The Accidental Assassin (19 page)

“Not here. Come with me.” He pulled me into a small clothing shop and pushed me toward the back. “Wrap it in your sweater and we’ll put it in my bag.”

Grabbing a shirt from a random rack, I headed toward the back where the fitting rooms were located. I pulled the curtain closed and spun in a circle. There was a full length mirror, a hook, and nothing else. I hung the shirt on the hook, checked the curtain one more time and ripped off my sweater. Throwing it on the floor I reached behind me and tried to pull the gun out of the holster without shooting one of my buns off. It wouldn’t budge, so I had to unbutton my jeans. Peeking over my shoulder I tried to pull the pistol and holster off at the same time, but it was stuck in there good. Becoming frustrated, I yanked as hard as I could. The gun and holster came free from my pants and spun in the air. Whipping around, I tried to juggle it between my hands, but was terrified my finger would catch the trigger.

With a loud clunk, the gun hit the floor and I squeezed my eyes shut. As soon as I realized it hadn’t gone off and that I hadn’t been shot, I scrambled to pick it up from the floor and wrap it in my sweater. Really, I knew better. Guns didn’t just go off when they were dropped, but it was hard to fight that immediate reaction.

I looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. My face was pale and there were circles under my eyes. I had slept well the night before—being exhausted had a way of making sure you did that— but nightmares had made it difficult to truly rest. A tap on the wall next to the curtain made me scramble around and shove the sweater-wrapped gun behind my back.

“Someone’s in here.” My voice was too high.

“Everything okay in there?” Owen’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah. I’m just finishing.” Grabbing the shirt from the hook, I tucked my sweater under my arm and pushed the heavy material out of my way. “Didn’t fit.”

Walking over to the rack I replaced the shirt and turned to Owen. “Ready?”

“Are you?” He placed a hand on my cheek.

“Yeah.” Sure I was ready. Why wouldn’t I be ready to march into the house of the man that wanted to hold me hostage? Pfft. I shrugged and handed him my balled up sweater. “Here, put this in your bag, will you?”

He took the hidden gun from my hand and stuck it into his bag. “Let’s go.”

Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me out of the shop. “Do as I say. I don’t know what Marcus has gotten himself into, but I have a feeling it’s ugly.”

“Gee, you think?” I fidgeted with my shirt as we walked. It kept falling forward, the neckline revealing more cleavage than I wanted.

“Leave it.” Owen’s eyes dipped down to the top of my breasts.

“What?” My eyebrow raised in annoyance. Now wasn’t the time for him to be telling me how to dress. In fact, never would the perfect time for him to tell me how to dress.

“It’ll work to our advantage.” His eyes moved up to my face. “It will make you look vulnerable and distracting.”

“Vulnerable?” I sneered. “That’s the last thing I want to look like!”

“It’s always better to be underestimated, Ava.” He reached over and grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening enough to make me glare at him. “I’m sorry, but we have to make this look right.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I pulled on my arm but he didn’t let go.

“I’m taking you to my brother.” Without missing a step, he marched directly to the front door of the house he had pointed out earlier.

“Owen.” I pulled on my arm a little. “You’re hurting me.” Being restrained was starting to make me panic, despite my brain’s reassurances.

With a quick movement he threw his bag at the feet of the man standing guard on the steps. “I need to see Marcus.”

“Yeah, and I want to be King.” The man shrugged lazily, but I could feel his eyes sweeping my body. “So what?”

“Tell him his brother is here and that I want to make a trade.” Owen pushed me forward, but didn’t let go.

I looked up at the man gripping my arm. His eyes were hard and cold. I swallowed. I liked it much better when Owen was fighting a smile or looking at me with a slightly confused expression. This Owen was distant and rigid as if his stare would cut through metal.

The man spoke into a little piece of plastic attached to his shirt. We stood there, my heart beating so loudly I knew everyone could hear it. I glared at the man on the steps as he leered down at me.

“Come in.” The man opened the door and motioned for us to step inside. Owen pulled me along quickly and I sneered at him, continuing with my difficult hostage act. Inside, two men were waiting with guns drawn. Owen let go of me and held his arms out at his sides. One of the men stepped forward and patted him down, taking the weapons he had stashed in his pants and shirt. I had seen him hide all of them, but it still amazed me to see the pile that was growing on the table in the small foyer. His gaze was blank, as if there wasn’t a thought in his head.

“He’s clean.” The man stepped back and looked at the one holding the gun.

“Take the girl downstairs.” His gruff voice sent chills down my spine and I froze at the thought of what was downstairs.

“No.” Owen’s voice brokered no argument. “She’s my hostage. She stays with me until the trade is done. Or no trade, and I walk.”

“Boss said she gets put in the stables, you can barter by yourself.”

“The stables? Are you fucking serious?” The words burst out of my mouth before I could rethink them.

“Shut up, bitch.” The man with the gun looked at me. “You’ll do as you’re told.”

“She stays with me until I get what I want.” Owen stepped forward until the gun pressed into his sternum. “Or I kill you all and take what I want anyway.”

“Yeah right, mate.”

There was no hesitation in Owen’s movement when he grabbed the gun, breaking the man’s hold on it at the same time he delivered a painful, cracking kick to the man’s knee. The man crumpled to the floor, his face twisted in pain, and the sound of his neck snapping filled the foyer.

The other man took a step back, but it was too late. Owen moved so quickly there was nothing that could stop him. He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

Owen looked down at the man on the floor and pointed the gun at his head. “Did you think Marcus hired all of you to protect him because I would be easily intimidated?”

“Fuck you.” The man glared at Owen.

Owen’s finger tightened on the trigger and I was certain I was about to be covered in the man’s brain goo. He stopped just before looking toward the people making their way downstairs. Four men with machine guns stopped and stared at us, their faces set in angry lines. My heart dropped as they pointed their guns in our direction. For one beat of my heart I was certain we were about to be mowed down by a thousand bullets. But then a radio crackled, and a voice came over it, sounding steady and also bored.

“Hold your fire. Guns down.”

The man that had checked Owen for weapons grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest. I wasn’t sure if he was intending to use me as a human shield or if he thought having control over me equaled control over Owen. If it was the latter thought then our ruse wasn’t worth playing any longer. Hoping that wasn’t the case I fought against him, but I couldn’t break away. Owen’s eyes darted to me before lowering his gun. With a few quick movements he dropped the clip and kicked it across the room before flipping the gun over in his hand and bringing the butt down across the kneeling man’s temple. The bodyguard crumpled to the floor with no sound. Owen calmly set the gun down on the table next to him before putting his hands on the back of his head.

“Well, you always did enjoy making an entrance.” A man stepped down the stairs around the armed guards. His hair was lighter and his eyes were blue, not the bright green of Owen’s, but there was no denying they were brothers. They shared the same nose and body build, but there was something softer and more metrosexual to Marcus. As if he had polished off all of Owen’s rougher edges. I’m sure he had meant to give himself a more relatable, relaxed businessman vibe, but instead he looked oily and untrustworthy.

“I’ve always known how to get your attention.” Owen lowered his arms. “We need to talk.”

“I’ll bet you have a lot to say.” Marcus tucked his hands into his suit pockets and smiled.

Owen didn’t respond, just looked at his brother with a steady gaze, and I wondered what was going through his mind. Regret? Curiosity? Anger? All of those? Maybe remorse? His features were settled into a blank look as if he was completely unfazed and unbothered by everything going on around him.

“Take the girl downstairs.” Marcus looked over at me. His eyes ran over my body in a slow perusal. “Contact Maria’s people.”

“Who is Maria? What the hell do you want with me?” I struggled against the man holding me, my voice coming out in pants. The thought of being taken somewhere called the ‘Stables’ made my blood freeze. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Relax.” Marcus smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re just holding you for a little while. If you’re still here by dinner, I’ll even invite you to dine with me.”

“Who is Maria?” I yelled again as I fought the man trying to take me out of the room.

“She stays until we have a deal.” Owen never took his eyes off his brother and I tried to curtail my panic. He wouldn’t let them hurt me. He wouldn’t, I reminded myself. “I’m not the brother that put a price on the other ones head.”

“Fine. She stays.” Marcus looked at the men on the stairs. “He wouldn’t kill me. Leave us.”

“Sir?” The man holding me dropped my arms and I almost fell to the ground. He obviously didn’t agree with his boss’s decision. I pushed myself back into a standing position and jerked further away from the man. Owen still didn’t look at me and I was glad. I’m not sure why I did it. What possessed me to do it. Maybe it was the need to do something, the need to point my fear in some direction. Maybe it was to try and make our cover story look even more real. But no, I didn’t give it that much thought. I just took a step forward and slammed my fist into Owen’s side as hard as I could.

“You’re an asshole!”

He ‘oofed’ under his breath but barely moved. Marcus on the other hand laughed while the men with the large guns dropped them to their sides and filed out of the room.

Owen still didn’t look at me, which scared me. He wasn’t angry, or confused. He looked bored, as bored as his brother. Who could be bored in the middle of a situation like this? People were just waiting to shoot us—or worse.

“You really brought her here to trade?” Marcus walked toward me and ran his eyes over my cleavage and down my backside. I turned to keep him in my eyesight, afraid of what he might do if I couldn’t see him. There was lust in his eyes, but worse: there was calculation. Like a farmer at market, judging a new cow. He trailed his fingers down my arm and across my stomach. “Had a bit of fun first though, huh? Told her sweet nothings, took her for a ride, and then brought her here to me. I knew you were a cold fish, brother.”

I glared at Marcus even though my stomach was rolling. I told Owen I trusted him and I knew he had a part to play. I wouldn’t freak out just because Marcus seemed to be buying it.

“Why did you put a price on my head?” Owen stepped away from me as if he thought I might cling to his arm.

“You were in my way.” Marcus shrugged. “I needed the girl. And you had her.”

“You put a five million pound bounty on my head to collect a forty thousand dollar profit? Not buying it,” Owen said.

“Worth it not have to deal with you,” Marcus spat.

“You could have called.” Owen raised an eyebrow.

“What? And play Russian Roulette with your sweet conscience? No.” Marcus leaned against the wall with one shoulder. “No. I needed something that would ensure you would bring her in.”

“Who set up the contract?” Owen kept his hands at his sides as if assuring Marcus that he was harmless.

“Local business woman.” Marcus picked up one of Owen’s knives from the table and looked it over. “She’s quite the entrepreneur.”

“How many people did you have me kill for a slave trader?” Something hard glinted under Owen’s tone.

“See, there it is. Your annoying conscience. Do you know how much money we’ve lost over the years because you would only take certain cases?” Marcus set the knife down. “The bad guys pay much better, Owen.” He shook his head and took a step toward me. “And she’s not a slave trader. She has more than enough women working for her willingly. It’s much easier to control someone when they want to make money and you’re the one that signs their check.”

“Why me?” I said the words quietly. We were here for information and I needed it. I needed to understand why people were after me.

“Why would I care?” Marcus twirled a lock of hair from my pony tail around his finger.

“Maria…this Maria you were talking about. Does she normally tell you to get specific women?” Every muscle in my body tensed. I felt like I was being sniffed by a rabid dog and at any minute he might bite.

“Usually I clean up her messes.” He leaned close to my ear. “Though I have helped her fill a few
specific
orders for clients.”

“How long?” Owen’s voice cut through the room. “How many did you lie about?”

“I didn’t.” Marcus looked away from me. “I kept you as far away from my profitable business as I could. In fact, I didn’t want you to have the Song case, but Maria insisted.” He sighed. “But I knew this would happen. You’d stick your nose into something that wasn’t your business and ruin what we had going.”

“I made you rich, Marcus. How much money do you need?” Owen’s lip twitched in disgust.

“We started out with so little, but there is much, much more out there for the taking.” Marcus shrugged. “You know I never was one to settle.”

“You knew I would come to you.” Owen narrowed his eyes.

“Of course.” Marcus turned away from him and looked back at me. “I knew those men wouldn’t be enough to take you out, but I knew it would make you bring me the girl.” His eyes watched my face carefully. “I had my doubts of course. She’s rather pretty. Then again, here you are.”