Page 9 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)
“You can’t keep letting your past affect your future. You never run from anything else, so confront her and find a resolution or this will never go away. Better yet, let me confront her. I’ll take care of it permanently.”
Fuck, Pheonix only dares to bring up she-who-shall-not-be-named when they try to send me take to the States. I head back to the bar cart for a refill. Not to avoid her question, but because I’m going to need a lot of liquor to get through this conversation.
After a long swallow, I say, “I’m sure it’s at the other end of the country, so there’s no reason for me to see her.”
I glance over to find pity in her eyes.
Pity? Oh, hell no!
My lip curls in anger as I finish refilling both of our tumblers, then lift hers in a silent toast, a mocking salute to misery.
Eyes locked on hers, I tip the glass and finish the contents in a burning gulp, daring her to comment on the consequences of drinking eight shots in half an hour.
Abandoning her empty glass on the bar, I take mine over to the couch to grab the envelope, my knuckles turning white on the crystal glass.
Her jaw drops, and she places a hand on her chest in mock surprise.
But I successfully made my point. Fuck her pity. I’m not here for that shit.
When I open the toxic thing and scan the page, my eyes catch on two things: I’m going after an assassin, which is unsurprising—although not necessarily palatable—because Umber uses me for their most challenging missions. Second, the job is in my fucking hometown.
My eyes flick above the papers held in my tight grip.
“You knew?”
Her entire body deflates like a balloon, and she sinks back against the couch as I down my drink. Sensing her tension, the rat’s claws click on the floor as he scampers from the kitchen to jump on the couch and nestles against her thigh.
A perfect emotional support rat. Jesus H. Christ, I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.
“You know I did. This didn’t come through the normal channels, Blade. It came straight from Umber. Directly from Esther Wilder herself.” Her fingers stroke Sally’s fur absently.
“Zeph ordered me to come home, so he must be in on the job.”
Phoenix shakes her head. “No. All he knows is you’re to have his clean-up crew handle this one once the job is complete.”
“Hmm, unusual to be sure. And we’ve never gone after one of our own before. I don’t like it.”
“Oh, they’re not one of Umber’s. But you haven’t gotten to the worst part yet.”
I glance back at the assignment and my headache returns. “I’m supposed to work with the fucking FBI?” I pace the length of the living room. “One, I work alone. Two. I absolutely do not work with the fucking FBI! And three, I’m not going back to the US.”
“Apparently, this one’s on Umber’s payroll. They’ve been working on unmasking Wraith for years and they’ve lost patience with this unsanctioned assassin,” she says, ignoring my insistence about not leaving home.
I sigh, but nod my head. Understanding why I’m tasked with taking out an assassin is easy. But it’s still not happening.
“They’re squatting on Umber’s territory.”
“Exactly, so as much as you abhor the idea, you’re working with the FBI.”
I spin around—still pacing like a caged tiger—and run a hand over my head, trying to hold back my pent-up anger.
“Fuck.” I throw my empty glass, and it breaks against a wall, glass tinkling across the wood floor. “Fuck!”
Phoenix shifts and looks at my cleaning closet with the broom, but I stop her with a warning sound and a heated glare. It was a hard lesson learned so long ago, but I clean up my own messes.
“You better get ready. Your flight leaves in three hours. I’ll take care of your plants and Sally while you’re gone.
” Phoenix pulls the stupid dog into her arms and soothes her hand over his ear.
“But you’ll have to leave me your Black Card so I can buy Sally every…
little… thing he needs.” She pauses with each word to drop kisses on his head.
“I’m not fucking going back, Phoenix. And there’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I’m settled here now. Tell Esther to find someone else.”
If only ‘You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here’ applied to me this time. Fuck Esther and her mother-fucking orders. Fuck Umber for trying to make me go back to the United States. This isn’t part of our deal.
For eight years, I’ve killed some of the most influential people in the world. Quietly. And with the exception of tonight, I’ve fucking flawlessly taken out every mark and solved the company’s more intractable problems. I deserve better treatment than this.
I’ve eaten the finest food and fucked the finest women on the planet.
Hung my hat all over the world before settling in Hamburg—if having a couple of plants count as ‘settled’…
It’s more like a base of operations. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going back.
As far as I’m concerned, we split eight years ago, and she got the USA in the fucking settlement.
Then, the sound of a muffled phone rings, bringing both of our gazes to the damn envelope.