Another impressive dick in under twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, that dick happens to be attached to a dick.
“It was nice knowing you, Alexa.” His voice is honey as he practically purrs in my ear, nipping it to accentuate his words. The hard press of muscle against my back sparks heat low in my belly.
And then he’s gone.
I watch the retreating shadow of him as he gets a running start and launches himself higher off the brick wall of the alley using parkour. Grabbing onto an emergency escape, he uses his upper body strength to pull his way up the metal bars, slipping over the rooftop and out of sight.
Showoff.
No longer being watched, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rounding the corner, I make my way the remaining two blocks to the large house. The sharp peaks look like they’re flipping off the sky. Home sweet home.
Swinging open the wrought iron gate, it lets out a groan that suddenly seems ominous.
I head to the large, black front door, not bothering to fumble for my keys. It’s never locked. Why would it be? We’re more dangerous than anything on the outside trying to get in.
Inside, only silence greets me. That’s typical of the night. Assassins are nocturnal creatures. We do our best work after dark. Less eyes. More cover. Easier kills.
Before I can leave the entry way, I hear the deep, nearly seductive, timber of Armond.
“My sweet little Hart.”
I hate when he calls me that. An affectionate term a parent would call their child, but he’s not my guardian.
However, he’s the closest thing to a father figure that I’ve ever had.
My teeth grind together, but I quickly school my face and paste a sweet smile on my lips. “Armond.”
“You’re home early.”
“I ran into a bit of trouble.”
“That’s unlike you.”
I hum in agreement. It is unlike me. I’m efficient. I’m the best. Or I was until I met Tylin and his gang of brutes tonight—minus one. I’ve yet to meet my fourth mark, but it’s only a matter of time.
“It is, but this time it couldn’t be helped.”
“You didn’t take out the marks I sent you.” He tsks as he steps from the shadows into the light at the top of the stairway. The railings are elaborate—intricately carved, dark, stained wood and his hand rests along the top banister.
His tan skin stands out against his white button down. The gray slacks he wears are tailored to perfection. Armond is nothing if not impeccably dressed at all times. Pristine, even.
He lets his assassins do all the dirty work, and that irritates me suddenly.
“Neither did Jared.”
“So you know I’ve already been disappointed in the past.”
“He died. I didn’t.” Jared was an amateur. Why Armond sent him after them in the first place is puzzling.
“Yet.” The threat in his voice is clear. If Tylin’s crew doesn’t kill me first, he’ll do it himself if I fail. He doesn’t have to say it for me to know it’s true.
“Like I said, I ran into a complication. It’s only temporary. The marks you sent…” I make a split-second decision to out the guys. If he thinks I’m hiding anything, it’ll destroy any trust he has in me. Plus, he had to know that I know they used to be assassins. I’m too smart to miss that little fact, and there’s no way that I’d overlook the mark with the way that I kill; up close and personal. My mind flashes to the personal view I got of Tylin, but I shut that shit down fast.
Somehow, this seems like a test. There’s more to both sides of this story than anyone is letting on, and now I’m in the middle of it.
“…or should I say the assassins you sent me to take out gave me pause. I was caught off guard when I saw the mark. It was enough to lose my advantage.” I shrug like that little tidbit of information is no big deal. He doesn’t buy it.
I don't say it, but an assassin came after me tonight. I won't ask him if he sent him. I can't. An ignored voice in the back of my mind is screaming for me to ask.
