Page 26 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

Priya

I stewed in my rage for hours, physically shaking with it. Every new thing I uncovered, every sign that he’d prepared to just abandon me here in a house I barely knew, in the middle of fuck knows where, just incensed my rage to destructive temperatures.

The copy of Alice in Wonderland he’d left on the coffee table, beside several books about marine biology I had on my kindle but hadn’t got around to reading yet.

The fridge full of goats cheese, seasonal vegetables, halal meat, fresh herbs, and my favourite desserts. The door stacked with bottles of fresh juice, milk, cola, and individual chocolate milk cartons, each arranged lovingly with precise attention to detail.

The stack of clothes waiting on a chair by the table—all his shirts, carrying the now-familiar scent of too-sweet coffee and rich, sumptuous chocolate. The scent of my captor, I reminded myself, because it was too easy to get caught up in Arden and forget why I was here.

His laptop was gone, probably locked in the safe I found in one of the cupboards. Mine, too, no doubt. No phones, no tablets, nothing I could use to reach the outside world. Just books, the TV, a fully stocked fridge, and clothes I couldn’t actually change into because I was chained at each wrist.

I exhaled hard, aware it made me look like a bull, and crossed my arms over my chest as I glared at the TV.

Aegi bared her teeth and hissed. Because I was alone, I pulled my own lip back from my teeth and hissed back.

Her ears flattened to her head, and I had the sense I was about to be attacked, but then those ears flicked straight up and swivelled.

Relief struck my chest first, that Arden had returned so soon.

But he said he’d be gone for days and all his preparations backed up that statement.

He’d only been gone four hours, five max.

Yet, Aegi climbed to her feet on the tufted armchair, her ears pricked, and I did the same, creeping into the kitchen on soundless feet.

The drawer opened with a low grumble, then there was a kitchen knife in my hand.

It would have been nice to have underwear.

In the absence of knickers, I shoved my feet into Arden’s spare pair of trainers, quickly fastening the laces, my eyes glued to the door.

Maybe Aegi was overreacting, maybe it was a fucking squirrel, but she was still watching the door, still swivelling her ears as she listened.

Distracted enough to forget her feud with me.

When a minute passed and no one burst through the door, Arden or otherwise, I cast a dirty look at the cat.

But then I heard something. A scrape, like a rubber boot sole over hard packed dirt.

Intentional, when every other step had clearly been soundless.

Whoever was out there wanted me to know about it.

I weighed the knife in my hand, adjusting the angle of my wrist, eyes on the door.

Only years of training kept my breathing steady, my heart forced into an even beat.

A tingle went down my arms as I stood there, six feet from the door, my body loose and ready, every scale and atom in my body waiting for the attack.

Maybe they thought they could lure me out.

If they thought I was the sort to throw open the door and shout who’s there?

they didn’t know me very well. Although…

they weren’t here for me, were they? This was Arden’s cottage.

And someone had already paid me to kill him after all.

It stood to reason that when I failed, they’d sent another professional to do the job.

The moment the door swung open, the knife was already flying.

I ground my teeth, hating that I aimed for a non-lethal target, but if it was Arden, I didn’t want him dead.

We had unfinished business. But if I managed to kill him, I could still cash in and…

and what? I was chained, captive, and if I killed my captor I would waste away here.

No one was looking for me. Grandfather wouldn’t care. I had no one else.

And it would be a shame to kill a man with such a pretty face. So, the knife flipped end over end, nowhere near perfectly balanced but enough to drive deep into the shoulder of the tight black, long-sleeved shirt stretched across… huh. Across Icarus’s chest.

A vicious smile pulled my lips from my teeth, and I widened my stance, assessing the man I hadn’t seen in years. The assassin I hadn’t seen in years.

“Still not wearing Kevlar, Icarus?”

I regretted not taking the kill shot. I could have thrown the knife into his throat, and he’d be on the floor bleeding out by now.

Icarus was a pro, over thirty years old and ex-army.

His list of neutralised targets stretched so long it required a scroll, too many to fit on a sheet of A4 paper.

The fact that he was here was not fucking good.

“Arden’s not here, and don’t ask me when he’s coming back.

If you want to kill him, you’ll have to wait.

” I gave him a slow smile, subtly assessing him for any injuries, for anything throwing off his gait as he flowed a step closer, giving me the same once-over.

Icarus was built like a tank, full of obvious power, his hair buzzed short to his skull, his expression calculated but otherwise empty of feeling.

I’d met him once before, at one of Grandfather’s get-togethers, and got that prickle of warning your instincts gave when someone was capable of hurting you.

We’d later realised he accepted the invitation because he’d been sent to kill my cousin, Omar. No great loss as far as I was concerned, but Omar was lethal, and a bully. He fought dirty, and I had the scars to prove it. The fact that Icarus had killed him spoke for itself.

No one knew this bastard’s name. Just Icarus.

“I’m not here for Arden,” he replied, noting the chains and probably estimating how close I could get while they were looped around my ankle and wrists. The chill that had spread through me when I knew someone was outside intensified now that I knew he was here for me. Great.

“You’re not my type,” I told him, backing up a step towards the kitchen.

There were more knives. I really regretted not throwing the first into his throat when he surged towards me without even a shift of his body weight as warning.

Goosebumps rose on my chest, but I blasted through the fear and jumped aside, evading his grasping hands.

He’d drawn no weapon, but I knew there were plenty concealed on his person.

Probably a gun down the back of his tactical pants. No doubt knives. Possibly even poison.

Aegi hissed bestially as I leapt into the kitchen, grasping wildly at the counter, knocking off the ceramic tea and coffee canisters.

They shattered on the floor at my feet, and my heart thundered even as I tried to control it.

Would there be enough time to crouch and grab a broken shard, or would that give Icarus the chance to reach me?

“I should thank Arden McFadyen,” Icarus remarked in a low, unenthused voice as he strolled closer, his heavy boots tracking dirt into the living room.

He was the kind of man who didn’t get excited for anything, not even killing.

Droll and dull and harsh, like a drill sergeant. “He’s made my job easier.”

“Your job being…” I prompted, little frissons of warning shooting across the back of my neck and down my spine, shivering across the fine hairs on my arms. I had no plan beyond finding a weapon and defending myself.

I was dressed in a loose shirt, chained with restricted movement, and I was fucking commando. This wasn’t going to end well for me.

“The Lynch family weren’t satisfied with how you handled Frederic Lavigne.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hissed and threw my hands up. “That wasn’t even me. That was Arden’s brand of insanity. I just found the unfortunate sod—”

Chaos exploded all at once. Aegi startled when I threw my hands up, leaping into the air with a throaty hiss as she set herself upon Icarus. Huh. I thought she’d be more of a run and hide kinda girl.

I took advantage of his distraction to not only bend and grab a sharp ceramic piece but snap up another knife from the drawer.

In seconds, I was in motion, jumping over the sofa to land beside Icarus’s intimidating form, driving the coffee canister shard into the wound I already opened in his shoulder.

When he roared and swiped at me, I swung the knife up, but he was fast, and wickedly strong.

I’d planned it to pierce his stomach, or best-case scenario find that sweet spot under his ribs that allowed me to stab his heart, but neither happened.

Rough hands ensnared my hair where it fell loose around my shoulders, and he dragged me forward.

I managed to keep my balance, forcing my feet flat to the rug, grounding myself as a coiled fist drove into my stomach, punching the air from me.

Aegi was yowling now, that horrific sound cats made when they fought in the street at three in the morning.

Cats fought over territory, I remembered from my hasty research when I met Arden the first time.

And Icarus had stepped into Aegi’s territory, so she propelled herself at him with claws unsheathed.

A smirk flickered on my mouth even as I fought to remember how to breathe, the pain a star exploding through my middle.

“You’re messy, Rook,” Icarus said in that dull, uneventful voice. I rolled my eyes. “With all the traces you left at the scene, you were far too easy to track here. Did you and the McFadyen whelp kill Freddo together, before running off to this love shack?”

“A) I did not kill him. I planned to kill him before my target was rudely stolen from me by a psychotic madman who’s horribly in love with me. B) Love shack? Do you not see these fucking shackles?”