the case. I was there for Harper. Keep an eye on her— or fuck her. Same thing. I allow myself a small smile as I think about that. Her father will flip when he finds out. And there’s no way that will stay secret for long, but he’s the one who came to me twelve years ago and made that promise. I’m simply taking what’s already mine. Back in the OC I searched her apartment
thoroughly. There are no secret panels in the walls, or loose floorboards, or special compartments in the box spring. I checked. There are no special knickknacks that look like useless crap, but have a screw-top lid hidden into the design so you can hide stuff in plain sight. Nothing. I checked that little mechanical room she used to stash her money and key too. That wall did have a loose brick, so it was easy to find. But there was only one. “Let’s stop here!” Sasha says, leaning between the front seats to point out the window. “Look!” She laughs and suddenly I can imagine the little kid in her again. She flip-flops between killer assassin and hormonal teenager, but right now I can see her the way her father might’ve. A little girl who just wants to be a kid. “Dinosaurs!” she says. Sure enough, we are in Cabazon. Home of two massive roadside dinosaurs. I pat Harper on her leg. “Want to go see the dinosaurs, Harper?” “I do!” Sasha says excitedly from the back. “Look, they have a restaurant there too. We can stop and eat and then go look at them. Can we look at them, James?” “Harper?” I ask again. She turns towards me with a smile, but something is definitely off with her too. “You in for food and a tourist trap?”
“Sure, I’m starving and that looks fun.” I try and ignore all the warnings going off in my head and just pay attention to the moment as I get off the freeway and head over to the giant T-Rex. I park in front of a restaurant with the sign Eat in front. I switch the engine off. The lack of airconditioning affects us immediately. If you don’t have a constant stream of cool air blowing on you, the desert heat moves in. All three of us open our doors to get out at the same time. You can’t fight the sun. Even three hardened killers know this. Sasha takes a long look at the gigantic dinosaurs and then notices me watching her and blushes in embarrassment. “I was obsessed with dinosaurs when I was a kid.” “You’re still a kid, Smurf,” I tell her as I open the door of the restaurant for them. Inside it’s cool again. “Did you ever see Jurassic Park, James?” I laugh. “I think everyone’s seen Jurassic Park, Sasha.” “I haven’t,” Harper says. “See!” Sasha exclaims. She’s very excited about the dinosaurs and this makes me smile. “Harper grew up on a boat, she probably never even had TV. I grew up with TV, and we went to the movies, but not a lot. I saw Jurassic Park on TV once when I was like six and that’s when I decided I’d like to be a paleontologist. Did you know that
Thermopolis, Wyoming has real dinosaur tracks and bones in the same place, James? That’s not very common. You almost never see them both in the same place.” I shake my head as I hold up three fingers for the waitress. She smiles at Sasha, who has directed her impromptu dinosaur lesson towards Harper now, and winks at me. “They are fun at that age, aren’t they?” “Who?” I ask, following behind her as she leads us to a table. She sets the menu down and smiles again. “Daughters. I have three.” And then Harper and Sasha arrive and sit together in the booth. The waitress walks off before I can correct her and for a moment I just stand there. Daughters? I slide into the booth across from the girls, but I’m sorta stunned. “I’m only twenty-eight,” I say. But she’s long gone, already chatting with another group of people on the other side of the restaurant. “Twenty-eight is old, James.” Sasha quips. “You’re definitely old enough to be my father.” “I’m not your father, Sasha. And it would be a very big mistake to think of me that way.” I feel the silence more than hear it, because neither of the girls were actually talking. But things go still. When I look up Sasha is glaring at me. “Don’t worry,” she says through her clenched teeth. “I’d
never want you for a father anyway. You’re an asshole.” People in the next table look over at her swearing. “Sorry,” I mouth to them and they look away quickly. “Sasha, watch your mouth. Especially in public. You are thirteen years old. Act like it.” “I was acting like it,” she says on the other side of her menu. “And you are definitely an asshole.” “OK,” Harper says. “What’s everyone gonna get? I’m thinking one of everything.” Sasha puts down her menu and looks at the dinosaurs through the window. “I’m not hungry.” I let out a long grumble before I can stop myself. “I’ll order for you if you don’t choose. And you’re gonna eat it whether you want to or not.” “Whatever,” she says back. I take my case to Harper. “She needs to eat. We have no clue what will happen after we get back to the Beach. I need her to be ready.” “Ready for what?” Harper looks around cautiously. “Do you think we’re in trouble?” “Not yet, Harp. Calm down. I just feel like something’s coming, you know? And I’ve learned to listen to my gut intuition. If things feel off, then they probably are.” “Things feel off with me too,” Harper finally admits. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it feels bad.” “That feeling is James betraying you, Harper. And
If I were you, I’d definitely listen to that one.” My hand comes up, ready to smack the shit out of her, but Harper reaches for it before I can do something I regret. “James, stop. She’s trying to make you react.” I take a deep breath. “It’s working, and believe me, she does not want to be on the receiving end of my reactions.” “I’m right here, you know.” “Sasha,” Harper says sternly. “Shut your mouth and choose some food. You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Sasha glares at Harper now. “I don’t get you. He’s here for you, ya know. And you’re practically handing yourself over.” I put my hands on the table this time, ready to get up and drag her outside so we can have this out for real, but the waitress comes. “You all ready to order?” I relax back in my seat and point to Harper. “I’ll have the…” She looks down at her menu again. “Dino Supreme.” And when she looks back up she’s got that glowing smile on her face that makes people love her. Makes me love her, that’s for sure. “Scrambled, please.” The waitress looks over at Sasha and waits. I expect something atrocious to come out of her filthy mouth, but she says in her best sweet-littlegirl voice, “Dino Egg Pancake Plate and orange
juice.” “Oh, I want OJ too,” Harper says. “Does that come with hash browns?” Sasha asks. “No, those are extra, sweetie.” “James,” she says, looking over at me. “Can I get hash browns too?” I almost glare at her because she’s baiting me again, but if she wants to playact, I can go along. “Whatever you want, Princess Smurf.” I order the T-Rex T-bone with a side of eggs and by the time the waitress leaves, I’m calm. But this fucking kid. What the hell was that? I watch her look out the window at the dinosaurs again, and then Harper takes my hands in hers, leans across the table, and kisses me on the cheek. “We’re OK, James.” “I know,” I say back with a smile. For now, at least. But this trip will be over before we know it and then… I’m not sure what happens. After that Harper keeps the conversation going. She asks Sasha all kinds of dinosaur questions and gets a well-articulated answer for each and every one of them. Sasha reports on shit I’ve never heard of before and it’s clear this is her passion. Not guns. Not hunters. Not revenge. Although I’m pretty sure she harbors a deep resentment for the Company and would get some revenge, if offered. I’m counting on that, in fact. But right now, she’s Sasha the dino nerd.
The food comes and the girls go quiet as they eat. Sasha finishes everything on her plate and she’s done long before we are so she excuses herself to use the bathroom. Harper slides out and then back in after Sasha takes off. “So,” Harper starts. “What do you think all that was about?” I should’ve expected that, but somehow I figured she’d moved past it. “Look,” I say with a little bit more exasperation than is necessary. “She’s a very troubled kid, OK? Her father was blown up last Christmas Eve on a job Merc was doing. Then she went to live with her grandparents and they were blown up too.” “That’s what she was talking about when she said she killed four people?” “Yeah, her father, from my understanding anyway”—Tread carefully here, Tet, my inner voice cautions. This is new info from the Admiral last night—“was a former assassin trainer and he left that position and became an arms supplier out of Cheyenne. And Sasha seems to be his only living legacy.” “So she’s a trained hunter?” Harper looks away as she puts these things together. “Like me? Only she can shoot and I can’t.” I smile at that. “I like the fact that you can’t shoot. Or drive,” I add. “It’s sorta sweet.” She almost chokes on her orange juice. “Why
sweet?” “I dunno. Because you’re so deadly on your own terms, right? The hand-to-hand stuff. You kick some serious ass like that. And you can sail a megayacht, but you can’t drive a car.” “Well, I can’t sail that thing alone. It’s crazy big. You have to have a crew. So it’s not that impressive when all you do is bark orders.” “But if someone asked you to captain their megayacht and take them to… wherever, you could do it. Couldn’t you?” She shrugs. “I suppose. If the crew was competent.” “And what if the sailboat was smaller? Could you sail that?” “Oh yeah,” she says with an excitement in her eyes that’s been missing since I met her. “If it can be manned by one or two people, I’m all over that. Sometimes Nick and I would sail alongside the main ship in a sloop.” “And no one was on the boat with you?” “No, it was only a two-person boat. Very small.” “See, Harp. That shit is sexy as all fucking hell. I’d get us all killed, if I had to be in charge.” “Well, we had a whole ship full of people who’d jump in to save us if we needed it. It was not unsafe in the least.” She slides out of her booth and comes to sit next to me. “I miss the ocean.” “We’ll be back there tonight. Maybe we can walk
out to the pier and watch the sunset?” She grabs my upper arm and rests her head against my chest. “I’d love that.” “Then it’s a date.” I’m suddenly glad we’ve missed all those other sunsets. That way this one tonight can be the one. “Where’s Sasha? She’s been gone a while.” “Shit,” I say as I push Harper to slide out of the booth. I fish through my wallet, throw forty bucks down on the table, and then take Harper’s hand. “Wait,” she says pulling me back towards the window. “Is that her over there?” I squint as I look out the window and sure enough, there’s Smurfette, walking over to the huge-ass dinosaur. “You should go talk to her, James. She’s just having a hard time.” “Harper, I have no patience for that girl. I feel bad for her, but I’ve done everything I can to be nice, and she’s just a brat. You go talk to her. I’m gonna take a piss. But we do not have time for her whacked-out bullshit. She needs to pull herself together or she’s gonna get us all killed.” “OK, I’ll go see what’s up. But I don’t think she’s doing this on purpose. She’s just mixed up and confused.” “About what?” I whisper in her ear, my anger surfacing as we walk towards the front of the restaurant. “There’s only one fucking thing she
needs to understand. None of us are in a very good position right now. There’s a global organization that wants you back and wants her dead. If she’s half as smart as I think she is, she’ll fucking take a clue from you and do as she’s told.”
Chapter Forty-Three - Harper
Do as she’s told? Can he be any more of a caveman? I sigh as I watch his ass walking to the back of the restaurant. It’s a nice ass. Then I notice several women checking him out right along with me and an unfamiliar feeling creeps up. Jealousy. One woman notices me watching and quickly averts her gaze, so I just turn around and walk outside. The dinosaur is on the other side of a large parking lot and just this trek has my shoulders burning from the morning sun. It’s so hot here. I’ve spent most of my life in the tropics, so I’m used to hot. But the heat out here in the desert is suffocating. It zaps the life from you. And there’s no water to ease your discomfort. Our biggest yacht, not the sailing one, actually has a pool. But even if there was no pool, the spray of the sea kept you cool most of the time. I’m only halfway across the parking lot when another emotion hits me. Homesickness. I have to admit, I miss the ship. I miss that life. I
was not abused or treated badly. I miss the ocean and the salty wind. I miss the crew too. I am almost upon the big gray beast when I spot Sasha sitting underneath. At least it’s shady. I walk under, bypass an empty stone picnic table, and cop a seat on the brontosaurus toe next to the one she’s occupying. “What’re you doing?” “Thinking,” she says as she rolls her flip flop over some stones on the concrete. “Oh.” This is going great. “I think James is ready to leave. He wanted me to come get you.” She’s silent for a few seconds and I’m racking my brain trying to think of something else to get her feet started when she finally pipes up. “Did you ever miss living in a house? With parents and school and stuff?” “Ummm…” “We lived in an RV until I was almost ten. I kinda liked it.” “Oh.” I consider this for a second. “Well, that’s sorta like living on a ship, isn’t it? You move from place to place and see lots of stuff.” I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and turn, automatically looking for danger. But it’s just James. Leaning up against the dinosaur leg, smoking a cigarette. He shrugs at me and I turn back to Sasha. She’s not paying any attention to James. “The best thing about living on the ship was the whales.” Sasha looks up at me, her eyes bright
with curiosity. “The humpback whales migrate in certain places every year, so we’d have to be in that part of the world to catch them moving in groups like that. But we saw them enough for it to leave an impression, ya know? Like—it became a part of my life. It was something special when I woke up in the morning and discovered a whale outside.” Sasha laughs as she pictures it. “Did you ever swim with them?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No. No, I’m not brave like that. You could never pay me enough money to swim next to a whale. I like to snorkel, but mostly in shallow waters.” I take a deep breath. “I’d probably have a panic attack if a whale ever came up to me in the ocean.” I sigh heavily. “I have those attacks a lot. It makes me need the pills.” She stares at me for a second and then shakes her head slowly. “That’s not true. You haven’t panicked since I’ve met you.” “Which is only two days,” I say back, chuckling under my breath. “It feels like forever since that night you pulled a gun on us.” And then she looks over to James, who is still calmly smoking his cigarette, leaning up against the dinosaur’s front leg. Just waiting us out. Sometimes he is very patient. “I know,” I say, picking the subject of panic again. “I’ve been pretty good. But you know why?”
She shakes her head and resumes rolling her flip flop over the stones. “I think because James is here to help me. And you remember that first night when you said he was being mean to you all day, and for me to not take his anger personally? Well, I’ve thought about what you said since then and I think you’re right.” She stares hard at me and I can see the tears building. “He’s all I’ve got,” she says as a tear slips down her face. “He’s all I’ve got so I have no choice but to forgive him when he’s mean.” “Well, that’s sorta true. You always have a choice whether or not you want to forgive people. And he’s not really all you’ve got, because I’m here too. But what I think you meant was—we’re together now. Whatever it is we’re doing, we’re doing it together. So even though all three of us are used to doing it alone, we’re not alone now.” She starts crying for real, sniffling in rapid succession as she tries to make it stop. I think a distraction is in order, so I come up with a question for her. “Tell me what you liked about living in an RV. Did you see cool things?” She nods her head as she wipes her wet cheeks. “We—” A new sob escapes despite all her best efforts and she takes a moment to pull it together. “We were dinosaur hunters.” James is suddenly in front of me. He takes a seat on the dinosaur toe next to Sasha and flicks his
cigarette away. “I killed a dinosaur once,” he says as he blows the last of the smoke out of his nose. Sasha laughs and wipes her eyes. “I swear,” James continues. “You know, that’s my job. I’m a killer for hire. So one time, I’m on this tropical island somewhere off the coast of South America. And they have this theme park there where they grow baby dinosaurs using genetic cloning. And they have all these electrified fences and shit, but some asshole was stealing the DNA to sell on the black market and knocked out the power so all the dinosaurs got out and they needed me to come in and save everyone.” “James!” Sasha says, laughing. “You never went there. That’s the movie. Don’t believe him, Harper. He’s making all that up.” “Sure I did. Who do you think gave that writer the whole idea for that book? It was me. I’m the original dinosaur hunter. Animal Planet wanted to give me a show—” “James!” she squeals again. “You’re lying.” “—because I found a stash of living dinosaur eggs —” Sasha punches him on the arm and then he winces and rubs it, like she hurt him. “I’m not joking, James. We were dinosaur hunters, only we looked for bones and stuff. We used to spend the summers in Utah looking for fossils.” “Did you know this past year was the first year I
actually had a winter?” I pipe in, since we are sharing. “What?” Sasha says through her laugh. “Yeah, whenever winter rolled around we just crossed the equator and sailed towards summer. I’ve never seen snow.” “Oh my God,” Sasha says. “What do you do on Christmas if there’s no snow? I can’t even imagine a Christmas without snow.” “We never really celebrated Christmas. We never had a tree or anything. We just had dinners. And people would say it’s Christmas, Merry Christmas or whatever… but it never really meant anything to me other than we had lots of guests on board.” “Wow,” she says, looking at me with pity. “I think I like my life better than yours.” I shrug. “It’s not all that different. I still have a father, but I ran away from him. So really, I’m all alone too.” Her somber mood is back and I feel bad for being responsible. “Well,” James says. “Both of my parents are still alive but I hate their fucking guts.” He lets out a long, controlled breath of air and then flicks his lighter and starts puffing on another cigarette. “How do you sell your kids?” He blows out a stream of smoke through his nose and shakes his head. “Who the fuck sells their kids?” “It’s not like they have a choice, James,” I say,
trying to defuse the anger that is bubbling up inside him. “They did the same thing our parents did. They were born into this fucked-up Company too.” But James is shaking his head before the last of my words are out. “That’s not true.” He stares at me. I can’t see his eyes because he’s got those damn sunglasses on, but I can feel his stare like it’s the desert heat. “You wanna know how I know that’s not true? You wanna know how I know your fathers”—his fingers make a v-shape and he points to both Sasha and I—“put up a fight and mine didn’t?” I’m not sure I want to know, but Sasha says, “How?” before I can stop this conversation. “Because your mothers are dead.” He blows out more smoke and then slides his glasses up onto his head so we can see his eyes. “And mine’s not.” The entire world goes still for several moments as I take in his words and the only thing that snaps me back is Sasha’s small hand lacing her fingers with mine. “What’s that mean, James?” she asks. He gets up off the dinosaur toe and walks away. And when he’s walked the length of the dinosaur’s underbelly, he turns and walks back. He stops right in front of us and looks down as we look up. “It means your mothers are dead because they killed them. That’s just what tends to happen when you have girls. Boys? They just get trained, right? Trained to do what? Jobs, I guess. Most of them
aren’t killing people for a living, are they? No, only a few of us get that privilege. But the girls are just handed over.” James stops talking and his stare focuses on me with laser precision. “You know this, Harper. You were given away.” “To you, James. I was given—” But he’s shaking his head. “You were the one who said it was never gonna happen, right? Why would your father give his prized possession to me? A killer. My family is wealthy, but only because the Company sets them up that way. I’m nothing. I’m nobody. You knew it right away. You feel it inside. I’m nothing but a filthy killer. Your father made that promise, but he never expected to have to live up to it. He never expected me to make it this far.” My heart is beating so fast I might pass out. My head begins to spin and I know I’m gonna have a panic attack. I want him to stop talking so bad, but Sasha—“But why would they kill them?” she asks. All I want to do is cover my ears, but James is already talking. “When you have a girl, they take the mothers away because they put up a fight.” And then he stares down at me. “Not even the Admiral is immune to this, I guess.” I’m shaking my head. “My mother died in childbirth.” “Yeah,” he says in response. “How’d your mother
die, Smurf?” Sasha squeezes my hand and whispers, “Childbirth.” “That means they refused to give you girls up. They come when the babies are born and make deals with the fathers. This is how they keep it going. The Company is dependent on the next generation. They need us to continue their dirty work, or else things would just degenerate until they fell apart. They need that birth promise. And most of the time, the parents give in. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they really have no choice. None. The kids belong to the Company no matter what. And most parents give in and sign them over. But every once in a while”—he points to us with his vshape again—“every once in a while they fight back. And then the Company kills the mother to make an example of them.” “Kills them…” Sasha says in a voice so weak I turn to look at her to make sure she’s OK. Her face is ashen and her grip on my hand is tighter than ever. “They killed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. When I look at James he’s nodding. “They kill them if they put up any kind of fight. So while my mother was busy signing over my sister, your mothers gave their lives for you. And your father, Sasha, from what I can tell, almost made it out.” “They killed him too?” she squeaks out. “The
Company?” “James, stop,” I say. “Just stop. She doesn’t need to hear this.” “She does, Harper. She really needs to hear this.” He looks back at Sasha and even though his words are harsh, his voice is soft. “They killed him, Smurf. But hey.” He bends down and tips her lowered chin up with a fingertip. “I told you, Merc is busy doing something important, right?” “He’s killing that senator?” “I’m not sure he’s doing that right now, but believe me, he’s gonna get them back.” And then James looks at me. “And while he takes care of that end in his way, the three of us will take care of this end in our way. But I need your trust, girls. I need your trust. I can’t do any of this unless you trust me because I can’t do any of this alone.” I swallow hard and look him in the eye. “Why should we trust you? You’ve done their dirty work for them your whole life.” James doesn’t even blink. Like he’s used to the insult. He’s been called a killer so much, that label has no meaning to him anymore. “Because they took my baby sister. My mother sold out my baby sister and they took her away. And someone needs to pay for this shit, Harper. Someone needs to stand the fuck up and say enough. And maybe we’re not much. One man, one woman, and one kid. But I’m tired of waiting for that someone to come along and
make things right. We might as well put a bullet in our own heads right the fuck now because we are already dead.” He stops to make sure this is sinking in. Both Sasha and I are shaking now, so yes, his shock tactic is working. “We’re already dead except for you, Lionfish. Sasha and I have hits on our heads. There’s no way we’re gonna be allowed to live. But even if we did make it, even if I did make it out and I was allowed to keep what was already mine”—he takes the hand Sasha is not holding and gives me a comforting squeeze—“what kind of future will we have if our daughter is sold? What kind of future will I have if they make an example of you? Because there’s no fucking way on this earth that I would let them take my child, girl or boy. That’s never gonna happen. What kind of life is that? What kind of man lets this happen? What kind of coward lets his own family be sold off or killed?” “That’s not any kind of life I want, James,” Sasha says. All her tears are gone now. Her expression is the opposite of the one she was wearing a few minutes ago. That sad and lost child has disappeared. And I suddenly feel like I’m looking in the mirror. Because the expression on her face is the same as mine. Cold killer. The desert wind is whipping my hair around and
the temperature outside the shade of the gigantic dinosaur is at least one hundred ten. But my skin shivers from the cold within. Like the reptile sheltering us, our blood runs cold. We’re all cold here.
Chapter Forty-Four - James
We walk back to the Hummer in silence and my mind, opened up from sharing these details with the girls, is buzzing like it’s got something to say. Memories flicker in and out, and I press my fingertips to my temples. “You OK?” Harper asks me as she entwines her arm in mine. “You don’t look good.” “Fine,” I say. But I’m not sure I’m fine. I’m not convinced any of us are fine. Sasha glances over her shoulder at the dinosaur one last time before she opens the back door on the driver’s side and hops up into the truck. “Put your belt on, kid.” She does as she’s told without comment. Her earlier sadness, despite her bravado back under the reptile, has turned to hopelessness. I prefer her sad if the alternative is hopeless. So I smack her leg, trying to change her mood. But she just shakes her head. “This is worse.” “What’s worse?” my dry throat croaks out. “Knowing,” she says, her eyes still avoiding mine. “At least I had something to believe in before.” She
directs her gaze up to mine as Harper gets in the front and closes her door. “You can believe in me, kid. I told you, I’m working on it. I’m gonna keep you safe.” I look over at Harper as she silently watches us. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe.” Sasha turns her whole body away from me and I close her door and open mine, get in, and just as I’m pulling my door closed I hear her whisper an answer. “I don’t believe you.” I let out a long breath and start the truck, the airconditioning blasting away her words as the warm air shoots out. I don’t answer, just get back on the freeway and head towards LA, waiting for the chill to take over. Actions always speak louder than words and all I’ve given her so far are words. When the Admiral called me to the twins’ sixth birthday party I knew why I was there. To be given a number. An assassin had just been killed off. How? That’s an excellent question. One I never cared much about until recently. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s too late to make a difference. The twelve years between then and now have wiped that advantage away. Besides, if I had known then what I know now… I’d definitely be dead. I was never lied to. At least by my parents. They were upfront from the time I was small. You are a
Company child, James. You will always be a Company child. But being honest and being forthcoming are two very different things. I should know, I use that to my advantage all the time. I try to be honest when I can, but I’m almost never forthcoming. And there is a big difference. For instance, telling me that I am owned by the Company is honest. But leaving out the fact that my children will be traded for favors like secrets and my wife will be killed if she objects is far from being forthcoming. And call me what you will— sell-out, naive, shill—whatever. I admit I’ve been all those things at one point or another. But that’s only because people who said they were being honest were very far from forthcoming. At sixteen, looking at my promise playing on the beach, yeah. That was all very much OK with me. I refused her, so I know I have some honor. But I wanted her, even if I refused to admit it. I wanted her enough to listen to the Admiral’s plan for me. I wanted her enough to kill on command for more than a decade. I wanted her enough to follow every order sent to me, without fail. I wanted her enough to kill my associates and my own brother. Even after my little sister was taken that first year I was working professionally, I wanted to be what the Admiral thought I was. His personal assassin. Because I wanted Harper. I might not’ve admitted it back then, but I wanted to please him, I wanted
to show him I was worthy. And fuck it, I still want what’s mine. I do. I’ve lived my life the past dozen years based on the fact that there’s a reward for me when it’s all said and done. My mind flickers again and I suck in some air as the stabbing pain shoots across my forehead. But that was before I got the message. It’s funny how one text can change your life. How a few simple words can tip all your plans upside down, redirect your life’s work, and make you do things you never thought yourself capable of. I’m capable of anything, though. I know that now. I’ve killed enough people in cold blood to understand what it means to be capable of something. People who assume I will blink when things get too hot typically end up dead. I never blink. I never stumble. I never fall. I never pull punches. When I’m in, I’m all in. And even though everything I’ve done since that day on the beach when Harper and I turned Six was building towards a future, I know now I can never follow through with it. The message that changed my life was about a girl. And this almost makes me laugh. Because now that I’m here looking back, every major turning
point in my life has been about a girl. This girl was one I had forgotten about and yet she was always there, in the back of my mind. Nagging at me. A girl the very same age as Harper. A girl I loved long before I even knew Harper existed. It came in the first day I was at the beach taking the edge off. Just before I recognized Harp as the missing twin, as if I was being reminded where my loyalties lie. The text said… Meet me. That’s it. I get these messages all the time. I get phones dropped off at various places for me all the time. The one in the green house in Sandy Valley was not for Harper, it was for me. The one in Merc’s house was not for Sasha, it was for me. And the one I found sitting on the railing of an apartment balcony last March—the day I went to see if it would suit me as a rental as I endured my mandatory take-theedge-off punishment at the beach—also for me. Meet me is a code we assassins use when we need help. It means find the nearest gas station, go there, and wait. So that’s what I did. I waited, expecting to see one of two men show up. The only two left who know how to find me. The dead man who walked through the doors of the Stop-N-Go on Beach Boulevard was so off my radar it took me almost a whole minute of open-mouth staring to come to terms
with what I was witnessing. He was beach-bumming, like me. His jeans were old and torn. His t-shirt a little too big, sporting a faded image of a mushroom on it. Vans on his feet. He was holding his hands up, like he was surrendering, but he was not surrendering. He just didn’t want me to shoot him straight away. He needed a minute. He got it, because I was stunned. “You look good,” he said. “You look better than you should,” I replied. He nodded and shook a hand in the air so I’d notice it. “I have something for you here.” He was holding a phone. “A message.” Whatever message he had, it was not one I wanted to hear, but I said, “What message?” involuntarily. “Take a look.” He held out the phone and I reached for it, thinking he’d use that as an opportunity to attack. But he didn’t. He handed me the phone and I took it, never taking my eyes off him. “Press play, Tet.” I looked down at the phone and squinted at the girl on the still shot of the YouTube video. The still shot was a close-up of her face, her eyes wide with fright. Green. Her eyes were as green as mine. Her hair was as dark as mine. Her features reminded me of pictures
of my mother when she was young. But there were bruises on her face. Not recent ones, which made them all the more ugly. “Nicola?” It was a question in my head. A desperate, desperate question as I hoped against hope that what I was seeing was real. I pressed the play icon on the screen and her voice carried though the noise in the busy gas station. “James,” she said to the camera, her eyes filled with fear. “Help me. Please,” she begged that day on video. “Please, help me.” How do you deny your sister when she returns from the dead and asks you to save her? You don’t. You say, Whatever it takes. Because blood runs thick. That fucking blood sticks to your hands no matter how much time you spend in the desert. That fucking blood makes you do things. Things that you never thought you’d do. Things like kill your brother to save your niece. Things like give up your future to save your sister. I’ve been looking for someone to save my whole life. Since the day I shook death’s hand and walked away from a dirty promise. Since the day I decided I am damned and I’ll take them all to hell with me. Since the day I realized blood might run thick, but revenge runs deep.
I did make a choice that day. But that was just hours before I met Harper. How could I have known? I remember now. I remember what was hiding behind that black curtain of denial. I remember those missing hours I forced myself to forget to avoid the consequences. I remember the dirty deal I made with death. And death is coming back to collect.
Chapter Forty-Five - James
“Are we there yet?” Sasha asks from the backseat as I shake Nicola out of my thoughts. “Almost,” I say absently. Nicola is not that easy to shake. My debt is not small. My debt makes any future I wanted impossible. I look in the rear view and Sasha catches me staring and smiles. “James?” “What?” I say back as I study her face. “Do you think we’ll have time to go to the beach today?” I nod at her and then look over at Harper. She’s asleep. Or faking it, I’m not sure. “Yeah, I’m counting on a sunset tonight. We’ll definitely go to the beach.” “Tonight?” she whines. “Can’t we go before that?” “We’ll see, Smurf. You can see the ocean from my house, but I want you to stay inside. I’ve got some business to do first.” And that’s when Harper’s shoulders stiffen. Yeah, she is faking it.
“Harp,” I say as I smack her leg playfully. “Harper? You awake? We’re back.” She pulls herself up and turns to me. Her smile is slow and just as fake as her sleep. She’s worried. As she should be. This plan is far from perfect, especially for her. And now I have a new player in the game. Fucking blackouts. “I’m gonna drop you guys off and then I have to go meet some associates.” She just stares at me. “OK?” “Where are you going?” she finally asks. “I’m not sure yet. I got a message about these missing files. So if I can get a hold of them, then I need to make the delivery.” “Delivery to where?” I force a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Harper. But it’ll be fine, babe. Just relax at my place for a few hours, then I’ll come back, we’ll grab some dinner and head towards the beach and have a nice night.” She nods but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Hey,” I say, my hand going to her knee. She’s starting to shake a little. Barely noticeable, but it’s there. “You’re OK. We’re OK,” I stress. “Don’t worry, it’s all gonna work out fine.” “What are we doing?” she asks in a low voice. “We’re going to James’ house, Harper,” Sasha pipes up from the back. I have her, at least. She’s totally on my side right now. We’ll see if it stays that way.
“It’s a small job, Harper. No killing, I’m on leave, remember? This isn’t a job like that, so stop worrying.” All that is true. None of this is a job, not really. But while I am being honest, I’m not being forthcoming. “Let’s go to Mexico,” she says with a bright hope in her eyes. “Let’s just… run away and go to Mexico.” “I wanna go to Mexico, James,” Sasha says. “I’m ready to go anywhere. You guys just say the word. I’m there.” “Harper,” I say in my serious voice. “Listen to me, we’re fine. We can’t run away, you know that. You can’t run away, because they know where we are.” “Then why am I still with you? Why hasn’t my father come to take me back?” “Because he knows you’re safe with me.” “We’re being set up,” Sasha says from the back. I nod to her image in the rear view. “We’re definitely being set up, Smurf. But look, you guys, just fucking trust me, OK?” I study Harper’s face and she’s not convinced, but when I turn my head to see Sasha, she’s smiling. I have her, and right now, that’s all I need. Harper’s trust would be nice, would make this job easier, but it’s not necessary. “I just don’t…” Harper is clearly not on board. But I’m not sure if she’s really worried about the files I keep mentioning, or if it’s about something
else. “I don’t think you should do this job, James. I think we can get away. I think we can sneak out somehow.” When I look over, her eyes are darting around like crazy. Like she’s desperate to convince me to do anything but this job. “Baby, relax. Why are you so worried? This is no big deal.” “But if we’re being set up, and we all know we’re being set up, then why the hell are we playing along?” I turn off Superior Avenue and onto Pacific Coast Highway, using my merge into traffic to stall her question. “Look!” Sasha squeals. “It’s the ocean!” She opens her window and the sea air blasts into the Hummer. I flip the AC off and roll down all our windows. It feels so good to let the outside back in after being in the desert these past few days. “I feel sick,” Harper says. “My stomach, James. I feel sick.” I rub her leg again. “Relax, Harper. I told you, I’m taking care of things. OK?” She shakes her head. “Pull over, I’m gonna throw up. Pull over!” I pull into a restaurant parking lot and park in the shade. Harper opens her door and leans out. She waits, spits a little, but she holds it together. “What’s wrong, Harper?” Sasha asks, worried. I look back at Sasha and shush her with a finger to my lips. “Harper,” I say, rubbing her back. “You’re
fine. OK? Just relax.” She leans back in her seat and wipes the perspiration from her forehead. “I don’t want you to do this job, James, I don’t want to go back to HB. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I’m not ready for this.” God, I feel so fucking guilty. “You won’t be alone, Harper. I’ll be there too. I have a gun if anyone tries to mess with us. James gave me one of his Five-SeveN’s. It’s kickass!” “Sasha,” I say sternly. “Do not shoot that thing here, do you understand me? This is Orange County, not the desert.” “I’m not stupid, James,” she says with an eye roll, like I’m her father and we’re talking about curfew instead of killing people. Fucking girls. They are so emotional. I’m just not used to it. I’ve never worked with so many damn girls. “Harper,” I say to get her attention back and take her mind off her worries. I get out and walk around to her side of the Hummer, slide my sunglasses up onto my forehead, and take her face in my hands. “Just fucking trust me.” I look her in the eyes. “If you give in, let go of whatever’s got you all worked up, and just let me handle things, I promise you. We’ll be fine.” “And what if I don’t give in to you, James? What if I can’t give in to you? What then?” “Harper, I’m here no matter what. You don’t have to trust me, but everything I do is for us. You got it?
Remember what I said. If I ask you to walk through fire?” “I’m fireproof,” she says back in a sad voice. “If I ask you to take a bullet?” “I’m bulletproof.” “And if I walk away?” Her eyes are gathering tears but both my thumbs swipe the corners of her eyes before they fall down her cheeks. “What happens if I walk away, Harper?” She swallows hard and shakes her head no. “I’ll come back for you, Harp. If I walk away, it’s because I’ll come back for you.” The tears stream out now and there’s nothing I can do to catch them. “I don’t want you to walk away.” I lean into her ear and whisper, “I never said I was going to, you crazy woman. It’s a just-in-case scenario.” She sniffs. “You won’t walk away.” I shake my head. “I’d have to be torn away, Harp.” I smile at her. “They’d have to tear me away.” “You promise?” “I promise.” This eases her fears and I feel her relax in my embrace. “We’re like ten minutes from my house, wanna go check it out?” “I do!” Sasha says. But I shush her with another finger to my lips. I close Harper’s door and walk back around to my
side, catching a suspicious look from Sasha as I pass her window. Great, I get one on board and the other is immediately suspicious. It’s like these girls are opposite forces, able to see through me, but only one at a time. “You’re not walking away from me, are you, James?” Sasha asks with a desperate edge to her voice. I slide my sunglasses down and glance in the rear view. “Never, Smurf. I need you more than you can ever imagine.” And then I shoot her with my finger in the mirror and she smiles.
ChapterForty-Six - Harper
I don’t believe him. I do not believe one word he says. I’m not fireproof. I’m not bulletproof. And if he walks away, I will die. Die. That will be the end for me, because nothing feels right. My stomach is in knots. My mind is racing with all kinds of scenarios. My body is shaking with fear. If they have those files, then what? What happens to me? And if they don’t, what am I supposed to do? Nothing about this makes any sense. Where is Nick? He said he’d come back for me, just like James. But our year is just about up. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. And the farther we go up PCH, the sicker I feel. My stomach is all over the place. One minute I just want to hurl everything, the next I’m desperate to keep it all inside. The pier comes into view on the left and Sasha squeals with delight. She’s so happy. But I’m not. I groan and put a hand on my stomach. “James,
please, just turn around.” But he can’t even hear me over the wind and Sasha. Besides, he’s not listening. We pass the pier and turn up Fifth Street towards my house. The little Mexican restaurant is busy because it’s lunchtime now. He slows down and turns left onto Walnut, then makes the first right into the alley. My alley. I grab him by his upper arm. “I don’t want to go to my house, James!” He ignores me, just parks the car in front of my garage, then gets out. But he’s not going to my house. He walks up to the garage across the alley, flips open a control pad, and keys in a code. The garage door opens as he gets back into the Hummer. “I live right here.” He smiles down at me and I feel my worries lift for a moment. “You lived across the alley from me that whole time?” He pulls into the garage and cuts the engine. “All the better to stalk you, my dear.” “Ha,” Sasha says from the back seat. “James, you really are the big bad wolf. He was gonna tell Merc wolves ate me out on the prairie if I didn’t behave, Harper. You better watch out.” “All right, enough,” James says as he opens his door. “Let’s go inside and I’ll give you the tour before I head out.” Ohhhh. My stomach does another flip and I have
to swallow down the puke. I reluctantly get out and follow them over to the key pad by the inside door. James presses in the code and the garage door closes as the condo door opens. Inside there are steps leading up to a second floor. Sasha and I follow him up to a bright and open living area. “You can see the ocean,” Sasha says. He does have a very nice view. One block away, but looking down Sixth Street. When I follow them out onto the balcony, I realize you can even see sand from here. “That’s quite a view the Company pays for.” I don’t know why I say it. To be a bitch. To hide my insecurities. To make him feel guilty for being here on their dime. Or maybe all of the above. What’s he doing with me anyway? I get that he wants me to trust him, but why should I? He has never denied that this is a job. He has denied certain very specific things about why he’s here. It’s not to kill me. It’s not to kill Nick. But beyond that, he’s been very evasive. “You should see the third floor,” James quips back as he takes my hand and leads me over to some stairs on the other side of the living room. “I wanna see the third floor!” Sasha says excitedly. “Stay here, Smurf,” James growls. I know what he’s doing, but I follow him upstairs anyway. He takes me past a bedroom and an office,
until we get to the end of the hallway, and then he opens the double doors that lead to the master and waves me in. The doors close behind me and then his hands are on my hips. Lifting my shirt and caressing my breasts before I can even begin to protest. I want to protest. That’s a lie. I want to fuck him. I want to suck him off so hard he forgets all about these files and stays in bed with me for the rest of the day. But that’s not gonna happen, so the best I can hope for is an hour of dirty pleasure. I drop to my knees and begin unbuttoning his pants, but his hand grips my upper arm. “No, Harper. That’s not why I brought you up here.” “What?” He pulls me to my feet. My face is hot with embarrassment. “What’s wrong?” He just smiles. “James, please, you’re scaring me.” And then he pulls me into an embrace. His mouth drifts to my neck and his hot breath is enough to cause prickles to stream down my spine. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I just… I just don’t want you to think I’m only here for that. I brought you up here to talk, that’s all. In private,” he adds quickly when he realizes my confusion. “Nothing bad.”
I’m not sure I believe him. Sex, that seems to be our new normal. It’s very obvious he’s been using it to get what he wants. To control things and keep me off balance so I’m more compliant. But talking? “Why are you so nervous?” he says, cupping my face in that way that allows his thumbs to caress my jaw. I let out a long sigh. “I’m just not sure any words we say will be very comforting.” He leads me over to the balcony and opens the slider so we can step out onto the terrace. The ocean hits me immediately, and it’s breezy today, so even though it’s probably not possible, I feel the sea on my skin. I inhale deeply and then realize James is watching me. I smile, a little bit more at ease with all these familiar scents and feelings. “What?” He shakes his head and stares. “You’re so pretty.” Pretty. It’s such a simple word. Pretty. It’s something kids say. And yet it says so much more than gorgeous or beautiful or hot or sexy. It’s the implied simplicity of the word that make my heart swell around the echo of his voice in my head. “I wish we were Six again.” He nods at me. “Yeah, a do-over. I wish we could have a do-over. But you know what I’d do
different?” Tears are suddenly running down my face. I wipe them away and swallow down whatever this new emotion is and answer him. “What?” He closes the distance between us with one step, but that step changes everything in my eyes. That step makes me his. And when his arms come around me, the way they have so many other times, that changes things for me too. “Why are you crying?” he asks me softly. “Don’t you want to know how I’d do it over?” I smile a little and wipe my face. “I do, I want to know. I’m sorry, I just feel so sad all of a sudden. Like something is going to go wrong at any moment.” “Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up so I have to look him in the eyes. “Nothing is gonna go wrong, OK? I’ve got it all under control.” “All what?” I say, trying to stop the tears. “What needs to be under control?” My heart is racing so bad, I might faint. I reach out for the glass railing of the terrace, but then James has a hold of me. He leads me over to a chaise longue, sits down, and then pulls on me until I sit in front of him and rest back against his chest. “You’re getting all worked up now, Harp. Stop. I brought you up here to tell you about my do-over. So just relax and enjoy the story.” I take a deep breath to calm myself down. I
realize this is an overreaction, but as usual, I’m helpless to stop it. “I need those pills,” I say more to myself than James. “Harper,” he says sternly. Stern enough to make me jump a little. “I do not want to hear about those fucking pills again. I’m not fucking around, either. You are not to take them, do you understand me?” “I don’t even have any, so it’s not like I could.” “Do you understand me?” “Yes,” I reply back. I turn around enough to see his face and he’s genuinely angry. “Sorry, it was a joke. Just a stupid throwaway comment. That’s all.” “He controls you with those pills, Harper.” “Who?” “Your father, who else? He’s the one who had them prescribed for you. He’s the one who encouraged them.” “To control the panic attacks, and he’s not even around, so just drop it.” “Promise me—” “I promise, Jesus. Just tell me your do-over.” I cross my arms, angry at my mood swings. And his. We are all over the place today. “Sorry,” he says with a kiss to my head. “Sorry, I just know how hard it was to wean you off them, so I don’t want you falling back on old habits.” “When would I even have the chance?” “OK, fine. Are you ready?” I turn so I’m lying sideways on his chest and then
I close my eyes and enjoy his scent. His strong arms around me. His gentle caress up and down my arm. “You’d come see me that day we turned Six and you’d say yes to my father’s offer.” I chuckle a little as I look up at him. And then stop. Because he’s frowning at me. “No, Harper. I can’t say yes to that dirty offer. That was the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life. You had a good childhood, right?” “I did,” I admit. “So taking you away back then would ruin you. All that you are today, all the things I love about you, both good and bad, are all because of those twelve years we were apart.” “Then how is that a do-over?” I ask, confused. Everything today is so confusing. “It’s a do-over because I’d do it all over again.” My tears are back again. He presses his face into my neck and hugs me tight. “I love you for who you are. I love you right now, everything about you. I want you the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing, Lionfish. Not a damn thing. I love the way I met you. I love that stupid ballerina bathing suit you were wearing. I love that you were trying to bury me with a pail and a shovel and you drew me your secret in the sand—” “You knew?” “No, baby. I didn’t know until you told me your name under the pier. It took me twelve years to
figure that out.” He laughs. “But I want you to know, I thought about you every night. No matter where I was in the world. No matter what I was doing. And even though I had to tell your father no, my answer was always yes.” He turns my head and kisses me gently on the lips. “My answer was always yes. You are mine, Harper. And you have always been mine. And if I tell you to walk through fire?” “I’m fireproof,” I whisper back. “Do you believe me?” I shake my head no. “I’m not fireproof. I’m a sad mess.” “You’re bulletproof. You cannot be touched, baby. You can’t. Because I’m your shield. That’s all you need to know. That’s the only thing you need to know. Just—” He pushes on me until I turn around enough to look him in his eyes. “Just believe in me.” “You’ll come back for me?” He smiles and my heart breaks. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” “No,” he says too quickly. “I’m not leaving. Not for good anyway. I’m gonna go get what I need and I’ll be right back. And then we’re gonna go watch the damn sunset. If it’s the last thing I do, I will get another sunset with you.” And then his chest rumbles with a laugh and I feel like the saddest person on earth when he tilts me forward, slips out from behind me, and walks out to
do his job.
ChapterForty-Seven - Harper
A few minutes later a door slams two floors below me. A few minutes after that, Sasha appears on the terrace. “Harper? Are you OK?” “Do you trust him?” I ask her as I stare out at the Pacific Ocean. The view he has, holy mother, it’s perfect. Sasha lets off an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, he’s not very nice most of the time. And he’s killed a lot of people compared to me. So I guess not. But—” I look over at her and then point to the chair next to my chaise longue. “But what?” “But he’s good underneath, I think. Well…” She backtracks as she takes a seat. “Maybe not good. But I think he’s… trying really hard.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I think he wants what’s best.” “Best for who?” “You, I guess. Him. Maybe even me, I’m not sure about that. But he’s nicer than Merc. Not as nice as Ford, but he could be a lot worse.” “Hmm. I’m not sure could be worse is good enough to trust him with my life.”
“Why are you in danger anyway? I don’t get it. Why does everyone want you? Why don’t they just leave you alone?” “Because when I ran away last summer I took something very valuable.” “Like… gold?” she asks. I laugh, not to make fun of her innocence, but to appreciate it. It’s been a long time since I felt that innocent. Even though people think I’m this weak little girl, I’m not blind to what’s happening. I just bottle it all up inside. That’s where my panic comes from. That’s why my heart races. That’s why I need those pills. Because those pills make me forget what’s real. Those pills let me live in the fantasy everyone sees on the outside. But on the inside —“No, not gold. A drive with important things on it.” “Oh,” she says. But her face is scrunched up in confusion. “Does it have money things on it? Because my dad says money is what makes people do bad things. Well…” She stops to think about this. “He used to say that.” The fact that she can say that without crying almost makes me want to cry. She’s like the rest of us Company kids. She’s learned to live with the bad. She’s learned to bottle it up, or at the very least, keep it to herself until she can release it. She’s learned to deal. “No, not money. Names. Names of families in the Company and what they
paid to be who they are in the organization. That determines who they are in the outside world.” “Oh,” she says again. But this time she gets it. “I know it’s wrong. The stuff with the kids and the promises. It’s wrong to do it.” “It’s very wrong. But that’s not all they do, Sasha. If this was just about prearranged marriages, well, there might be some sort of public outcry, but no one would care enough about a few girls who are given well-to-do husbands when they turn eighteen to make any kind of difference.” “Oh.” This time it’s clear that she’d rather not talk about it, but my lips are loose and I have such a need to tell someone. “They control everything. All the largest governments. All the critical infrastructure. Power companies. Water. Farmers. Armies.” I look over at her. “Hospitals, and airports, and medicine.” She tries to swallow down her question, but it comes out anyway. “Do they do bad things with that control?” “Sometimes. They killed your father. James says they killed our mothers. Those are bad things. But I don’t think they do the really bad things just yet.” “Yet?” Her word echoes mine. I look at her intently. She’s so strong for being so young. She’s like me, only much, much better at it. “There are worse things they can do with that
control, Sasha. They could…” I let out a deep breath. “They could change the world with it. And not in a good way.” We sit in silence for a few minutes and then I stand up and turn to her. “I have to walk across the alley to get something in my apartment. Do you want to come with me?” “Should I get my gun?” “Yes, Sasha,” I say calmly. “You better get your gun.”
Chapter Forty-Eight - Harper
Since the day I met James under the pier, nothing has ever happened the way I thought it would. For instance, my apartment is not trashed. It looks exactly the way I left it. Of course, there’s not much to trash if people did break in. But the door jamb seems fine so I’m gonna assume that the people who came here looking for what I might’ve left behind were either very considerate… or they never showed up. Reluctantly I admit that no one came looking. And that stings a little. Because what the fuck? My father knew where I was all year and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up? It makes me angry. Or maybe it hurts. I’m not sure. But I am sure that it doesn’t feel good to run away for a year and not even the most valuable stolen property on earth can make him care. I want to scream. But Sasha is looking at me weird as I stand in the middle of my puny living room. “What?” I ask her. “Why are we here?” “Just check the bathroom and the closets to make
sure no one is hiding.” She raises an eyebrow at me but she walks off to do that. I grab a butter knife and a mini flathead screwdriver from my silverware drawer and then walk over to my one chair and tip it over. The floor in here is uneven, severely in places, so two of the legs have nickels glued to them to keep the chair from rocking. I pry them off with the knife and take them over to the kitchen counter and turn the light on so I can see them better. One nickel is real. One nickel is not. Well, that’s not true, they are both real. But one is special. “What’re you doing?” Sasha asks as she comes out of the bathroom. I pick up the special nickel and then I stick the mini precision screwdriver in a groove that runs the diameter of the smooth metal on the side. There’s a barely audible click as the two halves of the nickel separate, and then I use my fingernail to split them apart. I smile when the contents are revealed. “What’s that?” Sasha asks. “That important something I took when I ran away last year.” James was lying. Or he really was talking about some other files. Because these files are right here. This is the same micro-SD card Nick
left hidden inside the USB flashdrive I took from the locker back in the UCLA library. I know this because he knew I wouldn’t be able to read the card, so he put a tiny red dot on one corner of the label so I could identify it. The tiny red dot is right where it’s supposed to be. They never found it. I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. “This, Sasha”—I turn to look at her amazed face—“this has enough information on it to bring the whole Company down.” “How did you get it?” “I didn’t. Nick got it.” “He’s smart, huh?” “Very. But he’s also hot, you know what that means?” She nods yes. She knows, she grew up with the hunters. I only grew up with one hunter, but he and I were inseparable. Even though we were not together on his missions, he told me about every single job. He told me every single detail. He told me every weakness he ever saw in every person he ever met on a job. Hot means he’s got a hit on him. Hot means he might already be dead. So me and this little card might be the last chance there is to set things right. Nick never mentioned James. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. If all the assassins are dead except James, Nick, and that
Merc guy—and James was the one responsible for those deaths—and my father had me kill all his guests at my birthday party last year using James’ calling card, then James is being set up. “I can save him,” I tell Sasha. “I can get James out of the Company, and probably you too.” “How?” she says with an incredulous snort. “You help me find Nick and we can give this to him. If I can find Nick, then he can make it all OK. He’s got a plan, Sasha. We need to find Nick. And you said he came to see you. Lots of times.” Her face hardeners. “I’m not telling you what he told me. He said to tell no one.” “I’m his sister! Besides, you already told me he was there, what’s the difference?” She shakes her head. “Big difference. You’re just a girl. You can’t even shoot. You can’t even drive. How would we get there? We should give it to James.” “I really like James, Sasha, but I do not trust James. I don’t think he’s on our side. Yet. He needs me to convince him to leave. I want to convince him to leave with me. And he won’t do that unless Nick and I can finish what we started. James is still a wild card, he’s not on the right side.” Her eyes squint down and her gun comes up. It points right at my chest as she steps back a few paces. “You’re wrong. I’m on his side, so if you’re not, then it’s you who’s on the wrong side.”
Chapter Forty-Nine - James
I watch her from the roof. It surprises me that Sasha goes along. Then again. Girls. They have to do everything in pairs. That includes pissing and obtaining stolen micro-SD cards. That’s the only drive the files could be on. I’ve ruled out all other options. I’ve known Harper’s had them since last summer when the Company briefed the assassins after she ran. She was a highpriority target. Not my target. I was busy with Merc last summer. I was busy with Tony last summer. I was not even remotely interested in hunting down the Admiral’s daughter and finding those files. But Nick changed everything. Nick found me in Colorado last March right after I killed my brother. The second I got out of my truck at the Burlington airport so Harrison could take me back to the OC after Tony’s hit, he was there. He called me James. He talked rational. He made his case. He made an offer. And I wouldn’t even have to kill anyone. All I had to do was keep Harper alive until they made their move.
The Admiral was already sending me to the beach to take the edge off, so it was set. No changes had to be made until summer, and then he’d be in contact with Merc, who would be in contact with me. We set up the secretary, we set up the fake lawyer names, we agreed to meet in July. But this week something happened. Sasha happened. That’s when I lost control. Sasha. And that kidnapping. Harper said the message she found on the phone at my desert house was from Nick, but it wasn’t Nick. The assassin Harper killed wasn’t working for Nick. But the only thing on my mind right now are the files. I need those files to make a deal. Not a deal with Nick. Or Merc. Or the Admiral. My deal. A micro-SD card can be concealed in just about anything. It’s barely the size of a fingernail. The cursory checks were done early. Every time she left the apartment I searched. I looked every-fuckingwhere. A futile assignment because if someone wants to hide one of these micro cards, that fucker is gonna be hidden and there’s just no way around it. They are just too small. Add in the fact that the files could’ve been transferred to paper, or flash drive, or hard drive and you can see the Company’s problem. Hell,
who’s to say there aren’t hundreds of copies of these files floating around? Who’s to say Nick didn’t replicate the fuck out of them and spread them around. I don’t think he did, mostly because he told me he didn’t when we first started working together. But also because it decreases his power if someone else gets a hold of them. This was always my plan. I might’ve forgotten it for a while as my mind decompressed from the last mission, but this was always my plan. I was never here for Harper, I was always here for the files. Not officially. Sure, the Admiral knew he could count on me to keep an eye out for her if he put her in front of me. And I’m sure that’s why I was sent to the beach. I have kept an eye on her because of Nick’s job, but the Admiral is not pulling my strings. Not this time. Not ever again. He set me up. I might be a lot of things, but forgiving is not one of them. My mission with the Admiral started back on Six Day with Harper playing on the beach. We can change the world, he said. We can make it a better place, he promised. You can have my daughter and leave this the life of a killer behind, was his deal. The deal I earned. She’s mine. No matter what happens now, Harper Tate belongs to me. But the one thing he never counted on was me walking away. I refused his offer back then, not
because I’m a good guy, but because I’m a bad one. I am a killer. I was born to do this job. And while I do fully plan on keeping my prize, Harper is not enough to filter the cold blood running through my veins. Sure, it took the Admiral ten years to figure me out. But the year Harper turned sixteen and I was not sent a plane ticket, he had me. She was my addiction by then. Regardless of how I claimed to loathe those birthdays, he finally figured out what motivated me. His daughter and killing. All the assassins had to be eliminated if he wanted to restructure the Company. And who better to kill Company assassins but another Company assassin on the inside? I did not lie to Harper. Nick, he was never on the list. Merc was, but I made sure he got away. I was never on the list either, obviously, but you can bet your ass, I’m on someone’s list now. Sasha’s maybe. And I might even deserve to be on her list. Because that’s how it works, right? You get one guy to do all your dirty work and then you have only one witness to take care of when he’s done. Him. Me. I’m the last assassin; I’m the last to die. But Merc is still alive.
And Nick is still alive. And Sasha is still alive. And Harper is still alive. There’s more than us still alive too. That kidnapper yesterday morning, for one. But the Admiral’s order to assassinate the assassins was not my only job. I have lots of jobs. Lots of invested interests. Lots of plans that don’t include the Company. My eyes dart around the alley as the girls cross, linger on some graffiti painted on the garage in front of Harper’s building, and then settle on my little partner-in-crime Smurf. Sasha. I remember that message I got about her back in March now. It turns out Sasha really does have a dirty little secret. But she was set up too, so I’m totally on board with her trust issues. Because Sasha Cherlin was promised to Nicholas Tate and that’s why he was visiting her last year. The Admiral wanted her dead, but like Merc, Sasha is not one to lie down and just die. The Admiral left her out on the Colorado prairie to keep her away from Nick. And even though I don’t know for sure that she was told to kill me when I showed up, I feel it to be true. And she failed, so it’s her turn to die instead. I watch the girls enter the gate that leads to Harper’s back yard. She’s the only one in the basement, so she will be inside and have that card
in about two minutes. I’m about to get up from the roof so I can intercept her on the way back inside my condo when my gaze settles on the graffiti again. A mushroom. My stomach flips and my heart gives off one solid thump before beginning to race. The mushroom comes with a message. It always comes with a message. ‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar, a quote from Alice in Wonderland, is written in a hippie style straight out of 1969. I frantically search the alley, knowing I am too late because I’m on the roof, when he steps out from behind a truck parked a few spaces down. “Tet!” he calls and then laughs. “Tet, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought we got that coming-back-from-the-dead stuff out of the way back at the gas station? No? You’re still recovering? Still on vacation?” I think… for the first time in my life… I’m not sure what to do. So I start with his number. “One.” He pounds his bare chest, bronzed to a golden tan from beach living. “The one and only One. Still alive. Still fighting the good fight. Still… winning.” He laughs again. “You’re a good dog, Tet. A very good dog. Dropping the bird at my feet like this.” I’m confused. He stops directly below me in the alley. “What’s wrong, Six? Having trouble recalling our deal?
That’s OK,” he says, digging a phone out of his pocket and waving it up at me. “I’ve been sending you messages all along, buddy, you just weren’t getting them. Sorry about that.” “I remember the deal,” I snarl. I remember most of the deal, anyway. “And the deal was I bring you the card. So why are you here?” “Well, brother, excuse me for not trusting you, but we’re gonna need a new deal. I want something else you have. And it’s not the little girl and it’s not the Admiral’s daughter, either.” He pops off a salute, turns on his heel, and walks into Harper’s back yard.
Chapter Fifty - Harper
“You’re shitting me, right?” I ask Sasha as she continues to step back from me, that gun trained on my chest. “I’m on your side, Sasha! Put the gun down.” “Yes.” A voice from the open doorway startles both of us and I whirl around. “Be a good girl, Sasha Cherlin, and put the gun down.” I look back at Sasha and she has not put the gun down, but she’s not pointing it at me anymore, either. “Do you remember me?” the man asks her. He’s blond, tan, looks like that surfer guy I propositioned to make James jealous when we first met last week. Sasha nods. “I know who you are. And if you come any closer, I’ll shoot you.” “Awww, the little girl is all grown up.” Sasha growls at his patronizing tone. “Well.” The blond man moves two steps closer to me, but steers clear of Sasha. And then he drags his gaze from her and directs it at me. “Harper Tate. We have not had the pleasure. I’m Number One. And you, I’m sorry to say”—he smiles then, and that is the most evil smile I’ve ever seen—“belong
to me.” I recoil at his words. “I don’t think so.” “We had a deal.” “We did not have a deal,” I half snort, feeling more confident. Who the hell is this guy? “Not you and I, dear. Tet. Tet and I had a deal.” My stomach turns over. A gut-wrenching ache engulfs my heart. I have never felt such an emotional force internally as I do now. It almost knocks me over, that’s how hard this betrayal hits me. “And it involved that little card you have there.” I look down at the SD card I’m still holding between my fingertips. My out. The only thing I’ve been living for all year was this card and the promise that Nick would come back and get me. We’re gonna save everyone. We’re gonna make everything right again. I look back up at the man called One and shake my head. “You can’t have it, I don’t care who promised you. I won’t—” He’s got me by the throat before I can finish, the inner crook of his elbow a crushing force against my windpipe. I forget everything. Everything! My hands are clutching at his arm, trying to pry it away as my vision begins to black out. And then I hear Sasha scream, a sharp prick to my inner arm, and… nothing.
Chapter Fifty-One - James
“One,” I yell, as Harper’s body goes limp in his arms. She’s got a red streak around her neck, like she was strangled. “If you—” “Don’t come any closer, Tet. She’s out from the asphyxiation, but she’s drugged too. It was a big dose. She needs an antagonist stat.” Fuck. “I will fucking kill you. I will fucking—” He holds up the SD card in his hand and a wave of defeat washes over me. “I’m leaving, she can stay,” he says, lowering Harper to the ground. “Because it was Nicola I always wanted, Tet. And before you get all big brother on me, you should know, this was her idea.” He smiles as I internalize what he just said. The betrayal sinks in. The set up sinks in. “You think I’m lying? I’ll send you proof when we’re safely away.” And then he nods his head at Sasha. “That useless kid over there is also your problem. The Admiral gave you an order, so I imagine you’ll know what to do with her to get back into his good graces once he learns of this coup.”
Sasha is actually pointing her gun at him, but the shock in her eyes renders her helpless. “I’m leaving, and if you’re smart, you’ll go get your naloxone and save the Admiral’s daughter, because Nicola doesn’t need saving, Tet. She’s right where she wants to be.” He grins. “With me.” “She’s turning blue, James,” Sasha says in a voice that should not be that calm. “Better go get it, Tet. She’ll be dead in a minute or less.” I bolt back into the hallway, take the steps three at a time and crash through the door that leads outside. I practically tear the gate off the hinges and slam into the garage door as I key in the numbers to open it up and get to the first-aid kit in the Hummer. I punch in the wrong code and get a red flashing light, it cycles through a mandatory waiting sequence before I can try again, and I force myself to breathe deeply as my shaky finger presses each number correctly. The door slides up and I drop to the ground and shimmy underneath as it rises. I open the cargo area and then the tub where the first-aid kit is stored. I grab the naloxone rescue pen and retreat at a full run back to Harper’s apartment. When I get there, Sasha is kneeling down next to Harper, shaking her and calling her name over and over again. “She’s dead! She’s dead!” No. I push Sasha out of the way and stab Harper
with the pen, then press the plunger. I check her pulse. So weak. So very, very weak. I lean down on her chest and hold my breath as I listen for hers. Nothing. Sasha is screaming now, hysterical. But my world goes silent and I only see Harp. “Lionfish,” I whisper in her ear as I position her neck for rescue breathing. “Lionfish, you’re not getting out of here that easy.” I hold her nose, cover her mouth with mine, and breathe. I breathe into her. I place a hand on her chest to make sure her lungs are inflating. I do this over and over again. Sasha is crying. Harper is not breathing on her own, but that’s OK. I’m breathing for her. That’s all I hear. My lungs drawing in air, then her lungs taking it from me. It’s a comforting rhythm that calms me down. A minute passes. Then two. Her heart is beating and that’s all that matters. As long as I breathe for her, her heart beats. As long as her heart beats, she’s alive. Three minutes pass, then four, and five. Her eyes fly open and she takes a long gasp of air. She struggles to sit up. The naloxone has dissociated the drug from the receptors in her nervous system, rendering it inert. I hug her. Tight. Sasha squirms her way in and hugs her too. Tight.
Harper starts to cry and my whole body goes cold. My blood turns to ice. I will get that motherfucker. I will get. That motherfucker. I will torture him using techniques he’s never heard of before. I’ll flay the skin off him, one layer at a time, until he’s screaming for death. He will beg for death. But death and I have an understanding. A deal. He can have them in the end, but I always get them first.
Chapter Fifty-Two - James
I put Harper in the back of the Hummer with Sasha. They are both silent, but they are both alive. “Sasha, make sure she doesn’t fall into a deep sleep, OK? You need to check her pulse so we can make sure she’s not still drugged and give her another dose. Check her every ten minutes.” I explain how to do that and hand Sasha my watch so she can keep time. Then I give her the rescue pen, in case Harp needs more meds. When Sasha looks up at me, she’s crying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve shot him. I didn’t know what to do! It’s the city! It’s not the same. I didn’t know what to do.” Harper leans over the stupid table hump in between the two bucket seats and grabs her hand. “Don’t cry, Sasha. I’m fine, OK? I’m fine.” I push Harper back into her seat, lean over both of them so I can find her belt, and then drag it across her body. “Just keep still.” “James, that guy said he sent you to get the card.” “Don’t,” I growl at her. She recoils a little but I don’t care. “Don’t mention him again. I’m gonna
take care of it. But I’m not gonna explain what happened, because I’m not sure. So no more.” I pull back and stand at Sasha’s door. “We’re not talking about today. Ever. Do you understand?” They just look at me and I guess that’s as good an agreement as I’m gonna get, so I shut Sasha’s door and open mine. Harper is on the passenger side in back, so I can keep an eye on her as we drive. She’s still drowsy so I’m hoping she’ll fall into a light sleep as we make our way to the airport. I can use some quiet time to sort this all out. I put the Hummer in gear and back out of the garage, then head up the alley so I can catch Beach Boulevard up to Fullerton. My blackouts are a problem. I’ve pushed them off as short-term and transient, but I can’t be certain. Too many things are missing. I could be missing so many details. I could have made more deals. There’s a Wal-Mart near the 22 freeway, so I park the truck and check on the girls. Sasha is wide awake, her eyeballs huge saucers as she waits for me to explain myself. Harper is asleep. “Stay here and this time, kid, if someone comes to hurt you or Harper, you shoot those fuckers.” She swallows and nods. I go inside the store and buy a disposable phone, a book about vampires, and couple of celebrity
magazines, and some junk food and soda. We are camping out in the parking lot until this phone is charged and I can make a call. I take it all back out to the Hummer, turn the engine on so I can plug in the phone and run the AC… and we wait. Sasha reads the vampire book out loud as Harper drifts in and out of her post-narcotic slumber, and when the battery light on the phone finally turns green, I step outside and make my call. “Harrison,” I say with relief when he picks up on the second ring. “Did you get it?” “Shit, dude, you are fucking crazy! Sending me all the way down to Colombia for this!” “So you got it?” He laughs. “I got it. And you got a huge bill, both from me and Roberto.” I smile, then look back at the Hummer where Sasha is watching me. “Good,” I say, turning my back on her, “because here’s what I need.”
Chapter Fifty-Three - Harper
“Where are we?” “The harbor, Harp. You hungry?” “What time is it?” “Seven thirty.” “Where are we?” I’m so confused. “We’re at the beach?” “Yeah, the beach. To eat. I know you’re hungry.” He unbuckles my seatbelt and grabs me by the arm. Not roughly, but securely. “I do not feel good.” “I know, baby. But it’s OK. You’re gonna be OK.” “Where’s Sasha?” “I’m here,” she says. I look over and there she is. Her face is nothing but a frown. I smile at her but she does not shoot one back for me. “Why are you wearing a life vest?” Something is wrong. “We’re going on a boat, Harper. Kids have to have vests.” “I’m so confused. We’re eating on a boat?” And sure enough, when I look around, we’re in a marina. Have we always been in this marina?
“It’s the drugs, Harp. They’re still wearing off. I had to give you two more doses of antagonist.” He helps me down from the Hummer and I’ve never noticed how high up it was before. My legs are not working right, my head is all fuzzy, and my whole body is hot. I look around. “There’s a lot of boats on the water.” “There’s a boat race going on in the harbor.” “Which harbor?” “Newport. You ready?” James smiles at me. I smile back. “We’re gonna walk this way, OK?” But Newport rings a bell for me for some reason. I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard of it. Where? Why? Why have I heard of it? I rack my brain as James leads me along a dock and stops at a charter. He helps me get in and I have to admit, I like this trip. “Are we gonna watch the sunset tonight?” “You bet, babe.” I’m irritated with his answers and now that I’m coming out of my drugged-up stupor, none of this is making sense. James is not manning the boat. He’s facing me and Sasha is sitting up near the bow, in front of the captain. It’s a little boat, only seats four, so we’ve filled it all up. We are going very slow because of the boat races. There must be a hundred sailboats in the harbor, all following their pattern. We weave in and out between them and the salty air refreshes me and starts to lift the confusion.
God, I’ve missed being on a boat. I smile and then laugh a little when we pick up speed and I get splashed with saltwater. I am hungry. I open my eyes and spot a nice-sized yacht anchored off to the side. “Where are we going again?” But just as the words are out of my mouth I remember why I know of this harbor. Megayachts. Megayachts can anchor here if they get permission. I look at James and he’s staring at me intently. He’s got hold of my wrists and he reads the understanding on my face and squeezes them tightly. “Don’t fight me, Harper. I won’t put up with it.” His face is deathly serious. I stand up and he stands with me. My head turns, looking. And there she is. It’s pretty hard to miss a two-hundred-twenty-foot sailing yacht. “You sold me out.” I don’t scream it or get hysterical. It sorta comes out matter-of-factly. Like it was inevitable. Like I’ve always known I was nothing to him but a mission. We slow down again as the boat captain tries to weave his way through the sailboats to get to the open garage of the yacht. It’s the High Summer. My favorite. The one I left last summer. The one where I committed all my crimes. My father is waiting. He actually smiles, and then he frowns. I follow his gaze and it lands on Sasha. She’s ignoring
everyone. Me, James, the looks my father is shooting at her. The seat she’s sitting on is way in the tip of the bow, and she’s leaning over. I look back to my father and catch him nodding in my direction. But it’s not me he’s nodding at, it’s James. When I look back to James he’s got a gun out. It’s a big gun with a silencer thing on the end of it. He points it at Sasha, just as she stands up on her cushion and turns to smile and wave at me. James shoots her in the chest, the fluff from her life vest flies up in the air, and then her body falls overboard. All I hear is my scream and then I’m being hauled out of the boat and into the garage. Four men are holding me by my limbs. I’m not even allowed to walk, I’m carried. I squirm, elbowing one in the neck as he loses his hold, my feet get free, and then James is in front of me. I lift both legs and give him a two-footed kick to the chest. He stumbles backwards, the breath knocked out of him. But he never stops looking at me. His eyes are saying something, but it’s not anything I want to hear. “You’re a traitor,” I spit at him. “You are a traitor!” I scream it this time. He says nothing. My father walks up to him and claps him on the back. “Well done, James. And the card? Did you find the card?”
James shakes his head. “No, sir. But I know where it is. I’m going there next.” He drags his eyes from me and stares at my father. I’m being carried away, my arms and legs again captured by the security guards, and some of his words get lost in the bustle. But then I hear it. “Ten days,” he says. “I’ll have your son and the card in ten days.” He looks straight at me and lowers his sunglasses. And that’s the last I see of James Fenici as I’m dragged into the interior of the ship.
Chapter Fifty-Four - Sasha
Don’t let anyone tell you getting shot is a piece of cake. I’m looking at you, James Fenici. Of course, he’s not here. So I’m really just talking shit in my head. I shiver as Harrison pilots the sailboat back to shore. My custom made-in-Colombia-for-drugdealers’-kids bulletproof life vest is gone. Ceramic panels and layers of Kevlar tucked inside some Disney cartoon fabric is not exactly the best flotation device. I had to slip that thing off as soon as I hit the water or I’d sink straight to the bottom. So I’m pretty cold right now. “You OK, kid?” Harrison asks. “Do I look OK?” I ask back. He shrugs. “You could be worse, I think.” “I’m freezing. How much longer?” “Well, we’re sailing, so the wind is our engine. We have a motor too, and we could speed off like we’re getting away from something, but it’s better to play it cool.” He’s right. We came this far. I got shot, Harper is back on her fancy yacht, out of the way. And James
is probably on his way to the meeting place. “Play it cool then,” I sigh. It takes us another half an hour to get to shore, and by this time the sun is going down, the sailboat races are over, and the harbor is clearing out. I can still see Harper’s ship. It’s very hard to miss since that thing is as big as an apartment building, and I have to admit, I’d sorta like to be her right now. I’d sorta like to be anyone but me. We get to shore and Harrison ties up the boat and points to a rental car in the parking lot. “Go sit in there. Your gun’s under the passenger seat in the front.” I do as I’m told. What choice do I have? I wait for about ten minutes before Harrison comes back. He smiles at me as he starts the car and then we are on our way. The drive back out to Fullerton airport takes almost an hour. Accident on Harbor Boulevard. But when we get there and I see James leaning against the side of the building smoking a cigarette, my sadness melts away. He grins and then holds up a stuffed dinosaur and shakes it at me. Oh, James. You are such a surprise. I get out as soon as the car stops and walk over to him. I do my best not to run, but I admit, I skip those last few yards. I hug him around the waist and start to cry. “I’m so sorry, Smurf. Look, I got you a dinosaur,
to make up for shooting you in the chest.” I sniff and wipe my eyes as I pull away. I take the pink T-Rex toy and hug it close. “That’s not why I’m crying.” “Does it hurt?” he asks, kneeling down to look me in the eye. I nod, why lie. “It does,” I whine. “I feel like someone hit me with a baseball bat.” Harrison whistles. “Let’s fucking go!” James scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the plane. “Fuck, kid. I’m really sorry you had to be part of this. I am. And Harper is never gonna forgive me. Even if we set things right. But I told Nick I’d keep her safe and this is the only way to do that while we take care of business. No one can get to her on the ship.” He sets me down at the stairs to the plane and then takes my hand as we climb. “She will, James. She’ll forgive you. You know how I know?” “How?” he asks as we enter the plane and take our seats across from each other. “Because I’ve decided you were right. Ford is just like you.” He chuckles. “Yeah, we’re both killers. I’m glad you finally got that straight.” “No,” I say. “That’s not what I mean. I mean you are just like Ford.” He tilts his head and gives me a funny look. “Nice,” I say with a sigh. And even though he
tries to pull it off. He tries to pretend my words don’t mean anything to him. I know they do. He’s a killer, he’s an asshole, and he’s one of the most dangerous guys on the planet. But he’s my partner now. And we’re gonna go kick some serious ass and save the world.
Coming For You - Part One
Chapter Fifty-Five - Sasha
Last Christmas Eve
I see him, but he doesn’t see me. I’m practicing for the future. That’s how hunters work. You gotta be sneaky. His friend, who I have seen before—but who ignores me like I’m dust—goes into the back room to meet my dad. It’s a gun run, so I don’t pay any attention to him. But this guy, the guy who looks like he could be a hunter, but whom I’ve never seen before, which makes it unlikely (though not impossible), that he is a hunter, stops to look at stuff after his friend tells him to wait. He picks up a knife. “That knife sucks,” I say from my seat across the aisle. “I wouldn’t buy that one.” He checks the brand, then the blade. “Yeah, this is crap.” He puts it in the basket and I make my move. I set my Little House book down and walk over to
him. “Wanna see the good ones?” I ask. He turns and looks surprised that I got so close without him hearing me. I’m good at being sneaky. I show him the good knives and he looks at me like I’m weird. They all look at me like that once I let them into my world. They know I’m different. This guy—Ford, he says his name is—he knows I’m different. He jokes with me about grownup stuff. He laughs and listens to me when I help him shop for his mom and girl-who-is-a-friend. I giftwrap his two presents, and while I do that, I realize something. I’ve known almost from the moment he walked in that he’s a good guy. His friend peeks out of the back room and tells Ford to leave. Things are getting complicated. My stomach does a little turn at that word. I don’t like it. I like things to be simple. Complicated is bad. I switch my frown to a smile before Ford catches it. “You have time for me to gift-wrap your knife.” “It’s for me, Sasha. It doesn’t need to be giftwrapped.” “It’s like a present to yourself, Ford. Just go with it.” He laughs. I keep my back to him and concentrate on my gift-wrapping as he asks why I’m working today. Why am I working today?
Buddy, I think to myself, you would not believe me if I told you. I reach in my pocket and palm the little hard drive I took from my dad last night. He was drunk. My dad hardly ever gets drunk. And as much as I’d like to believe my Christmas Eve is going to end up with me sleeping soundly at my grandparents’ ranch tonight, I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s happening today. When the hunters show up, bad things happen. I pull the flash drive out of my pocket and slip it inside Ford’s knife box. When he opens this tomorrow, he’ll find an old battered piece of plastic covered in stickers. If he plugs the drive into his computer, he’ll see photographs. All my best moments in my short life. And maybe that’s the end of it. Maybe he tucks it inside a drawer somewhere, laughing at the little girl up in Wyoming who got attached. Maybe he never thinks of it, or me, again. I can only hope. But I don’t think that’s what’s gonna happen. I think that by the time this is all over, he might wish he never met me.
Chapter Fifty-Six - Sasha
Present Day
Some people look peaceful when they sleep. James Fenici is not one of them. He doesn’t talk, or thrash wildly from nightmares. Only stupid people do that. Weak people. James Fenici is not weak. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not weak. No. James has this little twitch. It’s almost not noticeable, and it only affects the one eye. But it’s there. I’ve been watching him for about an hour. I’ve been on a private plane twice now—once on my way to Vegas, and this time, on my way home from California. But let me tell you something. They are pretty fucking boring. Fracking. Fudging. Flucking. I should not swear in my thoughts. James hates it when I swear and if I swear in my thoughts, I’ll swear in real life. But fuck it. This plane ride sucks. There are no drinks because Harrison was too busy fishing me
out of the ocean after James shot me to stock up the cooler. Yeah. This stupid plane has a cooler. Like something you put ice in. Not like a refrigerator that even our stupid nineteen seventy-eight RV had back when I was a kid. A cooler. I’m not impressed. So no soda. Not even a fracking, fudging, flucking bag of pretzels. God, I’m so hungry. “James?” He’s across the aisle from me, but that’s like two feet away tops. I kick him when he doesn’t answer. “James?” “Kick me again, and I’ll break all your toes,” he says without opening his eyes. “I’m so hungry.” He cracks one eye open. “Do I look like a vending machine? I told you, we’ll stop in Burlington after we get the truck.” He closes the one eye like this matter is settled. “How far away is Burlington?” “Go ask Harrison.” And that’s it. I watch him for a few minutes to see if he’ll apologize for not having food. But he doesn’t. He’s asleep again because there’s that twitch. I don’t want to ask Harrison. He’ll say something with coordinates that make no sense without a map. If it was light I could look out the window and at
least see if we passed the mountains yet. Burlington is on the prairie. I slump down in my seat and pout. I know that’s very childish and I should man up and stop doing it. But I’m not a man and I’m still a child. So hey, might as well enjoy it while I can. I think of Nick instead. I can’t believe he never told Harper about me. Is that weird? She didn’t even know I was his promise. That’s not weird. I don’t think, anyway. Promises are supposed to be secret. I shouldn’t know Nick and I are promised. But he told me last year when he started coming to see me in Wyoming. Well, he came to see my dad. But he took an interest in me and it was very hard for me not to take an interest back because Nick Tate is what girls call hot. He and Harper have some similarities, obviously, since they are twins. But Nick is taller than Harper. He’s got nice muscles for a boy of only eighteen. Not like James. James has man muscles. He’s a big guy compared to Nick. But Nick is quicker than James. Harper is quicker than James too. I saw her fight a little while we were together. Nick is smart too. He knows so many things. He knows secrets for one. Secrets that even James doesn’t know. Hell, even I know secrets that James doesn’t
know. But if I thought that gave me an advantage, I’d be wrong because there’s more to James than just… James. Of course, there’s the little matter of Number One too. He tried to kill Harper. And I don’t know what to make of all this. Or of James’ sister, Nicola. Or the Admiral. Or Nick for that matter. Who should I trust? So far it’s just James. But once I see Nick, I’ll have to make a choice. Because you can’t be loyal to two people at once. Can you? Harrison yells from the cockpit. “We’re getting ready to land, you guys. Buckle up.” James lowers his feet off the seat across from him and sits up straight. Has he been awake this whole time? Shit, I stopped watching him. Did he see me thinking? I don’t like to think about secrets in front of James. It’s not like he reads minds or anything, but he’s got instincts. He reads faces. And body language. And even voices. I know because my father taught me how to do it too. But the thing about instincts is that you have to use them in real life to make them second nature. I have never done a job. Aside from killing those four men who came to blow up my grandparents’ ranch, I’ve never done anything exciting. All the
teaching in the world is useless without experience. James has experience. James has killed hundreds of people. He’s overthrown governments. He’s worked in conditions I can’t even imagine. And he was a prisoner of war down in Honduras once. I’ve heard that story enough times to recite it in my sleep from people more important than him. Back in the desert he told Harper and me that he was running a shadow government down in San Pedro Sula, but that wasn’t his first time in Honduras. No. The first time was when he was captured. I know what happened to him down there. Both times. I chance a look over at my new partner and smile. “What’s on your mind, Smurf?” Shit. “I’m so, so, so, so hungry.” He stares at me and I can’t help myself. I squirm. “Burlington has a McDonalds. We’ll get some breakfast there.” I would die for McDonalds right now. “And then what are we gonna do?” The plane drops the landing gear with a thud and this gives James the opportunity to ignore my question. I don’t like when he ignores my questions. Because that means I won’t like the answer he’s not giving me.
“We’re partners, right?” I ask him, suddenly feeling needy. He turns back to me with a smile. I love it when he smiles. Because as far as I can tell, the smiles are never fake. “Till death do us part, midget.” I smile back. I really do like James. I’m just not sure I can trust James. Because as far as I’ve been able to tell, Tet is in charge in all the situations that count. The most notable was back at Merc’s house in the desert when he told me he might have a plan. The second time was after Harper was drugged by One. I’m still not one hundred percent sure of who was actually in charge that first time. But the guy who told me he was going to shoot me in the chest was definitely Tet. And even though I think James is on the up and up, I have a hard time understanding how he can live two lives at the same time. Everyone in the Company—and I do mean everyone—knows that James Fenici is a twisted dude. You need him to kill his brother? No problem. Just tell Tet. You need him to kill a trainer’s kid? No problem. Just tell Tet. You need him to trail your daughter and lead everyone on a wild chase to take the heat off your son? No problem. Just tell Tet. But the problem with James and Tet doubles when you realize you can’t have one without the other. They are not two separate personalities.
They really are the same guy. I think that makes James/Tet more insane than if he was one of those crazy people with split personality disorder. Because at least if they were two people you could sorta count on them. For instance, when the Admiral texted James and told him to come out to Colorado and “pick me up” what he really expected was for Tet to come out to Colorado to “pick me off”. Nick told me the night before James showed up. He said, If you see him first, he’s James and you should give him a chance. If he shows up as Tet, you’ll never know he was there. Is it fucked up that Nick didn’t just tell me to get the hell out of there? I’m not sure. But Tet wasn’t around when that text from the Admiral to come “pick me up” came in. James was. And James was busy with Harper, so he didn’t need Tet. See, the Admiral, for all his uppity smugness, really has no clue how James/Tet operates. I suppose that’s why he instructed me to kill James that day. It was a two birds kind of thing. I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the plane touches down, bounces once, then again, and we roll the rest of the way towards the small airport surrounded by cornfields on three sides. When we come to a stop James stands up and
stretches his arms above his head and touches the top of the cabin, pressing his hands flat against the curved plastic. “I’m starved too, McSmurf. And I need coffee.” He says that with a smile. God, I love that smile. I might not like Tet all that much, and James is not one of those nurturing people like my dad was. But when he smiles at me like that, I absolutely love him.
Chapter Fifty-Seven - James
I watch the Smurf watch me through the smallest crack of an eye during our plane ride. She’s making me nervous. She’s not asleep, but she thinks I am. She’s watching me, but she has no idea I’m watching her. Jesus fucking Christ. I have no idea what I’m doing. I know things they don’t think I know. But I’m not even sure what to do with some of that information. And I have no idea what Sasha is doing. I know she’s operating on someone’s orders. I’m just not sure who’s orders they are. The Admiral? She definitely was. But now? Not sure. Nick? Don’t know about that either. Merc? Now that’s the real mystery. The one that matters most right now because he’s the first person we’re gonna see. And Nick. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but Merc has. He knows a lot about me. Maybe more than he should. Definitely more than he should. And so this is the test. Who works for who is a question I’ve had no solid answer to for a very long
time. But pretty soon all the players will be present and I can sort it out. But pretty soon is not now, so I need to just let it go. I’m moving forward on trust alone. I have to trust her. It’s my only option. I think about Harper instead and that makes my chest hurt in a way that’s new to me. When I saw her lying on the floor in her old apartment—fuck. I stopped breathing. It had to have been no more than two, three seconds. But it felt like eternity. Slow mo, right? They say that in emergencies, time changes. And I believe it. I’ve felt that a lot over the years. When reality is so in your face. When death is right there—all you gotta do is reach out and he’ll pull you across that thin veil and make it all end, once and for all. I’ve been there so many times. But the first time is the one you never forget. Honduras. Twelve years ago. James Fenici, barely Six, not yet Tet. Already fucked up. Even now when I close my eyes, I hear the spray of bullets. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t even load my fucking rifle. And when I finally shot my first gang member down in the fucked up place they call San Pedro Sula, I missed. The first bullet skimmed past his temple, just enough to ruin his eye, and give me a nice visual burned into my memory. Still, to this day. I never even got a chance to fire a second shot
and finish the job, because I was caught and the guy who was forever called Mistake Number One in my head lived. But I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and wished he hadn’t. I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and told himself he lived for one thing only. To make James Fenici pay. I was in custody long enough to be tortured by him personally after he recovered. They burned me. They choked me. Hell, they hanged me once. Not enough to break my neck, obviously, just enough that I had to stand on my tiptoes for hours… days, sometimes. They say the reason I’m so dangerous now is because I never gave up then. And I guess that’s true. I don’t. I figure fuck this goddamned world. It’s got nothing I can’t take. All I gotta do is become Tet when the time starts to slow down and he steps right in. He’s got no problem blowing heads off and Tet does not miss. If you’re gonna kill someone, you finish the job or die trying. Because it’s no gusta hanging around to get caught or having to go back and try it again. Take it from me. I know. I got caught and I went back to finish the job of taking over the city they call Murder Capital of the World. It was like combining the worst moment of my life with a weird sensation of coming home.
I think that’s when Tet really started to take an interest in my jobs. I don’t consider Southern California home anymore, not since I left there when I was sixteen. But thinking of Honduras as home back then? That was a new level of fucked up, even for me. It took me years to understand that I was different. When One came to rescue me from the Honduran gangs, I had an inkling. His third name is Shroom because his calling-card poison is amatoxin. Poison mushrooms. We get assigned a poison to use when we need to kill people for personal reasons. Mine’s the toxin found in the blue ring octopus. Classic James Bond kinda shit. Tet the toxin is a blockbuster movie way to die, for sure. But Tet the dude? He’s definitely more of a Goldfinger kinda character. I don’t know whose idea it was to give us three names, but I took that shit seriously because when your job requires you to interact with some of the biggest scumbags on Earth, you gotta keep it in perspective. Tet. I can feel him inside me. He tips his hat in greeting. He’s relaxed right now. His version of winding down at the beach. But that’s because I’m with the kid and I think Harper is safe for now. Fucking Harper. I miss her more than I’d like to
admit because there’s just no telling how all this shit will play out. I have no idea who is on my side inside the Company or who is actively working against me. They might be using her to get to me. They might be using me to get to her. Hell, anything is possible at this point. I don’t know if a single person can say they understand their loyalties these days. It’s a sketchy world at the best of times, but the Company has seen the last of the best of times. Ever since Harper and Nick took off with that file, everyone’s been on edge. What’s on the file? Only one person knows that for sure. The person who made it. And he’s dead. I don’t know a lot about it, but I do know they can’t access it. Before Nick took it, they had every expert on the planet trying to get past the firewall. That’s one reason they brought in Merc. And fuck —what good luck for them that the guy was a professional mercenary. He was working private security when I was sent to Europe to recruit him. He was not interested and it was dropped. But we got to be friends over the years. He’d call me. I’d help. I’d call him. He’d help. Debts, man. Debts make the world go round. And then one day… a call came in to his home phone while he was busy and I was minding the shop. And I listened to that message.
And who do you think that call was from? Ford fucking Aston. Turns out Merc has a similar quid pro quo arrangement with Aston, and this call was a cash-in for a debt Merc owed him. It was a small identity theft request. But that wasn’t the interesting part. The interesting part was when Ford said, I’d do it myself, but I need to keep my distance. Which told me two things. Ford was not above fucking with people’s lives. And he had skills in his own right. Both of which might come in handy for me. Tet took over from there. Merc came back from that job, it was a total fuckup, and as soon as he walked in the door, the message was playing. I’m not sure if he knew about Tet before he came home that night, but he sure the fuck knew of him by the time we were done. Tet blackmailed him. Either he does the job I need him for, or I call Ford back and get him involved. And for some reason, Merc is loyal to that asshole in a suit. He caved. I gave him a number, Seven, and a calling card. If your name is already Merc, it only makes sense to become mercury. As far as I know, Merc kills whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and he has never actually bothered to poison someone with mercury. Which is why the Company started thinking up
ways to get rid of him once his usefulness wore off. He’s not exactly a team player. Hence the ‘accident’ up in Wyoming last Christmas. The Admiral was not happy about that fuckup. I know that for a fact because I was sent to eliminate the assassin who botched the job when both Merc and Sasha showed up alive the next day. Of course, this is all hindsight shit. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening last year. All I knew was I was being sent to kill people who were supposed to be on our side. No one knows who to trust these days. We’re all guilty. We’re all killers, even if we’re not all numbered assassins. We’re all wary of each other. Because that file has been floating around for more than a year now. And from what they say, that file has enough dirt on it to cut the entire Company off at the knees. I don’t get this file. I have no idea what’s on it. I think just your basic who’s who kind of info. Which means I’m in there. My family’s in there. We’re all in there, I guess. But who gives a fuck? Really, if some investigative reporter gets a hold of it and flashes that info for everyone to see, who would believe it? It’s like a very bad Dan Brown conspiracy book. This shit is so twisted, and the people involved so high up, and the accusations
about what we’re doing so outlandish no one would even believe it. People just ignore shit that’s too big. You tell them small things—like we busted a terror cell in Colorado but the guy’s in custody, or there was a helicopter crash in Afghanistan and ten Navy SEALs died—and they’re OK with that. People can process that shit. But when you get a guy who climbs the White House fence so he can get on TV and try and tell people what we’re doing by naming names… nope. That’s crazy talk. People don’t process the big shit well at all. A plane ‘disappears’ over the Indian Ocean and everyone goes, huh? Wonder what happened. A plane goes missing. Hundreds of people. Missing. No one bats an eye. So who gives a fuck about this file? That’s what I don’t understand. It’s big shit. It’s a list of global criminals masquerading as lawmakers and politicians. But there’s so many people on it—so many government agencies, charities, movie stars, and moms and pops—it’s gotta be bullshit. I mean, come on. How could this shadow world exist right under everyone’s nose? So I can give a fuck about this file. But that was before One killed Harper to get it back. Now that file is all I think about. And my sister. He mentioned my sister. He said she was in
on the plan. And holy motherfuck. I can totally see that. I can totally fucking see that. It’s like all these little bits and pieces of my life and memory are all coming back to me. But that file. It’s all wrong how it went down. Nick steals the file, gives it to Harper, tells her to poison a ship full of Company elite, and then sends her away. But he only gives her the outward appearance of escaping. He only gives her just enough cover to make her think she’s getting away. I’m debriefed, along with the rest of the remaining assassins—but told not to approach. No one is to approach her because she’s dangerous. Yeah, Harper has some moves, but Harper is not dangerous. She’s like a little kitten with those little kitten claws. She can hurt you, but she’s a kitten. So everyone gives her a wide berth. Meanwhile Tony’s number comes up and he’s next on my list. At the same time, Ford calls in a favor to Merc, who calls in a favor to me, requesting that my crazy brother also be eliminated. So yeah, I did it. Well—I take a deep breath and crack an eye to see if Sasha noticed, but she’s deep in thought too —I didn’t do it. Tet did it. Tet did it and then Tet didn’t move to the back of the bus, so to speak. Tet decided to take the front seat, in fact. And that made me fail the psych evaluation. Which got me sent to the beach to unwind.
And then One appeared with a video of my sister, Nicola. And she had black eyes and she asked me to help her. And One told me to get that file because I had a debt to pay. I sigh again. They played me. They knew Harper was a weakness. I’d stayed clear of her except on her birthdays. Still, certain people knew I went to see her every Six Day. They knew she interacted with me the day we turned Six. They figured—correctly, I might add—that I could tame her. But I love her. I want her. I know she’s not my promise. I understand this and it killed me to lie to her while we were together. But I want her now. She’s mine. And no one is going to take her away. No one.
Chapter Fifty-Eight - James
When Harrison yells back that we’re finally landing, I get up and stretch. I shoot the Smurf a smile that says it’s all good and make small talk about food, then I sit back down to wait for the plane to stop. When we get off, I stop to shake Harrison’s hand. “You ever need anything, Harrison, I’m your man.” He smiles but I can tell all he’s thinking about is how he hopes he never needs the kind of services I offer. “Thanks, Harrison,” Sasha says, giving him a hug. He squeezes her back, a little too hard maybe because she puts a hand to her chest where my bullet slammed into her last night, and he pulls away. “Sorry, Sasha,” he says in his kind voice. “Be careful,” he adds, as he pats her on the back. And then he looks at me like I am scum. “She’ll be OK, I promise.” “I’ll be fine, Harrison. Don’t worry about me.” She points to the parking lot, which is sorta visible from where we’re at. “Hey, there’s your truck,
James!” And then she’s off. Running like a kid. “Tet… James… whoever the fuck you are. Don’t drag this kid down with you, man. It’s not right. You can leave her here. My wife and I don’t have any kids. We can always use the company.” My eyes squint down as I stare at him. I have never really looked at Harrison before. He’s not quite middle age. His hair is still dark, his build still decent for a guy who sits for his job. His eyes are too kind to be part of my world. And I bet he’s got a nice home here in this town. Some no-nonsense bungalow that could be anywhere. But he’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks he’s getting my Smurf. “I mean, just until you figure shit out, not for good. Just for a little while. To keep her safe.” I don’t care for what he’s insinuating. “She’s safest with me, Harrison.” “You shot her in the chest, Tet. That’s not normal. That’s just fucking wrong.” I grit my teeth and clench my fist. He needs to stop or I might just lose my temper. “I did what I had to do to save her fucking life. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got people to meet. I hope we’re still good after this, but if not, just ignore my next call and you’ll never hear from me again.” And then I turn my back and walk away. Sasha is sitting on the hood of the black Toyota Tundra pickup. “I can’t believe your truck is still
here,” she laughs. I shoot her a grin. “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s only been a few days.” “I know,” she says excitedly, jumping down and walking over to the passenger side door. I click the lock on the key chain and the lights blink once. We get in at the same time and slam the doors closed. “But it feels like a lifetime, doesn’t it?” “It does.” It really fucking does. I start the truck and take a deep breath. “You miss her already?” “Yeah,” I say, putting the truck in gear. “Dropping her off with the Admiral is a huge risk.” “Do you think he’ll hurt her?” Sasha asks, the worry coming through in her voice. “Nah. That’s not what I’m worried about. Now buckle up, it’s the law.” She snorts at that, but it serves its purpose. She drops the line of questioning. I’m worried about him hurting her, sure. He’s not looking out for her. Not the way he is Nick. He left her at the beach for a year. Fighting the panic and barely surviving. They both left her at the beach for a year. And that file she had. No. Something is wrong about that file. If One has it, why haven’t we been called back? I mean I know why I haven’t. I’m crazy and I’m pretty sure the next hit will be on my head.
But the Company has always been disciplined. We’re a military faction, albeit a covert black-ops one. We have rules and traditions. We have… protocols. None of those seem to matter these days. And it all leads back to the fucking Admiral. Why does he want her back now? I didn’t lie to Harper when I told her I haven’t talked to him in a long time. But I was not very forthcoming, either. Because he contacts me regularly with the phones. Almost everywhere I go, I find a phone. He always knows where I am. I’ve never hidden from him. So when I found the phone in my truck before I found Sasha, it was no big deal. But maybe it is a big deal? He asked me to bring her home before he got news of the file. So what was he thinking? He wants to turn her against you, James, Tet says in my head. He wants to get her alone and turn her against you. But why? Because he set you up, James. If there’s one person on this earth who knows me, it’s the Admiral. If there’s one person on this earth who knows what’s wrong with me, it’s him. And if there’s one person on the earth who can turn her against me, it’s him. I drive the truck across the freeway and hit the McDonalds where we pick up breakfast, then head
north on one of the side roads. I am on edge the whole time Sasha is eating, just waiting for the questions to start. But she finishes her food, looks out the window at the farmhouses passing by, and then drops off to sleep. A few hours later, when we get to the next big small town, I start heading west. The drive is quiet and uneventful. Just a two-lane highway that gives me way too much time to think. I go west, zig-zagging my way through the back roads of Colorado, until hours later we reach I-25. I turn north, staring at the road signs as they count down the miles to Fort Collins and when that exit appears, I take the off-ramp and drive into the town. It’s still pretty quiet in downtown even though it’s lunchtime. There’s a university campus here, but I guess most of the students go home for the summer. I spot the tattoo shop first and then a little farther down, the bike shop. There’s a ton of people outside the bike shop. Spencer Shrike himself, in fact. I turn my head just in case he sees me and then hang a left at the next street, and then a right another block down. When the red roof of the condo building comes into view I almost turn around. But I need to see it. I pull up to the curb and put the truck in park, leaving the engine running. Sasha is still asleep, so I exit the truck quietly and push the door closed until I hear the click. I don’t
want to tell Sasha why I’m here. I don’t want to tell anyone why I’m here. I walk up to the footpath security gate and then grab the spear-shaped finials of the iron bars and jump up, swinging my leg over and landing on the other side with a soft thud. I look behind me to see if anyone is paying attention, but it’s clear. So I walk to the side door of the building and open it, take the stairs down, and push open the heavy door that leads to the garage. This is where Veronica got shot. I look over to my right. That spot was where she fell. Where Ford tied off her arm and saved her life. Did I shoot her? I actually don’t know if it was me or… My eyes wander until I find a dark stain in the middle of the garage. Tony. I walk over to the stain. There’s no cars in here, so I can only assume they never finished the construction. When I found this building the builder ran out of money and it was just sitting half empty. Looks like that hasn’t changed. I kneel down next to the stain and call it like it is. The stain of my brother’s brains as his head splattered from the force and velocity of my bullet. I look behind me and imagine Ashleigh and Kate. My perfect little niece. I never knew Ash. I could give a fuck about that girl. But she’s the mother of
my niece and that means something. She’s family. And I don’t have much family. I look back at what’s left of Tony’s mark in this world. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I swear to God, I’m sorry. I just need to make this end. And it’s not your fault you were crazy. It’s not my fault I’m crazy. They did this to us and if I let you take Kate, they’d do it to her too.” I swallow hard and stand up, taking in a long breath of air. “I’m gonna end it all, one way or another.” I look up and wait. For some kind of signal. Or feeling of forgiveness. Or something. But that’s Hollywood movie bullshit. I only deal in reality. And in reality, there’s no such thing as forgiveness. There’s no such thing as redemption. And there’s no such thing as justice. There’s only revenge. I nod at the stain and turn, going back the way I came. When I get to the gate, I open it instead of jumping over since I’m on the inside now. And then I walk back to the running truck where Sasha still sleeps with her face pressed up against the cool window. I put the truck in gear and watch a few bikers go by in a roar of power a block down. I look back at Sasha and consider Harrison’s offer. He’d never be able to control this kid. Because she’s not a kid, she’s a killer. But…
I look down the street, past the courthouse and let my eyes fall on the Catholic school across the street from the city buildings. … but Ford lives here. Two miles away, across from a huge park. The park has a pool. And an ancient trolley that rides down the middle of his goddamned street. His life right now is something out of a postcard. Sasha loves Ford. Ford would take her, I know he would. I stop at the red light and just stare at the school, trying to picture Sasha happy and normal. I want that for her, I do. But… I need her too much to let her go. The next time I look up, the light is green so I make a left, back towards the freeway. Where I will take Sasha to the last place on earth she wants to be. That’s right, James. You’re an asshole. You have a chance to give her a new family, but no. You deny her that opportunity so she can play her part in your sick plan that will never work. But the funny thing is… Tet isn’t concerned with any of those messy feelings. And so I let James slip away as the road passes by. James zones out and Tet takes over. After all, he’s the one who gets things done. He’s the one who keeps us alive. And right now, staying alive is the only thing that
matters. Until it’s time to kill.
Chapter Fifty-Nine - Sasha
When James gets out of the truck I watch him from the crack of my eyelids. I know where we’re at. Fort Collins. Ford worked here last year. His friends live here. If I got out of this truck right now and went back to that bike shop, I could find him. But James… I’m worried about him. I wait until he’s out of sight and then I follow him down to the garage. I peek through the door as he has some kind of internal struggle. I know what he did here. Nick told me. He killed his brother. And the first time I heard that I felt there was no way I could like James, let alone love him. But I was wrong. When it looks like he’s finished I trot silently back up the stairs, run down the path, and put myself back to sleep inside the truck. When James comes back and we get back on the road, I know what he’s thinking as we wait for the light. The light is green and he’s still sitting there trying to come to terms with what he needs to do
and what he should do. He should take me to Ford and drop me off. And I’m gonna be honest, a part of me really wants that. A part of me thinks if anyone can fix me—change me back into a little girl—then it’s Ford. But I heave a silent sigh of relief when he finally turns and takes us north, away from the town. And when we get to the freeway thirty minutes later and we’re still going north, I have to come to terms with where we’re actually going. Cheyenne. He’s taking me home—except it’s not my home anymore. I have not been back to Cheyenne since last Christmas Eve when my father was killed. I ended up in the hospital and then my grandparents came and picked me up and took me back to their ranch in northern Wyoming. Ford came to see me the next day on Christmas. He drove all the way from Denver, he said. Drove all night long. Almost eight hours. And when he found me sitting in the bay window seat in my room, he sat down next to me and made his promise.
His hand is cold from driving in that piece-of-shit Bronco he showed up in. I pull away, but he squeezes—hard. I look up into his soft brown eyes and shake my head, trying not to cry. “Sasha,” he says. “I swear to God, they will not get away with this. We will make this right.” “How?” I ask him, wiping my hand across my nose to stop the sniffling. “You don’t have any idea who we’re dealing with. You don’t know anything. You’re not even a hunter.” “You’re right, I’m not. But I am a consultant. And my partner, Merc, he is a hunter. And he’s still alive. I talked to him.” I clench my fists together so hard my fingernails dig into my skin. “He should be dead!” I scream that last part. “He should be dead, not my dad!” There’s a few moments of silence and I figure he’s on the defensive now. He’s not sure what to do with me. I count on that when I’m dealing with men. A small girl has very little power in a big man’s world. But I do what I can by keeping them off guard. I look up at him expecting sympathy, but I get a sneer instead. “Don’t play me, kid. I’m not in the fucking mood. I drove eight goddamned hours to be here and give you this.” He holds opens his fist to reveal a flash drive.
Yesterday Ford came into my dad’s gun shop at the antique mall with his friend Merc. And while Merc was buying guns, Ford bought some Christmas presents for his mom and friend. The flash drive was my present to him. Sorta. The present was my last-ditch attempt to get rid of the flash drive before someone came looking for it. I stifle a cry as I realize I might be the reason my father is dead right now. I reach for it but Ford closes his fist again and pulls away. “Not so fast.” I stare at him. “What is this?” I blink my eyes innocently. “On first glance, it’s a drive with photos on it. Of a girl and her father and all their crazy times together. But that’s not what it is, is it?” I say nothing. “If people are looking for this, you better fucking say so. You understand? Because people are dead, Sasha.” “I know,” I cry. “I know. But I swear I didn’t know this would happen.” “So what’s on here?” he asks. “I don’t know. But I’m afraid to keep it now. Yesterday morning I saw two guys who I know are supposed to be dead. They were standing outside the antique mall, smoking cigarettes. I knew… I
just knew they were there looking for that drive. And I got scared and put it in with your giftwrapped knife to get it away.” “How the fuck did you know I wouldn’t hand it over to someone who shouldn’t have it?” “I just knew.” I look up at Ford and silently plead with him to help me. “I just knew, Ford. You’re the only good person I’ve met in a very long time. And now my dad is gone and I have no one.” He looks at my open door, then gets up and checks the hallway for my grandpa. My grandma can’t climb stairs and my grandpa isn’t much better. So they don’t come up here much. But Ford closes the bedroom door just the same and walks back over to me, not taking a seat this time. “Sasha, I’m taking this with me and I’m giving it to Merc. He works for these people. And something is very wrong here. But I’m not the right guy to help you, OK? I’m not the right guy.” I realize I’ve been holding my breath. “Merc is the one you need. So you’re gonna stay up here in the middle of who-gives-a-fuckville and keep your head down and your eyes open. If you see anyone, Sasha—and I do mean anyone—you use this phone.” He hands it over. It’s one of those cheap ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that all the hunters have to keep in touch without the Company knowing. “There’s only one number on there. You call
Merc if you see anything and he’ll tell you what to do. When I leave here I’ll stop off at his place and we’ll have a chat. Then he’ll get in touch with you. But no matter what happens, Sasha”—Ford pauses to make sure I’m listening—“no matter what happens, you do not tell anyone about this drive and you do not tell anyone about me coming here today. Do you understand?” I nod. “Yes, sir.”
And like it or not. Ford was right. He’s the wrong guy to handle this. But so is Merc. Because James… James is the only guy who can handle this.
Chapter Sixty - James
“Quit that. You’re driving me nuts.” “What?” I ask as I chew on my thumbnail, wishing I could have a smoke. I ran out forty miles ago and there were no stops on the highway. And now that we’re in Cheyenne, I’m nervous as all hell. “Just stop for cigarettes, for Pete’s sake. I’m the one who should be nervous. This is my home, not yours.” I look at her as we stop at the red light. “Why would you be nervous?” “Well.” She looks out the window. “We’re going to the Roundhouse, right?” That’s the name of the antique mall her dad sold Company guns out of. “Yeah. You expecting something important to be there, Smurf?” Because I am. And that’s what’s got me nervous. “Not exactly.” I don’t know what that means, but a horn honks behind me and I look up to find the light has turned green. I ease forward and then take the first right past the railroad tracks. The old-timey train station
is on the right side of this road and on the left are historical warehouse buildings that have been repurposed into antique stores. The Roundhouse is massive and it’s on a corner one street up. Sasha lets out a deep breath. Fuck. I hope to hell this is not a mistake. I pull the truck around the back of the building and park next to a giant green dumpster and cut the engine. “Well,” I say as we sit in silence for a moment. “Ready to go inside?” I turn my head to look at her and she’s got wide eyes. “Do I need to be ready for something?” “You tell me.” “Have you been in here before?” I shake my head at her. “Never. Never been to this town before, I told you that.” “I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. It’s seems unlikely that you never stopped by here for something.” “This depot isn’t that old, Sasha. The gunrunner for the western guys used to be in Arizona.” “Oh.” She nods and takes a deep breath. “That makes sense, I guess. We used to live out of the RV and just sell at gun shows.” We open our doors at the same time and get out of the truck. I point to the back door and we head that direction. When we get there I hurry a little to open it for her and she scoots inside without another
word. Please, I pray, don’t let this be a mistake. We enter into a back room and I have no idea where I’m going. Merc just said to park in back and go through the door. I don’t need to worry. The Smurf leads the way. There’s aisle after aisle of tall industrial-sized shelving like you see in a big box store, but Sasha goes up two aisles, walks down one until we get to an intersection, and then makes a left. At the end of this aisle is another door. “Where we going?” I ask her as she heads for the door. “My dad’s booth,” she says, cool as they come. Of course. Whenever I come to the Roundhouse to meet mercenaries, I always hit the dead father’s booth first. The door has a lock with one of those silver punch pads above the knob. Sasha punches in a code and sure enough, it opens. I follow her through and we are in another storeroom. Only this one is filled with weapons. I hear the tell-tale cock of a shotgun and I’ve got my Five-SeveN out and pointing at Merc’s face before he can laugh. “You dumbfuck.” He puts his hands up and starts waving the gun around like an idiot. “Don’t shoot me, bro! Don’t shoot me, bro!” I walk over and grab the gun from his hands. “It’s don’t taze me, you idiot. Not shoot me.”
“Whatever,” he says, taking out a smoke and handing me one. “Same shit.” He pulls out a light and offers it to me. I suck on the cancer stick and let the nic run through my veins. Jesus. Never has a cigarette felt so good. Merc lights his up too and then takes his own drag of relief. “So, what the fuck?” He’s laughing and puffing at the same time. “You still have this runt with you? Jesus. You have more patience than me.” Sasha kicks him in the shin. “Asshole.” Merc bends over and rubs his leg like it hurts and then grabs Sasha by the waist, hoists her over his head, and he’s about to body-slam her on a stack of boxes when I start to freak out. “Dude!” I yell. “Do not fuck with my Smurf.” He flips her over, ignoring her screams, and then plops her down on the ground feet first. “I’m kidding, you assholes. Jesus Christ. Lighten up. I’m the only one with a sense of humor here.” “OK, what’s the plan?” I’m ready to get this show on the road. “We’re still waiting. Shouldn’t be too long though.” “Then what?” “Then”—he shrugs—“we play it by ear, I guess.” “Do you have the file or what?” Sasha barks from a safe distance. “What file?” I ask, looking at her, then back to Merc. They stare each other down. “What.
Fucking. File?” Merc points his cigarette at Sasha. “I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut about that file.” “I have,” she sneers back. “But I’m with him now,” she says, pointing to me. “And I want him to know about it. So my silence is over.” She pauses for a beat. “Do you have a problem with that?” Damn. Assassin Smurf is back. I love Assassin Smurf. “What fucking file?” I ask again while Merc decides if he has a problem with that. Because of course, even if he did, it’s too late now. Sasha has let me in. Finally. After carting her midget ass all over the Wild West, I’m in. Merc lets out a long breath and then does the little this-is-only-between-you-and-me gesture with his pointer finger. “We got the fucking file.” “Have had it the whole time, actually.” I look over at Sasha. “You had the file?” She smiles. “No. I gave it to Ford and he gave it to Merc.” I look at Merc. “You had the fucking file? And you let me chase after Harper trying to get it? Does Nick know this shit?” “Is he here?” Sasha asks. I look over at Sasha again. I’m getting a bad feeling now. “This is not the file you’re looking for,” Merc says, waving his hand like he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi.
But then his laugh stops and his smile fades. “This is something else. Something…” He looks over at Sasha. “Bigger. It’s much bigger. There’s two files, James. Ford and I got it open after Sasha gave it to him last year. And it’s all money, brother. Accounts, man. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of secret money accounts.” “Company money?” Merc takes a long drag on his smoke and then blows out rings. “Yeah. Your precious Company has holdings everywhere, man.” “Where the hell did it come from?” He looks at Sasha and I turn my head as well. She’s got a grin on her face. But it’s not one of satisfaction or amusement. It’s nerves. “Spill, Smurf.” “My dad was drunk the night before that Christmas Eve job. I knew he had something important. He said he was going to California for a day the week before. He left me at home. Alone. He never does that. He takes me to my grandparents when he has out-of-town business. So I knew something was wrong that day. And when he came back, he had a flash drive.” “He didn’t go to California,” Merc says, interrupting the story. “Ford and I tracked him. He went to the Caymans and visited every bank in Georgetown.” “He was late,” Sasha says sadly. “He didn’t get
back until the next day. I stayed home and worried the whole time.” “He set it up to steal all their money.” I laugh. “Define all.” “All. Except private funds, which I’m sure, from the lifestyle Nick describes, are still considerable.” “Fucking Nick. I’ll kill that asshole for sending Harper away with the wrong file.” “I’m not sure Nick knows, James.” “So what’s on that file? The file he gave Harper. I assumed it was just names and shit.” “Maybe it is,” Merc says. “Or maybe it’s not. But whatever it is, it’s important to these people.” “None of this makes sense. Why the hell did the Admiral send me to the beach? Who the fuck is in charge of this operation?” “I don’t think it’s one operation, James.” Merc and I both look to Sasha. “I only hear and see snippets, so you have to understand that when I tell you this stuff. But I’ve seen and heard a lot. My dad used to be someone important. He was kicked out of that position and that’s how we ended up on the road living out of an RV. But he still knew a lot of stuff. And right before he died, he was stealing their money and he was in contact with Nick. Nick had been around for months before the Christmas job. Nick is the one he was working with.” I just stare at her. “Nick asked him for help in stealing all that
money. My father did it, not Nick. But it was Nick’s idea.” “Why the fuck didn’t you two tell me this shit up front?” Sasha steps back at my tone, but Merc has a hand on my shoulder before I can move. “Look, dude, you were fucking insane, OK? We couldn’t bring you in until we knew you’d snap out of it. And you did. So she brought you here.” “No.” I shake my head. “I brought her here.” Merc smiles. “She’s damn good, isn’t she?” “You set me up, Smurf?” “Sorry,” she says. But she’s pretty proud of herself from the look on her face. “I was supposed to figure out if you were insane or not. Merc did send you to get me. But so did the Admiral. And Merc did send me out to the prairie to wait you out. But so did the Admiral. He’s playing you, James. He told me to kill you and that’s why he told you to kill me. And I’m pretty sure dropping Harper off was a bad idea, but we really did need to get rid of her.” I scrub my hand down my face as I process all this. “And you let me put Harper in danger… why?” I look up again and they both stop smiling. I know that look. I don’t feel the change in me—I never feel the change in me. But I see the change in them. “Now look, Tet,” Merc says as he squeezes my
shoulder tighter. “You were not supposed to see her.” “That’s bullshit. The fucking Admiral sent me to the beach to watch her.” “He sent you to the beach so you’d bump into your assassin. But I paid that guy a visit before you arrived.” “More bullshit! I told you on the phone before I ever went to the beach that I failed my psych exam and you practically hung up on me.” “No, I said I didn’t have time for your whining. And I didn’t. I’ve got my own side jobs going, you know that. But the next day I took a trip down to SoCal and took care of your business.” “Was it One?” I ask “Is One dead?” Merc quips back. I just give him a snide look. “Obviously it was not One.” He waits to see if I’ll take another guess but I don’t. “It was Eight.” “So all those assassinate-the-assassin jobs I did over the past two years?” He shrugs. “Setups, I guess. I really have no idea, Tet. They wanted them to appear dead, but not be dead. You tell me. You know these Company people. I don’t. I have no clue how they think other than they want to get rid of me and I’m not gonna go easy.” “That makes no sense.” “Regime change, my friend,” Merc says.
“Someone else wants to take over. Think about it. Harper poisons all those higher-ups when she makes her escape. You pick off your brother—for real,” he adds. “Then you find Harper and trail her like a good dog. One barges in and steals her file in the last second. Why?” “They don’t trust me.” Merc laughs. “Would you trust you?” “Whatever.” “I mean, I wouldn’t trust you for shit.” His smile says otherwise. “But I don’t think that’s the reason. I don’t think they know about this file we have.” He looks over to Sasha. “What do you think?” She looks stunned that he wants her opinion. And why not ask her? She seems to be the one with all the answers, whether she wants to have them or not. Her expression becomes sad. Her eyes droop. “They know. They killed my dad for it.” “So why two files?” I look at Merc for this. “From what I can tell, there’s some kind of hack going on in the code. They need both files to access the money. And this makes sense. Because Ford and I tried like motherfuckers to steal money out of those accounts. I mean, shit. You dangle numbers in front of a hacker and that’s just what we do. But fuck if we could figure it out.” “Nick would know.” Merc and I both look at Sasha at the same time. “Nick will know what to do with it.”
“Sasha,” I say softly. “Look, you can’t trust that guy. OK? You can’t trust him. He put Harper in danger. He put you in danger. He’s gotta be working for the Admiral.”
Chapter Sixty-One - Sasha
They shut up about Nick after that, so I take that as my cue to leave so they can share their secrets. I understand what they’re saying. Nick is part of this. Nick is setting us all up. Nick is not on our side. And I don’t have the energy to defend him, because to be honest, I don’t know him all that well. But they don’t know him all that well either. Nick has been working other parts of the world his whole life. He’s only in North America because he took off last year on his birthday. I don’t think he’s bad. I don’t have any proof, I just don’t think he is. So I go out into the mall area and look around. It’s near closing and there’s hardly anyone around. I walk through my dad’s corner booth—he has the largest one in the mall, it takes up the space of a dozen regular-sized booths—and my eyes rest on the other booth we run. Mine. He sold illegal guns to Company men and legal gear to the general public. But I sold girly stuff. Books. Jewelry. Knick-knacks. Dolls. I used to love dolls as much as I loved dinosaurs.
My fingers trace the glass-top cabinet as I walk into the little entrance of my booth and a layer of dust collects as I push it along. I used to man this booth myself and kept most of the stuff inside the cabinets. But I haven’t been here since— “Sasha?” I turn towards the voice and put on one of my many fake expressions I’ve mastered over the past seven months. “Hi, Mrs. Sheldon. Long time no see.” My plastic smile never wavers. I meet her tired old blue eyes as a girl who accepts that her life was torn apart and will never be the same. “Oh, honey. I’m so happy to see you again. After the accident I never got a chance to say goodbye. And then the fire up at the ranch.” She pulls me into one of those old-lady hugs where they squeeze you into their bosoms and starts to pet my hair. She smells like rose water. Not a scent I care for, but it’s very popular with the old ladies in this mall. I let her hug me because she doesn’t know better. She doesn’t know I’m a killer now. She doesn’t know what I’m gonna do in the days ahead. “How have you been, sweetie?” I’m grateful for the opportunity to pull away and get the smell of her old satin coat lapels out of my nose. “I’m great. I live with my uncle now.” “Oh, he’s such a blessing, taking over the store like that—” “No, a different uncle,” I interrupt her and force
myself not to laugh. I have so many damn ‘uncles’ people just stopped asking. Now that Mrs. Sheldon has been reminded of that fact, she changes the subject. “Where are you going to school now, dear? Still homeschool?” “Yes, ma’am.” When people ask about homeschool you gotta be extra special polite or else they think you’re a serial killer in training. I almost snicker at that one. I should really stop calling myself a homeschooler. I soften the blow with a lie. “I’m going to private school this fall though, so I’ll get the proper amount of government-mandated brainwashing before the cynicism sets in.” She smiles but her eyebrows are all slanted like Eric Cartman’s when he’s mad. I prepare myself for the next question, which would probably require me to give her an answer worthy of calling social services, but I’m ready for her to move on and leave me alone. So I say nothing. Just let the silence hang between us. “Well,” she says, finally taking the hint, “it was wonderful to see you again. You’re so grown up now. You look like a proper young lady.” “Thank you,” I say sweetly. And then I plaster that expression on my face and wait for her to leave. She smiles for a few more seconds, then nods. “OK. I must run. Bye, dear.”
“Byeeeee,” I call out after her. She never looks back. I walk over to Mrs. Sheldon’s booth. She sells vintage clothing so she has a full-length mirror set up. I stand in front of it and take myself in. Harper is the only girl I know. We might not be friends, exactly. But I’m starting to think of her that way. So I compare myself to her. I’m tall. I’ve definitely grown a couple inches this year. I’m not as tall as Harper, but I’ve only got an inch to go, I bet. Blonde hair. It’s longer now than it’s ever been. James made me comb it in the truck, so it’s almost tidy. Harper’s hair is longer than mine. And more silky. Blue eyes. They are not the striking kind of blue that some people have. Harper has brown eyes. They are light and mine are dark. A little bit muddy if you don’t see them straight on. Long legs. I have always had long legs. That’s one thing I have over Harper, I think. She’s got athletic legs. Like she works out. I don’t work out. Small breasts. These are new and I turn a little to get a better look at them, and then sigh. There’s not much to see there. I should start wearing a bra though. I wonder if James will take me bra shopping? I cackle to myself as I picture that. He’s so easy to fuck with. How can a guy who’s killed hundreds of
people be so damn easy to fuck with? I take one last look at myself and vow to buy some clothes that don’t come from the Burlington ALCO if I live through this stupid plan. And then I sigh and look back at my dad’s booth. It feels like he could just come walking right out of the back room. That instead of Merc running this place for the last several months, it would be him. “It’s not, Sasha. So just get used to it. The only thing that matters now is revenge.” I can’t believe I said that out loud. I walk into the booth and start looking for clothes. I rummage around the vintage section until I find a pair of green army fatigues in a small enough size, and then I undress and pull them on real fast. I find a white t-shirt and some old boots and put those on too. And now… I feel like the real Sasha. It should make me smile, but instead it makes me nostalgic for the life I used to have. It might not have been anything special to people on the outside, but to me it definitely was. I don’t care about hunting or fishing. I could take or leave camping and survival training. But the thing is, I did all that stuff with my dad. He made all that stuff special. And now that he’s gone… well…I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to ever set foot in the forest again. I don’t want to shoot guns or bows. I
don’t want to camp or survive. I just want to get even and then I want them all to leave me alone. I turn my back on the store and walk back to my own booth. On the far table there’s shards of wrapping paper and ribbon from the last day I was here. Christmas Eve. The day Merc came to buy guns and Ford came to buy presents. I allow a miniscule smile for Ford and then a small chuckle startles me as strong hands clasp over my eyes. I react with an elbow to my attacker’s ribs. “Ow,” he bellows. “I give! I give!” His hands come down from my eyes and I whirl around with surprise and excitement. “Nick!” He holds me by the shoulders and then pulls me in tight for a hug. “God, I was fucking worried about you.” “I’m fine,” I say into his shirt as he holds me close. “Really,” I say, pushing him back. I like Nick. And I think he likes me too, but not the way I like him. The fact that he’s touching me makes me jittery in a way that freaks me out. “Sasha.” He holds my face in his hands and I have a moment of panic that he will kiss me and then that changes to regret when he doesn’t. “You look good, kid. A lot better than I imagined all these months.” I duck under his arm and scoot out of his grasp, making him turn. “You look good too. Far too good
for a guy who’s been on the run for a year.” He smirks at me and for a moment I think he’s flirting. But then he pats his front pocket and pulls out a handful of suckers. Those little tiny ones they give away free in the old-lady booths here in the mall. “You have got to be kidding me. You brought me candy? What am I, six?” “Look,” he says, fanning them out a little. “They’re all butterscotch. Your favorite.” Aww. I might melt a little. He knows my favorite flavor. I take them, but he grabs one for himself and then bites off the wrapper and spits it out on the floor. I just stare at his lips as he puts the sucker in his mouth and starts talking about how he stopped off at a truck stop on his way into town and picked through the canister until he found… oh, fuck. I have no idea what he’s saying. I’m still looking at his mouth. He’s looking at me expectantly. “What?” I ask. He pops that sucker out of his mouth and holds it out for me. “Here, I don’t want it.” “Then why did you take it?” I ask, laughing. I take the sucker, not really sure what I’ll do with it. And then he leans into my space and slides his hands up into my hair. “I just wanted to lick it before you did.” A shotgun cocks off to the side of us and we both
turn our heads slowly. “You’re gonna take your hands off my Smurf and back the fuck away.” Nick laughs but James does not look like he’s joking. In fact, James looks like Tet right now. “Smurf?” Nick laughs again, only louder this time. “First of all, Six, if this Smurf belongs to anyone, it’s me.” He looks over at me. “Right, Sash?” God, I’m so bad at choosing sides. So I hesitate. But that’s OK, because James steps forward into Nick’s space and looks down at him. James is an inch or so taller, so he can do that. “She’s thirteen years old, Tate. If you touch her a minute before she’s eighteen, I’ll cut your fucking balls off.” Nick smacks the barrel of the shotgun away and huffs. “Don’t be stupid. She’s a kid.” And then, as if that wasn’t a kill shot through my heart, he says, “Which reminds me, I got a girl you might be interested in.” I stop listening. I just toss that butterscotch sucker into the trash and walk off. Merc stretches out an arm to clothesline me before I can pass him a few paces down, but I duck. He grabs again and gets a hold of my shirt. “Stay here, Sasha. You’re not allowed to be alone anymore.” “What girl?” James asks. Nick looks over at me and winks. I’m not sure what that means but James takes it as a signal that Nick and I are sharing secrets. But before I can
deny it, Nick continues talking. “I’d love to tell you about it, but first, where the fuck is my sister?” He looks around, like she’s gonna be here, hiding from him instead of squealing his name at first sight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen James speechless. “Where the fuck is my sister?” “I had to take her back to the yacht.” Nick doesn’t even have words for that. He’s stunned silent. “One, man. I fucking…” James searches for words. But how to explain this clusterfuck? “He showed back up, drugged Harper. Gave her way too much…” We stare at James in silence. Then Nick attacks. It’s a stupid move because James ducks, grabs his legs, and then body-slams him on the carpet in front of my booth. “Take it easy, asshole. She’s fine. I left her with the Admiral while I came looking for you.” “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick growls and flips James over. They both spring to their feet and circle each other. “Are you stupid?” he screams at James. “Do you have any idea what you just fucking did?” No one answers and he doesn’t tell us. He just turns and walks to the back room of my dad’s booth.
Chapter Sixty-Two - Sasha
Merc’s cabin has a strange bookshelf filled with vintage science fiction, hippy acid-tripping pop culture from the Seventies, and American classics. I have a sudden regret for leaving my Little House book back at the mall. It’s a childish book. One more suited for ten-year-olds instead of me. But it has an innocence and simplicity about it that my life could use a little more of. I pick a sci-fi novel off the shelf as a new song comes on my earbuds. Merc’s idea. To shelter me from the manly conversation going on across the room. I take a quick glance over my shoulder and catch Nick in mid-swing. His fist crashes against Tet’s jaw and then the whole thing starts all over again. He’s not taking this well. That’s what Merc said when he gave me the iPod and earbuds. Better stay out of it, kid. And then he walked off. Nick not taking this well is the understatement of the year. The fights have been numerous and loud. Short, but what they lack in length, they make up for in intensity. We still don’t know why Nick is so
pissed. At least, I never heard that explanation since we got here to this cabin just outside of town. Maybe Nick told Merc when they drove together? I rode with James and James didn’t say shit on that drive. Merc likes Taking Back Sunday and I like this song, so I hum along as I read the back cover of the sci-fi novel. A thousand years after the apocalypse came to Earth and humans built a dome… Yeah. No, thank you. I put it back and sigh. The crashing of furniture makes me glance over my shoulder a second time, and now Merc is prying Nick and Tet apart. Men. They are so emotional, it drives me crazy. The next book is called The Abortion. That one makes me laugh and then I have like an out-of-body vision of myself standing in this room looking through Merc’s bookshelf, laughing at a book called The Abortion, while Tet and Nick try to kill each other. There is no hope for this girl at all. Like zero chance of hope. I mean, it’s just over. I put that book back and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. This cabin is weird. It’s got three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but one bathroom is the laundry room too. And it has a door that leads out back. Only a man would have a bathroom with a back
door, but right now I’m glad it’s here because I walk right out and into the late-afternoon sunshine. There’s a picnic table down a rolling slope that leads into some woods, so I walk down and cop a squat on the table so I can prop my feet up on the seat and try and makes some sense of things. One. That was certainly a surprise when he showed up in Huntington Beach. I’m not sure what Tet has in mind for him, and I’m not sure I even want to know. But whatever he does, I don’t think I care too much. I’m on James’ side no matter what. I just can’t see hitching my wagon to anyone else right now. He’s the best at what he does. And we need the best. I’m sure Merc is a good killer too. And Nick. He’s not dead yet, so he has to have a certain skill level. But Tet. Now that man is a killer. A shadow forms in front of me and I look up from my introspection to see Nick walking down the hill. His mouth is moving so I know he’s talking, but I can’t hear anything because Nothing At All is blaring in my ears. “What?” I say, removing my buds. I really like this song. “Fucking James is out of his mind.” He takes a seat next to me on the table. “That’s not James, Nick. That’s Tet. And yeah. I agree.” “Why the fuck did he do it? Were you there?”
Shit. I nod. “I was there. One drugged her and the Admiral wanted me dead. James had to produce a dead me and a live Harper. It was as simple as that.” He just stares at me like I’m a freak. “You’re OK with this? That he gave my sister back?” I hate his accusatory tone. And then his words from earlier pop into my mind. He has a girl. I’m just a kid. “I’m not OK with it, Nick. I just don’t see much choice. We needed to buy time.” “So you sold my sister?” He scrubs his hands down his face. “Fuck. Sorry.” He looks over at me and his blond hair falls into his eyes, obscuring his face a little. Making him look sad and dangerous and angry all at the same time. “But fuck, man. I was counting on that file and my sister, and now I got nothing, Sash.” His eyes search mine. “Nothing. I’m right back where I started.” He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Sorry. OK? For getting mad.” I nod. And I wish I could make him feel better by telling him about the other file, but I can’t. I never did tell Nick. I never did tell anyone after Ford took the file to Merc. He said keep my mouth shut and I did. And now, even though Nick and I are on the same side… I’m not entirely sure that’s true. Who is this girl he wants James to see? He’s on the run. How does he have time to find girls? So I don’t say anything about the file. “James has
a plan, I think.” “Yeah, to get us all killed.” I look away and Nick scoots closer to me on the table. “Sorry.” And then we sit in silence for a little while. Finally he tugs on the earbud draped over my shoulder closest to him. “What’re you listening to?” I look at the iPod in my hands and offer it up to Nick, but he puts a hand up and declines. “Is that why you came out here? To get away from me and James?” He reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out a smoke. Sometimes I wish I could smoke. It looks relaxing. It’s something all hunters do and I’m a hunter now. Plus, on the comparison scale, it’s better than drinking. Most hunters don’t do much of that. They are always alert. But Merc drinks a lot. I like that about him. “Nah,” I say as he lights up his cigarette. “I just wanted to be alone.” Nick smiles at me and a small flutter forms in my stomach against my better judgment. I’m not immune to his charm. And he is charming. Harper is very beautiful in a striking model kind of way. Nick is her twin, and his beauty is more surfer than model, but nonetheless, it’s a bit overwhelming. So a stomach flutter is in order. “I missed you, ya know.” I give him a smirk and a head tilt to show him I’m playing. “I would’ve never known by the way you
disappeared. How come you left me?” “Hey,” he says, putting his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I told you we had to lie low. I was in hiding.” “That makes no sense, Nick. Harper was under surveillance, so the Admiral always knew where she was. How come he didn’t just come take her?” “He was waiting for the file. Believe me, they looked for that fucker all year and couldn’t find it. I suppose that’s why they sent Tet in. And look what happened? That fucker got it.” “One got it.” “Yeah, but Tet would’ve had it if One hadn’t taken it. Harper walked right into his trap.” “You don’t like James, do you?” “It’s got nothing to do with liking him, Sash. It’s got everything to do with trusting him. And now we gotta go back and get that fucking file. And Harper. And don’t you think they know I’m coming now? I mean fuck, our birthday is only a few days away.” “What’s that got to do with it?” My mind is spinning. There is so much going on. “Never mind,” he says as he tries to lace our fingers together, but I pull my hand away before he can take it. “What the fuck?” “It’s not worth it,” I say. “What’s not worth it?” I nod my head in the direction of the cabin up the hill. “The fight you’ll have with Tet if you hold my
hand.” Nick’s eyes shoot up to the top of the hill where Tet is standing with his arms crossed. “Fucking freak,” Nick says, blowing out a long puff of smoke. “Hey,” I say, nodding at his cigarette. “Can I bum one of those?” His eyes dart back to Tet, just a fraction of a second. But I see it. “You’re too young to smoke, kid.” That’s all I needed to know. “I was just messing with you.” I reach over and ruffle up his hair and he automatically dodges. I smile at him and he shoots me an uneasy one back. “Well, I’m going back in and see if Merc will teach me how to play Kumbaya on the guitar. Wanna come?” He glances up at Tet again and shakes his head. “When I’m done here.” “OK.” I hop down and swat the dirt off my butt as I walk back to the top of the hill. Tet turns and walks with me as we head back to the cabin together. “You hungry, Smurf?” James asks. “Starved.” “Me too.” And then he opens the back door and lets me walk through. Like I said. James is a dream in the partner department. It’s Tet you gotta worry about.
Chapter Sixty-Three - Sasha
We go back inside and Merc is sitting at the kitchen table smoking. That seems to be the thing to do when shit goes down. And now I really do want to learn to smoke but I have to settle for pulling out a butterscotch sucker from my pocket. The screen door in back slams and Nick follows us in. “Sasha,” he says. I turn reluctantly. I know that tone and it says I’m about to be in the middle of something. “What?” “Get your shit. We’re leaving.” “She’s not leaving with you,” Tet says. He grabs my hand in case I make a break for it. “Why, Tet? So you can keep using her the way you did Harper? So you can drag her into your insane revenge scheme? This shit is between you and One, man. Or you and my father. But I’m gonna say this one time. We’re leaving. I’m gonna go finish the job you didn’t, and then you’re gonna stay the fuck out of my life. You stay away from my sister and you stay away from my promise.”
Nick points his finger at me and then his gaze follows. “Go get your stuff.” And then he pulls out a gun and points it at James. “Try and stop her.” “Nick,” I say. “I’m not gonna say it again, Sash. Now get what you need.” I look over at James but he’s got nothing to say to me. Not even a nod. So I do what I’m told. I go to the last bedroom, grab the pack I set on the floor earlier, and shrug it onto my back as I walk back out to the living room. “I’m going back to get her, Nick,” James is saying as I enter the room. He’s sitting down at the table next to Merc now, like those two haven’t a care in the world. Like Nick isn’t standing here in the living room with a gun. And I’m sure if they really wanted to fuck Nick up, he and Merc could do it. But Nick, no matter what he does, is part of the plan. “Look, asshole. You have no idea what you’re doing.” James nods with a smirk. “Right. I didn’t get this far by not understanding the game.” “Dude, they’re using you. And every time I hear about it, I think to myself, ‘Nah, Six is so much smarter than that.’ And then every time you fall for it. But this time, asshole—this time I’m all out of faith. I asked you to do one thing for me. Keep her out of it. And what do you do? You deliver her to
the one person who will bring her into it.” “Bring her into it how?” Merc asks. “I mean, look, Nick, I’m the first to admit I have no clue what you people are doing. But we’ve been on the same side all year. So it’s better to work through the team problems than split up.” Nick points to me but he’s looking at Merc. “She’s not on the team, Merc. Yet here she is, fully planning on participating. And you know why?” He looks at James now. “Because this asshole wants to use her. Just like he uses all the people he drags into his schemes. And now Harper’s in it. Didn’t your father ever teach you anything, Tet? Women and children stay home.” “Yeah, so they can be sold. They’re commodities.” Nick actually nods at that. “Yeah, maybe that’s how I see them then. Investments. The future. So shoot me.” “We’ll meet you at the yacht,” James says casually. “She’s not on the yacht, you fuck. How many ways do I have to say it? You sent her back to the one person she should never see again. She’s as good as gone now. If I don’t get to her by next week, she’s as good as gone.” “So,” Merc says. “Let’s go get her now. It’s only been a couple days.” Nick’s eyes burn but his words are eerily calm
now. “It’s too late. He gave her away by now.” “What?” James says, getting to his feet. “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Last year, on our eighteenth birthday? That wasn’t the one.” “The one what?” Merc says, throwing his hands up. “Will you stop talking in fucking code? Just spit it out.” Nick looks at James for a long second. “He’s been using you, man. She’s been promised since she was six, all right. But it was never to you. And in a few days, when we turn nineteen, my father’s gonna make good on that promise.” “Where?” James seethes. “The Santa Barbara house. There’s gonna be a big party. Her promise, James. I gotta tell you—” And for a second I really think he will. I really think that Nick is gonna tell James the one thing he needs to know that he has no idea he needs to know. James feels it too. A shift in what’s happening here. A shift from potential to realized consequences. James takes a step forward but there’s a snapping sound and then he’s gone. Dropped down. Or hit. Bullets spray into the house. I scream and duck, but then someone has my hand and I’m dragged to the back of the house.
Chapter Sixty-Four - Sasha
“Sasha, run!” Nick is pulling me out the back door and we run so fast down the hill, I fall face first and roll. Nick scoops me up and carries me a few paces, then sets me down and runs again. No yelling this time, at least not for us. But behind us the gunfire is still rattling off. AK’s spitting out bullets. After a few minutes the gunfire stops. Nick pulls me down a ridge dotted with pine trees and then we both slip because the incline is so severe and we are a human landslide. Rocks and clumps of dirt splatter out in front of our boots and then we plop to the ground and keep running. There’s no trees here and Nick runs faster. “Hurry, Sash. Hurry,” he prods me. But my stitch in my side is so painful, my pathetic attempts to suck in air so painful… “I can’t, Nick. I can’t run anymore.” He ignores that, just pulls me along until we get under the cover of the pines. “Just a little farther,” he huffs as he boosts me up the side of a small cliff by the butt. He climbs up after me and takes my hand again. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. We need to get
out of here before they come looking.” “Who?” Jesus. My heart is beating so fast I think I might die. My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Answer it,” Nick barks at me. And then he stops, tugging me to stop with him when momentum takes me forward. “Give me your phone.” I jerk my hand from his and shake my head. “No. Tell me what’s going on.” “Who’s calling you?” “How the hell should I know?” “Look,” he growls in my face. “Look who it is.” I take my phone out and Nick snatches it away and presses the answer tab. “Merc. Yeah,” he barks into the phone. I can just barely make out words on the other end. Nick’s eyes shift around for a few seconds, then rest back on mine. “Got it.” And then he ends the call and hands it back. He starts walking over to a hill covered in dead pine needles. “Well?” I ask. “James is dead.” My heart stops. “He is not.” “He’s missing and they threw grenades inside the cabin. He’s dead.” “No,” I say firmly. “No. He can’t die.” Nick is looking for something on the little slope. He lets out a grunt and then pulls. The whole hill slides away and I think I’m hallucinating before I realize it’s a cover that has pine needles stuck to it to make it look like brush-covered ground. There’s
a motorcycle underneath. “You planned this?” He shoots me a look. “I plan for everything. Except your boyfriend back there giving my sister away.” “Boyfriend?” “James is awfully attached to you, Sash. And as far as I can see”—Nick swings his leg over the bike and turns the ignition to start the engine—“there‘s only two possibilities for that. He likes you, which would be weird, because he says he loves Harper, yet he sold her out to my dad. Or he needs you for something.” Nick stares me in the eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’s using you. Grab the helmets and get on the bike. We’re leaving.” I hand him a helmet from the ground and then plop the other one on my head. “Where are we going?” I ask, swinging my leg over. “To set things right, Sash. Whatever it takes, I’m gonna set things right.” “What about Merc?” “He says he’s out.” What? Nick gives the throttle some gas and we spring forward. This bike is not off-road capable, but we’re only on the dirt for about a mile when a paved road appears. He doesn’t stop to tell me where we’re going, he just takes that road all the way to the interstate and before I know it, we’re
heading west. And all I do for the next four hours is think about how my life just changed again. James is gone.
Chapter Sixty-Five - Sasha
“Sash,” Nick whispers in my ear. I brush him away and roll over, still very sleepy after yesterday. We stopped in Rock Springs to grab dinner since towns are few and far between out here, and by the time we were done, Nick wanted to get a room for the night. “Sash,” he repeats. “Wake up. Let’s go eat and hit the road.” “What time is it?” “A little after seven.” I groan. “Are we in a hurry?” Silence. I open one eye and look at him. He’s lying next to me, one cheek pressed against the same pillow. His brown eyes are scrunched up like he’s confused. “What?” “I’m sorry for those things I said yesterday. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” I just stare at him. “He might not be dead.” I can’t say anything, because if I do, I’ll cry. “He’s not dead. He’s Tet, for fuck’s sake. OK? He’s not dead.” But we called Merc last night after we got the
room and Merc said he can’t find him. “I think he’s dead,” I finally say. Nick lets out a long breath. “We won’t know until we know, Sash. But… even if he is, he’d want me to keep going. He’d want Harper to be safe. And now that I know she’s back with my father, she’s not safe, Sash. I have to go get her. And get that fucking file.” I roll over on the bed and turn my back to him. “You shouldn’t have let Harper have it if it’s so valuable.” “She was safer with it, Sasha. It gave her power.” “It almost got her killed.” I turn back over. “She was dead. James saved her.” I look away. “He saved me too,” I mumble. “What’s the deal with the two of you?” I sit up and throw the covers off because obviously sleep time is over. “What do you mean?” I’m still fully clothed so I just slip my feet into my boots and straighten my ponytail. Nick gets up off the bed and when I turn to look at him, his scowl is even more pronounced. “He was possessive of you. He threatened me. Why was he acting that way? How long have you really known him?” It’s my turn to squint my eyes. “A week? You know that, Nick. We talked about it before he came to get me. And a lot of good it did, making me stay out there for three fucking months.”
“Watch your mouth,” Nick snaps. I flip him off and shoot him a look. “Don’t boss me around. I’m in a very bad mood.” “I told you why you had to stay out there. The Admiral sent you to wait for Tet and when the Admiral gives you an order, you follow it.” “Yeah, but you knew when James was coming. You knew he was in the OC with Harper. So explain why we didn’t just get a hotel in the next town over and wait him out there.” Nick walks towards me smiling. I step back. But he grabs my arm and pulls me close. “We could’ve done that, Sasha.” He looks down on my face. I hate the fact that he’s so much bigger than me. I hate the fact that everyone is so much bigger than me. “But I like you, ya know. I like you and I don’t think I’d have been very good at keeping my hands to myself if we were bunking together for months.” He laughs. “I mean, I know you’re too young in my head, but you know, I’m just an eighteen-year-old guy.” My cheeks heat up and I’m not sure if I’m blushing because he said that to me, or if I’m creeped out that he’s thinking about me sexually. “That’s bullshit,” I finally say. “You know you’re not allowed to touch me until I’m eighteen. I don’t think you have a self-control problem. I think you’re just up to other things and you don’t want me to know about them.”
“We’re not operating inside the Company boundaries, Sash. We can make our own rules if we want. And yeah to the last part too. I’m up to a whole bunch of shit that you will never know about. That’s life. You’re a girl. I’m a guy. You should be in school right now.” “School?” I don’t even have a comeback for that. “What the hell world are you living in? I’m a Company kid with a hit on my head. What fucking school am I supposed to be in?” “Language,” he whispers as he places his fingertips against my lips. My whole body shudders. But I shrug it off and blink at him. “I’d love nothing more than to go back to school and grow up like a normal kid. But if I do that, then we’re not promised anymore.” He tisks his tongue and tightens his grip around me as I wriggle to break free. “Is that what you want?” “I have no idea what I want. But what I don’t want is you telling me what to think or how to act. Or just assuming I’m going along with your plans every second of the day. I’m one half of this team so I expect to be treated like a partner.” He leans down until his warm breath skates across my ear. “We are partners, Sash. In every sense of the word. You were given to me, so you’re mine. But I’m not putting up this big resistance as a pretense, you understand. I’m doing this to change
the future for all the Company kids who come after us. So if you think I’m bound to that promise your father gave under duress when you were born, you’re wrong. I don’t need a promise to get a wife. I’m quite capable of getting married all on my own. So”—his hand slides around the back of my neck and his fingertips slip up into my hair, sending chills down my whole body—“let’s just forget that promise right now and be together because we like each other.” He smiles as I stare dumbly up at him and then he laughs and lets go of my head. His fingers slip through my hair, dragging against the sensitive skin of my scalp. And then they are gone. “Sasha Cherlin, I have something cool to tell you. Do you want to hear it?” I swallow. “Is it something good?” He nods and smiles. “Yeah. Come sit.” He walks over to the edge of the bed and sits down, then pats the mattress for me to follow. I sit, but not too close. I don’t really know what’s happening. “I was bumming around up in the mountains in Wyoming. Way the fuck out by Bighorn Lake. You know it, right?” I shoot him a look. “Everyone knows where Bighorn Lake is.” He laughs. “So I was up there in the mountains and I was so fucking lost. But there was like this
park access road, so I walked up this road to the top of a hill and do you know what was up there?” I shake my head as I stare into his eyes. He’s excited to tell me this and that makes me excited with him. “What was it?” “That medicine wheel thing you were talking about last summer. Remember that?” My throat starts to sting and my eyes start to water. “I was just talking to James about that a few days ago.” “Huh,” Nick says, smiling. “I saw it.” He looks over at me and then his hand grips my shoulder and he flops backwards on the bed, taking me with him. We sigh together. “It was pretty cool. You’re gonna love seeing it.” “I’m not going,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to go.” He says nothing to that. Just lets the silence take over until I feel the need to explain. “My dad was gonna take me this summer. I don’t want to see it with anyone else.” “Hmmm. I can see your point. I mean, your dad would probably be mad if you went without him, don’t you think?” I tisk my tongue. “Just don’t.” “What? That’s your reason, right?” I stare up at the ceiling. “Because I know your dad was like that. All pissy about you being happy without him.” “I know it makes no sense to you, but it does to
me. There’s just no one else I want to see it with.” Nick turns his head to the side. “Sasha,” he says. I turn mine too, and our faces are but a few inches apart. “I love you.” I feel the tears well up. “I love you and I only want what’s best for you. I want you to go to school. And live in a house. And never pick up a gun again. I want you to wear dresses and go to dances. And have dates with boys who take you to eat hamburgers. I want you to study dinosaurs and travel the world looking for clues about the past that no one else cares about.” He stops and swallows. Like he needs to build his courage up. Another tear streaks across my face until his fingertips intercept it just as it rounds my nose. “And once you’ve done all that without me, you’re gonna realize that you can love more than once in a lifetime.” “You’re going to be there with me,” I blurt as the tears pour out. “You’re my promise.” He shakes his head. “The promise is over. You have to forget about it. You have to move forward and forget about it. And if your dad was here, he’d tell you to go see that medicine wheel.” “We can go together, Nick. We can go up there together and you can show it to me.” But he’s shaking his head before I’m even done. “I’m not going back.”
“I’m not going back either.” He huffs out a small breath of air. I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sign of resignation. “Are you hungry?” I nod. “What do you want?” He stares at me. Stares into me. “Pancakes,” I whisper. “Then pancakes you shall have. I’ll go get them and you take a shower.” And then he gets up and walks to the table to pick up his keys. “Get up,” he calls as he walks to the door. “I’ll be right back with the food.” I get in the shower and let the hot water blast down on me. I’m just rinsing off the conditioner in my hair when I hear the room door open and close. I finish rinsing and then step out of the shower, wrapping the towel around me tightly. The room door opens and closes again and I peek my head out of the bathroom. “Nick?” There’s no one in the room. “Nick?” I walk out and spot the food on the table. It’s wrapped up tightly in a plastic bag to keep it warm. But it’s what’s next to the food that stops my heart. Money. I walk over and pick it up, counting in my head. Four hundred dollars. There’s a folded piece of paper underneath the money and even though I do
not want to pick that paper up and read what he wrote, I know I have to. My hands tremble as I read his words. Dear Sash, I’m so sorry. But you and Harper—you two are the only reason I’m doing this. And if I took you with me, I’d be just as bad as my father. I’d be just as bad as James. I’m coming back, don’t worry. I paid the room up for two weeks and I’ll be back. I’ll find you a home, Sasha. I swear. You’re gonna have that life I told you about. Just stay here. Don’t call anyone. Don’t leave. Just please, stay here so I know you’re safe. I can’t be your promise, it’s wrong. But you’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted. I hope you know that. Nick I cry silent tears as I read it over and over again. I never get dressed, just fall back on the bed in my towel as I try and come to terms with what’s happening to my life. I am thirteen years old. I’m homeless. My family is dead. James might be dead.
Harper is in big trouble. My promise walked out on me. Can it get any worse? I have no idea how long I lie there before I get up and fish my phone out of my pocket and call Merc. “Yeah,” he says after picking up on the first ring. “I need you to come get me.” “I’m on my way to Jackson. I’m out, man. You and Nick are gonna have to figure this shit out yourselves. I know when to cut my losses.” “Nick left me in a hotel in Rock Springs. He’s going to save Harper himself and get that file back. How can you be out? You have the other half of the file.” He’s silent for a few moments and then he lets off a long sigh. “If I come get you, we’re heading to my place in Jackson.” “No,” I say firmly. “We’re heading to Santa Barbara where Nick thinks they took Harper. You owe me, Merc. You owe me. And this is what I want. I want to go to Santa Barbara and help Nick.” “Kid, we’re gonna need an army to help Nick now. They are dead serious about killing us and going to meet them on their own territory is one of the more stupid ideas Nick has had lately.” “I don’t care. I’m in, Merc. I have very few good things to hold on to in my life. James, Harper, and Nick are pretty much all I have left. And I’m not gonna let him go fix this shit alone. OK? So come
get me. Nothing but silence on the other end. But then Merc grumbles. “Fuck. I’m like two hours away. Where the hell are you?” I tell him the name of the hotel and then I hang up and get dressed. I eat the pancakes because they came from Nick, but I have to force them down. And then I stuff the money in my pocket along with the room key and sit in front of the window until Merc’s truck pulls up in the parking lot. I walk out the door and climb in the passenger side. Merc takes out a smoke and lights it up, blowing smoke rings out the window as we head back out on the highway. “Do you know where the Santa Barbara place is? Because I sure don’t.” I sigh. “I shouldn’t know. But I do.” He laughs. “That’s the story of your life, kid.” Ain’t that the truth? “We need an army, you said?” I look up at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. “I know where we can get an army.” “I bet you do.” And then he slides his shades down his face and turns up the music.
Coming For You - Part Two
Chapter Sixty-Six - Harper
The rolling of the ship eases me out of my slumber. I’m home. That thought bounces around my head for several seconds before I remember this is not home. I’m on my father’s yacht. I don’t open my eyes and I don’t stop breathing heavily. Instead, I give off a long sleepy sigh and turn over. I crack one eye to figure out if I’m alone in the room. “How are you feeling?” my father asks. Not alone. “It’s wearing off, Harper. The doctor gave you a drug to make it wear off. I hope you realize we only drugged you so that Tet would leave quietly. But you became combative the last few times we brought you out of it—” The last few times? “—and since you’ve been known to make rash and dangerous decisions, we were forced to subdue you.” Well. Since there’s no use pretending I’m still asleep, I open both my eyes. He’s staring down at
me and he looks worried, but then he smiles. I hate to admit that it’s reassuring. He’s my father. It’s hard to turn that off. “How are you feeling?” he asks again. “OK?” His smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up. My father is handsome, even at fifty-one. His hair is not gray, it’s still dark and it’s still thick. His suit, however, is gray. And his tie is navy blue. When I was a girl I always loved to touch them. “Harper, answer me.” I pause for a few seconds and then nod. “I’m OK.” His smile grows and I get a warm feeling that I don’t immediately understand. I mean, who is this man? How can he call himself my father when he’s part of this organization and all they want is to marry me off? “We’re having dinner in an hour. I’ve had them prepare your favorites to welcome you home.” I don’t know what to say to that, so I look away. “Harper,” he says sternly so I refocus on him. “I’m glad you’re home.” I don’t know what to say to that either. “Did you even miss me?” Why is he asking me these things? “Because this ship was not the same without you two.” I look up at him for that. “Is Nick here?” “No.”
I look away. “He’s hiding. But once he hears you’re back, he’ll come for you, Harper. I know he will.” “So I’m a trap to catch him?” “Why in the world do you think I’m trying to catch him? He’s a grown man now. He can do as he pleases. I admit, he’s messed up my plans for you two. But I’m not wholly dissatisfied about that.” I glance at him again. “You’re not?” “Why would I be unhappy that you were not given away on your birthday, Harper? I love you. I might not have been the perfect father, but I was present more than most parents in this modern world. I did my business on the ship to stay near you. I really do not understand where this distrust comes from.” “You promised me to someone.” “I had to. It’s required. Which is why I’m not upset that didn’t happen.” “James said you promised me to him.” “Tet is mistaken.” “I remember him, though. From the beach party when we turned Six.” “He said no, Harper. I gave him the opportunity and he said no. That was the end of it for me.” “But you sent for him every year.” This makes him hesitate. “Tet told you that?” “James told me that.” My father sucks in a breath through clenched
teeth. “It would be a very big mistake to mix them up, Harper. James is not Tet, and Tet is not James.” I get a really sick feeling in my stomach at that comment. “What are you talking about?” “He’s insane. He’s been this way for a very long time. Years.” “Then why is he still working?” My father smiles like he feels sorry for me. “Let’s catch up over dinner. OK? Can you sit up?” “I’m sure I can.” “I’d like you to sit up so I can make sure you’re not dizzy.” I huff out a long sigh and then wiggle around until I prop myself up. I am dizzy, so I close my eyes and his steadying hand is on my shoulder. “I’m OK,” I say. But there’s something poking me in the butt, so I reach around and pull out my cell phone. I look up at my father and wait for him to take it away. He shrugs. “You’re a grown woman, you’re not a prisoner here, Harper. If that’s your phone, you are welcome to use it.” He lets that sink in for a few seconds, and then he nods and walks towards the cabin door. “One hour, Harp. Clean up and dress nicely, please.” And then he and the doctor walk out, closing the door behind them. I sigh again and look around. It’s my same room. This is my favorite yacht. The sailing ship.
Why is he being so nice? Not that my father was ever abusive towards me, but I poisoned thirteen people when I left. I ran away with no explanation. It’s true he never paid much attention. He was certainly never this doting. But this whole act right now seems to be one of… concern. Is it real? Is it possible that Nick led me to believe we were in danger from him for reasons that were unfounded? Do I need to start questioning my trust in my twin? I don’t have the energy for it. The drugs might be wearing off, but my head isn’t working right. I feel a little sick. And the slight rolling motion of the yacht is not helping. I look down at the phone and press the little button to wake it up. There’s a message from James. I look around nervously. I can’t believe my father would just let me receive messages like this. I mean, I don’t get it. He said I’m not a prisoner, but you don’t drug someone and force them to come aboard your ship if they’re not being kidnapped. But then again he’s my father and this is… was… might still be… my home. Is it really kidnapping? I open the message and read it. I’m sorry. I bet he is. Asshole. I want to talk to him, but not yet. I need to have dinner to clear my head and
think straight. I need to get a grip on what’s happening. I swing my legs over the side of the bunk and stand up, stumbling my way to the head attached to my cabin. I’m not used to being on a ship anymore and it both frightens and thrills me that I’ve lost my sea legs. Frightens me because that was my whole life before I left. The sea. The ship. The sailing. I don’t want to lose that part of me. It’s who I am. But I’m excited about having been away for so long. Living at the beach. Seeing the world from the opposite perspective. Living on my own. That makes me smile. And yes, I was quite the mess for most of that. But I did it. I’m excited that I met James and had sex. Jesus. If my dad found out about that, I’m not sure what he’d do. I don’t think James was sent to fuck me. I really want to talk to him and it’s killing me to wait. But I need to play this right. I feel like I’m part of a game. I’m a chess piece. I’m a card that’s being held or played. I’m not quite sure. But I do know one thing. Actions have consequences. I can’t afford to mess this up. So dinner it is. It’s late, I know that. Because when I look out my porthole, I see nothing but black. The ship is rocking some, but it doesn’t feel like we’re moving, so we must still be in port. OK. So I need to dress and go above deck for dinner.
I walk to my locker and open it. I recognize a few things. A bathing suit. Some flipflops. A beach bag. But other than that, the dresses are all new. I have six. One for each night of the week. This is how it’s always been. One dress for each day I’m expected for dinner. We never had dinner on Sundays so I never needed seven dresses. And that kinda set the standard for how many sets of clothing I required. I have six pairs of shorts folded neatly on a shelf. And six tank tops on the shelf above. I have two pairs of shoes besides the flip flops. One fancy, one casual. James asked me if I was spoiled and I said yes. But that’s only because of how I was brought up. Not what I was given. I’ve never had an abundance of things. There’s just not enough room on a ship, even one this size, for collections. We went shopping six times a year. Every two months. And on each trip a new wardrobe was purchased for me. Six of this, six of that. Six, six, six. My life has always been about sixes. How strange. I mean, there’s seven days in a week. Why not seven outfits? I push the hangers aside so I can take a look at each option, and then choose a light yellow sun dress that has a beige knitted cropped sweater that barely covers my shoulders. I slip on the fancy sandals. No heel. That’s only
practical for a young lady on a boat, the nanny had explained why I couldn’t have stilettos as footwear. And then I look at myself in the mirror on the inside of the locker. I have no idea who this girl is. She’s not Harper Tate who left here last year. That girl never ran away and changed her name. Or had her own apartment in Huntington Beach. Or had a beautiful man face-fuck her in a hallway. That girl was a virgin and this girl is not. God, I miss James. An overpowering, stabbing pain weighs down on my chest. Not a physical pain. But one that twines with my mind and can only be described as… heartbreak. Did James betray me or not? Did he leave me here to fend for myself? Or will he come back like he promised? That’s the only thing I can hold on to at the moment. He told me that before he left so I’d remember it. He’s coming for me. I just need to be patient. But I don’t even know how long I was out. From the rumbling in my stomach and the need to pee, it must’ve been a long time. The phone is resting on the bunk where I left it. I want to text him or call him so badly. Just be patient, Harper. See what your father is up to. Because something is off here. Something is
off and I need to know what that is before I make any decisions. I take a deep breath and close the locker door. OK, it’s just dinner. It’s my father, for Pete’s sake. I’ve had dinner with my father for as long as I can remember. In fact, this is all starting to feel very familiar. Almost comfortable. Like I didn’t kill thirteen people with poison a year ago, then steal the boat’s tender and take a plane to LA to start a new life. It feels… like that never happened. It feels… like I’ve been forgiven. Or maybe… it feels like a mission accomplished and a well-deserved homecoming. I walk calmly down the hall and climb the ladder that will take me up to the main level, then turn the corner and climb again until I can feel the cool sea breeze of a summer night. Yes. This is my home. The sea triggers all those familiar feelings of safety and comfort. I can hear my father talking to the staff in the above-deck dining room and he sounds relaxed and at ease. But why shouldn’t he be? He’s the one in total control here. I glance out at the Orange County city lights. The harbor is a busy place, so there is a lot to look at. I wish I was out there. As much as I do like this ship, I didn’t come here of my own free will. So regardless of what my father
says, I am a prisoner. The above-deck dining area is really built for partying. In fact, that’s what it’s called on the ship map hanging in the casual dining area a deck below. The party deck. The area is open on three sides, with half walls that give the appearance of a room and a ceiling, with subtle, atmospheric lighting. The living area seats fifteen. There’s a fireplace, two couches, an assortment of chairs, a coffee table, and a bar off to the side. The furniture is comfortable and stylish, but it’s made to withstand the elements. The salty sea and the blazing sun. On the other side of the living room is the dining table. The head and foot of the table do not have chairs. They have small couches similar to a settee. My father is sitting in the one on the port side, while my place is the same exact spot on the starboard side of the table. “Ah,” my father says as he stands, placing his napkin on the table as he waves me over to the other place. “You look better. How are you feeling, Harper?” “Fine.” I don’t mean to answer him so quickly. I actually think it’s a bad idea to talk to him at all until I get more of my bearings. But old habits die hard. When my father asks you a question, you respond politely. And that’s exactly what I did.
I walk over to the place set for me and wait for the staff to pull my chair out and then push me in. I don’t recognize my attendant and my father must notice that I’m wondering who he is, because he says, “Davis is… no longer with us.” “Oh.” Does that mean he quit? Or does that mean I killed him with the others when I poisoned the water last summer? I don’t ask and he doesn’t offer. But I know it’s the latter. I have to swallow hard to get past that realization. Davis was a part of my life since I was born. I’m a terrible person. A terrible, evil person. I push that thought away and pick up my napkin, placing it on my lap like the lady I am. I have impeccable manners in a formal setting. The servers appear with bottled water and they place one down in front of me. I look at my father and he smiles. “You can’t be too careful.” I just stare at him. “Did you make a call to your James, then?” I shake my head. “No, sir.” “Why not?” my father asks, as he holds his empty glass out for the staff to take and then accepts a new drink. He prefers whiskey. Good, strong, American whiskey. Which is funny, if you ask me. Because it’s so cheap. You’d think a man with all his money would move on to Scotch or brandy.
Isn’t that what refined men on boats drink in books? “I have nothing to say to him,” I whisper. The server brings me a salad. The greens are the kind that taste sweet and not bitter. My father gets the bitter leaves. So he really did have this meal made specially for me. Why? I lift my salad fork and start to eat. “Harper?” my father asks as soon as I take a bite, forcing me to grab my napkin and swallow down the food in a rush so I can answer. “Yes?” “Did he touch you?” “Who?” I ask, stunned at his gall and pissed off at his intrusion. “Tet.” “Of course he touched me.” My father stares hard at me. Probably not sure what I meant by that. But I don’t give a shit. If he wants to know if I fucked James, let him come out and ask me. I take another bite of salad as I wait for his reaction. He surprises me by looking down at his food and dropping the subject. Score one for Harper. Because I did not lie. And bonus points for making the great Admiral squirm, even if it was just internally. “So tell me about your days.” “My days?” I repeat, like I’m confused. But I’m
not confused. At least not about his question. I’m confused as to what the hell he’s actually doing here. “Most of them were pretty boring. I stayed inside a lot.” “That’s not what I heard. I was told you left every morning and evening to exercise on the beach.” “Did James tell you that?” “No, Number One told me that.” I drop my fork. “You mean the guy who drugged me?” “Yes, well. He wasn’t always so insubordinate. He was my best assassin until Tet took him out.” “But obviously James did not take him out.” “Obviously, James didn’t do anything. I told you, do not mix them up.” My father chews and then swallows. “Tet is a mess.” “Hmm.” My father smiles an indulgent smile, like such matters are above my level of comprehension. “Let me guess. Tet gave you that old spiel about mothers being killed and fathers standing by.” I just stare at my plate as I shuffle the green leaves around. “He’s insane, Harper. Long gone. He’s killed hundreds of people for the Company. And actually,” my father says, then stops to wipe his mouth and motion for the servers to remove his salad, “that number is so high, it might be in the thousands.”
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper. “I’m sure. It’s improbable that one mad man could cause so much death and destruction. But he has. He’s the best we’ve ever had. And do you know why, Harper?” My father doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because he’s been conditioned since he was very small to not care about people. He’s been conditioned to lie and cheat. He’s been conditioned to get whatever he needs, any way he can. And he’s still alive today because he learned that lesson better than anyone else. Do you think I haven’t tried?” “Tried what?” I just stare at my father, not sure if he just admitted to trying to kill James or reform him. “But right now he’s being a good dog. Fetching that file for me. He’s got a vendetta with One. One has it. I want it. Tet is the perfect man for that job. And,” my father adds with a sly smirk, “it’s forced him to keep his deal with me. To deliver you.” “You’re lying.” “I’m not. He agreed to find you and bring you back after you showed him the file. But One…” My father shakes his head. And then he belts out a laugh unexpectedly. A guffaw that echoes off the ceiling. “Do you want to know the really funny part?” I’m thinking no, but my father certainly isn’t paying any attention to what I want.
“The really funny part is that I sent every assassin I had off to kill Tet over the past few years.” He stares at me, smiling, as I think about this for a few moments. “It didn’t work,” I say, my words just as unexpected as his laugh. “He told me… he told me he killed them all.” “All but one.” “Number One?” “No, Harper. He thought he killed One, but One has other plans. So even though One tricked him, that was still a score in Tet’s mind. No, the job he never finished was Number Zero.” “I don’t know all their numbers,” I say, like we’re talking about current affairs or the weather, and not men who kill people on command. “Of course not. But you’ve met her. Watched him finish her off just a couple hours ago.” My stomach rumbles and I just stare at my father, horrified. Sasha. How could I have forgotten that James shot Sasha? And just as I’m thinking that the boat begins to move. “Are we leaving?” “Did you really forget?” my father asks me, ignoring my question. My breathing is speeding up and I have the familiar heart palpitations. The sweat starts to gather on my brow and I have to close my eyes and
breathe deeply to stop the chain reaction. A strong hand touches me on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. I thought you were playing a game. I didn’t realize you hadn’t remembered. She was your friend?” He hands me the bottle of water and I twist the cap until the plastic seal breaks and I take a sip. “I don’t know why Tet didn’t kill her as he was instructed. I don’t understand why the child didn’t finish the job I sent her to do. She had the element of surprise and she handled herself very well when I sent the assassins to kill her grandparents. So the only thing I can assume is that they were playing off each other. Do you know what they were doing, Harper?” I swallow my water and look up at my father towering above me. He scares me. For the first time in my life, he scares me. “I don’t know.” “We need to move,” he says, finally answering my question about the ship. “Her body wasn’t found and it hasn’t washed up. But we can’t risk searching anymore. So it’s better to get out into international waters in case the local authorities come asking questions.” He places a bottle of pills on the table. The orange bottle with the white top the same size and shape as all the others he’s given me over the years. “I’m not taking those,” I say, immediately pulling myself together.
“No?” He walks back over to his seat just as the servers come in and place a covered plate in front of him. One is placed in front of me as well, and then the two servers remove the silver domed tops at the same time to reveal shark steaks, rice pilaf, and two slices of lime. “You’ve said that before, darling. But you know the pills help. So why deny yourself?” I just stare at him. Deny myself? That’s an unusual way to put it. “I’m not going to make you do anything, Harper. You’re a grown woman now. I’ve already stated, you’re not a prisoner.” “Then let me go.” “We’re out to sea.” “We have a tender.” “Yes, but it’s in need of repair. Which is why Tet had to hire a boat to bring you out to the ship.” I stop listening and instead take my attention to my food. I’m starving and there’s no way in hell I could resist this meal. I don’t know how many days I’ve really missed, but it’s several by the pain in my stomach. I cut the tender shark steak with my knife and start shoveling it into my mouth. Aside from that one nice dinner with James, I haven’t had many decent meals since I left home. “So,” my father continues, “now that you’re safe and Tet is off looking for your brother so he can bring that file to me, I’d like to make you a
proposition.” I stop chewing and just stare at my plate. And then I regain my composer and swallow. “What kind of proposition?” “Your promise.” I look up at that and my father tisks his tongue. “No, Harper. Darling. You were not promised to Tet. Please have more faith in me that that. Why would I give you to a demented killer?” I have no idea. “Then who?” “No one on the ship that night. He’s a secret. A secret so powerful it will rock this Company to the core. You see, Harper, regardless of what most people think, I’m not the head of this organization. I’m just a convenient figure our enemies can focus on when they feel the need for revenge. I’m… a distraction. The real power belongs to someone else.” “Who?” “You’ll see.” “What do you think James will do when he figures this out? And what if I’d prefer James over this… new person?” “Harper. I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m only trying to keep you safe.” “Like you kept my mother safe?” His expression hardens immediately. “Do not mention her again.” “Why, because you let her be killed?”
He pounds his fists on the table, making all the silver jump. I jump as well and I find myself scooting back from the table, ready to flee. But then I realize I’m on a fucking ship. There’s nowhere to go. “Dinner’s over.” And then he stands up and walks a few steps before turning back to me. “Don’t forget your pills, Harper. The deeper you dig, and the more you want to know, the more likely you are to take them.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven - Harper
“I’m not done,” I tell the server who comes to take my plate. I will be damned if I will be sent back to my cabin like a child when I’m still hungry. “Bring me dessert and then leave me alone to eat in peace.” “Yes, ma’am,” the server closest to me says. And then with a nod, she signals her co-worker and they walk away. I eat every last bite of my shark steak, most of the rice, and the dessert—which is apple cobbler à la mode. I let out a long sigh. OK. So my father is still a prick and he’s got the upper hand. I’m stuck on this ship and I have no idea what he’s doing or where we’re going. But… I have to think up a but, because I need one right now. I need some inner reassurance that this is not over yet. But. I’m not that weak and scared little girl who left here last year. I’m different. And I don’t believe half that stuff he says about James. I accept that James can’t be all there. He’s responsible for
too many atrocities to not be affected by it. But James was lucid and in control one hundred percent of the time we were together. Isn’t that all that matters? He was not indecisive or confused. So even if some of that stuff is true about his psyche, does it matter if it doesn’t affect him in his day to day life? But Harper, the reasonable me points out. You were only really with him for a few days. It’s one small snapshot of who he is. True. But he was always thinking of us. Except he killed Sasha. That makes me bring my napkin to my mouth to stifle my shock. How? How could he do that? We were only together for a short while, but we were like family. Why would he bother to care about her if his objective was to shoot her in the end? I don’t understand that. God, I wish I had a friend to talk to. My mind immediately goes to the phone. I want to text him so bad. I get up and go back to my room to change. The phone is still there. Right where I left it. I pick it up and find the message. I’m sorry. I can’t stop myself. I text back. Why? Just tell me why you’re doing these things. I press the send button and watch the little green bar as it tries to
send my message. It fails and then the message string disappears. Dammit. I key in James’ number and rewrite the text, pushing send again. I repeat this process and press send several more times before I understand that we’re out to sea and my phone won’t work. “Score one for Dad,” I mumble, throwing the phone down on the bed. But I’m not going to sit in my cabin and mope, that’s for sure. So I put on a pair of clean shorts and a tank top, then slip on my flipflops and go back above deck. When I get to the party area, I plop down on one of the couches and tuck my feet up underneath me. “Jesus Christ, Harper, what the fuck is happening?” “I had no idea your mouth was so filthy. Your father never mentioned that.” I stand up so I can see over the dining table. The direction the unfamiliar voice came from. “Excuse me?” I don’t see anything beyond but the empty deck and the black sky. “Sorry,” a man says, standing up from the hot tub on the outer deck. The thick muscles of his chest drip water as he steps out, and then he smiles at me, just as he grabs one of the large white towels with the ship’s name monogrammed on them. He drags it across his face and chest and then tosses it aside. I have lost my mind. My heart shudders and then
stops. I have to sit down quickly because I know without a doubt I am going to faint. Strong hands catch me just before I fall and lay me down across the couch cushions. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you up here so soon after dinner. This wasn’t the way I wanted us to meet.” I sit up because I feel like I’m suffocating. His touch sends chills up my spine and I put a hand up to push him away. I meet his eyes briefly and my head spins. “James?” I know it’s not him, but I can’t stop myself from asking. “James? Is that you?” The man who looks like James, but who I know is not James, shakes his head. “No, sweetheart. I’m Vincent.” He smiles at me and there’s a twinkle in his green eyes that makes me hold my breath again. “The control.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight - Harper
“I don’t understand.” I’m breathing all heavy and wrong and he’s still touching my arm. I shake off his hand and pull away. “I don’t understand.” The man who looks like James sighs. “OK. Let me start from the beginning. In a science experiment you have three variables. You have the product, the reactant, and the control.” “What?” “I was told you were quick.” I squint at him. What the fuck is he talking about? “OK, a product is—” “I know what a fucking control is. What I don’t know,” I seethe, “is why the fuck you look like James.” He reaches over and I recoil and scoot back until I’m pressed up against the couch cushions. His fingertips touch my cheek and then drag down until his hand flips over and his knuckles slide under my chin. He gently tips it upward. “Calm down for me, please. And I’ll explain.” “This is me being calm,” I say back, still angry. He smiles and drops his hand. “James is my
brother.” “He never said he had a twin.” “He doesn’t know he has a twin.” “I don’t understand.” “Harper, work with me here, darling. OK?” He pauses like I’m supposed to take that opportunity to agree with him. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Your father said—” My father knew about this. “—you’d go to your room after dinner. So I took this opportunity to relax. I live in a stressful world, as you do, I’m sure. And I wasn’t thrilled that I had to be the one to have this conversation with you. I didn’t feel it was my place. Your father should’ve cleared all this up last year—” Oh my God. What is he saying? “—but since you’ve seen me now, I guess I’ll just have to do my best.” I stand up, shaking my head. “No.” “Sit down, Harper.” “No,” I say again, stepping away from the couch. He stays where he is so I walk all the way to the edge of the living room. “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t believe you.” “It’s true, Harper. I’m your promise, not James.” “No. I belong to him. He said so.” “James is delusional. Besides, I don’t see you as property, so I’m very unhappy that he made you believe you were one of his belongings.”
“Who the fuck are you?” “Vincent. Fenici.” He says it very slowly, like I’m incapable of understanding what’s going on. I do understand. I just don’t want to believe it. “James and I are twins. When we turned sixteen, we were brought to an island to meet you. Not together, of course. We lived separate lives since shortly after our second birthday.” “I didn’t see you there.” He chuckles. “Of course you did, darling. We spent the day together. I watched you blow out your candles. I gave you a gift before I left. Some colored pencils to draw in the notebook that James gave you.” I have to hold on to the edge of the bar to steady myself. “James was with me that day, not you.” “Sorry, sweetie. That was me. James said no to the Admiral’s offer. He was sent on his way that afternoon. I spent the rest of the day with you. Not him.” That’s not right. James had that notebook all these years. He stole it back. So he was there that night. But this guy… this Vincent… he was the one I was with? I think my world is tipping. No. I think my world is capsizing. “Are you OK?” I swallow hard and look over at the man who is not James. What the hell am I supposed to feel about this? “I’m promised to you, not him?”
“Me,” he says. “Not him.” I stare at him in the dim lights from the overhead canopy. Candles flicker on the tables and the fire warms one side of my body, while the ocean spits up a spray that cools the other. “What if I don’t want you? What if I want him?” “He’s dead, darling.” “He’s not dead!” I scream it. My whole body begins to tremble and before I know it, I’m shaking uncontrollably. “He’s not dead!” “He might as well be. He’s insane, and that is an indisputable fact. Harper, listen to me. Ask yourself this question. Who the hell kills their own brother? A brother they were not even angry at. A brother they loved and grew up with. A brother who saved their life as many times as they saved his. Their partner. Who kills their partner?” “He told me why he did it and I agree with him. He had a good reason.” “Why?” the man who looks like my James demands. “Tell me why he did it, then.” I think of what James told me in the desert bathroom the other day. About Tony’s girlfriend and baby. He did it to keep the baby safe. But if no one knows there’s another Company kid running around, I’m not gonna be the one to spill the beans. “It’s private,” I say. “It’s not private, Harper. We know about the child. And she’s going to be brought back into the
fold. Soon. Once we settle who is in charge of things.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My face is devoid of emotion. No expression at all. I put on the best liar face I have. Vince smiles and shrugs, letting it drop. “Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks. I shake my head no. “I’m going to bed.” “Not yet, Harper. Come here, please. Sit across from me, because we need to talk before you go back to your room and get your things.” Get my things? “What?” Oh, shit. My heart is pounding in my chest. “Come sit. Please.” I do go sit because I need the three moments it takes to cross the room in order to think. He’s taking me somewhere. I need to get my things. I settle on the couch across the long glass coffee table from him and try to stop my knees from knocking together. I almost wish I could have a pill. “You were promised to me on the day you turned six. It was an agreement of the highest importance because it bonded your family to mine. Like in the old days when a princess was married off to an enemy’s prince.” “Are you the enemy?” His smile gives me the chills. “In a way. But so is James. We come from the same Company family. Understand this. I am no different than him in that
respect. So please”—he stops to smile—“don’t be frightened. I’m sure you are far more dangerous than I am.” “What’s your job?” He hesitates, but the smile never wavers. “It’s a new position, actually. For a new era in the Company business. Aaaand I’m not sure how much you know, but I’m sure you understand why I can’t divulge everything.” Still with the smile. “What’s that mean?” I decide dumb questions are best with this guy. He likes to feel superior. Why not lure him into his comfort zone? “It means you don’t need to worry about it. Now, let’s talk logistics, OK? I’m here. You’re here. We’re talking. The inevitable has been discussed. So even though you were scheduled to leave with me tomorrow, the helicopter is ready and waiting. So I think it’s better for you that we leave tonight. What do you think, Admiral?” I turn around and find my father standing behind me. Smiling. “Harper. I’m sorry I kept this from you. It would’ve probably saved thirteen lives had I just been upfront about who your promise was. But it was a difficult thing to consider. It was a difficult conversation to have.” “But now you’re fine with me being given to some stranger?” I snap. “I’m just supposed to leave
with him? Right now?” “You already liked him as James, Harper. He is James, only better.” “In what way? The way he talks down to me like I’m a baby? The way he gives me the chills that makes me want to avoid touching him? Or the way he—” “That’s enough,” my father barks. It stops me cold. I’ve lived with that shout my whole life. I can’t stop my immediate reaction to be quiet. “That’s enough now. James is psychotic, Harper. He will kill you or he will get you killed. He’s not safe. He’s not family material. He’s not father material. We’ve dispatched a team to follow him and take him out. If they haven’t killed him yet, they will. Very soon. He’s as good as dead. So the sooner you accept the fact that Vincent is your promise, that Vincent is the man who loves you above all others, that Vincent will keep you safe, the sooner you can move into your new life.” “What life? If I’m his property, then what life?” “Children, Harper. Your job as a Company woman is to have children. And”—the Admiral looks over at Vincent and smiles—“Vincent says he’d like you to take part in his new role as well. See? He already loves and cares for you enough to consider the idea of letting you work.” “Letting me—” I can’t think straight. “Children?”
He has got to be joking. “Slaves, you mean? Like me? Daughters who will be sold off when they turn eighteen? Sons who will be given away to whomever to be turned into killers?” “Your sons will not be killers, Harper. Don’t overreact. Your sons will be Company royalty.” “Like Nick?” I scoff. “Who was taught to kill and taught me to kill?” “Nick,” my father laughs. “Nick is not royalty, sweetie. You are not royalty. But your children, with Vincent’s blood mixed in, will be. You are the start of a new Company line. The two strongest families will be united after tonight and a new era of power will begin. We own everything, Harper. We have people in positions in every world government that matters. We run the US Senate and the next president will be a Company man, regardless of which party gets elected. We hold private utility companies, prisons, water treatment plants, hospitals, and millions of acres of farmland. We control everything but the hearts and minds of the people. And that comes next. You, Harper, along with Vincent, will capture their imaginations. The pretty girl with the handsome politician. The road to power, and your place in history, is my everlasting gift to you.” Oh my God. It’s like he’s a villain in those comic books Nick and I used to read. “Ready?” And then Vincent has me by the elbow.
Not hard, still gentle. But it’s not even a question. It’s a foregone conclusion. I let him lead me away, not knowing what else to do. “Harper,” Vincent says as he leans down in my ear. “Do you want anything from your room?” I consider this. I consider the phone. But the more I think about it, the less likely it is that the phone in my room is the phone I had from before. I probably fucked things up by trying to text James. “No, thank you,” I say, falling back on my manners to help me get through things. My promised man wraps an arm around me and guides me over to the ladder that leads below deck. “I thought there was a helicopter?” But before the words are out of my mouth, I know there’s no helicopter waiting on this ship. It’s a fucking sailboat. “Once we board my yacht we can take the helicopter to my home. Our home,” he amends. “It will be wonderful, you’ll see. And soon, Tet will be gone and you’ll never have to think of him again.” He pulls a hoodie on over his head and then he slips his feet into a pair of gray canvas boat shoes and grabs my hand. We go down three floors and make our way to the garage. There are men there waiting for us. My body feels hot as I realize that they all knew I was coming aboard only so I could be given away. They probably love the fact that I’m
being punished. I killed thirteen people, some of them crew. They probably hate me. “Step carefully,” Vincent says as he holds his hand out to help me into the tender, but not ours. His. I settle in the seat next to Vincent at his request and he puts his arm around me. “Are you cold, lionfish?” “What did you just call me?” The nerve of him. “Lionfish,” he says, nuzzling my ear as we take out into the darkness. “Remember I gave you that name on the beach? After you told me about touching the stingers?” “I told that story to James, not you.” “Baby,” he says as his hand slips between my legs and his mouth covers mine for the briefest of moments. “I am James. How do you not recognize me?” I tilt my head up to say no, but his mouth is right there. It covers mine. His tongue slips in and tangles with me. His hands are busy rubbing my inner thighs and then his fingers slip right up to my panties. I push him off and scoot away. “You’re not him,” I say, not very convincingly. “Oh, but I am. And when we get home, we’re gonna have that talk about power all over again.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine - Harper
He is not James. He is not James. He is not James. I know he’s not James, I don’t need the mantra to convince myself. I say it because I need to keep my mind from spinning out of control while we’re on the boat. It takes a long time to reach his yacht, and once we’re there, he takes me to a stateroom and says good night. That’s it. Just good night. The closet has two outfits. One set of modest night clothes. Tank top and shorts. And one set of outdoor wear. Jeans, boots, plain cotton shirt, and a light jacket. I have a feeling we’re not going to be staying on board the yacht very long. The bathroom is fitted with a large round tub, and even though all these things have happened to me in such a short time, I soak in the tub. I need something to settle me. To calm me. Hot water and a bottle of pills in an orange bottle on the counter are all I have, and I don’t want to take those pills. I cannot take those pills again.
So I soak for a little while and then change into my night clothes. When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a tray with cocoa and cookies. Cocoa and cookies. Like I’m six fucking years old. I drink the cocoa and skip the snack, then climb into bed. The ship is moving fast—full speed from the feel of it. It makes my stomach sick to think about it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been at sea for this to feel normal, but after tossing and turning for a few minutes, I finally drift off. Sometime later Vincent wakes me. It takes me several seconds for his face to come into focus once I open my eyes. “We’re ready. Please get dressed.” The hand he places on my arm gives me the chills and I pull away. The bedside light is flicked on and I have a chance to get a good look at him before he leaves my stateroom. Why does he have to look exactly like James? I dutifully put on the clothes and exit the cabin. Vincent is waiting for me in the hallway wearing a dark blue suit with a tie that matches. Gone are his hoodie and boat shoes. He looks like a businessman now instead of a beach bum. He gives me a quick smile and then I’m ushered up to the helipad and into the waiting ’copter before I even have time to think. I don’t know how long I slept, but it feels like late evening now. Almost all day if I had to guess.
Did he drug me? With the cocoa? I don’t ask where we’re going. I stopped talking to him after he said he was James. I mean, please. These people treat me like I’m an idiot. He thinks I don’t know the difference between a stranger and the man I’m in love with? God, did I just admit I love James? I turn my head in the ’copter so the impostor can’t see me, and I grin. I’ve barely spent any time with James at all, but I know what I feel, and it’s love. I miss him so bad. Why did he drop me off? I mean, yes, I can follow the logic. He was probably freaked out when that guy drugged me and maybe he thought I’d be safer on the yacht. I probably would be safer on the yacht. But I’m not on the fucking yacht. I’m in a goddamned helicopter flying to God knows where. And all this stuff about James being crazy—yeah, I can see that too. He’s totally psycho. I grin again. But that’s just part of his charm. What girl does not fantasize about taming a wild man? Well, I never have until now. But that’s how I feel about it. James Fenici is one of the most dangerous men in the world and he wants to take care of me. He wants to love me and sleep with me. He listens to what I have to say and he puts all the violence aside when I’m next to him. Grown men are terrified of him. Global
organizations haven’t been able to kill him. And yet when his cock is in my mouth, he gives me all the power. I could get drunk on that power I have over him. I could get off on that power too. I want my James. I’m not even remotely interested in what this stranger who looks like him has to say about anything. I don’t care if he’s the one I was promised to. What kind of man accepts a six-year old girl as his wife? Sick. That’s sick. James was the one who said no. James was the one with integrity. James was not insane when we turned six that year. He was untouched by all the killing that came afterward. And he was taken prisoner that first year. Left somewhere horrific for a long time, the notebook said. That’s bound to change anyone. And that’s not his fault. The helicopter finally starts to descend just as the sun begins to set and even though I must’ve slept all day, I’m so tired. “We’re about to land.” Vincent’s voice crackles though my headpiece. I look over at him and before I can stop myself, I smile. His face catches me off guard a little. I mean, they are identical. The eyes. The haircut. The broad shoulders that taper down to the perfectly proportioned waist.
“I hope you like it.” I cut the smile and add a nod. What does he want me to say? I’m not staying here. I’m not gonna be his wife. I do not give a shit what promise was made. I belong to someone else. A few minutes later and we are on the ground and everything becomes all rush, rush. I have never understood the hustle involved with boarding and disembarking a helicopter. Why must they pull me along like we’re in some kind of war zone? I go with it. Vincent’s grip on my arm is tight. Tighter than is normal. And I wonder how worried he is about me running off into some unfamiliar woods as he drags me away from the rotating blades and ushers me up a series of steps that lead to the back patio of an imposing Mediterraneanstyle mansion. Even though the Spanish tile roof and warm stucco exterior might look welcoming in bright sunshine, the dusk makes it look ominous. “Where are we?” I finally ask as we slow our pace and he straightens out his shirt collar. “North of Santa Barbara.” “How the hell did we get to Santa Barbara from Newport Beach in a sailboat?” More importantly, how will James find me here? I’m not all that up on my American West Coast geography, but I think that’s a fair distance. “We motored up the coast,” he answers back.
“It’s difficult to navigate up the California coast in a sailboat.” “We must’ve been hauling ass.” “Language, Harper,” he says, only half paying attention as he reaches for my hand. I shake it off. “Don’t,” I growl at him. “I might be your prisoner for now, but I’m not your fucking child to admonish.” He snatches my hand and yanks me into his chest. “Manners, Harper Tate.” His steely gaze transfixes me. His green eyes flash. “I was told you have them. Was I lied to?” I match his gaze and refuse to bend. “I have manners. But I’m not sure you deserve them.” He loosens his grip on my hand and exhales. “Please,” he says, pressing his fingertips to the space between his eyes like he has a headache. “I don’t like the language and I don’t like the attitude. We’re both tired. We’ve been through a lot. And we’re going to freshen up and have a nice dinner so we can chat.” “If you’re still insisting you’re James, then I’m going to refuse that chat.” He grits his teeth. “If James is the one you think you want, then I am James.” “How did you know about that conversation we had about power?” He laughs a little under his breath and then leans into my ear. “I was there, Harper. That was me.”
“That was not you!” “How do you know?” I just stare at him. “I know.” He moves my hand to the bulge between his legs and presses it. “Tell me how you know.” I yank my hand away and step back. “You were watching us. You had cameras. Something. But that was not you. And I’ll tell you how I know. Because even though James made it very clear I belong to him, he does not treat me like property. He respects me.” “Ha,” Vincent laughs. “That’s a good one. Well, you got me. I’m Vincent. I’m not sorry for being Vincent instead of James. I am sorry I didn’t get to you before he did. I am sorry you sucked his cock before you’ll suck mine. But we have all the time in the world to make up for that.” I can’t even move, that’s how off-guard I feel. Should I fight him? But where would I go? I don’t even know where I’m at. Santa Barbara. I’m just not sure where I could go from there. His hand wraps around my waist, squeezing as he pulls me close to his chest. “Forget about James, Harper. James is a dead man. He’s crazy, OK? He’s lost touch with reality. He kills people for no reason anymore. He’s hunted down all his friends in the Company and tried to kill them, one by one. We’ve known this for almost a year now. And the only good thing he’s done since then is kill our brother,
Tony. Because Tony was just as certifiable as James.” “It’s not his fault he was forced to kill people for a living. It’s not his fault the Company turned him into that.” “Harper,” Vincent whispers. “Listen to me. It is his fault. He was the favorite, Harp. Our parents loved James above everyone. I didn’t grow up in the same house, but I knew who he was. Our father pinned all his Company hopes on James. All he had to do was go to that beach when you turned six and say, Yes, Admiral. I’ll take her. And his life would be mine. And my life would be his. You’d be in love with me right now if he said yes, because I would be the one who went crazy and found you on the beach.” “But he didn’t say yes. You did.” Vincent pushes me away and takes a step back. “You’re wrong. I never got asked. I told you, I was the control. I didn’t participate in anything. I was secluded from the Company. I was raised like any other rich American boy. I never killed anyone. I never went on missions. I just existed. I have an impeccable record. A paper trail that can be followed from the time I turned sixteen until now. So when the vetting begins for the multiple political offices I will hold, I appear untouched. Perfect. The perfect man. Raised in the perfect home. Wedded to the perfect woman who has no record at all.
Who was raised on a fucking boat in the middle of the ocean. Who never went to school. Who never had her picture taken and plastered all over the society pages. You,” he whispers, “are the perfect blank canvas.” He gives me that hard stare again and this time it doesn’t make me defiant, it makes me curious. “What do you want from me?” “I want what I was promised.” “I never made a promise to you.” “You think you love him, but you don’t know him. You know me.” “You’re not the guy I spent time with, Vincent.” “I’m the guy from your birthday party, Harper. I’m the guy you fell in love with.” He slowly moves his hands up towards my face and cups them around my cheeks. “I deserve the same chance you gave James. That’s all I’m asking for. Be fair, Harper. You don’t know me yet. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want my chance.”
Chapter Seventy - Harper
He won’t let go of my face and I can’t stop looking into his beautiful green eyes. Why? Why does he have to look like the man I love? “Just a chance, Harper. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll make a deal with you, OK? I won’t push you. I’ll give you some space and some privacy. I’ll give you freedom in the house. I will even give you a phone to call the man you think you love.” I take in a deep breath at that offer. “I know you want to talk to James. I understand. If you give me a few days with no fighting and no rebellion, then I will let you call him.” “Why not now?” I know I’m pushing it, but what kind of killer would I be if I didn’t? Vincent sighs, but he doesn’t immediately say no and that gives me hope. “If I let you call James now, you’ll be good for me? You’ll give me a chance?” He stares down into me. His hands soften against my cheeks. “Right now?” “A real chance.”
“OK,” I say warily. Is Vincent for real? Or is this some kind of trick? “If you let me call him, I’ll give you a chance.” “One call. Twenty seconds. You can’t tell James you’re with me, where you are, or what we’re doing. You can’t be upset. It’s one call just to hear his voice. And if he doesn’t answer, he might be dead. If he doesn’t answer, you will assume he is dead. You will drop it and focus on your life here with me. I’ll give you one act of trust on my part if you make this promise to me. Because I’m certain of one thing, Miss Tate. He’s not the man you are meant to be with. That’s me. So go ahead. Call him.” Vincent reaches into his jacket and pulls out a phone. He swipes his fingers across the screen to wake it up and then presses an app on the home screen. “This reroutes the call so it looks like it’s coming from another number.” I press in the numbers and listen to it ring. “Harper…” I take a deep breath to stop myself from crying so Vincent isn’t tempted to end the call if James thinks I’m upset. “Harper? You there?” I swallow hard and nod. “They said you were dead!” He laughs. “Fuck. I’m fine. They’re amateurs. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Why did you drop me off, James? I don’t understand what I did wrong.” He hesitates. “You have to trust me, baby. Do you trust me?” A tear slips down my cheek but Vincent reaches out to swipe it away. “Yeah.” I breathe through my pent-up sobs. “I do. I can’t talk. I just wanted you to know I love—” I get the three beeps that tell me the call has been dropped and I look down at the screen as the app flashes a no-signal icon at me. “We got cut off.” “I’m sorry,” Vincent says. “I’m sorry it was short. But do you feel better now?” I give his phone back and turn away. When he reaches for my hand I let my fingers slip into his because I’m lost all of a sudden. James. Just hearing his voice shakes me up. He does that to me. He shakes my foundation and rocks me to the core. He can calm me down and light me up in the same breath. He’s the only person on this planet I need right now. He’s the only person on this planet who makes sense. And when I look up into the green eyes of the man who says I belong to him, I get lost in them. My world spins. My reality is shattered. The muscles in my legs get weak and then my knees buckle and I’m falling. Falling into the arms of the man who wants me to be his.
Why does he have to look just like him? “I’ve got you, Harper.” But the wrong man scoops me up and cradles me in his arms. The wrong man whispers comforting reassurances in my ear. The wrong man sits down on an outdoor couch and holds me tight until I stop shaking. “It’s the drugs. Just relax and let it wear off.” I push off him until he lets me go and then I get to my feet. “I’m fine,” I say, refusing to meet his gaze. “I just need to settle in.” “You’re not fine, Miss Tate. But I agree. The sooner you can settle in, the better off you’ll be.” Vincent gets up and leads me into the home through a massive set of French doors. We end up in a living room. Or maybe it’s a ballroom. It’s so big it makes me dizzy when I look up at the ceiling. We’re entering through the back of the house, so we’re facing the back of the stairs. Up above is a long balcony that spans the entire length of the room. There are two hallways on either side of the stairs, both on the upper and lower floors. Like this house has wings to it. “Come, I’ll take you to your room. Do you need me to carry you? Or can you manage the stairs?” What a ridiculous question, I think as I follow him to the stairs. But I’m only halfway up before my pace slows from exhaustion. “You need to take it slow, Harper. You’ve been
drugged too many times in the last several days.” And then he scoops me up in his arms and takes the remaining steps with ease. He sets me on my feet again when we get to the top and retakes my hand to lead me off to the left. We walk to the very end of the wing and stop in front of a set of double doors. “This is my room,” he says as he opens the door and waves me in. “You can stay in here and I’ll sleep in my office.” I look back down the hallway. “Why can’t I have my own room?” “Because this is your room, lionfish.” “Don’t call me that,” I growl. “And I don’t want to stay in your room. It’s uncomfortable.” “We can change it tomorrow. But all your things are in here. So for tonight, this is your room.” “I don’t have any things,” I snap. I can’t help it. I’m tired and I’m starting to feel sick. Probably from all the drugs, as he so thoughtfully reminded me. “This whole place is filled with your things, Harper. It’s a Company house built for us. Let me show you your closet so you can choose a dress for dinner.” Dinner? Fuck. I cannot do dinner. Please, no. “Can’t I eat in my room?” “No,” he says kindly but sternly. “It’s better for you not to have too much time alone to think. Especially when you haven’t taken your pills.”
I scrunch up my eyes. “I don’t take those anymore. James doesn’t want me to take them.” “I don’t want you to take them either, Harper. I want you to be in control at all times. I don’t even want to offer you a drink at dinner, but my mother insisted we have a drink to celebrate.” “Your mother?” My repulsion must be evident in my voice, because he chuckles. “Don’t worry, she’s not here. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another before I unleash that horror on you.” I can’t stop the huff of relief and then a smile follows before I can stop it. “See,” Vincent says. “See, it’s not so bad here. Now look,” he says, leading me into the massive room. The decorations are as traditional as the ones downstairs. The wood is dark and thick. The fabrics are rich colors—blood-red maroons, deep mustard yellows, and emerald greens. The drapes are closed tight so there’s no view outside. But the windows must be spectacular, since the curtains flow down the entire length of the wall and spill out into a puddle of fabric on the floor. There’s a sitting area on the far side of the room. It’s bigger than the size of my living space in Huntington Beach. “Here are the closets,” Vincent says, leading me over to another side of the room. “Mine is on this side and yours is over there.” He opens the double doors that lead to my closet
and reaches around the corner to flip on the light. It’s filled with clothes and shoes. Handbags. I’ve never carried a handbag. Boots. Not the kind you wear on a boat. The tall kind. The short kind. The fancy kind. There are so many cabinets and drawers, I have no idea what to think. “Six,” I say. “What?” Vincent laughs. “Six outfits. I’ve never owned more than six outfits in my life.” “Oh, yes. I guess there’s not a lot of room for so many things on a boat.” “Why do I need so many clothes? I’m not trying to be difficult, I just don’t understand it.” His hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me into his chest. “Miss Tate, your life is about to change. One day—not today, or tomorrow, or even next week when we have our first party as a power couple—but one day you will have so many people to see, and so many things to do, that you will look at this closet and realize it’s not enough. You have dresses for balls. For fundraisers. For stepping out on the town with your husband for drinks. You have shorts and bathing suits for the pool or the beach, or traveling to see your father on his yacht. You’ll have coats and boots for braving the weather when you have to visit New York or Chicago because some aspect of the many, many boards of directors you will participate in require your
personal attention. “Your life will be filled with interesting people, and special dinners, and parties. You will see injustices in this world and want to rage against them. You will command people to help you do that, and you will change the future. You will shape the future, Harper. You will talk and people will listen. You will admonish bad behavior and practices will change. You will be a force, Miss Tate. You will be a force and all those acts require clothes.” I try to picture myself as this person he describes but I can’t. I try to picture myself in the future and find that I can’t do that either. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about my future. “Clothes make you feel things, Harper. And right now I need you to choose a dress for me. Something that will make you feel something tonight. I don’t want you drugged, or silent, or stupid. I want you to be you. So I filled your closet with every outfit I could get my hands on to give you a way to find yourself. So choose, Miss Tate. Who do you want to be tonight?” I can’t stop looking at his face the whole time he’s talking. I swear to God, I can’t stop. And it’s not because he looks like James anymore. It’s not his green eyes and dark hair or the perfect body I know he’s hiding under that suit. It’s because he paints a picture I’ve never
considered before. Up until this very moment, my future was all about seeing Nick again. Or lying next to James in some small apartment as we fled from one danger after another. Or maybe, if I was really dreaming big, a home. Like the one Merc had in the desert. A place with comfortable couches and air-conditioning to take the edge off the heat. With soft sheets and picture frames filled with moments we wanted to cherish together. Simple. My life has always been simple. And I’m not saying one is better than the other. I’m not really saying anything with my hesitation. I’m just… considering my options. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “I really have no idea who I am, let alone who I want to be.” Vincent’s face changes in my moment of realization. “I see. Would you like to hear my opinion on what’s in your closet?” I nod. Because I could really use some guidance right now and he’s all I have at them moment. “This,” he says with a smile as his fingertips gather a piece of light green fabric, “is a beautiful dress. My favorite, in fact.” He lifts the hanger off the rack so I can see the dress displayed. It’s very pretty. Not sexy. But sophisticated. The pale green reminds me of a honeydew melon. And it’s more of a gown than a dress. A soft chiffon gown with a shirred empire bodice, and skirts that
flow all the way to the floor, like a column. “It’s pretty.” “Yes,” Vincent says. “But maybe tonight you just want to be comfortable?” He pulls out a t-shirt with some writing on it. Grunge-style. Little rips in the sleeve to make it looked well-loved and well-worn. And then he opens a drawer in one of the many cabinets and finds a pair of denim shorts. “This is what you usually wear, right?” I smile a huff out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m not very fancy.” “So wear this to our first dinner.” I look up at him and smile. “What are you going to wear?” “I look pretty good like this,” he says, gesturing to his suit. “I like to be fancy. But if you choose comfortable, I’ll change.” I sigh and turn back to the green dress. He’s good, I realize. He’s very, very good at this. Here I am wondering what he wants me to wear to dinner with him, when ten minutes ago I was angry about being forced to come stay at his house. I don’t know what to make of it. “Harper,” he says softly behind me. “It’s not a big decision. Just match the clothes to your mood and purpose.” “What if I don’t know what I feel? Or what I want?” “Well, that’s understandable. It takes time. I’m
sorry I was harsh with you earlier. I’ve set things up wrong. I’ve set you up to be combative, and I apologize. I don’t want to fight. I just want to get to know you. So decide how you want to feel tonight, right now. And then let the rest go. Just enjoy it for what it is. A dinner. With me.” “I want to see myself in that dress,” I whisper. “I’ve never worn something so… grown up.” “Then put it on. And come downstairs. We’ll eat outside since it’s nice. I’ll wait for you there.” And then he backs out of my closet and I stand stock still as I hear the door close to the bedroom. I look at the clothes. I replay his words. I see his intentions. And none of it scares me. But that… scares me.
Chapter Seventy-One - Harper
I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror and it takes me several minutes of self-reflection to decide I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Of course, that’s hardly self-reflection. Usually when one selfreflects, they come to a conclusion. I don’t seem to be able to come to any conclusions. I sigh at my image. I’m happy with the way I look. I am a bit on the athletic side. My legs are muscular, but the dress falls all the way to the floor, so they can’t be seen. My arms are a little too defined for a girl. But they are bronzed from the summer sun and the hairs on them are all that bleached shade of yellow that reminds me of Nick. His facial hair is like that. God, I miss him. Does he know where I am? How will he find me now? My one-year anniversary is pretty much up. In fact, it might even be the same day James promised to come back for me. But I’m here in Santa Barbara and the two most important people in my life will be looking for me in the wrong place. I shake off the worries. I can’t worry right now. I
just need a breath. I just need a break. I just need to figure out who this girl in the mirror is. My attention goes to my hair. It’s a little long since I don’t do anything beyond combing it these days. What am I talking about? I’ve never done anything beyond combing it. My face has that just-washed pink hue to it from scrubbing. I don’t wear makeup, so I’m not sure if the way I look is acceptable or not. And then the shoes. I have no idea what to put on my feet, so I put on some soft yellow ballet flats. Will Vincent like my choice? Do I care if he likes it? Why the fuck am I wondering? I turn away from the mirror and walk out of the closet. I’m done. It’s a dress. It’s a dinner. I’ve worn hundreds of dresses and attended just as many dinners. I walk out of the room and make my way to the stairs. He said he’d be outside, so when I reach the bottom I walk around to the back of the house and squint my eyes as I try to find him through the glass doors. It’s no use. The lights are on inside and out there it’s dark. So I can’t see through them. I walk calmly to the French doors I entered in a little while ago and open them. There is no one on the terrace, but I see a flickering fire a little way past where the helicopter landed.
“Vincent?” I call. No answer. But I can see a shadow in front of the flames. I could yell and make him acknowledge that it’s him. Or I could just walk down there myself and stop being such a baby. I have killed fourteen people, so I opt for being a grownup. But every step makes my heart beat erratically. I’m more than halfway to the fire when he turns and yes, it is Vincent. My heart calms. Why? I’m not sure. This man took me away from everything I know and forced me into a life I neither asked for nor want. Why am I such a nervous person? How can this stranger make me feel better so easily? Am I drugged? I don’t feel drugged right now. But pretty much everyone has admitted to drugging me recently. So hey, it’s not an outlandish question. I should stop accepting drinks from these people. “I love it,” Vincent says as soon as I’m close enough for him to reach out and grab my hand. His eyes slowly track down my slim body and then come to rest on my breasts before he looks back up at my face. “You’re stunning.” I want to smile with satisfaction for putting myself together properly, or maybe even from the praise and desire I hear in his voice. But I hold it in. It’s wrong. God, this is all so fucked up. “I think James would’ve liked this dress too.” I say it to be
spiteful. But Vincent doesn’t even blink. “I’m sure he would. As would any man, insane or not.” A dig. But a small one. Not one worth an argument. I don’t care what Vincent thinks of James. I know James isn’t insane when we’re together, and that’s all that counts. “Ready to eat?” Vincent asks, after letting me pause to think about his remark. “Where? I don’t see a table.” He places his other hand over the small of my back to lead me towards a paved path. “There’s a nice view of the ocean through these trees. I have an area set up down there that overlooks the marina and I thought it would be the perfect place for our first dinner.” We walk for a little ways in silence and then there’s a break in the trees and sure enough, the moon is shining bright in the night sky, its reflection mirrored on the water below. The marina is small and so are the boats. “It’s a Company neighborhood, Harper. And the Company owns that marina too.” I’m not sure if he says it to just FYI me about how things are run around here. Or if he’s cautioning me about trying to run away and ask for help. So I don’t react. “Here,” Vincent says, pulling out a chair for me at a table set for two. “The servers should be here
soon. But we can have a drink while we wait.” “I don’t drink,” I say as I place the white linen napkin in my lap. “It’s just a gesture, Harper. I’m sure your father gave you sips of champagne at dinner.” “Never.” Vincent sits across from me. The table is small, so he’s close. Too close, I think. Too close for me to keep my distance from the way he’s trying to make me feel. He’s trying his best to make himself irresistible, and I’d like to try my best to resist him. But when I look across the table, I see James. His green eyes. His dark hair. His five o’clock shadow. “Tonight will be your first, then,” Vincent says, filling my flute with the light honey-colored liquid. It bubbles up, bursting into the air so that even from my seat I can smell the fruitiness of the vintage. He lifts his glass and holds it towards me. I reciprocate the gesture. “To all our firsts. I hope we have a lifetime of them.” I squint my eyes a little, but he pretends not to notice as he takes a sip. My glass is set back down with no drink. “I prefer water, thank you. Do we have some water? In a bottle. With a sealed cap.” “Of course. The servers will bring it with the meal. Now tell me, do you like the dress? Because I like it very much.” “What do you like about it?” I’m genuinely
interested. “What’s not to like?” he asks back with a chuckle. “The color makes you look like a woodland fairy. It plays against the amber of your eyes, making them look like two shining jewels. It shows off the curve of your shoulders. The bronze of your skin. And while it’s sexy as all fucking hell, you’re showing very little skin. This is a dress I’d take you out in public in. A dress that would allow others to see your beauty without giving them too much of an eyeful. It is, in fact, perfect. Now that you’re wearing it, of course.” “Wow. That is some line of bullshit you have there, Vincent. James would say, Harper, you’re just as fuckable with no clothes on. But this dress just makes me want to rip it off you.” Vincent stares at me. I stare at him. I have to tuck my smile down, but he’s not having any trouble keeping his at bay. “Do you want me to treat you like James, Harper? Do you want me to fuck your face in a hallway?” My whole body goes hot with embarrassment. I’d forgotten he said he saw that. “How do you know he did that? Were you stalking me?” “No,” he growls. “I was watching James, and James was watching you. He had that little scene on tape in his apartment.” I can’t breathe. That’s how much this stuns me. “He did not.”
“It’s still there now. He never cleaned the place. He’s gone, Harper. He’s lost it. He’s careless and stupid and what he did to you”—Vincent stops to shake his head—“it was sick.” Sick. The word reverberates around in my head. Am I sick because I was turned on from it? I look down at my lap just as the servers appear from the path. There’s a whole crew of them, which is weird since I didn’t see a single soul either time as I walked through the house. They set down platters with covers on them. And the water arrives. A pitcher is placed on a side table, since the table is so small it really can’t fit. They did not bring bottled water. Two servers lift off our plate covers simultaneously and the rich aroma of lobster and butter fills my nostrils. God, I’m famished. I practically salivate as I stare at the meal. The server attending Vincent places a bib around his neck, while the one attending me does the same. When they’re done, Vincent says, “Thank you,” and they leave us alone. I am hungry and I really do want to eat. But I’m still thinking about James having a video of me in that hallway. “I’m sorry,” Vincent says. His tone is hushed and the anger is gone. “I shouldn’t have told you about the videos. I’m just tired of hearing about him.
When you disappeared last year, Harper, I was lost. I mean, I understand that it’s wrong the way they set us up like that. But I hit the jackpot with you. I wanted you. Want,” he corrects himself. “I want you. And then your father told me I had to wait it out. They were keeping tabs on you, but no one was allowed to go in. I was reluctant. I was crazy with worry. But as the months passed you settled in. Nothing seemed to be happening. It really did appear that you wanted to be alone.” I look up at him, knowing where this is going. “But then James showed up and I was livid. That he could walk into your life after I’d given you all that space, and take—” Vincent stops talking. He shakes his head and then he looks down at his food and begins to eat. “Take what?” I ask. “Never mind.” “My virginity?” “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Your selfrespect.”
Chapter Seventy-Two - Harper
That stuns me silent. Vincent eats a few more bites. In silence. All I see in my mind’s eye is James straddling my hips in the hallway as he positions his dick over my face. Your self-respect. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Again.” Vincent reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. “Are you OK?” I nod. Smile. Nod again with a bigger smile. “Fine. It’s just…” I need to change the subject. Like now. “I’m not sure what’s going on here. Is there some sort of… contract?” All my life my father has used that word. The contract needs to be fulfilled. The contract needs to be negotiated. The contract has been violated. Violated. I have only ever heard that mentioned once and it was the day Nick left. Right before we turned eighteen. Vincent squints his eyes at me. As if he’s suspicious. And that immediately makes me suspicious. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, you say you’re my promise. Aren’t there contracts in place for promises?” “Harper,” he says in a tone that comes off as admonishing. “Promising girls to men on their eighteenth birthdays isn’t even legal. Why would we need a contract that can’t be upheld?” I can think of a dozen reasons right off the top of my head. But the most obvious is to hold it over someone when they screw up. See, one might say, I have your daughter promised to blahedy-blah. That was a nice match, hmm? But if you don’t fulfill your end of the deal, she gets a fifty-yearold pervert from this pile of filth here. “I dunno,” I say instead. It’s obvious there are things going on with this little… arrangement… that no one is going to tell me. I mean, come on. Vincent is identical to my dream guy, only he’s not insane and he’s not a killer. He’s filthy rich, he’s got some sort of sway in the Company, and if I’m his wife, I go from little girl to powerful woman in one breath. It’s like… Wow. His fingers stroke the underside of my wrist as he waits for me to finish, but the sudden tingle that runs through my body steals my words. I look down at his touches and then look up at his brilliant green eyes. They are smiling. “Hmmm?” I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Why do you look so flushed?” he prods. He must know why because he takes it one step further and picks up a strawberry from the small bowl of fruit on the side of my plate and touches it to my lips. I open them, unsure what choice I have, and take a bite. The juice drips onto my lips and then he stands up and leans over the table and licks it off. I blink up at him. And then his hands are on my face and his tongue is on my mouth. His tongue is sweet from the champagne, and gentle as he teases me to see how far I’ll go. I really don’t want to go far at all, but the trouble is, I don’t know how to say no. I have so little experience with men. James is the kind of guy who tells you what you need, even if you don’t want it. And I like to follow orders. I do it automatically. Vincent must know this. He’s probably taking advantage of the fact that I’m so easily manipulated. But as soon as that thought manifests, he pulls back. “What’s wrong?” he says, leaning a little farther in so he can breathe the words into my ear. “You don’t like it?” I didn’t have a chance to wonder if I liked it. “I’m sorry, I just… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here.” I inhale deeply and his scent fills my nose. It’s something I’ve never smelled before.
It makes my mind swirl. He leans back and takes his seat again. “Eating,” he says simply. “I thought you might like a bite of fruit before we started with the main meal.” I bite my lip a little. “It was the kiss, that’s all. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing when you kiss me.” This makes him chuckle and I hate myself for thinking it’s a nice rumbling sound. I picture James making that same noise when I lie on his chest in bed. “You can kiss me back, Harper.” I press my lips together and swallow. “You can tell me no.” I stare into Vincent’s eyes. The eyes that remind me of James. How do two men look so much alike? And how is it fair that I’m having trouble understanding why this man, who looks exactly like the man I love, is not him? Especially when I ache so badly for his comforting touch and bossing ways. I don’t like to be in control of things. I’m not good at it. I have panic attacks, and I don’t think straight. I’m a fighter because I was conditioned that way by my brother. But that’s just me on the outside. The girl on the inside is so very, very weak. “I’m not very good at saying no.” “That’s because you want to say yes, Harp.” The nickname jolts me out of my little trance. He’s so familiar with me. “Did you watch me every year, like James did? Did you come for my
birthdays and watch me from afar?” “God.” Vincent laughs louder this time. “I can’t believe that freak did that shit. It’s so sick.” “What?” I’m confused. “Harper, he was stalking you all these years. Your father was paranoid that he’d just steal you away or kill you in your sleep.” “What? That makes no sense. James loves me. My father sent him a plane ticket to wherever we were anchored for the party. He was just never allowed to see me in person.” “Is that what he told you?” Vincent shakes his head. “No, baby, that’s not what was happening. James has been obsessed with you since that first year. He turned down the offer and I became your promise. James went on to become Six. He was captured in some shithole of a country that same year. They tortured him, scarred up his body real bad—” “Wait.” I put up my hand. “He doesn’t have any scars. I’ve seen his body and it’s perfect.” Vincent’s eyes narrow as he takes in the full meaning of my words. “Then you didn’t look close enough. He was treated with lasers after One rescued him, but they were not completely removed.” Vincent’s expression falters and he frowns for a moment. “You know, I loved him. I might’ve never known him since we were separated when we were two years old. But I knew of him
and I loved him. I missed him too. I’m sorry he had that life and I had this one. I’d have given this all up to be his twin. I’d even have joined him. I would’ve been Six Point Five if we were allowed. You should understand that, Harper. How a twin feels about their sibling.” And this I can relate to. I try and imagine my life without Nick. Nick, who protected me. Nick, who loved me unconditionally. Nick, who taught me to fight back and be strong. What kind of person would I be without Nick? “I’m sorry,” I say. “I bet that was hard.” “It was. I don’t relish the fact that you’re mine and not his. I don’t have any jealousy of him. Why should I, Harper? Why should I be jealous of him? I look exactly like him. I have the same features. The same intelligence. The same natural abilities. But he’s so fucking damaged, you have no idea. He’s not safe to be around. He’s unstable in every sense of the word. He’s got no loyalties, Harper. Don’t mistake whatever you and he did together as meaningful. Because the Company has been watching him for more than a decade now. He takes women in every job. Befriends them. Fucks them blind. And then he kills everyone around them. And that’s exactly what he’s been doing with you.” I can’t even breathe. “He used you, Harper. He wanted that file you had to get even with your father for giving you to
me. For making a mistake when he was sixteen that would change his life forever. He’s never forgiven them for not rescuing him quicker even though he knew, if you fuck up a job, the only answer you’ll get from the higher-ups is denial. He knew going in if he was captured he’d be left behind. And One risked his life to save him.” “So why has he been around so long? Why not kill him off ages ago?” “Because he’s efficient, Harper. You don’t just train up a guy like Tet. All twenty-eight years of his life made him what he is. A killing machine. The perfect fucking assassin.” Vincent leans over again, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “I need you to understand this, Harp. He’s not the person you think he is. He’s manipulative, calculating, and deadly. I can’t blame you for falling for it. World leaders have fallen for it—” My mind stops listening as I remember back when James was tallying up his kills back in the desert. Destabilized entire governments, he’d said. Too many to count, he admitted. What he did in Mexico counts as genocide. He said it all right there. He told me everything Vincent is telling me now, only I never saw it clearly. “—so don’t think that you ever had a chance, Harper. Because you didn’t. He’s been planning this since that first year he went looking for you on
your birthday.” “Planning what?” I ask, desperate to know what’s really going on. “To use you, Harper. He’s going to kill your entire family, and he’s gonna use you to do it.”
Chapter Seventy-Three - Harper
I think about this for a second. My first instinct is to defend James. He’s not using me to get revenge. He’s not using me to kill my family. He loves me. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud and when I look Vincent in the eyes, he knows this. He knows I’m having doubts about James. “Eat,” Vincent finally says. “You’re not eating.” “How can I eat when you just told me he’s going to kill my brother and father?” Vincent reaches over to stroke my cheek. “Harper, just let us take care of it, OK? We know Tet’s plan. We know how he works. We know what he’s after. So if you just trust us to take care of it, you will never have to think about him again.” “But every time I see you, I think about him. How can I not think about him when you’re twins?” “I’m sorry about that. I really am. We can talk about that later, when the timing is more appropriate. But for now, it’s time to eat. You need nourishment.” Nourishment? Who talks like that? He sounds like my father—if my father ever cared that I wasn’t
eating. James would just say, Eat your fucking dinner, and after we fuck, we can discuss. “Eat,” Vincent repeats. I pick at my lobster. I’m just not in the mood to put so much effort into a meal. After watching me push my food around for a few minutes, Vincent sets down his fork. “You like lobster, Harper. I know you do. So what’s the problem?” “I’m not hungry anymore.” “You’re going to eat. If you don’t want this, then tell me what you do want.” I want James to be sane. I want James to love me. I want James to show up here and blow the place up and take me away. I don’t even care where. Anywhere that’s not here. Anywhere that’s not filled with all this pretentious shit. Lobster dinners? I think back to the many times I’ve had lobster. Lots and lots of times. It was something we ate regularly. Every couple weeks at least. But in Huntington I ate crap. For a whole year I got to choose my own food and I ate crap. And I ate it waiting for my brother to show up and save me from my dull life that scared me so bad I wanted to take pills to make the stress go away. And then… James Fenici blew into my life and swept me off my feet. He demanded things of me. He had expectations. He had plans. And I loved that part about him. I loved that he drove a crappy
Hummer. I love the fact that his go-to place was a shithole in the desert. I love the fact that no matter where we were, life was real. And exciting. I love that life with James is moment by moment. Nothing is dull or diluted. Life with James is a full-color, full-speed-ahead kind of life. I fell in love with that man. I did. I fell in love with the James everyone else hates. And no amount of lobster dinners and Southern California mansions can compare. I’ve had lobster dinners my whole life. I don’t want lobster dinners. I want junk food. I want crap. I want all the things that make life feel good. I want all the stuff that’s bad for me. “Harper?” Vincent asks. I look at him. Why does he have to look like my James? “Harper, I’m not talking to myself. I asked you a question. Please respond with an answer. What do you want to eat, if not this?” “I want… umm…” I don’t even know how to explain. I don’t even know if I want to explain it. Why bother? He’s just going to get mad at me for wanting James. “Want what, Harper?” I shrug. “I want my life back. And my life isn’t about lobster dinners anymore. It’s about junk food.” Vincent just stares at me because I make no sense.
I tug on my lobster bib until it breaks and I drop it onto my plate. I look Vincent in the eyes as I push back in my chair and set my napkin on my lap. “I’m not hungry. I’m not eating. I’d like to go to bed if that’s OK.” I expect him to get angry, but he surprises me with an understanding smile. God, I can’t take this confusion. I can’t take it. He takes off his bib and gets up and walks over to me, grabbing my hand in his. “OK.” And that’s it. We start the walk back up the path to the house. Since we’re facing it now, I can see it all lit up in the distance. It’s massive, for sure. And overwhelming in its opulence. Growing up on a yacht is a very luxurious experience, because let’s face it, megayachts are pretty special. But no matter how big your ship is, it’s never big. It’s still a boat when you get down to it. It’s still got a finite amount of space that everything has to fit inside. So this mansion, to me, signifies wealth. I grew up wealthy, but I didn’t have a frame of reference to compare my life to except the local indigenous populations of the islands we frequented. They were poor, but think about it, we all lived in the same place. Paradise. We sat on the same beaches. We swam in the same turquoise blue ocean. My cabin was probably the same amount of square footage as the small bedrooms the other girls
on the beach lived in. We were not so different in my eyes. I’m sure their perspectives are different. But my perspective counts too. And that’s what it was. So moving to the beach—into that small, cramped studio apartment—well, that was not so difficult for me. James’ house in the desert, same thing. It was actually rather spacious. Not that we spent much time there. But it was comforting to have a small space with the open desert around. It mirrors the experience of our boat surrounded by the sea. Merc’s house? That was perfection. It was plain on the outside, but inside it was cozy and inviting. I’ve never met Merc, but he must be a pretty cool guy to have a home like that. It was like… a refuge. I look up at the looming house before me and try to put the feeling it evokes into words. It’s like… a citadel… a fortress. A— “Harper?” “Yes?” I answer to break up my thoughts. “If you’re not hungry for dinner, do you mind stopping in the kitchen to have a snack with me?” When I look up, his eyes are soft and his mouth is turned up in a slight smile. “What kind of snack do you normally eat?” “Hmmm.” He thinks. “I’m not much of a snacker. I like meals. But I can bend, Harper. I’m not rigid. And maybe all you want is an apple? Or some crackers and cheese? There might even be some
pastries.” I have to smile at that. I bet this guy never eats cookies from the looks of him. Sure, his body is pretty much the same as James’. But I’m sure James keeps trim from work. I bet Vincent keeps fit with diet and exercise like most people. “OK. I am hungry, it’s just—” My words fail me and I look around the massive living room as we walk through the French doors. “It’s just too much,” Vincent says, leading me down a dark hallway. “Yeah, it really is. I’m overwhelmed.” We stop in an entrance and Vincent must find the light switch, because the blackness is suddenly illuminated. The kitchen is… industrial. Not warm and homey like the one at Merc’s house. I’m disappointed. “Look,” Vincent says, looking down into an open bin built into the side of the wall. “Croissants?” I make a face. “Danish?” A shrug this time. He reaches down and pulls out a bag of rolls. “Bread and butter?” That makes me laugh because I know I’m being ridiculous and bratty. “I can throw in tap water if you want the real prisoner experience.” I frown. Because that’s the word I was looking for outside as we walked towards the house. Not prisoner.
Prison. This place reminds me of a prison. “Harper, just tell me what you want. I’ll get it.” “James,” I say before I can stop my mouth. “Oh.” He drops the rolls back into the drawer and closes it up. “OK. Well, I guess I’ll just show you back to the bedroom and then I’m going to turn in. Maybe we can try again in the morning.” “Try what again, Vincent? What exactly do you expect of me? I’m in love with your brother. How can you possibly expect me to turn that off? Just because you look like him doesn’t make you him. People aren’t interchangeable. And I’m sorry you were the one promised to me. He was the one who found me. He was the one who came to me. He was the one who claimed me. And I let him. So no amount of wining and dining can make up for the fact that you came into my life too late.” He waves me back out into the hallway and turns the light off as we exit. The walk back to the bedroom is silent and heavy with regrets. I’m sorry I talked harshly to him and I’m sure he’s sorry his brother beat him to the beach. But what can I do about this? I’m not going to give up on James before he even has a chance to talk to me about what these people are saying. That’s stupid. When we get to Vincent’s bedroom, he walks in with me. But before I can protest about him spending the night in here, he puts his hand up. “Don’t worry. I’m just grabbing clothes and then
I’ll leave you alone.” And then he turns and walks into his closet. A few minutes later he emerges with a handful of clothes and gives me a smile. “Good night, Harper. I hope you have a restful sleep.” He pulls the door closed behind him and I’m alone. I breathe a huge sigh of relief and strip out of my dress. I hang it up, admiring it as I put it back. It’s very pretty. I should’ve looked at myself in the mirror more so I could remember it. I doubt I’ll have a lot of dressing-up opportunities with James once he comes to take me back. I shake away my melancholy thoughts and choose a tank top and a pair of soft shorts to sleep in. Once I wash my face and brush my teeth with a toothbrush fresh out of a package, I climb into the big bed. I expect it to smell like Vincent. His cologne. But it doesn’t. It smells like laundry soap. He put fresh sheets on for me. What a day, I think as I lay my head back into the soft pillow. My stomach is empty and rumbling, but my eyes are heavy and they win the war in the end. Because as soon as they close I’m dreaming of seeing Nick again. Of our birthdays coming up. Of Sasha and cozy homes in the desert like Merc’s. And of a life filled with James Fenici. Because a life without him is not worth living. There’s no replacement for my James.
Chapter Seventy-Four - Harper
When I wake up in the morning I have no idea what to do with myself. I realize, after lying in bed running all the past days’ events through my mind, that I’m waiting for Vincent to appear and tell me what to do. Just as this thought crosses my mind, the phone on the bedside table rings. I stare at it. Do I answer it? I even look around, hoping Vincent will come rushing into the room, but he doesn’t. I count the rings and when it gets to seven, I gather that it’s not connected to a machine and pick it up just to make the noise stop. “Hello?” There’s a bunch of noise on the other end. “Harp?” Nick asks, sounding very distant. “Nick? Oh my God, is that you?” “It’s me,” he says over the roar of traffic. “It’s me!” “Where are you? How did you know I was here?” “Vincent called me last night. He said you’re having some trouble adjusting…” I stop listening. Vincent called him? Called him? Like, just pressed a few numbers and presto, he’s in
contact with my brother who’s been missing for a year? “Harper?” “Yeah,” I answer. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.” “I said, he’s worried about you. And how your time with Tet has affected you.” “My time with Tet.” Nick’s talking again, but I’ve tuned him out. He knew. He knew I was with James. And Sasha knew where he was too. He went to see Sasha. And my father knew James was with me, they were in contact and that’s why James dropped me off at the ship. “Harper? Are you still there?” Somehow all these threads are connected. It’s ragged, but somehow, everything is related. I just can’t seem to figure out how. “Harper!” He yells it this time. “Sorry,” I say back quickly. “I think I lost you for a second. The line went silent. Say it again.” “I said you have to stay away from Tet.” “Why?” My heart is beating so fast I have trouble breathing. “Listen, Harp. Tet is on a mission, only he’s not aware he’s on a mission. They brainwashed him years ago, Harper. You need to stay far, far away from him, do you understand?” “What mission?” I think I might get hysterical. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but he’s been programmed. They’re all programmed. Do
you understand? All the assassins are programmed. They brainwash them when they’re young. All growing up. They tell them things to make them loyal and then when they turn sixteen, the programming is activated and they become assassins.” “But you—” “I was never programmed, you know that, sister. I was with you. We’re different. We’re the Admiral’s children. We both have a role to play, but I don’t have time to talk about that now. I got to get back on the road and I just needed to tell you that Tet is dangerous. I know you’re probably wondering who to trust right now, but sister—” His formal use of sister makes me stop my panic and listen. It’s how he always got my attention when we were young because he was not allowed to say my name in front of others. Sister, he’d call me. It meant people were listening. “You have to trust me. Listen to Vincent. Please. He’s telling you the truth. I’m on my way to see you.” “When?” I interrupt him. “When will you be here?” “Two days, OK? Just hang in there for two more days and I’ll explain. But for now, Harp, please— listen to Vincent. Give him a chance and let him take care of things. Just relax. You’re safer now than ever before. You’re safer with him than with your own father. OK?”
“OK,” I say just to answer him. But he takes that as the end of our conversation and hangs up. The traffic noise cuts off and is replaced by silence. I just stare at the phone. My brother just called me. Remember it all, Harper. Remember it all. Tet is brainwashed. Tet is dangerous. Tet is on a mission. Vincent is good. Nick will be here in two days. Sister. That’s the only word that counts. I hang the phone up and practically collapse back into the pillows. Which parts are true? Which of the things he just told me are true and which are a cover for whatever it is he’s planning? I look over at the phone and sit up in bed with an idea. I can call James myself. I have his number. I reach for the receiver when there’s a knock on the door. Fuck. “Yes?” It opens tentatively and Vincent peeks his head through. “I heard the phone. Who was that?” “Nick,” I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Vincent eyes them for a moment before meeting my gaze. “He said you called him last night.” Vincent opens the door all the way and comes inside, closing it behind him. He smiles at me as he walks over to the bed and takes a seat. He sits close enough that our legs touch. “I did. I’m worried
about you. I’m worried about Tet’s influence on you. I’m worried about what he told you.” “Told me about what?” “Anything. Everything. Everything he says is a lie, Harper. Everything. He can’t help it. His life is all about lies. Lies keep him alive. He’s nothing but the product of a dozen years of lies and secrets. He’s killed hundreds of people. He’s overthrown governments. He killed his own brother, for fuck’s sake, Harper. That’s got to bother you. Even if you think he had a good reason.” I start to say something, but I stop with my mouth hanging open. It makes me appear stunned instead of on the verge of defending him. “I know,” Vincent says, “it’s horrific. It’s horrible what they had him do. But Harper, he chose that life. You have to understand this.” “And you chose this one,” I say flatly. “I didn’t choose. He did. He chose for me by choosing to be Six. I was always the control—” “Wait. Control. Is that your code?” “Code?” He looks at me funny. “Your code. You know, from the Company.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any code.” Right. Secrets. But control. It’s both a noun and a verb. And the way Vincent used it, it sort of means — “Harper?” he growls. “Are you listening to me?”
Come can be a noun and a verb too, but—I have a private chuckle—the only noun it can be is semen. “I’m listening.” “What did Nick say?” I eye him suspiciously. “You know what he said. You practically told him to call me and tell me these things.” “I told him to call you. That I was worried about Tet’s influence. And I had every right to be worried, because yesterday, just before you called him, he tried to kill Nick by blowing up a cabin they were in.” I look away. “What?” He was with Nick? “Why would he do that?” “He doesn’t need a reason why, Harper. He’s a cold-blooded killer.” We’re all cold out here. “—he’s insane. He’s got some secret vendetta programmed into him from years ago and he’s acting it out. He failed his last psych evaluation. After he killed his brother, he failed his psych exam. They had a hit out on him—” “What?” “Yeah. They had a hit out on him, but the assassin got cold feet. If she had done her job—” She? “—we wouldn’t all be so fucking paranoid right now.” “The Company has a female assassin?”
Vincent laughs. “That’s your question? After what I just told you? That’s your question?” “Who is this assassin?” “Me,” a soft voice replies from the now open bedroom door. A young woman, probably the same age as me, walks into the room. Her hair is dark and long and her eyes are a brilliant green. “I’m the assassin sent to kill James.” “And who are you?” I ask, my irritation clear. “Vincent’s sister.” I look at Vincent. “She’s James’ missing sister? The one he thinks was kidnapped?” Vincent sighs, his head shaking slightly. Like he’s tried of explaining things to me. Or maybe more accurately, tired of having to explain the things James has been telling me. “Harper, may I introduce my sister, Nicola. This is Harper Tate.” “Pleased,” she says in a snooty way that makes me want to punch her in the face. “Tet knows where I am. Or rather, where I was. I met him several times growing up. We spent a few holidays together after I was… sent away. And I spent my first six years as his sister instead of Vincent’s. But unfortunately, Tet’s memory—” She replaces her words with a look of sadness and a slight shake of her head. “His memory is so muddled these days, he has no idea what’s up or down.” She’s lying. I can feel it. I stand up and walk over to the window. It’s a beautiful day out and now that
it’s light, I can see the Pacific Ocean. There’s a community of neighboring homes surrounding the woods that line this property. Mansions, just not as big as this one. I can see the anchored boats from this window too. They call to me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I love this view. “I don’t believe you.” “What’s not to believe? He lives from moment to moment.” Nicola stands next to me now. She’s silent and quick. As most assassins are, I’m sure. “I mean, which part are you having problems with? Maybe I can clear things up.” James’ words in the desert after he fucked me in the bathroom come to mind. I just never know which moments will count, so I treat them all the same. That sounds like James. “I loved him too, Harper Tate. I loved him very much. He was a good brother when I was small. He taught me how to ride a bike. And swim. And tell time. I used to call him Tock-Tock—” That message on the phone back in the desert. Tock-Tock. The message sent to the phone I found in James’ little green house. Tock-Tock. It was her. Nicola. She sent that message. We’ll talk soon. Don’t forget why this is happening. What’s happening? Obviously Nicola was not Sasha’s kidnapper, because I killed that guy when I
twisted his neck. But Nicola sent that person because she sent that message. “—you know, Harper, that all of this is true. You know deep down that what we’re saying is true.” She’s right. None of what they are saying is surprising. Is he insane? Maybe. Probably a little, at least. He’s done some horrific things. And I really don’t have any problem imagining him doing the things they say he’s done. Except when it comes to me. Am I delusional? Am I in that fairyland where women delude themselves into believing their captor is the good guy? What do they call that again? Stockholm Syndrome. Do I have that? Did James abduct me without knowing and then brainwash me with sex so I’d be compliant? That was the very first thing he did. He kissed me. Under the pier. Like he was claiming me. Hell, he might even have used that word a time or two. I turn and walk quickly over to the bed and sit down before I pass out. “Nicola,” Vincent says. “Can you please leave us alone for a while?” I look up to see a sympathetic look on her face as she faces her brother, and then she gives him a nod and walks out. “Harper.” Vincent sounds tired. I wonder if he got any sleep at all last night. “I’m sorry. OK? For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you have to hear this. I know
you think you love him, but he’s been using you. From the moment he saw you on that beach, he was plotting. Ask yourself, Harper. Why did he take you back to your father if he loves you and wanted to keep you? Why?” I don’t think that’s a real question, so I say nothing. “He took you back because the Admiral hired him to do that. You’re a job to him. The Admiral wanted you left alone at the beach. Everyone knew where you were, Harper. How stupid do you think we are? But the standing order was to watch and not approach. And then Tet went crazy and killed Cy —” “Who’s Cy?” “Tony, I mean. Our brother, Tony. Number Five. We all have nicknames that relate to a method of killing. Tony was Cy for cyanide. That’s his calling card if he needs to kill people on the fly. Like, not authorized. He poisons them with cyanide.” Sick. And James said his poison was something with tet in it. Tetro something. Pufferfish poison. “Wait. You said you’re not an assassin.” “I’m not.” “But you said we all have nicknames. And I asked you what your code was and you acted like I was stupid.” He raises his hands. “I lied, OK? We’re not allowed to talk about it. Not even to you.”
“So you are an assassin?” “No. I told you, I’m the control.” “So Control is your code name?” “I can’t say, Harper. I can’t say.” “So do you know what my code is?” “You don’t have a code. You’re a girl.” “Nicola is a girl too, and she obviously has a code. What’s her number?” “Two. She’s Number Two.” “So if she’s a girl, and she’s an assassin, and she has a code, then why don’t you think I have a code?” He eyes me sadly. It makes my heart skip, this look. It says so much without words, I have to gulp down some air before I forget to breathe. “Because if you do have a code, Harper, then you’re part of the game too. And that means we’re all in a lot more danger than I originally thought.”
Chapter Seventy-Five - Harper
I stay in my room all day thinking about what Vincent said. Is it really true girls don’t have codes? I have to be honest, I’ve never thought about it before. I’ve always had a code. It’s not something Nick and I made up. My father told me. He warned me about divulging names. He said the code is the most meaningful thing about me. Which is just— what the fuck? Who says something like that to a little kid? I was never to tell anyone. Of course, I told Nick. And he told me his. But he’s been an assassin all his life. He was Eleven. That was always him. We used to joke that someday he’d knock off the first digit and just be One. He always wanted to be One. And I was Come. James is Six. And Tet. Sasha was… she never told me. Hmmm. Maybe she didn’t have a code then? Maybe it’s true and girls don’t have codes. Come. Come here. Come back. Come to me. Coming. There’s a lot of ways to give that word meaning.
But just Come? I dunno. I don’t get it. Come… it has to mean something. A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I say and then shake my head. See? It’s got a lot of possibilities. “Sorry,” Vincent says. “I’m just going down to the beach and wanted to see if you’d like to join me.” “The beach. Ummm…” It’s very hard to say no to the beach. And I’ve been cooped up in this guest room all day. Vincent is a man of his word. He had someone fix me a room down the hall. My new clothes are even hanging in the closet. I did see the servants this time, but they were not friendly. In fact, I don’t think any of them speak English. “Sure.” His face lights up at my decision. “Great. I’ll pack us some food so we can eat dinner down there. Come downstairs when you’re ready.” I smile as he leaves. Come downstairs. The word itself implies movement towards something. Or… perhaps back to something. I shake my head and get up to find a bathing suit in my closet, putting it out of my mind. From what I know, the codes don’t have meaning specifically. It’s only the form of the word that counts. Verb. You’re nobody. Noun, you’re a little more than nobody. Ranks, you’re somebody. And numbers mean you’re a cold-blooded killer. James.
Nick. And that makes me pause as I rummage through drawers looking for a one-piece so I don’t feel too exposed in front of Vincent. How is Nick any different than James? He’s not. Except he’s my brother. My twin. But… I look over at the door. Vincent is James’ twin. And clearly they are not on the same side. And I don’t think it’s really about who gets me. I’m not so full of myself to make this all about me. I think they were born for different reasons. Just like Nick and I. I was born to be a bargaining chip. To make allies for the Company. Like a princess in Old World Europe. To cement relationships. Which is why I never completely bought the fact that James was my promise. It never made sense. But Vincent? That does make sense. He’s the kind of man my father would want me to marry. He’s rich, and refined, and he seems to live in the real world as opposed to the secret one James lives in. I guess we have something in common after all. I change into my one-piece suit and pull a tank top and shorts over it, then slip my feet into some sandals. When I make my way downstairs I find Vincent outside drinking a beer and reading a newspaper. “Ready?” he asks, folding his paper and setting it down. “My code is Come. I need to know yours.”
He stares at me for a moment. We’re not supposed to talk about this stuff but I don’t care. “Harper,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I can’t tell you that. And you should not have told me yours.” “What’s it mean? Come? I know they’re not supposed to have much meaning. But I feel like it does. What’s it mean?” I ask this in a rhetorical way. Almost thinking out loud. So when Vincent opens his mouth, I’m a little taken aback. “It’s the call to action that should’ve happened on your eighteenth birthday.” “What?” I just stare at him like an idiot. “Come. It’s a directive, right? Come see my daughter. Come see her contribute to the society. Come see me put my allegiance above my family. Come see my sacrifice.” “You made that up.” He shrugs as he stands. “Some of it. I don’t recall the exact words on the invitation.” “What?” I have to put a hand to my heart. Vincent crosses the few steps between us and takes my hand. “The party invitation last year. It was on the directive. I mean, I had no idea it was your code, so take this for what it’s worth. But I did receive an invitation that night. But I was told to wait until the next day. Good thing, huh?” He laughs. “I’d be dead right now if I had gone.” And then my words flash back to me. When I told
James if I had known he was my promise I’d have done it all differently. Not killed anyone. I look up at Vincent and wonder… would I have been so desperate to leave if I had seen him that day? If I had known I’d be leaving that night with him, going back to his home, or yacht, or wherever? “I would not have gone through with it if I saw you there, Vincent.” “No?” He smiles big and takes my hand. “That’s good to know.” And then we walk in silence down the path that leads to the beach. But I can’t help thinking about what James said. That my father used me to kill all those important people that day. That Nick gave me that Visine idea to kill them, and yet my father never drank the water. James said Nick warned him. And I thought that was absurd, since the Admiral was our enemy at the time. We were trying to get away from him. Weren’t we? I’m still thinking about this when we make it to the stairs that lead down to the beach. I scan the horizon, but it’s obscured on both sides by the cliffs. It’s like we’re inside a little cove that shelters this beach and the marina from the strong current of the Pacific a quarter mile out. “Where’s your yacht?”
“Anchored just out of sight that way,” he replies, pointing south. “This marina is only for small boats.” “Oh. Maybe we can take the tender out there and hang out?” “Not today, darling. We’ll have to settle for a picnic on the beach, if that’s OK.” Darling? I frown. We continue down the stairs until we finally reach the sand. I take my sandals off immediately and strip off my clothes, the wild girl of my younger years taking over as I relish the sand between my toes. When I look up at Vincent, he’s smiling. “I’ve heard the rumors.” “What rumors?” I ask, dropping to the ground and stretching my legs out in the late day sun. “About your wild nature on the beach.” I chuckle at that characterization as Vincent takes off his shirt. Holy God. I can’t stop staring at him. He’s exactly like James in the muscular chest department. He catches me staring but I don’t look away and neither does he. “I’m not bad, eh? You’re not so hard to look at yourself. But”—he eyes my body in the one-piece suit—“I’d rather you wore the bikinis when we’re on our private beach.” “Our beach?” I smirk at him. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” And then he’s on top of me, forcing my body back
into the hot sand, his chest pushing against my breasts, his mouth dipping closer and closer to mine as each second passes. “This is your beach, Harper. This is your home. I am your future, not James. And all you’d need to see this is to allow me one night. Tonight. Just give me one night to show you I’m the perfect man for you.” I can only stare at him. He’s not pressing down hard enough to affect my breathing, but he’s affecting my breathing all the same. “I can’t,” I finally manage. “You can,” he whispers back. His legs part so he can straddle my thighs. “You can, Harper. All you have to do is give me permission.” “Permission for what?” “To kiss you for one.” “You’ve already kissed me.” “I stole those. The next one needs to be a gift. Because I want to kiss you like I mean it. And I can’t steal one of those. I don’t want it to be a surprise or something that catches you off guard. I want it to be purposeful, and welcomed, and returned.” We stare at each other for a few more seconds and then he rolls off me and sits up and stretches his legs out on the hot sand now. He leans back on his arms and looks up at the sky. “Take your time, though. I can wait.” And then he jumps up to his feet and runs down the beach and dives into the waves. I sit up so I can
see him. So I can watch that beautifully athletic body as he dips under a wave and disappears. He is so much like James. He’s nicer than James, in fact. He’s patient and he wants permission. James took. He took me the way he wanted and never asked me anything. He just assumed I was his because… because he thought my father gave me away to him as a little girl. Vincent pops up out of the waves and starts swimming out to sea. He’s a strong swimmer, I decide. He’s strong because open sea swimming is not something everyone can do and James does it— Wait. Not James. Vincent. Vincent does it effortlessly. Good God, I’m starting to mix them up. I watch him swim and when he comes back there is no more mention of kissing. We eat the picnic food he packed and watch the sun set on the ocean. Vincent chats through it and thinking back on it now, sitting in bed trying to remember the things that make me belong to James and not Vincent, that’s one of them. The sunsets. James owns my sunsets.
Chapter Seventy-Six - Harper
I go to the beach alone the next day. Vincent is busy with… whatever. I’m not really sure what he does, but he left a note on the bedside table saying he would not be around and I should feel free to amuse myself today. No restrictions. No guidelines. No rules. Weird. So I’m at the marina staring out at the sea. There’s a boat way out there, but from experience, I know what it is. A megayacht. I can tell by the top side that there’s a helipad, so I’m guessing that’s the yacht we came in on. I look over at the boats docked in neat little rows. There are not a lot of them, it’s a small marina. Before I know it, I’m on my feet walking. The dock is metal and my feet pound as I walk the length of it looking at each boat. I know what a tender looks like. I mean, they come in all shapes and sizes, but I do remember what the tender looked like that we took from my father’s yacht to Vincent’s. It was large. One that held a lot of people. And it had a cabin for the helmsman.
My eyes scan the available boats until they rest on one at the end of the dock. I walk up to it and read the name. Illegal Tender. Cute. But very telling. It’s a tender boat all right. And that means it belongs to the yacht anchored offshore. I step inside and take it in. My eyes immediately go to the control panel. To the ignition. To the lockbox built into the side of the boat. I open it and there’s the key. Or at least, one key. That’s where we keep our keys when we’re docked somewhere private. So I guess whoever this person is out on that ship has something in common with my own family. Besides me, of course. I look back at the beach and then up to the tip of the mansion’s roof that is just barely visible from this low angle. I sit in the helmsman’s chair and start the boat. She purrs. I smile. God, I have missed the water. The beach is not the same. I jump up, untie the boat, and then take my seat and ease her away from the dock. The Pacific is strong and the waves are looming, but I’m not in a rush. So I take it slow. Just casually meander my way towards the yacht. It takes a good while for me to get close enough to see her name —Barely Legal, another very telling sign that these are Company people—and then a few minutes later I can see a crew member waiting for me in the
garage. Megayachts always have a tender boat. It’s a limousine used to shuttle passengers to the shore. Our yachts actually have two, but the sailing ship, the one I escaped from last year, only had one. A quick look inside the garage tells me this one has space for two, but none are here at the moment. The crewman says nothing to me as he secures the vessel, and I ignore him as well. I’ve grown up around servants and I learned to ignore most of them very early. Not because I was snooty, just because it was a rule. I was not allowed to talk to people, status in life notwithstanding, and that was something I took very seriously. James didn’t even know my name until I told him that morning under the pier. He asked me on the beach back when we become Six, but I kept that secret like I was supposed to. Actually—my mind wanders as I make my way through the garage and towards the entrance into the main part of the ship—Nick saw me drawing pictures in the sand. I was trying to give James a hint so I drew all the instruments I could remember from an orchestra. The last one was a harp and I had been hoping he would guess my name when he looked down at it. But Nick came, calling me sister, which meant he was mad. And then he ushered me away from James and back to the ship.
Where I proceeded to spend the day not with James, as I had thought, but with Vincent. I could not tell the difference. Of course, I was six. I open the hatch and walk into the ship. There’s a ladder so I climb, because I know full well I’m not going to find the owner of this boat down here. The next floor up also has a ladder, so I climb again. This floor has decks. But not the deck I’m looking for. So I go up one more level. This is a big-ass ship. I hear soft music playing in the saloon area and when I step in, the cramped companionway opens up to a room filled with sleek, modern furniture. “There she is,” a woman’s voice says from off to my left. She’s middle age, maybe mid-fifties. Her hair is dark and piled high on her head in an extravagant updo that contrasts with her beachwear. She tips her sunglasses down her nose and stares at me with brilliant green eyes. So they get them from their mother, I catch myself thinking as she stands and extends her hand, walking towards me. “Harper Tate,” she coos as she waits for me to shake her hand. I do that, I’m on autopilot, and her grip is soft and so are her hands. “Finally, we get to see the golden child.” I step back. “I’m sorry,” I say politely. “I’m at a disadvantage here.” “Oh,” the mother coos again. “Albert, I do believe your son has neglected his manners.” She
looks over my shoulder and I turn to greet Albert. I’m so glad my back is to the mother, because Albert is a drooling old man in a wheelchair. His head lies against his shoulder and his hands are secured to the arms of his wheelchair with Velcro strips. He’s wearing a bib. This. Is James’ father. The titular head of a Company family. And from what my father said, only this family competes with our rank. Company royalty, he called my future children. I look back to the mother and take her in again, this time seeing her for what she really is. The actual head of a global shadow government. A woman who not only bargains the lives of girls but sends sons off to kill on command. “Mrs. Albert Fenici,” she says as she watches me. “Now tell me, dear, what can I do for you?” If my stunned silence bothers her, she keeps that tucked away. “Oh, come now, Harper. Relax. We’re practically family now. I’ve been told you’re a nervous girl. Have a drink with me and settle down on the couch over there.” She points and I wander over there automatically. I don’t know why I’m so off guard. I’m just… surprised to learn the person in charge of all these atrocities is a woman. “How is Vincent treating you, dear? Well?” I
don’t answer. “And how is your father? I haven’t seen him in ages.” She smiles and allows herself a small laugh as she drops ice cubes into a tumbler from behind the bar. “What’s your poison?” “Huh?” I ask back, coming out of my stupor. “Your drink, dear. What do you like to drink?” “Bottled water, please.” She laughs again and pours me something from a bottle all right. But it’s not water. “Try this.” She walks over to me, her gauzy robe flaring out behind her and her strappy stiletto sandals clicking on the hardwood deck. My nanny was wrong after all. Stilettos are perfectly acceptable footwear on a ship. I put a hand up as she tries to give me the drink. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I took an Ativan today and I shouldn’t drink when I take the pills.” “Oh.” She looks at me in a new way. She—studies me. As if she’s trying to detect the effects of the drug. But after a few seconds she takes the drink back to the bar and sets it on the stone counter. I guess whatever she poured me is not her poison of choice. “Are you not a talker, darling?” “How?” is all that comes out. “How what?” She blinks at me. I consider my choices right now. “How do you live with yourself knowing you sent him off to kill?”
I could play her game. Her smile drops and her jaw clenches. “James, you mean? Or Tony? Or perhaps you mean my daughter, Nicola?” Or I could humor her. “All of the above.” “It’s Company policy, darling. You will send your children off as well. Soon,” she says, pointing her glass at my belly. Or I could kill her. “I could snap your neck right now.” “What?” “Just twist it, like I did that assassin on the dirt bike who tried to take Sasha.” “You do know what side you’re on? Whose side you’re on?” The familiar womp-womp-womp of a helicopter invades the conversation as it makes an approach. “I could get even for what you made him do. I could—” I say more and more, but the helicopter is so loud now it steals my words. But I look at her face and that’s all I need. I will remember the horror she feels in this moment when she realizes she underestimated me. When she realizes one halfdead man in a wheelchair can’t save her if I decide to end her reign of terror. The ship rocks as the bird lands and she spills her drink because those fucking shoes really aren’t
appropriate footwear for a boat and they make her stumble. “Harper,” Vincent yells over the thumping blades as he grips the sides of the ladder and jumps down to our deck. He crosses the room and stands between me and his mother. His hair is a mess. In fact, he’s sort of a mess all over. His shirt is open at the top and he’s got no jacket and no tie on. Like he just rolled out of bed. Asshole. He probably has a girl in that house who will fuck him. He probably spent the day with her. “Let’s go,” he says, leaning way down into my ear. His grip on my hand never softens. It’s rigid and tight. He places a hand on my other elbow, guiding me past his mother as we make our way to the ladder that will take us to the heliport. Her hand snaps out as I pass her and the ice-cold contents of her glass splash all over my face. “Stop it,” Vincent yells, pushing her back when she comes at me. “How dare that little whore say such things to me.” I wiggle in Vincent’s tight grip and manage to turn around enough to snarl at her. “Bitch. You’re a bitch who deserves to die for what you did. I will kill you! I will fucking kill you!” Vincent actually picks me up and carries me over to the ladder, then places my feet on the third rung and orders me to climb.
I climb. But my heart is beating fast. And I realize, as I’m ushered into the helicopter like we’re in a war zone, it’s not from fear. It’s from hate. This is what it feels like to hate.
Chapter Seventy-Seven - Harper
The ride back to the house only takes a few minutes. We don’t even bother to put our headsets on. And from the look on Vincent’s face, he’s not in the mood to talk. I’m not either. When the helicopter lands Vincent pushes me to scoot out, and then he follows me. He puts his arms around my shoulders and walks me out from under the rotating blades. We don’t talk. We just walk all the way to the house and I wait for him to open the door and allow me to pass through. “Would you like to tell me what that was all about?” he asks, once we’re both inside the house. I don’t want to think about it. “I’m tired.” “Too bad.” I look up at him with a sneer. “Yeah, too bad for you if you want to know. Because I’m not interested in talking.” His jaw clenches but instead of continuing the fight, he takes my hand and leads me down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” “Eating dinner.” We stop at the entrance to the kitchen and he feels around for the light switch. After the darkness of the house, it’s blinding. I bow my head and close my eyes, too worn out from that confrontation to care about food. “Sit, Harper. I’ll make us something.” I walk over to the stainless-steel island and sit on a stainless-steel stool as Vincent rummages around the kitchen looking for things. My legs are so cold from the metal chair I begin to shiver. “I’m not hungry, Vincent. I just want to go to bed.” “You’ll be in bed soon enough. But first we’re going to eat.” He stares at the assortment of things he’s collected on the counter and then goes looking for something else. “Tell me something, Harper.” “What?” I scowl at his back. “I don’t feel like talking about it, OK? You’re not going to like the answer anyway.” “Forget about my bitch of a mother,” he says, dragging a waffle iron out of a cupboard. “Tell me why I’m not good enough for you.” He starts measuring flour and pouring it into a bowl. And as he does that I study him from behind. His back is well-defined. I can see his muscles working through his white dress shirt. He stops what he’s doing and rolls up his sleeves, then proceeds with his preparation. “I look like him. I sound like him.” His voice lowers for that. A deep rumble that makes me
swallow. Because he does look and sound an awful lot like James. “I’m sure the fuck nicer than him.” And then he stops what he’s doing and looks over his shoulder. “You’d have to agree on that.” I shrug. “James is very nice too.” “He’s insane. They all say he’s insane. He went off that first year to do his killing and he came back damaged beyond repair.” “Do you know what happened?” I bite my lip, not really sure if I want to know or not. “Everyone knows what happened.” “Everyone but me.” He’s silent as he mixes up the batter, his motions unhurried and deliberate. Like he’s made a lot of waffles in his life and he knows just what to do. There’s no recipe either. He just threw some things in a bowl. “Will you tell me?” “Do you really want to know?” He looks over his shoulder again. “I should tell you. Then maybe you’ll change your mind about him and settle for this life instead.” “Do you want me if I have to settle?” “I want you any way I can get you.” He finishes his mixing and sets the bowl aside before turning around to face me. “But it’s not fair to take you. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to our future children.” God. He’s handsome. I can’t deny it. He’s so
much like James. “I don’t think it would change my mind if I knew what happened to him. I think it would make me love him more.” “Huh,” Vincent says as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I doubt that.” “Tell me, then. Maybe this is your chance to win me over.” He stares hard at me. His gaze is like steel. Cold and hard. He doesn’t look like the man who’s been trying to win me these past few days. He looks like I’ve pushed him past his breaking point. Like this confrontation with his mother was the last straw. “Twelve years ago James Fenici went on a mission to Central America and never came back.” “He came back. He just came back later than expected.” But Vincent shakes his head. “No. James never came back. Tet came back.” “He’s not two people, Vincent. He’s just James.” “He’s not two people, you’re right. He’s just Tet. James died in that Honduran prison. They starved him. Deprived him of water. Of basic facilities. They locked him in a cell that was not long enough to stretch out and not tall enough to stand up. And when it became clear that the Company wasn’t going to negotiate to get him back, even though he was the son of one of the most powerful elite members, they made him a slave and tortured him.” I’m stuck on the word slave.
“But we all get mentors when we come of age. And James got One as his mentor. One. The same man who tried to kill you last week is the man who saved James that first year. It was a large debt to owe. Do you understand that?” I never stop looking at Vincent. I can’t take my eyes off him. His arm muscles are contracting even as he tries to keep them steady across his chest. His jaw is clenching again. His hands are squeezed together into fists. “I don’t understand it, Vincent. I don’t know what that means to have a large debt.” “Neither did James.” Vincent turns around and starts pouring batter into the waffle iron. I watch him work and then when he’s done, he closes the lid and pushes a button before turning back to me. He looks slightly calmer than he did, but he’s still very tense. “It means he owed One his life. He owed One his loyalty. He owed One everything. So every time One came to him with a request, James had to say yes.” My heart is beating faster now. “What did he say yes to?” “Vengeance murders. Drug dealing. Torture. And…” The waffle iron beeps and he turns to flip it over. “And what else?” “And… he kept secrets. Secrets One had. Secrets that need to be told.”
I wait for Vincent to elaborate, but he keeps his back to me. “That’s not enough,” I tell his back. “That’s not enough to change my mind about him.” “That’s because you have no details, Miss Tate.” He turns his attention back to me. “The details are what change the hearts and minds.” “He told me he killed hundreds of people. He told me all this. But I’m a killer too. You know that. I’m not innocent. I keep secrets. I have lots of secrets. Secrets about very bad men.” “James Fenici is the worst of all those very bad men, Harper. The worst.” “What secrets then? If the devil’s in the details, then give me details.” Vincent lifts the waffles out of the waffle iron with a fork and plops them down on a plate. The delicious smell is in stark contrast to the conversation we’re having. It feels surreal. He spreads some butter over the little checkered pattern in the pastry, then dribbles maple syrup on top. His fingertips reach into a bag of powdered sugar and he flicks that over the syrup until it’s coated in white specks. He walks the plate over to me and sets it down on the metal counter with a ting that rings through the room. “Fork?” he asks, holding one out for me. “Thank you.” I take the fork and cut a little piece of waffle off as he leans over the counter and watches. I bring it to my mouth and for some
reason, eating in front of him stirs me. My sex throbs for a moment as I take in the food and realize his gaze is trained on me. Only me. “Aren’t you going to eat?” The smile wipes away the tense conversation and his eyes light up a bit. “Feed me.” And then he sends me a wicked grin that makes the throbbing grow. I cut off another piece of waffle and bring it to his lips. “Tell me what secrets James kept.” He opens his mouth and I place the food on his tongue, unable to stop watching his lips as they close around the fork. I pull it away and have to remind myself to breathe. He points to the plate. “How about I feed you? You eat, and I’ll talk.” I’m surprised it’s so easy to get the answers I’m looking for, but I’m in no position to argue, so I nod and hand him the fork. He cuts off a piece of waffle and brings it to my mouth. I open for him, but at the last second he leans in and kisses me. He tastes like syrup and pastry. He tastes like breakfast with someone you love. He tastes like the life I wish I had. A normal life with no secrets. I’ve never wanted secrets. I’ve never wanted to know them. All my life I’ve been running from the facts, and now here I am, begging for them. “You have to kiss me after every secret,” he
whispers into my mouth. “You have to kiss me when I tell you these things or I won’t be able to do it.” And then he pulls back and brings the fork forward. I open my mouth for the food and he places it on my tongue until I grab it with my teeth and begin to chew. “Say yes to that, Harper Tate, and I’ll tell you everything you think you want to know for the price of a kiss.” I nod. I know the kiss is wrong, but it doesn’t feel wrong right now. It feels right in every way imaginable. “OK,” I whisper back. “Nicola was given away when she was six. And James was the one who gave her away.” Vincent watches me for a reaction, but all I can do is stare into his eyes. “One knew he was never going to get a promise, so he asked James to give him his sister.” “But… he told me that his mother and father gave her away. He told me—” “He lied.” It cuts me off, that’s how forceful the declaration is. “He lies a lot, Harper. Even to you. Especially to you. He lies to himself too. The notebook was a lie, Harper. A delusional, fake world he talked himself into believing... because he couldn’t cope with the truth.” The last few words come out soft. Almost a whisper. “What’s the truth, Vincent.” He stares at me. Perhaps considering if this is a time to tell the truth or lie. But then he lets out a
breath and I know what’s coming is the truth. “The truth that he got what he asked for. He chose that life and he got everything that came with it.” “And his sister? What’s the truth about her?” “James gave his sister away to One to pay his debt. That’s secret number one and now I get a kiss.” Vincent leans in and brushes his lips against mine. Softly. Like his words. Tenderly. Like his touch. It’s not demanding and harsh. It’s almost begging for forgiveness. “You don’t want James. You want Vincent.” I push him back and shake my head. “He must’ve known she’d be taken care of, though. That One would take care of her.” Vincent tries to smile and fails, so he cuts off another piece of waffle and feeds it to me instead. I chew slowly, trying to figure out what it is we’re doing here. “Do you want more?” “Yes,” I say. “If there’s more, I should know.” He tips his chin up a little like that stung him. I’m sure he was counting on that driving a wedge between me and my love for James, but it can’t be the whole story. There has to be more. “I need to hear it all,” I say. “If it’s all been a lie, then I need the truth. I can’t make decisions based on lies.” “I know that,” he says, looking back down at the food. “That’s why I’m here.”
“So tell me the rest.” “One trained her to fight. He trained her to kill. He trained her to lie, and steal, and cheat. He turned her into one of us. But before any of that could happen, the little girl needed to be comforted. She was ripped from her home. She was ripped from her family. She did nothing but cry for weeks. For months. And James was the one who settled her down.” “How?” I picture this lost little girl, crying for her family. Locked away somewhere dark and scary. “He told her lies, Harper. He lied to her for years and years. He told her how she would go home one day and see her family. He told her she’d live like a princess if she obeyed. He told her everything her little girl heart wanted to hear.” “How old was James when he did this?” Vincent shrugs as he presumably counts back the years. “It started at sixteen and went on until he was eighteen or nineteen, at least.” “And that Nicola I met the other day? She’s the one?” Vincent stares at me but says nothing. “Because she looked fine to me. She sounded like a snooty rich girl, in fact. You said she’s an assassin. Good for her, I guess. So is Nick. So is James. It’s just a job, Vincent. Isn’t that what they always tell us? Everyone in the Company has a job. I have a job. I have to marry you and have babies.
Did you ever ask me if I wanted to have babies? What if I don’t want to run board meetings? What if I’d rather be a marine biologist? Or a dog trainer? Maybe I’d rather be anything but this fucking girl sitting in this stupid industrial kitchen. Maybe Nicola has a better life as an assassin. Did you ever ask her? Maybe James did the right thing, getting her away from that wicked mother. Did that ever occur to you?” I stare at him and he smiles as he leans in for a kiss. “You really are a lionfish, you know that?” And then his tongue slips in and his hand slides around my neck to keep me from pulling back. I open my mouth to him, responding to his request, and he moans and wraps his arms all the way around me. He scoots the stool closer to him, one hand sliding under to grab my ass, the other clasping me firmly by the neck. “I want you so fucking bad. I want to flip you over and fuck you right now.” I squirm away and place a hand on his chest, but he grabs my wrists and yanks them behind my back. “That was a secret, so I get a kiss.” I turn my head when he tries and then he lets go and steps back. “You’re cheating.” “You’re cheating,” I say back. “That wasn’t a secret. I want another one. Maybe I’m just a coldhearted bitch, but boo fucking hoo for your sister. She doesn’t look so bad. I mean, I was trained by
my brother too. What’s the difference? I was given to you. What’s the difference? So she got different parents? From what I can tell, that bitch of a mother of yours does not deserve children.” He’s shaking his head the whole time I’m talking and so when I stop, I expect a protest. But he gives me silence instead. He looks away, then back, then away again. “One beat her,” he finally admits. I swallow down that bitter truth. “Well, I’m sorry for that, of course. I’m sorry for that. No one deserves to get beaten. But One strangled me unconscious last week. I was drugged. Overdosed, in fact. So it looks like One does not discriminate when it comes to who he wants to abuse. And if the guy is one of the oldest, more seasoned assassins, then that means if he wanted your sister, he would have her. With or without help from James.” I stop talking and just stare at him. “Next.” Vincent breaks a smile at that response. “You want more kisses, don’t you?” I laugh under my breath. “No, I just want to know more about James. I want to know everything about James.” “It’s all bad stuff, Harper. Why would you want to know? Why him? When I’m right here? Why bother with damaged when you can have perfect?” “No one’s perfect, Vincent. You can’t tell me you grew up in this fucked-up family and came out perfect. It doesn’t matter how nice things look on
the outside, it’s a lie. And we both know it.” “He drowned our father. He tried to kill our father, but he failed.” Now that has my attention. Vincent nods. “He is the one who drowned him, Harper. James held him under the water for so long he came back to life brain-damaged—” “I don’t care.” Vincent looks at me and shakes his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “I don’t care.” “He stalked you, Harper. He lied to you about being your promise. He knew the Admiral took that offer back. He stalked you all growing up. He’s dangerous and one day he’s gonna get you killed.” “I don’t care.” “He’s evil, Harper. He’s got no soul. He’s got no conscience—” “I don’t care.” Vincent reaches out and snatches my hand. I gasp from the sudden movement, and then again when I realize he’s placed it over his hard cock. “James used you to get this party. He’s using you to get revenge. You know what Come means? Come get me. Come here. Come find me. It’s a calling card to bring people together so they can be killed. You’re the fucking bait! Just like James was born to kill, you were born to be bait. So your father can kill. So my mother can kill. And he knows that. He set you
up.” “I don’t care, I said. I don’t fucking care.” His hand squeezes mine, making me grip him. Or maybe I just want to grip him. His cock is just as big as James’. And when I look up, his eyes, his hair, his body—all of it says James to me. He’s lifting my shirt off over my head before I even realize he’s not forcing me to cup his dick anymore. Yet I still hold it firm in my grasp. He flicks a nipple and then his mouth covers it, biting and twisting. “Fuck,” he says as he brings his mouth to my neck. “I’m gonna fuck you unless you put up a fight. You understand? I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t wait any longer.” I fully intend to pull back and put a stop to this, but then he slaps my tit, making it sting and bounce against my flesh. I’m shocked. Too shocked to even react, and then he does it again. He grabs my chin and holds it just a little bit too tight. Just enough to make the wetness that’s been building between my legs explode. “Oh, God,” I moan. “James likes it rough, Harper. Do you want it rough? Vincent will fuck you nicely.” “I want it rough. I like it rough,” I call out. “I want it hard. I want it so fucking hard.” He scoops me up in his arms and carries me out of the kitchen.
Chapter Seventy-Eight - Harper
He sets me down in the hallway and backs me up against the wall. “Fuck,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath. “I need to know if this is what you want, Harper. I can’t go on unless I know you want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you.” His head is bowed and his hair falls forward, obscuring his eyes. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, like his heart is beating as fast as mine. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want him, I want James. But he’s all I have right now. “Just tell me,” he says urgently. “Just tell me what you’re thinking. Right now.” “You’re not going to like it.” He bumps his forehead to mine, still looking down at the floor. “Just say it. I need to hear the truth.” I’m so horny. My fingers dip between my legs and I start rubbing myself in small circles. If I could just get this release, I could think clearly again. I know it. If I could— Vincent removes my hand and brings my fingers to his mouth. He looks me in the eye as he sucks on them, then kisses the tips and places my hand over
his heart. “Feel me. Can you feel me? I need to know what you’re thinking. I need to know once and for all if you’ll be mine.” And then he takes my hand and places it over my heart. I feel the same staccato rhythm as his. This is too much, my heart says. But I can’t lie. “I’m in love with James, Vincent. I am. I’m sorry. I know you look like him and Jesus, you act so much like him sometimes. But you’re not him.” He stares at me for a moment and then he turns me around and hugs my body tightly to his. “But you need to get off? You need the release? Because I’ll do that for you, Harper. I’ll take away all this tension so you can think straight again.” Before I can answer, one hand slips between my folds and begins to rub while the other one grabs my breast fiercely. So hard I moan from the pain. He lets go and slaps it again. And when his finger slides inside me, I’m so wet I can barely feel him. “More,” I moan. “More.” Two more fingers enter my pussy and he dips his mouth down to my neck and whispers in my ear as he plays me like an instrument. “You’re so pretty. You’re so pretty, Harper. I want to fuck your pretty pussy so bad right now, you have no idea. I want to stuff my cock in your ass and make you squeeze it when you come.” Holy fuck. “I’m gonna come right now.” He bites me on the shoulder and that’s all I need
to push me over the edge. The pain of his mouth. The pleasure of his fingers. The hard bulge pushing up against my ass as he forces my face into the wall. “Come,” he commands. “Come right now, Harper.” I couldn’t stop it if I tried. I’m gone. I’m blown. My self-control is over. My back buckles as his whole hand slaps against my pussy. I come, and come again. Wave after wave of trembling pleasure spills out of me. By the time I’m done, I can no longer stand and I drop to my knees. Vincent’s hands are on my head, urging me to turn around. I plop down on my butt and turn to face him, my back pressing up against the hallway wall. I look up in his eyes and then my gaze goes to his hand on his cock. The bulge underneath his trousers is huge. It’s hard. And his face looks like he needs a release. But he doesn’t ask me. He just waits. My hands go to his belt and I unbuckle it, letting the slack sides fall down his thighs. I unbutton him, and then drag the zipper down. I reach inside and pull his cock out. It’s so big. Just as big as I remember. “James,” I say before I remember this is not James. I expect Vincent to get angry for mixing him up, but he doesn’t even notice. He just urges my mouth forward with slight pressure on my head. “Take it,
Harper. Take all of it.” I open my mouth and he pushes his dick past my lips until it crashes against my soft palate, making me gag. “Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” I listen. I watch him. My eyes never leave his as he begins to rock his hips forward and back. And each time his tip hits that sensitive spot that makes me want to gag, he pets my hair. “You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty. Your pretty mouth swallowing my cock, Harper. It drives me wild.” I moan at his dirty words and this makes him throw his head back and force himself inside me even harder. “Take it, Harper. Take it.” I open wider. I flatten my tongue against his long, thick shaft. And I take all of him. He pumps a few more times and then he lets off a roar that signals his release. His dick pulses inside my mouth—once, twice, three times—and then the salty liquid is pouring down my throat. I swallow and swallow again. And then I feel him relax and withdraw. My eyes are closed now, but they open when he bends down so his mouth can touch mine in a soft kiss. “I’m gonna take your pretty pussy next, Harper Tate. And then that ass.” Then he stands up and tucks his dick back inside his pants. And walks away.
Chapter Seventy-Nine - Harper
The next morning I wake early. When I check the clock it says five-eighteen. Did I really suck off Vincent in the hallway last night? How fucking humiliating. After he made those dirty remarks about me and James. How he said he saw us. And then he took me out of the kitchen on purpose, so he could fuck my mouth in the hall. I’m filled with rage. And shame. And regret. Jesus Christ. I might as well just be with him since I just fucked everything up with James. I highly doubt he’s the forgiving type. Good God, for all I know he’ll kill me for what I did last night. Insane, they say. I mean, yeah, I can certainly see it. You have to be insane to kill people like that. And the whole prisoner-of-war thing. Vincent gave me a lot of information last night. A lot of bad information about James. He wants me to hate James. At the very least, he wants me to fear James. And I do fear James. I do. I fear that he will find out what I did last night and never want me again. I fear that he’s dead somewhere. That the Company
got to him and killed him before he could come back to me. I fear that I’ve made a mistake that will change my life forever. A mistake that can’t be undone. And Vincent’s confession about Nicola. If he’s been as forthcoming with her about how she ended up as Number Two as he was with me, well, I can imagine she hates James. In fact, I can’t think of a single person alive who doesn’t hate James aside from me. My heart sinks. My life feels like it’s over. I hate this Company. I hate this house. I want to go back to the desert and fuck in the heat. I want the Hummer. And Sasha. That makes me cry. Sasha is dead. And no amount of wanting will bring her back. And now I come full-circle, thinking James is the devil. An evil demon who kills on command. Because he shot a little girl in cold blood. I need to get out of here. I throw the covers off me, put my clothes back on from yesterday, and then head downstairs to the kitchen. It’s still dark outside, but I can feel the dawn creeping up over the horizon when I look out the eastern windows. There’s a light on in the kitchen and the sounds of someone doing dishes. We forgot to clean up our mess last night. We
never even finished our waffle. I walk into the kitchen expecting to see the maid, and then stop dead when it’s Vincent placing the dishes in the sink. He looks at me and smiles. I can’t manage one myself. “Someone got hungry last night.” He shoots me a good-natured grin and I stop in my tracks. “What?” “This,” he says, pointing to the mess. “If I knew you were a cook, I’d have asked for something special already.’ “What?” I can’t breathe. “Are you OK, Harper?” He turns to look at me for a moment. “I’m sorry I never showed for dinner. I just didn’t feel well and ended up going to bed early. But it’s OK,” he says, fanning his hand at the flour and eggs that were left out on the counter. “This is your home too. So help yourself if you get hungry. You don’t have to wait for me to feed you.” I can’t breathe. “So what did you do last night?” He turns the water on and lets it run in the bowl that’s still half full of unused batter. “Besides make a mess in the kitchen?” He smiles at me over his shoulder. “What time did you go to bed?” “I was so sick. It must’ve been the seafood I had at lunch yesterday. It’s a good thing I didn’t bring you along or we’d both have been sick last night.”
Is he joking? “You look tired, baby. You should go back to bed. People won’t be arriving until tonight.” “What?” Oh my God, it’s like I’m in an alternate universe. “Harper,” he laughs. “What’s gotten into you? The party is tomorrow, baby. Nick said he’ll be here tonight. That should make you happy.” “Nick is gonna be here.” I do a little jump and clap my hands, the weirdness forgotten for a moment. “I can’t wait!” “That’s better.” And then he walks over and kisses me on the lips like we’re a married couple and we meet in the kitchen every morning before he goes to work so we can talk about our upcoming day. The weird is back. But Vincent is already walking away. “Be good, Harp.” And then I’m alone. I walk quickly back to my room and shut the door as I try to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. Did I imagine last night? No! Surely not. The mess was right there in the kitchen. Did he forget? Was he so sick that he forgot I sucked his dick in the hallway? But then the bathroom door creaks as someone pushes it open. “I thought he’d never fucking leave,” the deep voice rumbles and makes my whole body tingle. “I told you. I’m gonna fuck that
pretty little pussy and take your ass too.” I’m too stunned to move, but the man in my room isn’t. He walks towards me like he owns the entire world and stops when he’s close enough to force me to look up to see him properly. “I told you I’d come back.” James did say that. But this isn’t James. I can see the difference in his eyes. This is Tet.
Coming For You - Part Three
Chapter Eighty - Sasha
I don’t think it’s possible to bite my fingernails down any closer to the quick, but my mouth doesn’t seem to notice as we pull into the Cabazon parking lot, home to Interstate 10’s larger-than-life resident reptiles. I was just here a few days ago and it seems like my life is moving in circles. “That’s them,” I tell Merc. “In the red truck.” Merc mutters under his breath. “Fuck.” He turns into the parking lot and two men exit the red truck and start walking to the underbelly of the brontosaurus. “Park close, so I can hear. Like right up next to it.” Merc does not park close. Instead he drives past the two men and stares them down. Then he pulls into a spot a good hundred feet from where they are meeting. “Merc.” “Shut up,” he barks at me. “Sit your ass in this truck and do not move, do you hear me?” “I’m the one who knows them.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m the one who’s doing business. Little girls do not cut deals with international street gangs. I don’t care how fucking tough you think you are, Cherlin, you’re still Zero to me. So shut your mouth and do not even think about getting out.” I cross my arms over my chest and huff out some air. “It was my idea.” “Yeah, well, an idea doesn’t keep you alive when you’re double-dealing with scumbags like these guys. And when I tell them what we’re offering, they are gonna jump on it, Smurf. So this is your last chance to call it off. Because once we have a deal, there’s no turning back. People will die tomorrow. You got that?” He waits for me to answer, but I don’t. I just swallow it down. “Do you understand that?” he asks again, this time grabbing my arm and squeezing tight. “I get it, OK? But what other choice do we have? We need firepower. We need boots on the ground. We need them to kill if we want to have any chance at all of getting Harper and Nick back.” “Look, Sasha, just because you said you want Nick and Harper to get out alive doesn’t mean they will. These guys know who they are. They know who their father is. They know their connections. So they might just double-cross us and kill everyone. Including you and me. Or maybe, and this is far more likely, they will take us all prisoner.
And then we’ll all get to experience what James went through down in Honduras twelve years ago. So I’m gonna ask you one more time. Do you really want to give James up to save your boyfriend? Because they want him, Cherlin. They want him bad.” “I told you. He’s not gonna get caught. James will never get caught. They want One too, so they’ll be happy to get him. James will get away, I know it. He’s so much smarter. So much more lethal. If anyone can pull us through this plan, it’s James.” “Not James, kid. Tet. I don’t know why the fuck you can’t see him for what he is. A messed-up dude with questionable loyalties.” “It doesn’t matter. They’re the same guy. So if Tet can do it, then James can too.” Merc draws in a long breath of air and then opens his door, leaving the truck running. “OK. Be right back.” He holds out his palm and I scribble the address down on the back of a map I found in the glove box. I marked the Santa Barbara community on there as best I could on the front too. Just to make sure they get it right. Drug dealers, ya know? Not the brightest of the bunch. Merc takes the map and pushes the door closed so it doesn’t slam. Then he walks off into the sun, his shades down and his dark hair blowing a bit in the hot wind. I hold my breath as he approaches the two men
standing underneath the giant dinosaur. They don’t shake hands and I see that as a bad sign. But then I see heads nodding, so that eases me a bit. I bite my fingers again. Geez. I can’t take the tension. I’m really not cut out for this hardcore dealing. I’m not. I’m just a little kid. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m gonna get everyone killed with this idea. But then the two men look at each other and smile. One even laughs and claps the other on the back. Merc hands them the map and they put their heads together to study it. There’s more negotiation, then they all look over at me. My stomach flips. I swear, I almost open the door and puke. This is it. This is where Merc tells them about Nick and Harper and asks for immunity. They already have the coordinates, so they’re the ones calling the shots. That was Merc’s idea. Give them the upper hand and let them make this decision on their own. That’s the only way it will work, he said. They have to want the deal. We can’t coerce them and expect co-operation. My leg is going a mile a minute as they hash things out. They look over at me several more times, and then there’s some heated discussion. I can only imagine what they are saying. They want Nick. They want Harper. And it makes sense for them, right? They want the
children of the man who sent them so much trouble and strife over the years down in Central America. They want to teach him a lesson and they are ready and willing to send the LA chapter of their gang if they think they have the chance. And I know what Merc’s response will be. You can have James. The kid who shot your leader twelve years ago. You can have his rescuer. The assassin who broke him out and mowed down the deformed man’s entire family—mostly women and children—to do it. I know this part. And no one else does besides Merc, because I told him. Probably not even James knows this part. Because this was how One got in to the compound to find James. James only knows what happened after. I know this because One is my mother’s brother. My uncle. The uncle who used to come to our house every New Year’s Eve until I was ten and get drunk with my father so they could talk about my mother. Share her memory. He used to ruffle my hair and whisper, “You have a number, Sasha. Not a name, a number. You’re Zero. The one no one sees. The one no one expects. The one who will set it all right.” Of course, back then I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea what he was really talking about until James told me the Company had my parents killed. He told me this right here, in this
parking lot. As I was sitting on the toe of a giant brontosaurus. She needs to hear this, he told Harper. He wanted me to know what I was up against. Suddenly the little group of men breaks up and Merc is walking back to the truck. My stomach flips again as I try to read his expression, but I can’t, it’s no use. So I hold my breath until he gets back in the truck and says, “It’s done.” I exhale. “They took the bait.” He looks over at me. “Now what?” This is the last part of the plan. The really dangerous part. The part that might get all of us killed. Because this gang might be notorious for their ruthless revenge killings, but the person I need to bring in next isn’t called Number One for nothing. “Next I call my uncle.” Merc clenches his jaw, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks this through. “You wanna know why they were laughing back there?” he asks. No. “Yes.” “They were laughing because they said if they see James, they’re not gonna kill him.” “No?” I ask, hopeful. Merc starts the truck and backs out of the space, then heads towards the exit. “Nope.” And then he looks me in the eye as he waits to turn left to get
back on the Interstate. “They’re gonna douse him in gasoline, set him on fire, and then put it out.” “What?” “They’re gonna make sure he lives to feel the pain.”
Chapter Eighty-One - Harper
“I might not’ve been all there this past year or so,” Tet says, coming forward a few paces. “But Harper Tate, the minute I saw you on the beach, it started coming back. It took me a while, but I’m here now. I’m not the person they say I am.” He turns his head and then gives me a sidelong glance. “At least not when it comes to you.” He steps forward a few more paces and I automatically put my hands up to ward him off. He grabs my wrists and hikes my hands above my head, walking me backwards until I hit the wall. I press myself flat, but he leans in and touches his lips to mine. “It would kill me, Harper Tate, if you were afraid of me.” “That was you last night.” “That was me.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I wanted to give you a chance to choose. A chance to choose a safer life than the one I can provide. I’ve got money. I’ve got assets. But I can’t keep you safe, Harper. It would not be possible.” I just stare at him. What is he saying? “So you
don’t want me? You’re going to pull one of those selfish I’m-doing-this-for-your-own-good moves? Because if so, James Fenici, I’m gonna fight you over it. I swear to God, I will—” He leans down and kisses me, laughing into my mouth. “I love you.” “I love you. Don’t leave me. Please.” He pulls back just the slightest little bit and I look up into those beautiful emerald eyes. “I came back, didn’t I?” I nod. “I told you, Harper, you’re mine. And maybe I cheated a little bit to get you, but I meant that. I never want to let you go.” He pauses. I feel a ‘but’ coming on. “But I have a job to do here, lionfish. I have a job to do.” “What job?” He cups my face with his hands. They are cool. And reassuring. Like these hands can fix anything. “I know they tell you I’m crazy. And I am. But I’m patient, Harper. And I’m smart. I’ve outsmarted the most ruthless killers on this planet. I’ve outsmarted the highest government officials. I’ve outsmarted drug dealers, and kidnappers, and Admirals, and my mother. I know exactly what I’m doing.” “What are you doing?” I’m breathless listening to him. My heart is beating so fast I’m not sure I can stand up for much longer.
“Killing people, Harper. I’m killing people. Or at the very least… getting them all killed.” “Who? What people?” He leans down to kiss me again, his tongue probing for more attention. And then he whispers, “Everyone, Harp. I’m gonna kill everyone.” “How?” My legs get weak but James cups my ass and lifts me up, pushing me against the wall. “Sasha.” And then he laughs. Chills run up my spine. “But you already killed Sasha.” He nuzzles his mouth against my neck and laughs. “Please, Harper. A little faith. I’m a sick asshole, but I have never killed a little girl and I’m not gonna start now.” “I don’t understand.” “You don’t need to.” “That’s not fair, James. I’m not some helpless child. I’m lethal in my own right.” “This isn’t your fight, lionfish. This one’s mine. So save your moves for something else.” And then he kisses my mouth and slaps my ass. “I got this. The only thing I want you to do is let me fuck you. Let me make this world safe for us. And let me keep you forever.” I thread my hands through his hair and breathe him in. “My James.” “My Harper. I want to marry you. I want to take you away. Somewhere safe, and quiet. Somewhere
we can get to know each other for real. On our own time. Slowly.” He reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair away from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. “I want to make love to you under the stars. And sail around the world with you in a boat. I want you all to myself. I’m a stingy, greedy, killer. And I want you. I want to know you.” “I want to know you too,” I say back, my words so soft they are just barely a whisper. “I’ve wanted you since the day we turned Six. I didn’t understand it, but the way you looked at me, I could feel the love. I could feel your attention.” My face begins to get hot and the tears begin to form. “I just want a simple life, James. I don’t need a fancy boat or a big house. I don’t need money. I just want you. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to fight the Company rules and traditions. I just want to run away with you and never look back. ” He swipes a tear away. “I told you we can’t do that, lionfish. I told you they’ll never let us live. They will find us. I need to take them out.” “It’s hopeless.” “It’s not.” He reaches for me, placing his hand against my cheek. It’s cool and feels comforting. I’m warm from the tears and sadness. “I swear, it’s not hopeless. Sasha and I have a plan and it will all turn out fine.” I turn my head to look at him and his mouth is there. A slight brush of his lips against mine. I open
for him and his tongue flicks in, searching for more contact. Caressing me. He kisses me for real this time. There’s no hesitation. Only devouring. He kisses me like he’s the wind. Like he’s the sea. Like he’s the desert. He kisses me and he tastes like freedom.
Chapter Eighty-Two - James
Her sweet mouth might break me. Her soft fingers reach for my cock, squeezing it like she’s desperate. Her slim hips angle towards me as I press against her. I lift her shirt over her head and relish the blush that forms on her cheeks. Her breasts firm up, her nipples peaking as I look at them. She unbuttons her shorts and lets them fall down her hips until they hit the floor. “Fuck,” is about all I can manage. This girl is perfection. And then she reaches for the rumpled dress shirt of Vincent’s that I’m half wearing. She unbuttons it from the bottom up and then her fingertips brush against my shoulders as she slides the shirt down until that too drops to the floor. She unbuckles my belt next, letting the two ends fall alongside my hips as she works the button and the zipper of my trousers. A hand reaches inside and wraps around my cock. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. “Put me in your mouth, Harper.” I keep my eyes closed as I feel the soft heat of her breath when she comes closer. The first swipe of
her tongue across my tip makes me moan. But when she opens her mouth and allows me to fill her up, pushing my cock to the back of her throat—I lose myself. Fuck. I grab her head and pump into her. She gags and tries to pull back, but instead of letting her get away, I stop moving so she can recover and keep me in her mouth. “Shhh, my lionfish. Just relax.” She gets it under control and flattens her tongue against my shaft, moaning. The fucking moaning kills me. Her vocal cords vibrate, sending the sensations right to the most sensitive part of my cock. Her hand cups my balls, kneading them and caressing them, and I take that as her signal that she’s ready to proceed. I pump a few more times in her mouth, and then, just before I know she’s going to gag, I pull all the way out and squat down to give her a kiss. “I love you.” She kisses me back, her hands greedily reaching for my cock now that it’s out of reach. “I want to make you come, James.” “Baby, I’ll come for you any time, any place.” I stand back up and put my cock in her mouth. And this time I take her hard. I fuck her mouth and make her drool. She doesn’t hold back. Not one bit. She takes all of me. She takes everything I give her. I press my balls up to her chin and then I come as she swallows me.
When she’s done, I take her hand and pull, forcing her to stand. And then I grab her around the thighs and lift her little body up until her pussy is right in front of my face and her legs are draped over my shoulders. She moans just thinking about what I’m going to do. She’s dripping wet before I even get started. I press her back against the wall and lick her, angling her hips so I can get at her pretty little ass. I lap at her clit, flicking it back and forth. And then I drop one leg from my shoulder so I can pump her pussy with my fingers. “Oh, fuck,” she says. “Holy fuck. I’m gonna come, James. I’m—” Her words make no sense after that. It’s just a bunch of noises, coupled with her little hands fisting my hair as she bucks her hips against my face. When she’s slack and quiet I set her feet back on the floor. Her legs are weak, so I take her over to the bed and lay her down on her back as I climb in next to her. “I want us to run away,” she whispers, nuzzling her head into my neck. Our lovemaking mood is broken, so I just hold her for a moment. “You have to trust me. I can’t be responsible for everyone, Harp. But I can be responsible for us.” “Something bad is gonna happen. I feel it. And
then I’ll be all alone.” “I promise,” I say, bringing her hand to my mouth and kissing it. “I promise to live. I promise to be there for you when this is over.” She struggles under my embrace and climbs on top of me. My cock is still hard, but she pumps it a few times to see if I’m still interested. I am. So I wrap my large hands around her tiny waist and place her on top of me, urging her to begin. She eases down slowly, then lifts up. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you should make promises you can’t keep. And if you die, James, I will die with you. Even if I live, I will die with you.” “Stop,” I chastise her. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.” I play with the blonde strands of hair that are falling down the side of her frowning face. She’s not convinced. “I came back for you, didn’t I? I promised to come back and I did. And it’s only been nine days. I’m early, baby. I over-delivered.” That makes her smile a little and I reach around to cup her ass, lifting her and letting her drop as she slowly rides my cock. Her long hair brushes against my chest and sends chills up my whole body. I fucking love this girl. “Hold on,” I tell her, grabbing her waist again and flipping us over. She spills out onto the sheets beneath me, her legs wrapped around my hips, her arms around my neck. “I want to fuck you from
behind.” “I want you to fuck me any way you want.” I lean down and kiss her pretty lips, biting the lower one just enough to make her squeal. And then I rise up on my elbows and knees to give her space to turn. “Face down on the bed, Harper.” She looks me in the eye as she flips, and when her hips are up in the air, and my thick cock is dangling over her ass, I push her legs closed and lie down across her back. My dick squeezes between her cheeks, seeking out her pussy. She gasps when I enter, thrusting hard. I reach in front of her and find her slit, my fingertips rubbing her clit hard. Making her pussy wetter and wetter. Driving her wild and sending her bucking and moaning. I cup my hand around her mouth, forcing her to quiet down, and then I pump my cock into her, over and over, my balls slapping against her wet sex. When I know she’s almost there, I pull her hair. I make her back arch up and her head fall back, her mouth in easy reach. And I kiss her. I kiss her hard. I kiss her like I’ve never kissed a woman before in my life. I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze her chin so there’s no possible way for her to stop this kiss. And then when I feel the walls of her pussy
clamping down on my cock, I pound her one last time until I come inside her. Spilling my seed deep in her womb, until I collapse on top of her back, all sweaty and sticky with her sex and her scent. “Never,” I whisper, my eyes closing from the days of travel and work. Harper squirms under me until I let her out, and then she angles her body into mine, her head resting on my arm, her hands tucked up underneath her chin. “Never what?” she asks sleepily. “You have always been mine, Harper Tate. You have always been mine and I will never let him have you.”
Chapter Eighty-Three - James
The cock of a shotgun stuns me out of my sleep. “Don’t fucking move,” the voice whispers, the barrel pressed against my head. Vincent. I smile. “I have no plans on moving. I’ve got her right where I want her.” My cock is pressed against her ass, my hand on her breast, her hand gripping mine. “You’re a sick fuck, James.” “Your DNA is the same as mine, brother.” Harper squeezes my hand and I know she’s awake. “And I hope you know what you’re doing with that shotgun. Because you pull that trigger, you splatter both of us. Not just me. So think carefully, Vincent.” He chuckles. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Take her down with you? Sick. Fuck. Get up.” I remove my hand and Harper withdraws hers without otherwise moving. I ease away and roll out of bed. Vincent backs up several paces as I stand up to my full height. We are eye to eye. We have the same body. The same hair. The same face. The
same eyes. But we don’t have the same instincts. I have the instincts of a wild animal. He has none. He eyes my nakedness and I laugh. “Like what you see?” “I’m going to put you down like the dog you are. It’s the only death you deserve. Step away from the bed. Don’t hide behind an innocent woman.” I put my hands up and walk towards him. He backs up and then pivots so he’s got himself between me and Harper. And then she attacks. She springs from the bed like a lioness. Her hand wraps around his throat and she squeezes. I grab the gun before the dumbshit pulls the trigger. And then I turn it around and clock him on the head with it. He’s already half asphyxiated from Harper’s squeezing, so it doesn’t take much to knock his ass out. He crumples to the ground and Harper lets go. “Jesus,” she says, looking at him with what I can only describe as slight disgust. “That was easy.” I grab a tie back from the curtains and bind his hands and then grab my trousers and pull them on. I turn to Harper, who is already dressed. “Watch him for a moment. Let me go look for something to drug him up.” She nods and I let myself out into the hallway. It’s quiet up here, but I can hear lots of noises
downstairs as preparations are made for the dinner tonight and the party tomorrow. I ease into Vincent’s room and close the door behind me. I hit the bathroom where I know he’s got Harper’s pills. They’re not the best for doping people into unconsciousness, but they will have to do. I grab the little orange bottle and head back to her room. “He’s already moaning,” Harper says, when I enter. “Here, give him ten pills.” “Ten?” “He’s a big guy. We want to make sure.” She takes the bottle and counts out the pills, while I go back to the door and peek out, making sure no one saw me. “How do we make him swallow them?” I grab the pills from her outstretched hand and walk over to Vincent. He is waking up, which is good. He’s gonna need to swallow them himself once I shove them down his throat. “Get me a toothbrush.” Harper rushes to get that and then comes back, handing it over. I shove it in his mouth to stop him from biting me. “Get me some water.” And then I drop each of the tiny white pills into his mouth. When the bitterness hits his tongue, he grimaces and tries to spit them out. But Harper is there with the water and I tip his head back and pour.
“Swallow, asshole. Or you’re gonna drown. Get me more water, Harper.” “Fuck you,” my brother manages past the toothbrush as he spits the water out. I find two pills and snatch them up so I can dump them back in. “OK, let’s do it the hard way, asshole. But I’m warning you. There’s worse things than being drugged overnight.” And then I lean down into his ear and whisper so Harper can’t hear. “I know you kissed her. So believe me, I can think up some very good ways to get even with you for that. Now swallow the fucking pills.” I drop the two pills in and pour the water. This time he swallows. “That’s a good dog, Vincent. Now, while you drift off into slumber, I’d like you to think about things. I’d like you to think about how they used you, just like they used me. I’m not out to kill you. No one told me to kill you. But you’re delusional if you think I’m letting you take Harper.” “You’re going to get her killed.” “No, I’m the one who will keep her alive. The plan is already in motion, Vincent. It’s a done deal. Everyone in this house will be dead tomorrow night.” “If you make it until tomorrow night. No one will mistake you for me, you sick fuck.” “You’re wrong. I’ve been practicing my Vincent routine for months. You think you were watching
me? You think you pulled this over on me? Maybe James wasn’t ready to see the truth, even as he watched it go down. But I’m Tet, asshole. I see everything.” I untie his feet and pull him up so he’s standing. He sways a little when I push him towards one of Harper’s closets. She’s already got the door open, so I walk him in and kick his legs out from under him, so he crumples back to the ground. Then I tie him back up. I lean in to whisper again. “You never had a chance.” And then I kick him in the teeth. He falls backwards into some hanging dresses, his face obscured by the flowing gowns. Harper turns off the light and I walk out, closing the door behind me. “I think he said we’re having dinner tonight.” I nod my head and smile at the thought of tonight’s dinner. “Yeah. They have a gown for you in his room. I’ll go get it so you can get ready.” I pull her close and kiss her on the lips. In a familiar way. A way that says I love her and that’s all she needs to know right now. I walk across the hall and go into his closet to find her clothes for the evening. It’s been planned for a very long time. Years in the making, in fact. The gown is a shimmering silver. The skirts are very elaborate and they flow all the way to the floor. It’s not very revealing, which is nice. Even
though I know all eyes should be on her, I don’t want people staring too hard at my Harper. I choose a suit for me, and change quickly. I add a silver tie and pocket square to match Harper’s dress, and choose his most expensive pair of shoes. My image in the mirror is not Tet. I sigh at that realization. It’s just James in here after all. I grab Harper’s dress and go back across the hall. She’s in the shower, so I lay the gown over a chair and peek my head in. “I can hear people down there, Harp. So don’t take too long.” The water shuts off and she opens the glass shower door, showing me her wet body. “Fuck, woman. Don’t tempt me.” “We can skip the party,” she says with a smile. Her hair is still dry, but little tendrils of it are falling out all over her face, making her look a little wild. She drives me wild. “No fucking way. We’re not missing this night. Now get dressed.” I back out of the bathroom and make my way back to the hallway. I walk towards the stairs, slowly. Listening for conversation. I hear the Admiral’s voice and… Nick. Harper will be so excited. I stop at the top of the stairs and listen. I stand there several minutes, absorbing the small talk before the conversation gets heated. I strain to hear. “No,” Nick says. “I’m not taking part in it. I came
back to get her. She’s not staying here.” “You came back hoping One would be here with the file.” “Won’t he?” Nick asks. “You sent him to drug Harper. He killed her, did you know that? He killed her and Tet saved her life.” “Is that a debt you feel the need to pay back?” the Admiral asks him. I don’t hear the answer so I step forward, making a creak on the stairs. Both men come into view and they are looking at me like I caught them in the middle of a secret. Which I might’ve. “Well,” I say loudly. “Look who’s back. It’s good to see you, Nicholas.” He tips his head at me. “Vincent.” “Did I hear something about you taking Harper away from me?’ “She’s not your prize, Vincent. She’s not a commodity to be bought and sold.” “Nicholas,” the Admiral snaps. I put up my hand as I descend the rest of the stairs and cross the polished wood floor where they are standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out at the back yard. “Admiral, please. I think I may have a solution that will satisfy everyone.” “What’s that?” “All we have to do is ask her, Nick. She’s a grown woman. She’s smart enough to make up her own
mind. Why do you assume she hates me?” I stop and watch their reactions. “She does hate you,” Nick finally answers. “She doesn’t want this.” “So let’s ask her.” “Ask me what?” The three of us turn our heads up to the voice. She’s standing at the top of the stairs in that gorgeous silver gown. Her hair is exactly as it was coming out of the shower. Wispy and unkempt. She has no makeup on that I can see. I’ve never seen Harper in makeup. And on her feet are the cutest little silver shoes. She steps down, flashing them at me, making me smile. “Fucking adorable.” “What?” the Admiral asks, turning to me. “Your daughter, Admiral. She’s so sweet and adorable, I can’t stand it.” I sigh as she comes down the steps, blushing and smiling. And then she notices her twin. “Nick!” Her feet fly down the steps now, and then she runs across the polished wooden floor so fast I’m afraid she’ll slip and fall. I almost reach for her as she goes past. But I come to my senses and let them have their moment. She flings herself at him. He laughs and all the animosity in the room disappears as he catches her in a hug and swings her around so her dress flares
at the bottom. I might die, that’s how fucking cute this girl is. She peppers her brother with kisses and they talk excitedly for several minutes. “Where have you been? Why did you leave? What were you doing?” And it hits me at this moment, that these two are talking in some kind of code. She knows why he left. She knows what he was doing. And his answers are just as interesting. “All over.” “I had business.” “Nothing you need to worry about.” Because they say nothing and everything at once. We all know why he left. The better question is, why did he come back? But it’s not the time or place for that question. This is our night. “You guys were talking when I came downstairs,” Harper says, the excitement from seeing Nick still in her eyes. “What were you saying?” I look at the Admiral. He nods at me. I take Harper’s hand and pull her close. She’s too at ease, so I need to put her back on alert. “Harper, you’ve been with me for several days now. And when I brought you here, you said you would never love me. But I think you’d have to agree that things have developed between us. I think you’d agree that being my promise isn’t as bad as you first thought.”
“I do enjoy being with you, Vincent.” Jesus, we are playing for keeps right now. It needs to go off perfect. “And it’s no secret that we were to be wed. So instead of having the ceremony tomorrow at the party, we thought a nice quiet ceremony tonight would be in order.” She squints her eyes. “Marry me, Harper. I’m asking you to marry me.” She shakes her head and I almost have a heart attack. “That’s not how you ask a girl to marry you.” Nick and the Admiral chuckle out some atta girls, and I nod and drop to one knee. The Admiral hands me a silver velvet ring box and I open it in front of her. “It’s your mother’s ring, Harper.” She looks up at her father and I see tears forming. “It is,” he confirms. “Vincent asked for it yesterday. I keep it in the safe on the yacht. It’s the only thing I have left of her. And now it’s yours.” I have a little stab of guilt that I’ll murder this man tomorrow. But it passes when Harper looks down at me and whispers, “Yes,” as she pulls me up off the floor. “Yes.” And then I take her mouth, right there in Vincent’s living room.
Chapter Eighty-Four - Harper
His kiss is so passionate I blush. And when he pulls back and whispers, “I love you,” in that soft and tender way that makes me doubt all the stories about the people he’s killed, I melt. He melts me. He pulls me out of my life and places me in his. There’s a ceremony. Just the three of us and the Company minister attend. I hear the words. I say the words. But the only thing on my mind is James. He is the only thing I see. The room is massive. The setting extravagant. There are flowers in my hand. A perfect bouquet of short stemmed white roses wrapped in silver ribbon. James holds both my hands in his while the minister talks. He asks us things and we say yes. And then, just before the minister is about to complete the ceremony with a kiss, James puts up a hand and says, “Not so fast.” He turns to me and smiles. I am the only thing he sees. “It’s not over yet, Harper.” I glance at my father and see a look of confusion on his face. But I trust James, so my attention is right back to him. “I waited twelve
years for you. I’ve imagined this moment happening so many ways, but this one,” he leans into my ear to whisper, “lionfish. This one is the perfect way to end all that waiting.” He pulls back just a few inches, so my father and brother can hear us now too. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I promise you won’t regret choosing me.” James. I almost say it, but I stop myself before it slips out. So I lean in, just like he did, and whisper, “You’re mine, Fenici. If you go anywhere, I will hunt you down.” He wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me towards him, laughing into my hair. The minister takes over in our silence and tells James to kiss me. As if he needed permission. He kisses me like no man should kiss a girl in front of her father. He kisses me like a husband. When that’s over, he takes my hand and leads me outside onto the patio. It’s bustling with workers setting up for tomorrow, and there’s no music, but he draws me close, his hands on my waist as we sway slowly. He brings my head to his chest and breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry it was such a long wait. I hope this night makes up for time lost. I can’t promise you that you’ll never fall, Harper. But if you ever need
me for anything, I’ll be there. I’ll catch you. I’ll fix it. And if we ever have to be apart, always know that we’re together.” He lifts my wedding ring to his lips and kisses it. “We met years ago. We drifted apart to become these two people. And now we’re back together. One soul, cut in half, reunited.” I’m breathless as the killer they call James declares his love for me. In the backyard of the brother he stole me from, in full view of anyone who cares to watch. “Did you know Vincent was going to try and marry me tonight?” He gazes down on me, the light catching his green eyes, making them light up for a moment. “I know everything, Harper Fenici.” I smile at that. “I may not always remember everything, but I have it all locked away up here.” He taps the side of his head. “I can’t decide if you’re a brazen fool, an evil mastermind, or a gentle man.” He grins. “I was foolish enough to believe I could have a woman like you. But my determination paid off. I’ve had my share of evil moments. But evil begets evil. And the people I killed were doing their share of begetting. As far as a gentle man, well”— he smiles—“only with you, Harper. And our children, when they come.” I rest my head against his chest again, and we dance that way, barely moving, content to be in each other’s arms, even if we are in the lion’s den.
Until finally my feet are tired and I get sleepy. And then he leads me upstairs to my room and we undress each other slowly. He touches my body like he’s never touched it before. He worships it. Not sexually, although it turns me on so bad, my nipples perk and my sex throbs. I touch him too. I search his body for scars. I search his mind for misgivings. But on both accounts, I find none. No scars. Just a perfect man. No misgivings. Just his honest love. And in that moment, I release myself to him completely. “I am yours, Six.” “And I am yours, Come.” He takes me to bed. I stretch out on the white sheets. Naked. Bare for him. And he worships me in a new way. Our first night as Six and Come is filled with talking and laughing. Touching and loving. And the climax of my night has nothing to do with sex. He fills me up in a different way now. He fills me up with love. The next morning he wakes me slowly with a light touch across my breasts. “It’s time, Harper.” We promised each other we would not talk about today until it was really here. And now it is. “I’m listening.” So he talks. And he tells me all about this day
before it even starts. He gives very elaborate details. He gives a timeframe and backup options— just in case. He gives me everything I’ve ever wanted to know about what this day means. What my code means. And what we need to do in order to have a future together. He gives me hope.
Chapter Eighty-Five - Sasha
“It itches.” I scratch the bodice of my fancy dress. It’s made up of bunched-up fabric that gathers together in long lines of wrinkles along my torso. Who the hell wears this shit? “And tights? Why the f—” “Sasha,” One snaps. I’m getting on his last nerve, but I don’t care. “You said you wanted to do this. You came to me, remember? Do you want to go to the party or not?” I squint my eyes at him. Merc is suddenly starting to look like a much better option as far as mercenary friends go. “It’s my party.” “It’s Harper’s party. You’re just there to ruin it.” “Yeah, well…” I got nothing. It’s true. I’m just there to fuck it all up. And save Nick. And Harper. But mostly Nick. After we made all those plans about getting the files back, he thinks he can go off and try and do it alone? I don’t think so, buddy. “Now,” he says, straightening my hair. “What will you say when the Admiral confronts you about being shot on the boat?” “Sir, my Uncle One—”
“Skip the uncle part, kid.” Asshole. “Sir, One alerted me to Tet’s plan to kill me and brought me a special bulletproof life vest.” I had to cop to that part of James’ plan. Obviously, One needed to know how I survived. “If he asks anything else, you just defer to me and act like a kid. Just drink some fucking punch and eat cookies.” Right. I have to control the eye roll. The car pulls up in the valet area and One and I exit the hotel lobby and get in. The compound is about a thirty-minute drive north, so we have a lot of time to think about what’s happening. The problem I have is, I don’t know why he agreed to this. I leveraged the missing file over his head. The one Merc still has. The one everyone needs in order to make both files work. The one Nick and I would have right now, if this asshole next to me hadn’t drugged Harper and stolen it at the last second. I told One that James has the missing file. I feel bad for James. Using him to lure all the players sucks. But he’s the only one who can handle what I’m sending. He’s the only one who can deal with gang members and assassins. Nick is not experienced enough. Harper is probably useless. And I’m not big enough. So… “OK, put on your game face, kid.” I’ve been wearing my game face since last
Christmas when Ford left my grandparents’ ranch. The car pulls up to the gates of the private community and the driver slides his window down and hands over the paperwork. It’s not legit. It’s not even an invitation. Why try and fake it? So we decided to just announce who we are and see what happens. After twenty seconds on the phone inside the gate house, we’re waved through. The driveway leading up to the main house is flanked on both sides by towering palm trees waving in the wind. There’s so many flowers blooming, the scent of them is almost overwhelming. Almost enough to make me sick. We’re met by our own little welcoming committee when the car stops. Several men, none of whom have visible weapons, pat us both down. I have a knife strapped to my calf that gets confiscated. One shoots me a dirty look as we’re escorted inside, but I figure it’s more suspicious to show up with no weapons than it is to get caught with one knife. This place is packed with people. The sun is just setting, and there’s music and that loud rumble of voices you hear in a crowd. I search for my target. Nothing. I see the Admiral. But he’s not my target. I see James’ drunk mother. But she’s not my
target either. I see… Nick. And he’s holding hands with a dark-haired girl who has the same brilliant green eyes as James. Nicola. I’ve never met her before, but I know that’s her. Is that the girl Nick was referring to? I’m just about to make my way over there and start shit when a hand grabs my shoulder. I look up to see the Admiral. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s looking at One. “One. You continue to surprise me,” he says, lifting his champagne glass in a fake toast. “Six is not the only one with surprises,” my uncle answers. “I should say not. Have you come to deliver the file you stole from my daughter?” “No,” One says evenly. “I came to pick one up.” I’m still in the Admiral’s grasp when they both look down at me. “She’s got some very interesting information. It seems that you, Admiral, have been set up by a little girl and her—” James has One in a headlock and he’s choked the words off. “You made a big mistake coming here tonight, One.” “Vincent,” the Admiral says with a chuckle. “Please. We’re not going to finish this here—” And then he must look James in the eyes, because the realization of who he is flashes across his face.
James snaps One’s neck and is easing him down to the ground before anyone actually realizes what just happened. In fact, only the few people closest to the Admiral understand. I’m just about to search One for the file while everyone is distracted by James when I see my target being pulled out of the room. I leave the ballroom just as the room erupts in panic and follow Harper and her would-be abductor down the west wing of the palatial mansion. She’s pulled through the door, not fighting or crying out, either. So that alarms me. What if Harper is working for someone else as well? It seems we are nothing but a clusterfuck of double and triple crossings tonight. I stop at the closed door to the room they entered and then open it a crack to see what’s going on.
Chapter Eighty-Six - Harper
“Let go of my hand, you bitch.” I yank my arm out of her grasp and turn, my ridiculous full skirts on this elaborate gown swirling at my feet in a whoosh. “Where is he?” Mrs. Fenici spits. Her breath is laced with alcohol and her hands are trembling as she points her finger in my face. I smack it away and she tries to grab me again, the bangle bracelets on her frail wrist jangling. “That is not my son out there. Where is my son?” “That is your son, you drunken bitch.” And then I look over at the door and spy Sasha. I want to smile and give her a hug but she looks like she’s all business. The witch turns to follow my gaze and Sasha gives her a little wave. “Hello there, Mrs F. Do you need help, Harper?” she says in her sweetest little-girl voice. I almost smile. “No, thank you, Sasha. I’ve got this. Why don’t you go find Nick and take care of his little problem.” “Will do,” she quips, and exits through the door just as quietly as she came in.
“What are you doing? I demand to see my son. Who did you marry last night?” “Not the son you think,” I say in a low voice. “And you’re not going to leave this room, I’m afraid. So you won’t be seeing anyone.” “Right,” she spits through her teeth. “I’m—” “You’re sick,” I say, cutting her off. “What kind of mother sends her sons off to kill? What kind of mother sends her daughter off to kill?” “Your James did that.” “No.” I shake my head. “My James owed your assassin a life debt. He had no choice. You’re the one responsible for all this because you were so power-hungry or weak-minded, you didn’t have the wherewithal to resist selling out your children.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I slap her so hard across her mouth she sways sideways and falls to the ground. “You bitch,” she seethes. I step forward and kick her in the teeth with my pretty white shoe that matches my pretty white dress. Her head crashes back against the floor this time, her legs sprawled out in front of her. I lean down and grab her dark hair and look her in her green eyes as I yank her head back. “It’s unfortunate that I never learned to shoot, because then you’d go quickly. But the only weapons I have at the moment are my hands. So I’m going to take your life with those.”
She thrashes her legs and waves her arms around, trying to land a punch, I think. But this woman, Jesus. It’s almost like a lioness toying with a mouse. She is weak and pathetic. I dodge her attempts, but even the couple that land don’t hurt bad enough to make me wince. And then I have a fleeting thought. Why? Why am I such a highly trained killer? She sees this change in me and smiles. “He set you up too, darling. Just like I set up James. You’ve been programmed, dear. You’ve been programmed to kill, just like all the other Company contracts.” Contracts. “What are you talking about?” “You’re here to kill me, darling. Going through with it only brings you farther into the fold. Why do you think we pay such close attention to Company children, Harper? Because we love them? Please,” she laughs. “Please. I’ve been told you’re naive, but surely you understand what you are? What you were born to be? You’re a killer, Miss Tate. One of the secret ones. One of the Zeros brought up in a loving family. But a killer nonetheless. He called us all here to die by your hands, just like last summer on the ship. Your father is the evil one in this world.” “Then why come?” “Because I have someone here representing me as well. And your father should know better than to
double-cross me. We both have daughters, Harper. And mine is killing your brother. Right now. But she’s not the only delegate I brought to this party, sweetie. Your father and I talked about joining forces. Becoming one powerful family by wedding you and Vincent. Our last hope for a compromise. But then… you killed my delegates. And they let you get away. Your father protected you, even smoothed things over with Vincent. But I knew better.” She reaches up to tap her head just like James did last night. “I know everything.” When she echoes his words I panic. “And his secret mission—the one he’s been on for years but has no clue about—is to kill everyone at this party, Harper. James didn’t come up with this plan, dear. I did. And you walked right into it. You —” I snap her neck just as easily as James snapped One’s and then I let her drop to the floor and go searching through the desk until I find what I need to finish my job here tonight. A gun. And I guess she’s right. I’m a goddamned killer. But at least I’m not a goddamned liar. Because she’s full of shit. I don’t believe he’s been programmed. I know my James is damaged, but he’s not a ridiculous robot programmed to kill. He kills of his own free will, or not at all.
Chapter Eighty-Seven - Sasha
The entire mansion is in an uproar. People are screaming while the Admiral’s voice booms through the downstairs, asking people to remain calm. Good luck with that. I chuckle as I make my way down the hallway. Several people look at me funny, but I’m not so out of place that they stop to question me. I’m sure there’s no kids allowed at this thing. But I almost look grown up in my fancy dress. I try to walk calmly as I look for Nick, but I’m not used to the fancy shoes, and that makes walking difficult. I look in each room as I pass, and then finally decide Nick is not on the ground floor. I look up at the second floor, consider it, and then nix that idea. If he’s not around, then he got the files off One while James was busy dealing with the aftermath. So that means he’s outside heading towards the rendezvous point. I scoot past the lingering crowd as the Admiral assures everyone that Vincent just had a moment of rage over… blah, blah, blah. Lie, lie, lie. He has to know that was James.
So I just tune that shit out. James is a big boy. If any of us can take care of themselves, it’s him. I check my watch to see how long I have. Three minutes. Once I get past the people outside, I kick my shoes off and run. I know where Nick’s going and I bet I know who Harper was referring to when she mentioned his little problem. I run my fastest all the way down the path that leads to the marina, my feet pounding on the stone path. I take the steps two at a time, making my stupid dress poof up each time I land. And I’m only halfway there when I see them arguing on the dock. This place is quiet. It’s just a small marina to begin with, but tonight it’s dead. No one is down here but us. I creep up as close as I dare, and just barely catch the conversation when she yells. “You’re not leaving me, Nicholas. There’s no way you’re going to take what you came for and walk away from this promise.” Oh, boy. I got a live one. I sneak down the stairs one at a time, so they can’t detect me. I’m a good stalker. I’ve hunted wild animals my whole life. I know how to creep up on them. And this Nicola is definitely one of the wild ones. When I reach the sand, I slip under the stairs and crawl towards them. She’s trying to grab for Nick, but he keeps slapping her hands away. “Stop it,” he growls at her
after she tries to slap him. “I’m not anyone’s promise, OK? So stop begging. It’s sad.” “It’s called loyalty, Nick.” She’s practically foaming at the mouth, that’s how pissed off she is. “You should want to be loyal to me. You promised you’d leave Sasha and marry me.” “You’re delusional. I never said that shit. You’re insane, just like your brothers. You’re an assassin, Nicola. We don’t get promises.” “Liar!” she screams. “You’re a liar. I know you were promised to Sasha. And I’m gonna kill that little—” Nick grabs her by the throat, but she’s already in attack mode. Her body spins, her foot comes up, and she’s about to connect with his face when he grabs her by the ankle and flips her over and throws her down on the hard dock with a crash. She winces, but gets back up to fight again. I’m done with this shit. Nicola’s taking time with Nick that belongs to me. I hike my skirt up and pull the knife from its sheath, tucked into the waistband of my tights. “He said that’s enough.” She backs up and whirls to face me. “Ha! Your little child bride is here to save you, Nick? Are your skills really that bad, Eleven?” “I’m not here to save him, you dumb bitch. I’m here to kill you.” “Right—” The knife sticks her right in the throat. She makes
a gurgling sound and clutches at the blade. But it’s useless. I hit an artery. She falls to the ground choking on her own blood. I look at Nick’s face for a clue to how he’s gonna take this. “I usually warn them that I don’t miss, but she never gave me a chance.” And then I offer a small smile. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t reciprocate the smile. “One had that file, Nick. So I’m here saving the day. I brought him here.” “Do you have it?” he asks, hope in his voice. “You have it!” “I don’t fucking have it! That’s what we were just arguing about. She didn’t believe me. James has it.” “James.” Jesus Christ. Can this mission get any more complicated? I look down at my watch, but I don’t need the time to know that the slaughter has already started. I can hear the AK’s and screaming from the beach. And now we need to go back up there. I grab Nick’s arm as he pushes past me, heading for the stairs. “Don’t go.” “What?” he asks, barely turning to face me. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sash? Harper’s up there!” “James can take care of Harper, Nick. Just don’t go. This is our chance to get out. To get away. Let the gangs take out the Company. James will get
Harper out and meet Merc here in a few minutes. We can get another boat and leave. Let them mess with the files. We don’t need the stupid files.” But the whole time I’m talking, he’s shaking his head. “We need those files more than you know, Sasha. We can’t leave here without them. I can’t leave here without Harper. You stay here, wait for Merc. I’ll go get Harp and James, and we’ll be right back.” “No!” I stomp my bare foot. “No. I’m tired of always being put last. Why can’t you put me first for once? You say you love me, that you’d do anything for me. Then choose me, Nick. Choose me and let’s go!” I push him in the chest and he grabs my wrists and holds them tight. “I did put you first, Sasha. I left you in that hotel and told you to move on. Get a life. Live it. I put you first and you came here looking for me. With this crazy fucking plan that Tet cooked up and you bought like it was on sale for Christmas. What do you think is happening here right now? You can’t plan a job like this and then go half in. You can’t leave your team behind. That’s bullshit.” “I don’t care! I just want us to live. I just want us to get away and live our lives.” “There is no us, Sasha. How do I fucking make you understand? I’m not taking you as a promise. We’re not killing all these people tonight so I can
take you as a promise. When we get out of this mess, you’re going home with James. Not me. So stay here and stay out of sight. Or come with me and be prepared to fight.” And with that, he drops my wrists and starts jogging back towards the stairs. What choice do I have? I follow him into the war zone, hoping and praying we get to leave here together, but knowing damn well we’re probably all going to die. Because isn’t that how James and I planned it? Isn’t that what we decided? Shoot everyone. That was the original plan Tet told me outside the Hummer that day in the Wal-Mart parking lot after Harper was drugged. We’ll shoot everyone. And this party, a party he knew was coming for months, was the perfect place to accomplish that objective. No one left alive. And when your army is a street gang who’ve been looking for revenge for a dozen years, well, all bets are off about who lives and who dies when the bullets start flying.
Chapter Eighty-Eight - James
I laugh one of those maniacal laughs you only see in movies. I know Harper left with my mother and Sasha followed as planned. So I’ve got a few minutes before all hell breaks loose to have some fun. “Vincent?” the Admiral asks. I shake my head. “Wrong.” I watch him come to terms with the fact that I spent last night with his daughter. Hell, I married her—even though it’s not legal, it was still a ceremony of promise and commitment. And he not only watched, but gave me his blessing. “Sorry, Vincent couldn’t join us tonight. He’s not feeling well. Something about seafood poisoning.” The Admiral’s face goes white. “Seriously?” I ask, taking a step toward him. “You of all people should be able to recognize me by now.” I take him by the neck, just like I did One, and have his back up against my chest before security shows up. The little red laser dots flash across the Admiral’s white shirt. “Don’t shoot,” he tells his men.
“We can take him out, sir,” one kiss-ass says. His laser sight flashes me in the eye. I press my gun to the fleshy part of the Admiral’s lower back. “For fuck’s sake, lower that laser before you piss him off and he shoots me for fun.” “Oh,” I say, backing up so I can have a wall behind me. “It’s already been tons of fun, Admiral. Twelve years of good fucking times, right? You thought you’d what? Just keep giving me orders and I’d just keep following them until you decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore?” He doesn’t answer, so I press the gun into his kidneys to help him along. “No,” he groans. “I treated you like a son.” “Yeah,” I say with an ironic laugh. “You sure did treat me just like my father did. But don’t worry, Admiral, you won’t get the same fate. Because you won’t be brought back from the dead like him. I’ll finish the job and end it right.” I spot Sasha running outside in a crowd who figure it’s best to get as far away from me as they possibly can, and breathe a sigh of relief. Harper must be safe and my mother must be dead. I check my watch. Three minutes. Harper appears in the room and people give her a wide berth as she approaches. The Admiral laughs. “There she is.” He says it with some relief as Harper raises her arm, a gun in
her hand. My eyebrows go up as she walks up to us. At first I think she’s aiming for me, but I realize it’s not me, it’s him. Her father. “Harper,” he says. “Do your job, honey.” “What’s my job, Daddy?” she asks sweetly. “Protect me at all costs. Kill Tet. Kill anyone who threatens us.” “Is this part of that brainwashing you did on me?” Fuck. “Because I have to tell you.” She lowers the aim of her gun and I can actually feel the Admiral let out a breath. But that’s before she shoots him in the leg. “It didn’t take.” I have to shake my head, because that bullet was so close to me, I feel the impact in my own body. “Oops,” she says, as the Admiral wails in pain. I let him fall forward onto the ground and take out two security guards. The whole room erupts in screaming and then the bullets start spraying. A woman standing next to me is shot in the torso and blood splatters me in the face. They’re early. Lesson learned. Never fucking trust a gang member to do their job on your time. I grab Harper’s wrist and pull her down to the floor in front of her father so I can keep her safe and relieve her of the gun. “Get the file from One, Harp.”
She crawls over her father’s wounded leg and begins searching One when the Admiral pulls a gun out from his pocket and aims it at me. “Really?” Tet takes over. He grabs him by the neck just as a shot comes from the gun. Plaster from the ceiling showers down on us, but I don’t even notice when a large chunk crashes on top of my arm. Because when I have a man’s neck in my grasp, there’s only one way that shit’s gonna end. Even over the rapid firing of AK’s, I hear the crack. His head goes limp. His body relaxes. And when I look at Harper, she smiles. “We’re free.” “Not yet, lionfish. Now we gotta get the fuck out of here.” The entire ballroom is chaos. People are running, they don’t last long, because the bullets are flying. So the runners fall, littering the floor with blood and bodies. “Crawl with me, Harp.” I get down low and make our way to a banquet table. I lift up the tablecloth, but there are several people under there already. “Out,” I hiss at them, pointing Harper’s gun. They do run, but I grab two of them by the arms and yank them backwards. I pull Harper up as they bolt, and we run with them. Between them. A living shield. A woman goes down in front of me, then a man
behind. But we book it. The people outside are coming in and the people inside are going out as mass confusion ensues. There’s bodies and blood. People trip, fall, and then get trampled. I pull Harper through the French doors and head for the beach. There’s some Company people running the same direction in front of us, but I shoot them and they go down. Another small group is in front of them, but as soon as they hear the shots, they dart off the path to the beach and head for the trees. Sasha’s army will have to take them out. Just as we get to the stairs, I see Nick and Sasha. “We’re gonna make it,” Harper says. And there’s a split second where I really think we might. I almost let myself hope. I almost give in to the happy ending. But that’s when Mistake Number One from my time in Honduras steps out from behind Nick, a gun to his side. Sasha is being held as well. They’ve got a hand over her mouth, making it hard for her to breathe. “Tet,” the deformed Nicaraguan leader laughs. “My pet, Tet! The little girl promised my men you would be here. I admit, I had my doubts. It’s been a long quest, my faithful enemy, but finally, a fruitful one.” He’s got a red scarf wrapped around his head so you can’t see the part of his face I blew off twelve years ago. He looks every bit his age. His dark skin
is wrinkled and worn. The tattoos on his face, a mark that separates them from some of the other gangs, are fading, they are so old. But he lives. He still lives. He laughs. And his evil movie-star laugh is enough to give me the chills. I have not seen him since I was rescued by One. I have not laid eyes on him since that final day in captivity. Even when I was down in San Pedro Sula, I never had the urge to seek him out. Because I’ll be honest here. That motherfucker scares the shit out of me. “My men gave the little girl my word.” He nods to Sasha’s captors and they release her with a shove that makes her fall forward on the ground. “And my word is good, even when dealing with the Company.” Now he looks at Nick and Nick is pushed forward too, but he does not stumble. “And her.” He points to Harper and I have a moment of panic. “Hey.” I divert his attention from Harper. “I just killed One for you. The Admiral as well. She,” I say, nodding to Harper, “killed my mother. The leadership is dead.” And that’s when another shadow emerges from the darkness. “Not quite,” Vincent says.
Chapter Eighty-Nine - Harper
Vincent steps forward, looking a mess from his two-day Ativan coma. His gaze is on me and for some reason, I can’t stop looking at him. It’s such a mind-fuck for him and James to be identical. “Harper,” he says. “Take one fucking step towards her,” James growls, “and I will snap your fucking neck.” The disfigured gang leader laughs as his men come towards James and I expect a huge fight to break out right then, but he doesn’t fight back when they grab him by the arms. He shoots me a look as they tug him from my side, and then he looks over at the leader. “Just let them go. I’ll come with you, but just let the girls go. And let Nick Tate get them to safety.” “James,” I say. But my desperate whisper isn’t even loud enough for him to hear. Sasha is pushed forward and she runs to me, clinging to my waist. We’re gonna let this end like this? We’re four killers. Trained assassins. Surely we can at least put up a fight?
The men walk James to the leader’s feet and then push him down on his knees. He looks up at the ugly man and smiles. “Let them go, Matias. Let them go and I won’t finish what I started twelve years ago.” Matias kicks James in the stomach, making him double over. “Fuck you, perro mascota. My new pet dog.” He squats down so he can look James in the eye and then he presses the barrel of his gun to James’ temple. “You’re not in any position to negotiate. And if you say one more word, I kill those girls right now.” He smiles to reveal only half a mouth of teeth. “And make you watch.” Then he straightens up and takes his attention to Nick. “Let’s walk down to the beach so I can have time to consider my options.” He waves a hand and his entourage starts shoving us towards the steps. James is pushed forward and he begins the descent first, but he’s surrounded by Matias’ security, so I can’t even see him. Sasha and I hold hands on the way down. She’s trembling. For all our bravado, we’re not seasoned in these kinds of confrontations. Not like Nick and James are. I’m terrified. I feel like one of us is about to be murdered, and that is most likely James. When we finally make it to the sand, Sasha and I are pushed off to one side while Nick and James are lined up in front of the ocean. The tide is high, there’s very little beach left at the moment. And I
have a brief moment of anxiety as I worry about the water crashing us against the rocky cliff that is only a few yards away. “Shoot them both,” Vincent says. “Just shoot them. I gave them to you, now let me take the Tate girl and leave.” “Shut up, cabrón. No one is leaving yet.” Sasha hugs me tight, and then she leans into my ear and whispers. “James has the file, Harper. If they take James, they take the files.” “Where the fuck is that guy James said was waiting with a boat?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I see the boat lights in the small harbor. It’s motoring towards us at a very slow rate. Everyone turns to look, but then the engine cuts and it drifts over to the dock and bumps up against it. “Your ride?” the gang leader asks me. I nod. The Hispanic man walks towards us and stops right in front of Sasha. To her credit, she meets his gaze. “We made a deal,” he says. “You gave me what you promised, so I will give you what I promised. Go.” “Nick too,” Sasha demands. “I asked for Nick and I’m not leaving without him.” “Take him,” Matias says with a laugh. “I have the only man I came for.” And then he looks over at James. “Since One is already dead, my new dog, you will pay for his sins instead.”
Sasha grabs my wrist, but I can’t move. I cannot leave here without James. There’s no fucking way I’m walking off this beach and leaving him here. I pull away from Sasha and— “Harper,” James says, from down the beach. “Harper, stop. Listen to me.” I shake my head and back away from the ugly man and Sasha. “I’m not part of this deal.” “You’re damn right you’re not part of this deal. She’s coming with me, Matias.” Vincent walks forward like he’s gonna take me away, but Matias aims at the ground in front of his feet and shoots. The sand flies up in his face, making a cloud of dust. “Someone shut this asshole up.” They go for him, but Vincent is big and he pushes the first guy out of the way. They start fighting, but Vincent breaks away, and the last thing I see is him running into the ocean and diving into a crashing wave. “Shoot him!” Matias calls. “He’s no one. Just a copy of the man here on his knees.” A few men run along the water shooting into the waves, but it’s dark and I don’t see anything. A shot rings out, hitting the cliff behind Matias, and then all four of us have guns to our heads. A voice comes over a speaker from the boat still banging against the dock. “Fenici party of four, your table is ready.”
Sasha snorts, but then the little red laser dot appears on James’ chest. “Let him go, Matias,” the voice in the boat says. “Or I’ll shoot him right now. And if you make me shoot my friend, I’m gonna shoot you next, motherfucker.” “Shoot him!” Matias calls. “It’s a mercy killing. Because we’re going to set him on fire. Right here on this beach.” A man approaches from the stairs carrying two cans of gasoline and Matias walks over to meet him, his arms outstretched. “See how efficient we are?” He stops and looks back at James, who is strangely calm for a man whose fate involves going up in flames in a haze of accelerant. “But don’t worry, dog. I’m not going to kill you, cabrón. I’m going to make sure you live to feel the pain, just like you did me.” He points to another man who is holding a fire extinguisher. “I don’t want you to die, dog. That’s too easy. I’m going to make sure you live to feel the humiliation at being disfigured.” “Stop,” I shout. “Just stop. This is not happening. You are not doing that.” I point to Matias. “I won’t let you.” “You won’t let me?” He walks forward, pushing Sasha out of the way as he approaches and then he grabs me by my hair. I twist under his arm and spin around his back, my hands ready to clamp down on his throat, when a shot rings out at my feet. Matias pushes me to the ground and then smacks
me in the face. “That’s enough, Matias,” James says. “Touch her again and I take someone out. Let her go and you can do whatever you want with me. But you’re gonna let her go first.” “As if you can negotiate,” Matias spits. James smiles. I can see it even in this dim moonlight. “You know I can, motherfucker. You know I can. I’m playing ball with you right now because these girls are here. But you hurt one of them, and I’ve got no reason to be compliant. So let them go. Let Nick Tate walk them up the dock so that boat can take them away. And I’m yours.” “No,” I say from the ground at Matias’ feet. “James, I’m not leaving here without you.” “Take her away, Nick.” James looks at my brother and they stare hard into each other’s eyes. Sasha stands in front of me and offers her hand. I accept and she helps me to my feet. “Let’s go, Harper. Before he changes his mind.” But I shake off her grip and walk towards my new husband instead. There’s protests in Spanish from the gang members, and probably Matias himself, ordering me to stop. But I don’t stop. I walk right up to James and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m not leaving you here. I’m not. I refuse to leave here without you. I can’t live. I told you, I can’t live. I’d rather die than live without you.” His hands wrap around my neck and he threads
his fingers into my hair as he pulls me tight to his chest. “I love you.” And then he sighs. “Wait,” Nick says off to my right. “Wait, Matias. I have another option for you.” I don’t want to hear the option. I really don’t want to hear the option. Because I know what he’s going to say, just by the tone of his voice. “Take me instead.” Sasha screams. “No! No! That was not our deal!” Matias laughs, looks at James one more time, then my brother. He’s considering the options. He’s considering who Nick is. How he might help him. “I have information, Matias,” Nick says quickly. “Information James does not. Information that you will want.” Sasha is still screaming and there are several men holding her back from running up to ruin this deal. Nick’s voice is strained. “The Company isn’t dead, only subdued. I can get you all their assets. I can offer you resources you will never get on your own. I can give you more power than you’ve ever dreamed of. Just let James go. Let him take my sister and the little girl. And don’t ever look for them again.” Everyone goes silent. Even Sasha stops her wailing to wait for the answer. I count the number of times the waves crash as the deformed man stares down my brother. Does he want a way forward into the future? Or does he want revenge for the past?
He walks over to James and stands a few paces off and laughs. “I’ll tell you what. You apologize to me. On your knees. For what you did. And I’ll consider this deal.” James shakes his head and gets to his feet. He walks towards the gang leader, his hands in the air. “Jesus fucking Christ, Matias. It was a job. OK? A fucking. Job. It was never personal. I didn’t kill your family. Hell, I didn’t even kill you. I missed motherfucker. Why do you fucking think that is?” James stops right in front of Matias and I wait for the shot. I wait for the retaliation and the vengeance that will take his life. Take him from me forever. “Did you ever, after all this time, ask yourself why I fucking missed Matias? Did it ever fucking occur to you? Did it ever cross that peabrain of yours that I missed on purpose?” What? Matias shakes his head and laughs. “You want to face me, after all this time, and say what you did was merciful?” “Dude, I was a kid. In a fucking war zone. Your brothers strung me up. I never even got to talk to you about it. You never came to me after you recovered and asked about it.” “You were a spy.” “And you knew I was a spy. You knew because I told you back then and it’s pretty clear now, I don’t work for these people. I work for me. I told you
everything I knew before the shit went down. It’s not my fucking fault you didn’t listen. And now you know. You’ve known since that day twelve years ago. I was telling the truth. And the last time I was down in San Pedro Sula, I stayed clear, asshole. Out of respect. You never saw me. You never heard my name. They never knew I was there.” Matias stares at James. “We knew someone was there.” “No one ever said my name. They never said my name because I never told them who I was. I did my job, which did not involve your gang, and left. It’s a fucking. Job. Matias. And you know the biggest difference between you assholes down there and the Company? They always knew it was business. You take everything personal. You never see the big picture. You let your emotions run your gang. For once in your fucking life, think about your bottom line.” I look at Sasha and she shakes her head. She did not know they had some sort of business relationship. But am I surprised? James always said he worked for himself. And right now, that seems to be true. Because he’s been cheating against the Company since he stated playing the game. “Matias,” Nick says, interrupting whatever is going on between these two killers. “Look man, you can kill James if you want, but I’ll have my
sniper in the boat shoot you at the same time. And you’ll never walk out of here. Or, you can make a deal. You can take me. Leave James and take me and shit gets real easy, real fast.” Matias stares at Nick for a few seconds. Then back to James. I don’t know what the two men are thinking, but somehow, some way, they come to some silent agreement. “Done,” Matias says “Take them now, before I change my mind.” Sasha is wailing again, but James grabs my hand and tugs me along to collect her. “Shut up, Sasha,” he growls at her once he’s got a hold of her arm. And we are dragged from that beach. Me looking back at my brother. Sasha looking back at her promise. We are dragged all the way down to the very edge of the dock where James’ friend Merc waits in the boat. He’s still got the rifle trained on the gang members. But they are climbing the stairs. Sasha is crying as she gets into the boat. “Why? Why did you do that?” She flings herself at James, pounding on his chest. “I hate you! I hate you!” I should hate him too. I should hate James for choosing himself over Nick. But that’s not what happened here. Nick offered himself up for a reason. Several reasons, actually. Me. Sasha. All of us Company kids.
Nick did the only thing he could. Because James is the one who has the file, not him. James is the one who had to live, even if all the rest of us died. Or everything we’ve done over the past year—the death, the struggle, the sacrifice, the pain—along with all the information on those two discs—would be lost to a vile street gang who would have no idea what to do with it if Nick didn’t get James out of there. So I hold Sasha instead. I hold her tight and whisper soothing things in her ear. “They won’t kill him, Sasha. They won’t hurt him either. He will survive. He will survive and so will we.” “He’s gone, Harper. He’s gone.” I know she wants to say more, but the sobbing takes over and she can’t. There’s nothing more to say, anyway. He’s just gone.
Chapter Ninety - Sasha
One week later. Rock Springs, Wyoming
I look around the hotel room and the sadness is overwhelming. I can’t deal. I can’t deal at all. I have lost everything I’ve ever loved to bad people. My mother, who I never even met. My father. My grandparents. And now Nick. My last thread of hope that life would be worth living after all this was done. But it’s not worth living. It fucking sucks. My chin starts to quiver and the tears begin to fall. Again. I’ve done nothing but cry since we got here to the hotel room a few days ago. Harper and James are staying in here with me. Against my wishes. I wanted to be alone, but James refused. Today is the last paid day for this room. The last chance for Nick to come back to me. And it’s almost noon now, past checkout time.
So… Reality. It sucks. James walks through the open door and stands there, a black figure, backlit by the morning sun. “You ready, Smurf?” I shake my head and sit on the bed, staring at the dirty hotel carpet. “No,” I whisper. “No.” “He’s not coming here, Sasha.” “I know.” I swallow down that rock in my throat, but I can’t seem to make it go away. “But I don’t want to leave.” James takes a long breath and sits down on the bed next to me. “I’m sorry.” “I know.” He’s been apologizing for a week now. I’m sorta sick of it. “But Merc sent me a message a little bit ago. He thinks he’s finally figured out how to get the files to open.” I sniff and look up at my friend. “What’s on them?” “Secret money accounts, mostly. Names of all the Company members, of course.” “Huh. All that bullshit for money and names? It’s hardly worth it.” “Yeah, but it’s the non-money stuff you’re gonna wanna hear about.” “Oh, God, no. I’m not interested.” They’ve been talking about the ‘programming’ I was subjected to
by my father. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with Nick being gone, I really don’t need to know that my father was brainwashing me to kill people when I got older. “We still think it’s on there, Sash.” Hearing James call me Sash makes me let out a sob. “Only Nick called me Sash. So don’t.” James takes a deep breath and lets it out. “OK. But that brainwashing stuff might be true, so you need to be aware of it.” “Consider me aware.” “We’re ready to hit the road now, so where should we go? You get to choose.” “I’m not going.” “Sasha, don’t press me,” James growls. “I get it. You’re broken right now. But you’re not gonna stay broken forever. You gotta let that shit heal. And today is the day you start, Smurf. I brought you here so you’d see for yourself. Nick is not coming back, OK? He’s not coming back. He made a deal with that cartel and he’s gonna see it through. And you are thirteen years old. You can’t just wish yourself grown up and start a life with a man who really is. He’s not gonna come back and bring you into that life, Sasha. He’s not gonna take a child bride. Everything he stands for is against what you want him to be. So let him go. Let him make his way in the world. He let you go so you can make yours. Don’t give up. He’d never give up if you
were the one who sacrificed yourself to give him a second chance. He stayed behind for you. So you’d get that information off that disc. Information your father put on there. Information you need.” “I know all this.” “Then snap the fuck out of it, Sasha. He’s not dead, OK?” I don’t respond, so James lifts my chin and forces me to look at him. “He’s not dead.” I shake off his hand and continue looking down at the carpet. “I know he’s not dead. And—” I let out another sob. “And that’s even worse, James.” I look up at him as the tears stream down my face. He tisks his tongue at me and lets out a sigh. “It’s worse because that means he chose to leave me.” And then I can’t hold it in anymore. I just cover my face with my hands and cry. James leans over and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my tears into his soft t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Sasha. I really am. I know you love him. I know you thought you’d have that happily ever after with him. But it was never meant to be, kid. It wasn’t.” “It’s not fair,” I whine. “It’s not fair that you get Harper and I get no one.” “You got both of us, Sobby Smurf. You made out like a bandit. And besides, I didn’t get Harper right away. I had to wait twelve years. She was too young when I fell in love with her. So that’s one
reason why Nick had to leave, Sash. He fell in love with you and you’re too young. He’d be a very bad guy if he didn’t walk away, you have to understand that.” I have nothing to say to that. I know it’s true, but I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want this to be my reality. “So, Harp and I were thinking. We’d sorta like to go see all that dinosaur stuff you talked about back in the desert. We’re close to Thermopolis. We looked that dinosaur place up online. Did you know they were voted number one dinosaur museum in the whole country?” “Duh,” I say. “I’ve been to Thermopolis dozens of times.” “Well, we haven’t. It’s only like three hours away, kid. What better way to spend a summer afternoon than driving up to see some dinosaurs?” I look at him. He’s trying so hard to be here for me. To help me. “Right?” he asks again. I nod out a yes. “I suppose. You guys really don’t know enough about dinosaurs.” I sniff away my leftover sobs. “History is something you should understand, you know.” “I really should, Smurf. I need you, kid.” I look up at him and the tears are back. He leans down and presses his head to mine. “I do, Sasha Cherlin. I need you. I can’t lose you to
this sadness. You have to snap out of it. We’re gonna take our time, OK? We’re gonna take things slow. Go on road trips. See the West from the window of a truck. Just… relax and be normal for a few months before we decide what to do. OK? Sound good?” I nod again. And then we stand up and walk towards the door. I take one last look around the room. I remember Nick, lying on the bed next to me. Telling me these same things. I give up one last sob for what could have been, and walk out. James closes the door behind us. And that’s it. It’s over.
Chapter Ninety-One - James
Six Months Later Medicine Wheel National Historic Landmark Bighorn National Forest Wyoming
“Oh my God, I’m freezing!” “Wimp,” I say to Harper as we climb the hill that leads to the medicine wheel monument. Sasha is way out ahead, halfway up the hill already. “Why in the hell did we wait until December to come to this place?” Harper asks as she hugs herself. It is damn cold up here. Negative two. But we’re all dressed for it. We’ve got the best winter gear money can buy. Merc finally cracked the financial accounts on those files, so there was a windfall payday for all four of us. We didn’t find the brainwashing stuff—not yet, anyway. And maybe it was all a lie. Maybe they just told us that shit to scare us. Or make us do things. Who knows. But if
it was on that disc, it’s very well-hidden. “Brr,” Harp complains again. I know Harper is not that cold, she’s just got an aversion to it. She was excited to see snow the first time, and then she was ready to hit the tropics. But we’re still doing the Dino Smurf tour of the West. So… “It’s the Winter Solstice, Harper. It’s like a big deal or something.” “No,” she laughs. “The Summer Solstice is a big deal. The Winter Solstice is something no one in Wyoming gives a crap about. It’s dark at four o’clock. It’s freezing. And it’s just… wrong.” “Hey, you know what?” “What?” she asks as we continue to climb. “It’s almost sundown. So we can hang out and watch the sunset.” “No, thank you,” she laughs. “I’m all about one quick look at this wheel thing, then we’re out of here.” When we finally get to the top Sasha is just standing there, looking over at the fenced-in area where the wheel is. Should be. “You can’t see it,” she says, disappointed. “The snow is covering it all up.” “Fuck.” I’m such a loser. I never even thought about the snow covering up the rocks. “You can see some of them, Sash,” Harper says. “Look, there’s the tip of one.” The medicine wheel is a wheel made out of rocks
placed in the ground hundreds of years ago by the native people in this area. It’s pretty crooked and if you ask me, you have to use your imagination on the best of days to see a wheel. But even crooked squiggly lines of rocks are better than no rocks. “But you can’t see the spokes,” Sasha says. “I knew it was stupid to come.” She was supposed to come here with her father for the last Summer Solstice. But we were hiding out at Merc’s desert house that night. And her father was dead. So yeah, that trip was canceled. And then she said she never wanted to come see it. We’ve driven by this national forest dozens of times in the past six months hunting dinosaurs. But she refused to stop. Until I offered to bring her for the Winter Solstice. “Let’s go,” Sasha says, turning around to head back down the hill to the truck. “I’m done.” “Wait,” I say, grabbing her jacket as she passes me. “We can make our own spokes. Look.” I walk over to the fence and step over it. The snow is so high along the fence, that’s easy to do. And then I walk out to the center of the circle and lie down in the snow. “Come here, girls. We’ll make our own spokes and watch the sunset.” I expect Harper to be the first to groan, but she surprises me. “Come on, Sasha. We won’t let a little snow ruin our trip.” She walks out to me and positions herself a little to the left, with her head
touching mine. And then she pats the ground on her left. “Here’s your spot, Sasha! Come on.” Sasha’s boots crunch along in the snow as she walks out towards us in silence. She takes her place on Harper’s left and my right. Her head touches both of ours, and she lets out a sigh. “Now what?” “Now,” Harper says. “We watch the sunset. And wait for the stars.” The mountains are so high up this way, the sun is already behind them, but the light hasn’t yet faded. We’re in the perfect moment of dusk. When the air is not yet black from night, but still has that hazy blue-grey of in-between. We’ve watched hundreds of sunsets over the past six months. Not every night. We forget sometimes. But almost every night. That moment passes quickly and then the night is upon us. We lie there, three spokes in a wheel, for several minutes before Harper’s mittened hand points to the sky. “There,” she says. “You can’t see Orion in the summer. So if you came here on a summer night instead, you’d miss him.” Sasha asks questions about the stars and Harper answers them. She tells stories of sailing the seas looking up at the sky to know where they were heading. She tells stories of the constellations and the myths behind them. And Sasha listens with the ear of a girl deeply
interested in these things. A girl who needs more than just one long road-trip as her formal education. This is the moment I decide that my Smurf can’t stay with us anymore. She can’t lose the childhood the Company stole from her. This is the moment I realize, maybe for the first time in my life, that what I’m doing is wrong.
Chapter Ninety-Two - Ford
Christmas Eve - Fort Collins, CO
I pace the length of the front room of our house, staring down at my minions. The face-eaters, as Spencer and Veronica affectionately call them, are lined up in front of the Christmas tree. The blinking lights reflect in their brown eyes. We have three highly trained protection dogs now that Five is here. I look across the open space first floor of our historic bungalow in Fort Collins, and spy Veronica cuddling Five to her chest as Ashleigh hovers over her, talking a mile a minute about our baby. Veronica’s swollen belly, ready to deliver in just a few more weeks, provides a convenient place for little Five to rest his tiny bootied feet. I smile at Ashleigh when I catch her looking at me and she smiles back, rocking a fussy one-year-old Kate to her chest. And then I take my attention back to business.
“Face-eaters,” I say. The term has caught on. They are collectively called that now. “Let’s go through the rules one more time.” I turn on my heel and pace in front of them. “One. You will not drool on her. Two. Licking is by invitation only.” I look at Jimmy for this. He’s our newest addition, purchased once we found out Ash was pregnant with Five. His ears prick up when he notices my attention. He’s a licker, so naturally, he objects to that one. “Three. No sniffing of—” “They’re here!” Rook calls out from the couch in front of the window. I think she’s more excited than anyone. She jumps up and stands in front of me. “Are you ready?” I nod at her. “I was just making sure the minions are on their best behavior.” Rook straightens my tie and then pats me on the shoulder like I need moral support. I kinda do need moral support. This new addition to my family is a big deal. My daughter, Kate, came to me through my wife, Ashleigh. My son, Five, is ours together. So Sasha is more mine than ours at the moment. I feel the need to do this right. To bring her into the fold properly. The doorbell rings and everyone stops talking for a moment. I look back at them and see nothing but smiles. They are excited, but they go back to what they were doing and let me handle it. Spencer and Ronin are sitting at the kitchen table, drinking beer
and laughing about something. Ash and Veronica are still busy with Five and Kate. And my mother is talking to Mr. Li with a little too much interest. “You’re gonna be fine, Ford. Just answer the door,” Rook says. I nod and walk over to the front door. I can see him through the small window. James Fenici is coming to my house for Christmas Eve dinner. And he’s bringing me a kid. Not just any kid. Sasha Cherlin. The girl who started… well, I look around one more time before reaching for the door handle… everything. She started everything. I open the door and Fenici smiles and extends his hand. “Aston.” “James,” I say politely as I shake. And then I look down at his young wife and wish they were all staying. Rook would love to have a friend who is actually younger than her for once. “You must be Harper.” I shake her hand too and move aside to let them in. But it’s the girl who’s missing who makes my heart skip a beat. “Where is Sasha?” “In the truck,” James says. “She’s having a hard time. She said she’ll be in soon. But you know, she’s thirteen. So…” He shrugs. I grab my coat and put it on. And then I gently place Sasha’s present in the box Ashleigh prepared. It’s a red box with a green bow. And the bow stays
on, even if you open the box. Ashleigh says all the best presents have bows attached to the tops. I take her word on that. “Be right back,” I tell my houseguests. And then I walk outside and pull the door closed behind me. Sasha looks out the window of the black truck and I give her a small wave. She does not wave back. I take a seat on the top step of my porch stoop. It’s cold tonight, but not too bad. We can wait her out. It takes her exactly two minutes and seven seconds to decide to come meet me on the porch. And as she walks up the path to my home, I take her in for the first time since I met her last year. She doesn’t smile, but I know the braces are long gone. Removed before her grandparents died. But her hair is long and flowing down her front. And she’s tall too. Much taller than the little girl I met last Christmas Eve. She’s wearing a fancy black coat with fuzzy mittens and hat to match. Her dress is a dark red, as are her shoes. She even has a purse that she clutches in her hands as she walks towards me and then stops at the bottom step. “Hi, Ford.” It comes out fine, but a moment later, she’s crying. She takes off her mitten and wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry.” “You don’t need to be sorry,” I tell her back. “It’s a hard thing to do to leave the people you love.”
She nods her head but the tears stream down her cheeks. “I don’t know what you want from me. James says I have to learn to be a normal teenager. But I’m just not sure I can be that person.” She sniffs and wipes her tears again. “I don’t want to disappoint you, Ford. Because if you left me, or dropped me off somewhere…” She shakes her head and more tears fall down her face. “That’s not what James is doing, Sasha. He’s not dropping you off. He’s bringing you home. To me.” She removes her other mitten and drops them both on the ground so she can wipe her eyes. I grab her present, then stand up and walk down the stairs, picking her mittens up for her, before sitting back down on a lower step. “You wanna know what’s new for me this year?” I grab her hand and tug a little. Just enough to get her to step forward and then sit down on the step next to me. “Sure,” she says, hugging her coat close to keep warm. “Last year when we met, I had no girlfriend, remember?” That makes her smile and nod. “You were so clueless.” “And you were so smart. I owe you big for the lessons I learned from you, Sasha. Because this year, I have a wife, two children, and another on the way.” She looks up at me, surprised. “No. You, Sasha. You’re the one on the way.”
“Oh.” She tucks her hands into her pockets and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not a good candidate for a daughter. I don’t really follow directions. And I’m opinionated and not willing to bend.” She looks up at me. “I’m kinda stuck in my ways and my ways are keeping me stuck. Does that make sense?” “Sure. It makes sense. I’m not expecting you to act a certain way. I just want you to find yourself, Sasha. Find the girl you want to be, instead of the girl you left behind, as Rook would say.” “Rook, the girl-who-is-a-friend?” “Yeah.” I laugh. “Rook. She’s inside waiting for you. So is everyone else. My mother. Ashleigh’s father. My friends and children. We’re all here for you, kid. I told you I don’t celebrate Christmas. But now I have kids. So I do. And I don’t have parties, either. But today you came, so I felt a celebration was in order.” She stares up at me with those blue eyes. “What if they don’t like the girl I am now? What if I can’t find the girl I want to be fast enough for them to like me? I’ve killed people, Ford. I’ve seen things. I’ve lost so much.” She starts crying again. “And I’m angry. OK? There. I said it. I’m pissed off because this life sucks. And I always get screwed over. And just when I get attached to James and Harper and think, OK, this is my family, then they don’t want me anymore.”
“They love you enough to accept the fact that they can’t give you what you need, Sasha. And we can.” “You guys want me to go to school. And be normal. But I’m not normal. I’m a really fucked-up kid.” She looks over at me. “A really fucked-up person, Ford. I’m probably not even safe to be around other kids my age.” “Don’t be silly. And besides, I start filming in New Zealand for that show I’m producing. We leave in a few weeks. So you won’t even go to school this year. We’re gonna go bum around Down Under for six months. Enjoy two summers. Get to know each other. And then next fall, we’ll come home and be a normal family. So we have three whole seasons to practice.” She’s silent after that. And we just sit in the cold saying nothing for several minutes. “What’s in the box?” she finally asks, her curiosity getting the best of her. I pick it up and place it on her lap. “What is it?” Her face turns up to mine when she feels the shuffling inside. And then she laughs and lifts the lid off. The little gray kitten is just stretching out her paws inside the blanket. “Oh my God,” Sasha says. “A kitten. I’ve never had a kitten.” “I wanted another dog, but Ashleigh, pfftt.” I hike my thumb behind me in the direction of the house.
“She put her foot down on that one. We have three face-eaters. So I figured it was fine to get something cuddly.” She lifts up the kitten and brings it to her chest. “For you.” She nuzzles the kitten’s soft fur and smiles. Her shoulders relax. My heart swells with her change in behavior. That a kitten can do this for a sad and broken child, well. It’s touching. “Merry Christmas,” I say. She snuggles the kitten once more, and then takes a deep breath. Like maybe she can do this after all. “Merry Christmas, Ford.” I stand up and offer her my hand. She accepts it. And then we walk up the front stairs to her new home together. I stop at the front door and turn to her. “You’re officially part of the Team now, Cherlin. But first things first. I need you to hate Ronin. No matter how charming he is, you must not fall for it. He may be on the Team too, but we’re mortal enemies till the end.” “Got it,” she says, laughing, as I open the door and wave her inside. She walks into the room and everyone greets her while I stand back and take off my coat and hang it up in the closet. I watch my friends and family as they fuss over her like I told them to. She never had a chance
against Ronin’s charms, but that pretend indifference gives us something to plot about. Making Ronin miserable is good times. Sasha greets everyone and shows James and Harper her kitten. I can physically detect the moment when James sighs with relief. Not because he’s getting rid of her, as Sasha thinks. But because she’s getting a second chance at a normal life. Last Christmas Eve I was sad. I was sad that Rook didn’t want me in the way I wanted her. I was sad that the women I thought were fulfilling a need for me really weren’t. And I was sad that I let my life become so meaningless after my father died. And that night, Rook told me she changed her life by wishing on a star the year before. She went from a sad abused girl to a strong and confident woman. In one year. So I tried it. I was desperate. Like Sasha is probably desperate for change tonight too. Never in a million years would I have thought that wishing on a Christmas star could get me this. So I look out the window real quick and find Sirius, our gift-giver. And I make a wish for Sasha this year. I wish her heart to be mended. Maybe it doesn’t happen in one year. That’s OK. We are patient people. I will be there for her as
long as she needs me. Just please, I ask the star. Make her whole again.
Epilogue - Harper
“What’s wrong?” James asks as we snuggle together on Harrison’s new plane. James gave him a fat bonus for putting up with him all these years. The new plane is nice. And much bigger than the last one. “Just…” I don’t know how to say it so he’s not offended. “Those girls at the party. Rook, Ronnie, and Ashleigh. I like them.” “They like you,” he says, playing with my hair. “And they like Sasha. She’s lucky.” “So lucky. I’m gonna miss her. And I’m gonna miss them too. Even though I just met them tonight, that Rook, she told me a story about her life that... just wow. They all told me stories about themselves. And Ashleigh’s Kate. She’s a Company kid, but they didn’t seem to know that. They never mentioned any Company business. What if—“ “They won’t, Harp. She’s gonna be OK. Sasha will keep an eye out for her. And Merc is close by. Kate will be OK.” “Buckle up, kids. We’re landing,” Harrison says over the speakers.
“I’d like to live in a town like that, James. And have friends like that.” “One day, Harper. We’ll go back. But for now, we deserve some time alone. Don’t you think?” I smile as I sit up and buckle in to get ready for the landing. “Tell me about it again, James. I’m lost in the dream of small town family and friends. So tell me again what we’re doing.” “We’re starting over, lionfish. Two people, one life. We’ve got a sixty foot sailboat in Miami. Just waiting for us to set her loose in the Caribbean.” I picture it. I picture sailing through paradise with my husband. I don’t think about before anymore. I did at first, back when things were still raw and the memory of that night still fresh. My heart hurts for Nick. But I let it go. I let him go. He wanted to take that path in life, and it’s not up to me to stop him. And James is right. Now that Sasha has a new life, we deserve one too. “We’ll spend every day in the sun,” he says softly as the landing gear detracts and our new life gets close. “And every night we’ll watch it set. We’ll explore beaches, and reefs, and each other. We’ll sail across the ocean in the spring and be in Australia for the summer solstice. We’ll see Sasha and her new family then. We’ll see how much happier Sasha is. How she’s moved on. And then we’ll sail back. Or find new places to explore. And
when we get tired of that. Or bored. We’ll start talking about the future. Long term plans, Harp. Babies and houses and best friend kind of stuff. When we’re ready to settle, we’ll carve that life out for ourselves when it’s time. But don’t rush it. Don’t be too eager to get the happy ending, Harper. Because getting there is the fun part.” “Yeah,” I agree as the plane touches down. “It’s the journey that counts. Not the destination.” “Unless the destination is bed. With you.” I press my face into his neck and take him in. He might be crazy. And he’s definitely dangerous. But I like him this way. And I can’t think of a single regret for how we got to be in this moment right now. Harrison taxies down the runway as I look out the window at Florida. After we stop, and Harrison’s crew opens the jet to let us out, James has to lower his trademark shades down his face. Because we walk right out into the sunset.
END OF BOOK SHIT
Welcome to the end of book shit, bitches. This where I get to say anything I want about the book and even though I wrote an EOBS for all the original Company books (Come, Come Back, and Coming for You) I decided it’s been three years since that first novella came out, and it required an update in how things shook out after the publication of The Bend Anthology. Let’s revisit December 2013, shall we? I was just starting to make a name for myself in this crazy world of self-publishing when CD Reiss and I became friends. She is such a talented author and when she approached me about doing an anthology of original erotica stories I gave her a big thumbs up. So she and I wrangled some people together and we collectively became The Erotica Consortium. This was back when “multi-author box sets” were a pretty new thing. Some authors were doing box sets filled with previously published books, but we wanted to do something completely original. We weren’t the first group to do this, but we were definitely in the first wave of that
particular trend. There was no theme to The Bend Anthology other than push-the-limits dirty sex (and boy, did we do that! BEND was banned on Amazon four days after publication), so that’s not where The Company came from. We all just came up with whatever we wanted, and went for it. When I look back at all the success I’ve had in the past three years since Come released, it becomes very clear where it all started. The BEND Anthology ended up being my very first USA Today Bestseller. So my little novella, Come, was the start of something very beautiful for me. When the time came to think up a story for BEND, I had just finished writing GUNS, the “last” book in the whole Rook and Ronin series, and there was one interesting character who I felt needed a little more attention. He wasn’t called James in that book. He was just some mysterious guy who showed up on Veronica’s porch and facilitated the entire epic end of the twisted little story about Ronin, Ford, and Spencer. But I liked him. And if I wasn’t trying my best to bend Guns into a romance and not write a thriller, I’d have made different decisions on where that story went and given him more action. So when it was over, I knew my novella for The Bend Anthology was going to introduce the fans to the real James Fenici.
It started out as a sexy little stalker book and quickly turned into a multi-faceted introduction to Company Kids. I admit, I had no idea where this story was going when I finished Come. I left Harper hanging, James was missing, and I had this damn kid called Sasha Cherlin on my mind. So when I sat down to write Come Back, it was Sasha who ended up driving the whole story forward. I invented her in Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston, as a cute little distraction. But I could not get this kid out of my mind. She was a little Wyoming-bred Nikita and she needed a story. I have always been intrigued by bad-ass girls. Especially assassins. I loved that movie Point of No Return with Bridget Fonda. It always intrigued me because when you think of bad-ass assassin, you think of men like Merc. Or James. You don’t think of Harper Tate, or Sasha Cherlin, or Sydney Channing. And that’s what makes them so interesting. You never see them coming. When Ford walked into that antique mall in Cheyenne in Slack and chatted up twelve-year-old Sasha while he waited for Merc to make an illegal arms deal with her father, you weren’t supposed to picture her with a gun, facing down dangerous men. Or the only girl in the world with the ability to bring down a global shadow organization. But she was that girl from the minute I decided she was wearing tactical pants as she sat quietly in her chair reading Little
House in the Big Woods. Add in the fact that I set Slack up for a Merc story and included a “present” to Ford from Sasha at the end, and well… yeah. This shit was happening. I just didn’t know it yet. Sasha is my favorite female character so far. And she’s had that title since Slack published in December 2013. Her role in Come Back is what makes this whole Company story sing. Just a little girl. Maybe scared. Maybe alone. But definitely not done fighting. And I loved every interaction she had with James. He’s the big brother and the missing father all wrapped up into one insane package. Sasha made James into the guy you all fell in love with, not Harper. It was Sasha who tamed him. It was Sasha who tugged on his heart strings. It was Sasha who put the sane back in sanity for James Fenici. She rolls with the punches, but she hits back too. How could you not fall in love with this kid? And I always knew, ever since the end of Slack when her father was killed, that Ford was her forever father. But after all the gut-wrenching scenes she had with James in this Company story, it was really hard for me to make James do the right thing give her up. I imagined an entire scene when he and Harper left the Aston house after dropping her off. And there were tears in James Fenici’s murderous eyes. Sasha was his moral compass,
even if she never knew it. I have so many favorite scenes in this Company story, it’s ridiculous. And every single one of them are with James and Sasha. The pick-up on the prairie. Sasha pulling a gun out on James when she catches him talking to Merc in Palm Springs. The roof-top scene when she’s missing her father and James gives her his gun to cheer her up. Sasha eating sticky gummy worms in the desert while James and Harper have sex in the visitor center bathroom. The “dinosaur talk” out at Cabazon where James explains what it really means to be a Company kid. And of course, the end of the book when James takes her out to Bighorn National Park and they become spokes in the wheel. I love this story. And I am so thankful that Podium Publishing picked it up for audio and gave it new life. But there’s even more to this story than you realize. Because when Podium picked it up for audio I asked Greg (Podium’s CEO) to ask Tad Branson to be the voice of James. Tad was already the voice of Jax in Wasted Lust and Nolan Delaney in Mr. Romantic, and since then he’s gone on to lend me his voice for Case Reider in the Anarchy Series and Quin Foster in the Turning Series. Tad is basically my favorite audio narrator ever. So Greg did me this favor, Tad said yes, and it was fantastic. Hold on, there’s one more thing you need to
know about Tad. That’s not his real name. His real name is Johnathan McClain and he’s an actor. A damn good actor. He was just using this Tad name for the more sexy books he’d been narrating. I knew he was Johnathan McClain from the beginning because I asked for him specifically for the Wasted Lust book back in 2016. But after finishing the Company he sent me an email. We’d been chatting a little on Twitter and in email since the release of Mr. Romantic… so he sent me this email telling me his loved this Company story and would I like to collaborate with him and write a TV pilot about the Company? Um. Yeah. Not just because I love this story and pretty much every writer dreams of seeing their books come to life, but also because Johnathan and I just… click. He gets me. I get him. And he’s a very talented fucking writer. So that’s what we did. We wrote a TV pilot and it’s done. We’re already working on other projects together as we shop that thing around Hollywood. We made a video about it and released it on my website and our social media last week. So if you’d like to hear the whole story about how we became partners, be sure to check that out on my website, www.jahuss.com. I am thankful to Johnathan for lending his voice to James and Ava Erickson for being the perfect Harper/Sasha. And I’d just like you to know… I’m
not done with these people. Not at all. I love them way too much to let them fade into obscurity. Thank you for taking a chance on this Company stuff. For sure, it’s not your typical romance. But it’s very romantic. And if you’d like to continue reading about James, Merc, Sasha, and Harper (as well as meet Sydney Channing), then be sure to check out Meet Me in the Dark next and get all your final questions answered in Sasha’s grown-up book, Wasted Lust. (Both of which are available on audio.) Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and I’ll see you in the next book. Julie JA Huss
About the Author
JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than fifty books. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending. You can read her writing craft and marketing articles at her website and chat with her on Facebook, and Twitter. If you're interested in getting your hands on an advanced release copy of her upcoming books, sneak peek teasers, or information on her upcoming personal appearances, you can join her newsletter list and get those details delivered right to your inbox. JA Huss (still) lives on a dirt road in Colorado (and still) pretty far from the nearest post office. So if she owes you a package from a giveaway, expect it to take forever. She lives on a thirty-six acre ranch with two donkeys named Paris & Nicole, a
ringneck parakeet named Bird, and a pack of dogs. She has two grown children who have never read any of her books and do not plan on ever doing so. JA collects guns and likes to read science fiction and books that make her think. JA Huss used to write homeschool science textbooks under the name Simple Schooling and after publishing more than 200 of those, she ran out of shit to say. She started writing the I Am Just Junco science fiction series in 2012, but has since found the meaning of life writing erotic stories about antihero men that readers love to love. JA has an undergraduate degree in equine science and fully planned on becoming a veterinarian until she heard what kind of hours they keep, so she decided to go to grad school and got a master’s degree in Forensic Toxicology. Before she was a full-time writer she was smelling hog farms for the state of Colorado. Even though JA is known to be testy and somewhat of a bitch, she loves her #fans dearly and if you want to talk to her, join her Facebook fan group where she posts daily bullshit about bullshit. If you think she’s kidding about this crazy autobiography, you don’t know her very well.
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