An Assassin's Deception Read online

  Fuck me. Bingo.

  Images of women litter the pages of what appears to be a catalog of offered entertainment with the clubs logo all over it. The pages crinkle as I try to pull the booklet from his hands. It releases with minimal damage. I flip quickly through the glossy pages and study images of the beautiful men and women, trying to memorize them as I go so I can see if we can identify Allison. It would be helpful if I’d seen an actual picture of the girl because there are a number of brunettes who could match her description in the book.

  Before I can complete my task, I feel the tingle of my power fading.

  Five seconds.

  Shit. They'll know if I take it.

  I toss the book back in the man's lap and hurry out of the room, closing the door and making it around the guard and back to Tylin just as the clock ticks to zero.

  A tense breath slips past my lips, but I appear calm and collected.

  I pull him along behind me and dart into the first open door I find. A large circular platform bed sits in the center of the new room, and it’s full of men and women.

  “This place even has a fucking orgy room.” My mind is officially blown away by this place. My gaze is glued to the writhing mess of bodies. Hands, dicks, and tongues are everywhere. I don’t even know where to start watching, but I do know that my panties are ruined. My mind runs away with me as I imagine myself in the center, surrounded by all my sexy assassins. Hell, I’m so far gone that even Rory is in my fantasy.

  Tylin’s shoulder brushes mine, and my body is achingly aware of how close he stands. Adrenaline is still fresh in my system, and my skin pebbles as my nipples go to diamonds.

  “Get what you need?” he murmurs in my ear.

  Yes. No. Holy shit, that’s a loaded question.

  I turn to him, my blue eyes locking onto his gray ones.

  “Enough for now, but I’ll need more in the future.”

  And I think we both know I’m not just talking about the case.

  Four

  The Line of Fucking Fire

  The bathroom is steamy as I finish up my shower, towel my hair, and wrap the white cloth around my body. A blast of cold air has my skin prickling and I curse, looking up to find the culprit. Jameson’s sexy smirk brings a smile to my face, and I step closer to him. His tall frame crowds the doorway, the long strands of his golden hair curling slightly from the humidity filling the small space. The soft curl of his hair gives him a sweeter look of innocence. It makes my heart weak the moment I notice it.

  “Done yet? We’re all waiting on you, babe, and you know how Tylin gets when he’s hungry.” The whole time Jameson talks, his heavy gaze is slipping up and down my towel-clad body.

  A body that is still very much awake from my visit to Club Crystalline this afternoon. I want nothing more than to drag Jameson into the bathroom and put him to work. However, if what he said is true and they are all waiting on me, I would have to wait for satisfaction. I miss the large sprawling space of our last home. The loft is cockblocking me. Not that I am ready to jump on Jameson’s giant dick, yet. I need a hell of a lot more booze before I attempt that ride.

  There are plenty of other things we could do, however. I close the last few inches between Jameson and me. He’s got his arms folded across his chest as he leans in the doorway, the button-down he’s wearing pulling tight across his shoulders and arms. Going up on tiptoes, I kiss him sweetly.

  His lips tense beneath mine but he reacts immediately. It’s our first real kiss. I barely remember the way he kissed me when my powers got the better of me. Now it’s different. Soft and gentle but demanding and needy. It doesn’t take much coercing to have his arms wrapping around my waist as he walks me farther into the bathroom, preparing to shut the door behind us. His hard body presses against mine, and I’m about to sigh in victory, my body thrumming with need, when Rory’s voice rains on my parade.

  “Get a fucking room, already.”

  My anger climbs in an instant, and I pull away from the comfort of Jameson's touch, stalking around him as I make my way out of the bathroom.

  “I would if this place had any!” I nearly growl. His attitude lately is worse than his normally surly self, and his backhanded comments are grating on my nerves.

  “Mouse this morning, Jameson this evening. You planning on seducing Tylin for dessert?” His muscles work in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. I gape at him.

  “Watch it,” Jameson warns at the same time Mason stands, fury swirling in his dark eyes. The aggression in the two men is rarely ever seen, but it's apparently quick to find.

  “Rory.” Tylin’s sharp command shoots through the loft.

  “You are such an asshole. Are you seriously complaining about my sex drive?” Newsflash, if my sex life bothers him, he's welcome to stop fucking intruding on it. Look. Away. It's that simple.

  Testosterone is thick in the air, and luckily Rory has the good sense to shut up. I stomp around him, choosing to save my energy for more worthwhile tasks than cursing him out, but it doesn’t stop me from mumbling to myself angrily.

  “Men can sleep with whoever they want, whenever they want, and they’re fucking praised for using their dicks, but a woman takes more than one partner and suddenly she’s a slut.” I stomp up the stairs to the loft. Upstairs is a queen sized bed and the only semi-private space in the whole apartment. I grab a matching bra and underwear set, slipping it on around the towel before discarding it. I rifle through the meager belongings I have before letting out a dramatic sigh and wandering over to the laundry basket in the corner. I pull a pair of yoga pants out and slip on a tank top with a cotton jacket. The fact that I only have a handful of clothing is starting to wear on me. I reach for my bag and count the remaining cash I have. It’s not enough. I’m running out and without a steady job, I’m quickly turning broke.

  “Lex,” Jameson calls up the stairs, and I finally emerge. Tomorrow I’m going to have to shop. As much as I'd love to live in yoga pants, I can't wear the same yoga pants seven days a week.

  My mind is elsewhere until I reach the bottom of the steps. Tylin is standing in the kitchen with his phone in his hand.

  “What are you eating, love?” Jameson throws an arm over my shoulder when I reach the first level, but I quickly step out of his embrace, eyeing a glowering Rory as I move to the couch. He is thoroughly ruining my evening.

  My mood is circling the drain fast tonight.

  Jameson, undeterred, moves to the couch and plops down next to me. Picking up the remote, he starts silently flipping through channels.

  “Alexa.” The demand in Tylin’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “We’re ordering Chinese. What do you want?”

  “I’m not hungry.” I wave him off nonchalantly. Truthfully, I’m going to have to figure out this money situation quickly. The guys have a rule when it comes to food, they share the bill. It’s a good rule, but since we eat out more than we cook in, it’s one that’s quickly led to the demise of my funds.

  “You need to eat.” Mason, quiet as ever, appears behind the couch I’m sitting on, and I look over my shoulder offering him a small smile.

  “I’m really not that hungry. I’ll just have some cereal.” His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and I wonder what he can see in the depths of my blue eyes. Mason is too observant. It’s hard to hide things from him. He assesses me for another beat before nodding and letting the topic drop for now.

  “So, what are we watching?” I turn my attention to Jameson and settle into the comfort of the cushions, ignoring the asshole in the chair like the plague.

  “Movie marathon? Superheroes?” he offers, pulling up a favorite. We’ve seen it already, of course, but who gets tired of hot guys saving the world? Not this girl.

  The movie plays, the guys eat, and I enjoy the feel of Jameson playing with my hair while Mase absently rubs his hand along the top of my thigh. I feel a little lost tonight. But the two of them ground me. It’s a feeling of belonging I’m not used to, and that scares the shit o
ut of me.

  The scent of coffee rouses me, and I crawl from the warmth of my bed, following the smell like a moth to a flame. Last night I slept in one of the iron bunk beds that line the far wall in the corner of the main floor. They were a needed addition to the loft, and now everyone has a place to sleep. Since most of the guys are sweethearts, I usually sleep in the queen upstairs. Most being the key word in that sentence. Last night, Rory was up late working at the desk, which just so happens to be located on the second floor. He stole my “room” so I stole his bed. It wasn’t great revenge. The bunks aren’t as comfortable as the plush queen-sized mattress, and sleeping downstairs meant that once again I didn’t get laid. My attitude reflects my frustration.

  I’m pathetic. No. I’m not pathetic. I’m abstinent. And now I know what the big fucking deal is with abstinence.

  People should be proud of being abstinent. It’s a hardship.

  One I’m not strong enough for, apparently.

  I turn the page of the paper, scanning the wanted ads as I sip my coffee. Today is about getting a job. My gaze wanders down the black and white paper as I look for possibilities. Truthfully, I don’t have a ton of skills outside of being an assassin. Believe it or not, there are zero Assassins Wanted ads on Craigslist.

  A sigh slips from my lips.

  A half an hour later, I’m glaring at the paper like it caused some mortal offense against me when Tylin walks back into the loft. Even though it’s cold as fuck outside, he’s worked up a sweat during his run and beads drip down the sides of his face. His long sleeve athletic shirt clings to the hard planes of his chest and the exercise pants he’s wearing hang low off his hips.

  We haven’t spoken since the club yesterday, and the tension between us has been real.

  He doesn’t see me, and I don’t look away as he peels his shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of the hamper. Corded muscles cover his back, and I ogle him unapologetically as he saunters into the bathroom. He looks back at me with a strange look in his eyes before he walks toward the shower, leaving the door wide open this time.

  Soft snores from Jameson can be heard from one of the top bunks, and while Mase doesn’t make a sound, he seems to be asleep.

  Taking my coffee to go, I stand silently and make my way to the bathroom. Might as well cheer myself up since I’m in a sour mood, and Tylin’s “torture sessions” are always interesting enough to distract me.

  I'd stop peeking in on him if he'd stop sending me weird signals. There's this back and forth between us that I can't explain. We both want to maintain professionalism. I don't know if there's room for the amount of voyeurism we’re putting into this professional relationship, but it seems to be working okay for us…

  Okay, it's not. Not at all.

  Water hitting tile sounds out from the room ahead of me. Walking into the bathroom, I plan to hop up into my usual spot on the countertop but stop short when I get to the doorway. Tylin’s dark gaze penetrates mine but neither one of us holds it for long. Our attention sweeps down the other’s body, and I lick my lips as my libido goes into overdrive. Days of no sex has built into a roaring inferno, and I feel my body respond to Tylin with an intensity that surprises me.

  “Going to watch again?” The low timbre of his tone runs through me, and my nipples harden in response. He closes the door behind me, and the simple suggestion of what the door closing means makes a tremble shift through me. I’m downright gleeful that he broke our silent standoff, and I watch as he fists himself through his pants, the long, hard evidence of his arousal clear for me to see.

  “You left the door open for me.” I don’t even have the decency to look up as I speak. There’s just nothing hotter than watching Tylin touch himself, and this time I know it’s for me.

  “You would have come in, anyway.” The man’s not wrong.

  I shrug, flicking my gaze to his for a brief moment. “I make no apologies.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” I question him back.

  “I like a girl who knows what she wants.” Letting go of himself, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and quickly loses the rest of his clothing. The man is built like a god. Chiseled muscles. Strong arms. Firm ass. He even has two small dimples just above his ass that I have a sudden need to lick. Hell, I want to lick all of him. Every. Last. Hard. Inch.

  The steam in the room is building when he steps beneath the pelting stream. Clear water trails down the slick muscles of his chest. Down, down, down they glide until I'm openly watching as Tylin leans with a palm against the glossy tile, stroking himself slowly with his other hand. He’s watching me just as I’m watching him. And I know what he wants. The unspoken request.

  Setting my coffee down, I slip out of my cotton jacket. My shoulders are instantly cold without the soft fabric but it doesn't stop me, and I swiftly pull my tank top over my head. Shimmying my hips, I slip off my yoga pants and hop up onto the counter in nothing but a thong and my bra.

  “Touch yourself.” The demand is clear, but I don’t obey. A deep, dark, repressed part of me wants to see how far I can push Tylin. Apparently, he’s not used to people not following orders because his eyes get steely and he growls. “Now.”

  I reach up and cup my breasts. My nipples are already hard by the time I begin to tease them for Tylin. His pace is slow and steady, but I can see the unevenness of his breathing, and the observation is titillating. As much as Tylin wants to believe he has control—of this moment, of our pleasure, of me—he doesn’t.

  I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it slide ever so slowly down my arms to pool on the floor with my other clothing.

  “Alexa.” The whispered word feels like a caress, even though he’s on the other side of the room.

  I tease myself some more, my fingers light against my collarbone. The soft, delicate touch skims down between my breasts for him before running a hand down my stomach, dipping my fingers into the triangle of my thong. The moment my finger grazes my clit, my chin tips up with a moan.

  I let him watch as I begin to pleasure myself, running my fingers along my slickness and teasing the center of my pleasure. Every move I make is as much for me as it is for him and the sight of his wanting gaze makes energy tighten low within my core.

  “Pull the thong aside.” His command is pure gravel, and I’m through resisting. I follow his orders, giving him a glimpse at my core. “Inside. Now.” He’ll never admit to begging, but the edge of desperation in his voice makes me high and I thrust my fingers into my pussy. He groans and the sound just drives me higher.

  I focus all my attention on him as I match his pace, wishing that he’d end our torture, bend me over the sink, and fuck me hard. It’s that image I carry with me as I curl my fingers into that perfect spot inside myself, skyrocketing my pleasure for Tylin.

  His fist pumps over the hard length of him as he watches my hand work. “Come for me.”

  I bite my lip, trying to drag out the sensations, but my body is too primed from days of build-up, and with him watching my every move I crash over the edge as my orgasm consumes me. My muscles go rigid and I arch my back, throwing my head back on a cry. Waves tingle through me hard enough to make me tremble.

  “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” Every word is punctuated as Tylin fucks himself in tune to my pleasure. Within a moment his release spills all over his fist. It washes down the drain.

  Neither one of us moves as our chests heave, our eyes locked on each other.

  I don’t know what this means for us, but everything is different now. I feel it as surely as I feel the cool air hit my naked flesh by the opening of the door just as my fingers slip from me.

  We're naked and exposed, bared to each other, but too much uncertainty fills the space between us.

  I was so certain before that he was my boss. Someone to respect and to appreciate but to never cross that line with.

  And now?

  The line is fucking on fire.

  And I’m burning up as I let the
flames lick against my skin from the closeness of how near I am to leaping over it.

  A clicking sound snaps through the tension of the room.

  “No fucking privacy.” Tylin pulls hard at the white curtain, concealing himself from view of the intruder.

  “Well, well, well.” Jameson’s sexy smirk takes up residence on his irritatingly handsome face. “Looks like I’ve missed all the fun.” His pale blue eyes linger on my breasts and the heavy rise and fall of my chest.

  Images of the three of us really enjoying the fun flash through my mind.

  I glance at the steam rising above the closed-off curtain. Not a peek of the man beyond can be seen.

  And the moment has passed.

  Five

  A Hunter's Mark

  The chill in the air makes me grumpy as I hurry down the sidewalks of the local college campus. I pull my cotton jacket closer around my body, but it’s not thick enough to get the job done. Jameson walks beside me, and I have to quicken my stride to keep up with his long legs. He hasn't mentioned what he walked in on this morning. He lets me off the hook on any awkward talk. For the moment anyway.

  Student’s mill around the grounds, and I don’t miss the attention pulled in our direction as girls openly check him out.

  I don’t blame them. Jameson’s a stud, and his blond hair looks even more golden today against the stark contrast of his black jacket. His dark wash jeans hang perfectly off his hips, showing off the great ass he has.

  When his arm lands across my shoulders, I grin and snuggle into the warmth of his body. He’s like my own personal heater. A sweet, charismatic heater.

  “Which one is it?” he asks, glancing between the tall brick dorm buildings that all look the same.

  “Kavander Hall. Room 318,” I recite. Mase had helped me hack into the school’s records to locate Allison’s dorm room, and I’d headed out just after lunch to launch my own investigation.