Kitabı oku: «Her Assassin For Hire»
He’ll do whatever it takes...
and she knows it
Black ops assassin Eli Wayne may work for a company that cares only about money, but when Zoey Martin asks for his help following her brother’s disappearance, compensation is the last thing on his mind. With a multimillion-dollar bounty on Zoey’s brother’s head, though, they’ll have to fight to reach him before he’s killed—especially since Eli’s own company is after the money.
DANICA WINTERS is a multiple-award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts—quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at danicawinters.net
Also by Danica Winters
Hidden Truth
In His Sights
Ms Calculation Mr Serious Mr Taken
Smoke and Ashes
Dust Up with the Detective
Wild Montana
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Her Assassin For Hire
Danica Winters
ISBN: 978-0-008-90493-7
HER ASSASSIN FOR HIRE
© 2020 Danica Winters
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
Version: 2020-03-02
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To Mac, don’t worry, I’ll keep bringing the cheese.
This series wouldn’t have been possible without a great
team of people, including Melanie Calahan and Clare
Wood, my #1k1hr friends, Jill Marsal and the editors at
Mills & Boon—thank you for all your hard work.
Also, thank you to my readers. You keep me writing.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About the Publisher
Chapter One
In life, there comes a point when all people are forced to pick a side and show who they really are. In the stories, it was always good versus evil—and those with the purest hearts won. However, in reality, nothing was ever that simple.
As a child, Zoey Martin had a favorite maple tree. It stood proud and unyielding in her family’s front yard, a symbol of strength and longevity. She would spend hours climbing around, whispering her secrets into its bark and imagining her future...a future that would bring only happiness and success. Each dream was a bit different, but there was always the same ending—her, standing in front of a crowd of cheering fans, wearing the shining armor of a knight who had once again saved the innocent.
She had relied on the strength of the maple tree and over the years had almost come to take it for granted. It was always there, always shielding her as she hoped to shield others someday. In a way it was her hero.
One day, when she was nearly ten years old, the seemingly healthy limb she had been sitting on snapped beneath her. She had tumbled to the ground. Even now, so many years later, if she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still hear her leg snapping as she struck the unyielding roots of the behemoth she had loved.
Over the years, when her first boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend, and later when her college boyfriend ghosted her, she thought back to her tree. It was her first hard-learned lesson in the wicked truths of trust—just because everything looked good from the outside, healthy even, it didn’t mean its heart wasn’t rotten.
Since then, Zoey Martin had been happy giving her trust to a few within her family. Her only heroes were their STEALTH team and their teams of courageous contractors.
Even limiting who she loved and trusted, ever since her sister’s death, she felt herself tumbling to the ground. Her family’s work in STEALTH, something she believed in so strongly, had pulled the stable branch out from under her family.
She’d had to move forward in the faith that she was sure she was bringing something positive to the world.
She tugged down the edge of her hot pink dress as she sauntered to the front of the tent. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor she had her staff put down just so her shoes wouldn’t stick in the grass. Today everything had to be perfect...especially her appearance.
Rubbing her lips together, ensuring her specially blended-to-match lipstick was in place, she turned to face her audience.
They looked bored, most checking their phones or staring longingly at the bar in the corner of the room. No doubt, the crowd was made up of gold-laden investors, soggy board members and straight-backed rivals. They all held their pints of beer or flutes of champagne like lifelines.
She couldn’t wait to see their faces when the fun started.
So far, it had been two days of looking over the next year’s models of top-of-the-line weaponry and tactical gear, speeches on the merits of self-protection and gun advocacy, and the late-night bar meetings that led to the next morning’s multimillion-dollar deals. And she had one hell of a hangover.
Though their new line of tac-gear wasn’t through the final phases of testing, they were taking orders. And after today, they were going to come flooding in.
There was a smattering of polite but unenthusiastic applause as she took out her prepared speech. She couldn’t blame those in attendance for their lackluster response. Zoey wasn’t one of her brothers. Until recently, it had always been Jarrod who had been the face of their private government contracting company, STEALTH, and no matter where Jarrod went, with his wide jaw and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson brooding but sexy scowl, women and money followed. Thankfully her new friend and her brother’s fiancée, Mindy Kohl, had put a stop to that party and Jarrod had settled down.
As Zoey cleared her throat, she checked to make sure her team was in place. The two men stood at each of the front corners of the tent in ready position, looking more like her private security team in their black suits and earpieces than what she had actually brought them here for.
She looked toward the waitstaff who were lowering the lights and closing the flaps to shut out the bright, midevening sun. The lights on the catwalk came to life, readying for the show.
A smile played at the corner of her lips as she adjusted her formfitting little hot pink dress one more time.
She didn’t want to die...but if this was how she went out, at least she’d go out with one hell of a bang.
Either way, she was about to become infamous.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” she started, looking out over the crowd as they found their seats. Most took out their phones like they were going to take notes, but in reality, were probably checking their backlog of emails from their days away from the office. “I appreciate you coming to the Heinrich and Kohl Alliance demonstration today.”
It felt strange to have their new venture into tactical gear manufacturing umbrellaed under Mindy’s company. But it was best to stay shielded from the public...especially when it came to her family and the worldwide manhunt that centered on them. Anonymity was their only saving grace.
“As some of you may know, our team has been working diligently over the last few months to bring you a new and innovative line of tactical gear and body armor.” A man slipped into the tent and into one of the many open seats at the back of the room, carefully keeping to the shadows.
“Our decision,” she said, thinking of Mindy, “to expand our manufacturing businesses to include self-protection and advocacy, came from a very honest place.” And she honestly couldn’t help but feel like she was using her sister Trish’s death to profit—and she hated herself for it.
She cleared her throat as a few people turned off their phones and glanced up at her. “Last fall, my sister was shot and killed in the streets of Turkey.” The last few voices in the crowd were silenced. “She had been there on a mission of her choosing. She was wearing body armor and was well equipped for the fight she knew she would face. But when the mission played out, her tac-gear and armor weren’t enough to save her.”
A woman near the catwalk shifted in her seat like talk of such a death at an arms show and convention was strictly taboo. Regardless of social mores, it was the truth. These people had to know death, and fear it, as they were the only constants in their line of work.
“Her death was a major blow not only to our family but to our business, as well. She was our linchpin, the one who always brought us together even in the hardest of times. She was our rock. And now she is gone.” A lump rose in her throat, but she forced the emotional traitor to submit as she swallowed it away. “As you can imagine, thoughts of vengeance led to plans of retaliation against the group responsible. However, these thoughts were soon checked. Logic must reign when emotions threaten to rebel.”
There were a few ill-timed chuckles, but she appreciated them.
“After careful planning, we chose to use her legacy to advocate for positive change, and this new line of tactical gear was designed in her honor. Through our work, we hope that no one else will ever have to endure such a tragedy.”
She paused. There were no longer any dim lights from people playing on their cell phones in the crowd. Finally, she had everyone’s rapt attention. Perfect.
“At H&K, we are in the final stages of testing our new lightweight phase armor we have affectionately dubbed Monster Wear. Today we will be taking preorders for our designs. Please feel free to see any one of our representatives, those with the white name tags, throughout the rest of the conference.” She waved at two women who were staged beside the main entrance. “Without further ado, we are excited to unveil our full line of Monster Tactical Gear and Specialty Fashion for you today.”
She gave a small clap, and the curtains opened from the side of the tent and their first model came out and strutted down the runway. He had on their line of UV protection sunglasses, their shellback tactical Cyclops plate carrier, tac pants and full duty gear. With his well-toned arms and buttery tan, the man looked like he’d just walked off the battlefield. Perfect.
Several more men and women followed, each wearing gear from the new line, but none wearing the best-of-the-best—at least not yet.
Zoey scanned the crowd. They seemed interested, but underwhelmed by the nearly generic gear on display. Which was, for now, just fine by her.
The man who had come in late stood up and moved closer to the catwalk. Zoey couldn’t see his face, but something about his dark brown hair and V-shaped body seemed all too familiar. Maybe it was the way he roll-walked through the crowd, or how he seemed to be most comfortable in the shadows, but she was intrigued.
Her thoughts moved to Eli Wayne, her ex-boyfriend and STEALTH’s former ghostlike point man. From the back, the man looked just like him.
The lump in her throat returned.
It was more than possible he would be here, sniffing around her demonstration in hopes of making contact with her. He’d always been like that, lurking in the darkness and waiting to sweep her off her feet just when she was at her most vulnerable—it was also one of the things that had made her fall for him in the first place.
In many ways, she missed him. And she hated him for breaking her heart. And... Ugh... No. She couldn’t let thoughts of Eli mess with her head. She was here to do her job. To make her family proud, and to put him and their cursed past even further behind her.
She had to focus.
Ten different models moved through their line of gear, each doing quick changes in the back, before reappearing on the catwalk. A few in the crowd oohed and ahhed as the models rolled out.
As the time grew nearer to unveil their greatest achievements, the nervousness swelled within her. She took a series of deep breaths as she tried to control herself. This was just a simple event—a sales pitch. It was nothing in comparison to sitting behind the screen and running IT for her family as they infiltrated and took down an enemy encampment. Now, that was something to be nervous about. One poorly timed click of the button, one little sneeze, and she could blow away an entire village—or hurt one of her own.
And yet there she was, getting butterflies at a fashion show. Maybe she was more of a girlie girl than she had realized. Or maybe it was the thought of Eli being in the room that was really getting to her.
She ran her hands down her dress, trying to dry her palms.
Feeling this way was simply ridiculous. He wasn’t here. He didn’t care about her anymore. Even if he was here, he wouldn’t waste his time by checking in on her.
“And finally,” she said, as the last model slipped behind the curtain, “I’m proud to announce the arrival of our new and groundbreaking line of fashion... Please give a round of applause for our models wearing our new Level III ballistic protection Monster Wear.”
The curtain opened and a man came out in a well-fitted black suit nearly identical to the Armani her men at the side doors wore.
She walked over to the model and gave him a smile. “If you note—” she lifted the fabric of the jacket and twisted it in her fingers “—the cloth moves and breathes just like regular cotton. It is thin, light and available in a variety of colors. No more need for steel plates and heavy, movement-restricting armor.”
A few in the audience caught their breath.
Zoey waved the model on. He took off his jacket, revealing his white dress shirt. He glanced back at her and gave her a sly smile as he dropped his jacket to the ground. He leaped forward, his hands raised in the air, and he did a tight spiral backflip onto the ground, landing just in front of the woman seated in the front row.
There was a roar of applause.
Yes.
Money would be flowing in no time.
If they could sell just ten thousand button-up shirts, they would recoup their entire investment, and anything beyond would be gravy.
She sent a silent prayer up to Trish, one begging for her forgiveness.
As the model weaved through the crowd, letting the audience touch and feel the Lycra-like cloth, the next model entered from the side. She wore a black pair of yoga pants and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy, and nothing to indicate she was prepped for a firefight.
“We are proud at H&K to design clothing that meets everyday needs for all. We don’t simply create clothing for high-profile events and celebrities, but we also want to protect those who are just like us—those out there risking their lives for the greater good.”
Several models followed the woman as the crowd jostled in their seats for a better view. People were slipping in from the back entrance and, as there were no longer any seats available, standing room became a premium.
As the last model disappeared, the crowd moved to their feet with applause.
“Thank you,” Zoey said, glancing over to her guards, who now looked more nervous than ever. “We appreciate your support in our continuing effort to bring safety to those who most need it.”
A woman’s scream pierced through the air.
Zoey turned to her right. There, just a few yards away, one of her guards raised his gun. He didn’t hesitate as he pointed it straight at her center mass and pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck true.
She crumpled to the ground as pain flooded her senses. “It’s okay, everyone. He works for me.” She struggled to catch her breath.
Her hands moved to her chest. A trickle of blood seeped between her fingers.
We should have done more testing.
Or maybe Trish is calling me out for using her death to profit. If she was still here, I would tell her this was for her...all for her...
The world spun as Zoey tumbled downward and darkness swallowed her whole.
Chapter Two
What in the hell was that woman thinking, having her man shoot her to demonstrate one of her products?
Eli raced to the front of the tent and elbowed his way through the throngs of people who had rushed to help Zoey Martin.
Damn that woman.
He couldn’t believe she would ever do something so foolish, so brash. Then again, should he really be surprised? All she ever cared about was being at the center of everything—attention, plans, a firefight—it didn’t matter. It was Zoey Martin’s way or no way at all.
Damn her.
And damn himself for thinking he could come here and walk away from her unscathed. Whenever he was near Zoey, he should know something bad was bound to happen.
If she was dead...he’d kill the man who’d pulled the trigger.
Who would have ever gone through with such a stupid publicity stunt?
Zoey lay in a fetal position as he got to her, her pink dress pulled up high on her thigh and exposing a little pair of black shorts. Her side rose and fell as she breathed, and aside from her lying there, and him having watched her being shot, she didn’t look too much the worse for wear.
He pushed the crowd back from her, yelling at them to give her some space. He knelt down in front of her. “Zoey?”
Her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed as though she were trying to Lamaze her way through the pain. Even doing that, he’d be damned if she still wasn’t one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. And that dress...
He held his chuckle as he realized once again he had found himself in trouble because of the perfect dress...and once again it was on Zoey, the woman his world had revolved around just two years ago.
Oh, how the mighty fall.
Zoey’s eyes fluttered open, revealing her caramel-colored eyes. If only she were half as sweet as those eyes looked.
“Eli?” she said, her voice ragged with pain. As she moved to sit up he could see the blood on her fingers.
His heart dropped. She was really actually hurt.
His anger morphed into panic. “Zoey, we need to get you out of here and to the hospital. Do you think I can move you?” He leaned in and moved her hand.
There was a crushed slug embedded into the fabric of her dress.
Though he had heard rumors about the bulletproof capabilities of her new clothing line, he hadn’t truly believed it until now. It seemed unfathomable that something like this was possible.
“Holy crap, Zoe...” he said. His breath escaped him as he reached down and pulled the slug from her dress.
The pink fabric was still in place, with not even a single tear. Where the bullet had impacted, there was a bit of blood seeping up and through the fabric. How could something stop a bullet, but then let blood through?
He stared as he tried to make sense of it until he finally pulled himself back to the task at hand.
“Zoey, are you okay? Can you move?” he asked.
She stared at him. “Eli, what in the hell are you doing here?” She moved to sit up. “You... You shouldn’t have come.”
“And you shouldn’t have done what you just did.” He gave her a hand and she pulled herself to standing. As their fingers touched, he couldn’t help but be a little surprised that she had taken him up on his offer of help. She must have been hurting.
She pulled her hand from his. With a nod of acknowledgment, she made her way back up to the podium.
“Everyone,” she said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to stand straight. “Everyone, please quiet down,” she said over the manic cacophony of sound. “Excuse me.”
The room silenced.
“As you can see, our new Monster Wear has the capability to stop a bullet at close range, all while being cool, comfortable and stylish,” she said, stepping out just slightly so all could see her dress. “I am fine.”
“You’re bleeding!” someone in the crowd yelled.
“I said our clothing was bulletproof, I didn’t say being shot would be pain-free.” Zoey laughed, the sound tight and high like it hurt for her to breathe. “Like I always say, if you can’t handle a bee sting then you need to stay out of the nest.”
Eli shook his head.
Once again, he felt as if she had played him for a fool. Why did he have to be so stupid when it came to Zoey Martin?
He turned, about to walk out.
“Can we all give my assistant who was willing to pull the trigger, at my request, a big round of applause? And can we also please do the same for Mr. Eli Wayne for coming to the rescue of a lady?” She motioned in his direction and gave him her perfect, sexy smile...the one that always drew him back into her nest.
Applause filled the tent. Heat rose in his cheeks as men came up and patted him on the shoulder. He wasn’t a hero. And though Zoey put on one hell of an act, she definitely wasn’t a lady...at least not in the bedroom.
Almost as if she could read his mind, Zoey reached up and unzipped her dress. The fabric gripped her body and she had to roll it down in order to get it off her. Beneath the dress were those little black shorts and a black sports bra and nothing else.
His mind went to the last night they had spent together. What had it been, two years ago now? Sometimes their breakup seemed like a lifetime ago and then on days like this, it seemed like only yesterday.
He could still recall the way she smelled after her runs, a mixture of fresh air, sweat and strength. And when she was happy, her voice always took on a special lilt as though whatever she was saying was just for him. That was one thing he missed the most, the way she had always made him feel like he was the only man she had ever loved. And yet, he was left with nothing but a broken heart and fantasies of what could have been.
Oh, Zoey... Why did she do this to him?
She turned and smiled at him as her hand moved down her waist and rested gently on her hip.
His body disobeyed his mind and he could feel himself stirring to life in all the wrong places at the sight of her half-naked body.
The last time he had seen her this unclothed, it hadn’t taken but a matter of seconds to get her into nothing at all. He could still remember the way she had tasted of salt and sweat on his lips as they made love. They had been on a takedown outside Tikrit, working a small village where a group of high-grade mercenaries, or mercs, had been holed up.
As he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the sand that had stuck to her skin as he worked his fingers down to her navel.
He stiffened further.
No.
He couldn’t think of anything sultry about Zoey. No. She had watched his heart break and left him standing alone, without a job, without a home, without a family and completely adrift.
No matter what, he couldn’t forgive her for all she had done to him and the wreckage she had left in his life.
“If you look,” she said, motioning to her midsection, “the bullet left a bruise and an abrasion, but nothing more.” She wiped her hands together in a feeble attempt to hide the blood that stained them.
She was swarmed by questions and she took her time answering each one.
He was relieved as a guard brought her a robe and she pulled it on over her body.
She was fine. She would always be just fine. She was the epitome of resilience.
He turned to leave, but Zoey waved to him as she ended the questions and bid goodbye to the crowd. He turned away, not wanting to once again do her bidding, but his resolve weakened. At the very least, before he left, he could make sure that she really was okay.
She could get up there and say she wasn’t hurt all she wanted, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of internal damage from taking a hit like that. She was all show.
And he had always been the one to make sure that she wasn’t faking things so much that she couldn’t find her way back to reality.
Which made him wonder if that was part of the reason she had chosen this conference to unveil her new gear. She had to have known he would be here, hoping to catch sight of her. She had probably even known he would come to her rescue.
Maybe she missed him just as much as he missed her.
Wait. No. He didn’t miss her or her stupid pink hair, or her wide-set dark-lined eyes, or her watermelon-colored lips that usually tasted of her mint sugar-free gum. And he definitely didn’t miss the way she had loved to fall asleep in the crook of his arm, making his arm go to sleep and then later throb with pain when she finally rolled to her side in their bed.
Yep. He didn’t miss her at all.
Damn it.
As the crowd started to dissipate, she made her way over to where he stood at the back of the tent.
She tugged her robe tighter around her body, like she was suddenly self-conscious in his presence.
“You’re welcome,” he said, fully aware from the slightly pursed look on her face that the last thing she wanted to say to him was thank you.
“I didn’t tell you to come here.” She brushed her pink hair out of her face. Up close, he couldn’t help but notice it was dyed the same shade of Barbie pink as her dress.
“Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “You and I both know Billings is my territory.”
“I thought you were out working for a new crew. I don’t keep tabs on you, Eli.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but as she moved her arm over the place she’d taken the hit, she winced with pain and lowered her arms.
“Why did you do such a stupid thing? What would have happened if your guy had missed? What if he’d shot you in the neck?” He reached over and put his finger against the place that the bullet had struck. “You could have died, Zoey.”
She moved away from his touch. “This was hardly the first time, or the last, that I stood at the edge of death, Eli. This is our life—dealing with pain. And you know it just as well as I do.”
And perhaps that was one of the main reasons he was glad they really were no longer together.
“It doesn’t mean it’s okay to make stupid choices.”
“Doing my job isn’t making a stupid choice.” She leaned against the back of a chair. “I believe in the H&K products and its people.” Her tone made it clear he didn’t make her short list.