Page 4

CHAPTER 4

A KILL INTERRUPTED

Nadira

M ake it look like an illness.

The Emir, a seventy-five-year-old gentleman, is attending a political summit. Dignitaries, royalty from numerous nations, aides, security, influence chasers, and more pack the ballroom. The combined body heat causes the staff to open the patio doors, permitting the brisk winter air to cool the room.

I spy my quarry. Dressed in the hotel’s official uniform, I blend in with the wait staff and mill close to him. He wears the traditional white thawb and a patterned kaffiyeh. Although I don’t research my marks’ backgrounds, it’s hard not to know about this one. His handsomeness makes people forget about his cruelty, but my job isn’t to bring feelings into my work. Am I elated that after tonight he will no longer torture women and children? Almost as much as being the person to end him.

His bodyguard stops my roaming with a hand on my arm. “Fetch the emir a glass of nabidh.”

I do as requested, making sure to use the specialized ice prepared just for the emir before returning to the bodyguard who gave me the initial order. The chemical compound in the hotel’s custom-shaped ice ball will have the desired effect.

He takes the tray with the drink and approaches the emir’s table. I don’t envy the rapid symptoms the man will develop tonight, but it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. As I step back to find the unobtrusive hiding space I picked the day before, the tingling along my nape returns. I search the floor, unwilling to discount my instincts this time. I shift to the left and a high-powered whizz passes by my ear. Then the screaming begins.

I spin to see the emir slumped over his table, a bright red spot making a mockery of the pristine white tunic he’s wearing. The spot grows, making it obvious that someone shot and killed the man.

As the truth sinks in, fury replaces my calm assessment. Someone stole my kill! I recall the whizzing sound to figure out the trajectory of the bullet. When I identify the location where the shot must have come from, I search the ceiling for any movement. While chaos reigns behind me, my intense focus pays off. A deep shadow moves eastward.

After discarding a few options, I bank on where I would make my exit route if my job had been to make things look like an assassination. With haste driving me to catch the person who’s marred my perfect record, I rush to the place in my mind: the office building three structures away.

No one notices me as I sprint to the other building. I check my watch and the surrounding area. Everyone walks about casually, but that means nothing. I take the risk that he hasn’t left the property and I slip inside. Faint footsteps from above spur me into action. On the third-floor landing, I stumble to a halt.

“You!”

He stops and grins. Grins! “Fancy meeting you here, Keeper.”

A sharp pain slices through my head, but I try to shake it off.

“As much as I’d like to stay and chat, here and now’s not a good time.” He grabs my elbow and starts running down the stairs with me.

I need to fight him off, but I’m too disoriented to do anything other than follow him out of the building and to his waiting vehicle. Flashes of a room full of metal cabinets sear through my brain, causing me to clutch my head.

“Keeper?” His concern reaches me through the fog, but more images bombard me, places I’ve never seen and can’t identify.

“Stop the car,” I say while taking in gulps of air.

He pulls over and I run out to collapse on the sidewalk and heave. He appears beside me to rub circles on my back and lifts the hair from my neck. Nothing comes out but acid burns the back of my throat. Cool air hits my nape and the soothing action at my spine helps to center me in the present, forcing the pictures and sounds in my mind to fade.

“Here.” He hands me a bottled water.

I glare at him, then at the bottle.

“It’s not drugged.”

After a few seconds of internal debate, I snatch the bottle and chug it.

“We haven’t gone far enough to be safe.” He ushers me back to the car.

“Who are you?” I ask.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye. A flash of pain briefly darkens his gaze and he presses his lips in a weary line before he schools his expression.

What have I said to cause that reaction?

“Considering our professions, I doubt you’d believe me.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He nods. “I have a few names. Tell me when you recognize one. The first, someone I was very fond of gave me. She called me Trapper.”

Again, pain slices through my head. This time the ache is more tolerable than the last. “That doesn’t suit you.”

He firms his lips and his nostrils flare while he gets whatever bug he’s got up his ass under control. “Then you might recognize Reaper.”

“You’re fucking lying.”

In our circle, the Reaper matches me for record kills. He’s pulled off some of the most daring assassinations with high-profile targets even more important than the head of a royal family.

Reaper pulls up to my hotel, and all the reasons that had me running to beat his ass come to mind again. The valet takes his car and he ushers me to a different floor. Curious, I remain quiet as he opens a suite door.

I follow him inside.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions—” He dodges the knife I send flying in his direction. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“You stole my target and you’re staying at the same hotel? Why are you stalking me? Did someone send you to kill me?”

He blocks my roundhouse kick with laughable ease and every punch I throw at him. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

I step back to reassess the situation. My anger is controlling my reactions and I’m betraying my intentions if he can predict my strikes.

“If I was sent to kill you, you’d be dead. I didn’t gain my reputation because I’m shitty at my job.”

“Okay, then explain yourself. And leave nothing out.” I stretch my neck and relax my pose.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His eyelids lower and smokey heat enters his golden irises. “Let’s take our time getting to know each other.”

When he is close enough, I grab his arm and toss him over my head, but he’s as agile as I am. He spins mid-air to land on his feet. Then he uses the momentum to trap my arms to my sides. My back presses against his broad, muscular chest in a hold that feels more intimate than it should, and he tumbles us to the ground. He absorbs the impact from the fall before wrapping his legs around mine and immobilizing me.

“As much as I love the feel of your arms and will gladly wrap myself around you if you ask, I’d prefer doing so with fewer clothes and more kissing.” His sinful voice is too close to my ear, causing my insides to run amok. His lips brush against my ear. “And sucking,” he says before drawing my lobe into his mouth and demonstrating the action he mentioned.

My body locks up while I try to understand what’s happening to me. I haven’t breathed a full breath since he caught me and my skin is so sensitive I feel the individual fibers in my clothes rubbing against me. My breasts swell and my nipples harden. When my eyes start to close, I jolt, pulling my ear away from his distracting mouth.

“And definitely more licking.” Undaunted by my evasive move, he takes advantage of the opening I’ve given him by twisting my face away, and he proceeds to the sensitive skin under my chin. With a flick of his tongue, he flays me. Untamed desire that I don’t know what to do with keeps me weak and at his mercy.

“I knew your taste would make me an addict.” The velvety softness in his voice winds around my will, imprisoning it, and my body loses resistance.

This man is an unknown. He could be my enemy, sent to seduce me before killing me. But all that begins to fade the longer I stay in his arms. He presses closer to me, and my head falls back further, as I unconsciously grant him more room to taste me.

With his arms and legs wrapped around me, my hips are the only body part I can move to get leverage. I need to get away from him and these unwanted desires. I brush against him and freeze when his hardening length presses against my ass.

He groans, and the sound travels to my clit, causing me to gasp at the sensation.

“Who are you?” I put together enough words for a competent question.

He pauses and drops his head on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have started something I couldn’t finish.” He kisses my shoulder and his regret transmits to my heart. “When you wake up, come find me. My name is Julian Caddel.”