The Choice She Made (The Mercenary Series Book 1) Read online

  As I turned, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye.

  Reacting rather than thinking, I yanked the knife back out from the sheath between my breasts and brandished it.

  My sister stepped into view, her arms folded across her chest, her dark eyes—eyes so like my own—alighting on the knife with a cool gaze.

  “Are you going to kill me, too?” she snapped, her head tilted slightly to one side, her nostrils flared in anger.

  I breathed out, slowly, and placed the knife back in the sheath. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nickie. You scared the shit out of me. I was bound to react, you know, considering.”

  “Considering you’re a murderous bitch, you mean.”

  “Nickie ...” I warned.

  “What? Seriously. What are you going to do about me calling you a bitch? Nothing, that’s what.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  “Why? Because we’ve got the U.S. Marshals breathing down our necks, and you know that’ll get you sent straight to jail, where you’ll be found and killed yourself.”

  “No, I wouldn’t hurt you because I love you.”

  She pursed her lips. “Didn’t stop you before.”

  I stared down at the floor, willing the boiling anger inside me to reduce to a simmer. I knew she was pushing me on purpose, but I couldn’t rise to it. We needed each other, even if she did hate me. I couldn’t leave her in this whole new world by herself. She was only seventeen. But I also couldn’t allow her to go back to our old lives. Doing so, I was sure, would mean her death. Even if it didn’t happen immediately, someone would catch up to her and they’d find a reason to kill her.

  “I’m tired,” I said eventually. “I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

  She shrugged. “Big deal. If our cover gets blown, we’ll only end up in another town with new identifications again. I’ll get them to change my grades then.”

  I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from replying.

  Something caused my attention to be drawn to the kitchen window. Only darkness lay beyond, but I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer. Maybe it was just Nickie talking about our cover being blown, but I was filled with the sudden certainty that someone had been watching us through the window. A shiver shuddered down my spine, and I quickly went to the window and pulled the blinds shut, blocking off the outside world from view. It wasn’t like me to get spooked, even after everything I’d been through.

  Nickie was watching me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m going to bed.”

  I left the kitchen, brushing past her as I did so. I knew she’d hate that I hadn’t risen to her jibes. I felt I’d won that round, but I couldn’t imagine a time when she and I would ever be friends. She’d never forgive me for what I’d done.

  I had a hole inside of me, this great, gaping wound that would never heal. I felt nauseated all the time, like I wanted to peel off my own skin and scrub away at the filth inside. I wanted to escape myself and run away, but at the same time I wanted to sink deeper and deeper into my self-loathing in order to punish myself. I didn’t deserve Nickie’s forgiveness, not that I would ever ask for it. I’d never forgive myself. It was like being stuck in the middle of a nightmare and knowing I’d never wake up.

  A big part of me wished I didn’t have to worry about her. My life would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have to take care of my sister as well. I could be as hedonistic as I wanted, drinking myself into unconsciousness every night, getting into fights if the urge took me, sleeping with unsuitable men. My time on this planet was already numbered, and as soon as I had done what needed to be done, I wouldn’t have any other reason to be here.

  But I had Nickie.

  I always told myself I didn’t give a shit about anything. I guessed she was the exception.

  I took a quick shower to cleanse off the stench of the bar and booze from my skin, before slipping beneath the sheets. But the memory of feeling like someone had been watching me clung to me like an aura, and I kept my knife close by, within fingers’ reach, just in case.

  Chapter Four

  X

  I’D FOLLOWED HER home.

  I had an uncanny knack of not being noticed, but twice today this woman had seemed to sense my presence. I didn’t think I’d made any kind of noticeable noise, perhaps the faintest of scuffs back at the bar, but nothing major considering the general hum of the town, and music and voices from the bar. I certainly hadn’t made any kind of noise here when she’d moved to pull down the window blinds.

  Sometimes people came along who were just more perceptive than others. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t make this fierce young woman with the angry dark eyes and tattoos even more interesting, but I wouldn’t let it sway me. I had a job to do, and it was only on the rarest of occasions that I wasn’t able to complete my assignment.

  My mind tried to pull me toward the previous fuck-up, but I pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to think about it.

  Failing on this one would get me killed.

  I remained, hidden in the bushes, watching the house as she moved around inside, locking doors and windows before switching off the lights and plunging the rooms into darkness. I wondered how she felt about the dark. Was it something she embraced, as I did, as something to be hidden within and go unnoticed, or did it leave her unnerved, wondering what might be hidden within it shadowy folds?

  The locked windows and doors didn’t trouble me. A simple cutter was enough to take a ring of glass out of a window or door, and allow me to slip my hand through and either flick a catch or relieve the lock of a key. People were always leaving keys sticking out of locks of doors and windows on the inside of their homes. Why they thought something as fragile as a piece of glass was enough to keep them safe, I had no idea.

  I needed to wait until I could be certain they were both asleep. The average person fell asleep within twenty minutes, but this young woman was not of the average mentality. She had plenty of worries to keep her awake at night, even though we were now in the early hours of the morning. Because of this, I’d give her a little extra time. I wanted to make sure she was in a deep sleep before I entered the property. This whole thing needed to be quick and quiet, and I couldn’t have her waking up and fighting back.

  I didn’t mind waiting. I’d sat in one place for more than a day before, waiting for a mark to return. I was a patient person, and I didn’t have anywhere else I needed to be.

  During these periods of waiting, I found myself going into a kind of meditation. I was able to zone out and draw myself inward, while also being hyperaware of my surroundings. These were moments of contemplation, often about the position I’d found myself in. I’d never thought at the age of twenty-eight, I’d be living a nomadic lifestyle as a hired gun.

  When I’d been younger, I’d gone into law enforcement. I’d been filled with a righteous anger and had told myself that was what had fueled my decisions, but, looking back, I thought I used the gun and badge as a disguise, a mask over who I really was. It was my way of being able to walk around in broad daylight without anyone being suspicious of who or what I was. Turned out, however, having a gun placed in my hand hadn’t been a good thing. I enjoyed killing, and I was good at it. I took out a couple of bad guys on a number of occasions—one of whom had been unarmed—and the next thing I knew I was pulled up on suspension. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’d killed again—a drug runner this time, a guy using young girls to move packets of heroin inside their bodies. The packets regularly sprung leaks, killing the girls, but this guy seemed to get away with everything. So I’d shot him, point blank in the head, and had taken deep satisfaction in doing so.

  Unfortunately, my Sergeant hadn’t agreed, and, because of my previous suspension, I’d found myself off the force. Even this hadn’t bothered me. By that point I’d pretty much discovered I wasn’t built for law enforcement. But what my time on the force did was create s
ome excellent contacts. My love of killing, and my cold brutality about the act, had gotten me noticed by the right—or perhaps wrong, depending on your point of view—people, and, when I’d found myself out of a job, they offered me a substantial amount of cash to continue doing what I loved. I wasn’t stupid. I took my new job gladly.

  That was five years ago now, and I hadn’t looked back. I’d had to be more careful about keeping my identity under wraps; my full name, Xavier Creed, wasn’t known by anyone. Instead, I was known as only a solitary letter.

  X.

  People hired me when they wanted dangerous people dead. I wouldn’t kill just because someone had pissed someone else off. A cheating wife, for example, would be way off limits. But the people I knew had normally done crimes far more heinous than a little adultery.

  Take this girl, for example. She might have been beautiful, young, and most definitely female, but that didn’t make her innocent. She was a killer, too, just like me. Her being a woman made me uneasy, though. I’d only ever been paid to take out men before, and even though I’d been told what she’d done, I couldn’t shake the feeling that deep down a part of me didn’t want to go through with it.

  Then I reminded myself of her crimes, and remembered that having tits shouldn’t automatically make someone the weaker sex.

  Her sister, however, that girl was innocent, or at least was for the moment. I didn’t know how she’d grown up in the family she had and remained that way, but that was the truth of it. I suspected the older girl had gone some way to protect her, and by killing her, I would have removed that protection, but I wasn’t going to start thinking about people’s futures. They had nothing to do with me.

  Movement across the other side of the yard instantly pulled me from my thoughts. I stiffened, my ears straining as I peered into the darkness. The sound had been too big and stealthy to belong to an animal. An urban fox didn’t worry about the noise it made while rustling through the trash. This had had the definite feel of something that had made an unwanted sound and was now frozen, waiting to check it hadn’t been heard.

  As I sat, watching, two figures emerged from the bushes, and, crouching low, ran to the back door of the house.

  What the hell?

  I definitely hadn’t expected anyone else to be around.

  I watched the two men work at something at the back door, and tried to decide.

  What would be my next move?

  Chapter Five

  V

  SOMETHING WOKE ME.

  I burst from sleep, instantly alert, sitting upright in bed. My heart thumped and I listened hard, trying to figure out what had disturbed me.

  Was Nickie awake? Had she gone to the bathroom, and that was what had woken me? It was a reasonable assumption, but my instincts told me it was something else, and I’d come to rely on my instincts pretty well over the past twenty-two years.

  Without moving the rest of my body, conscious of not making a sound, I slipped my hand beneath my pillow and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of my knife. I withdrew it slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door. Nicole’s bedroom was farther down the hall, but if there was an intruder, they’d have to pass my room before they reached hers. Unless they’d already passed mine, of course, and that had been what had woken me.

  Assuming I was right, and there was someone in the house, they would expect me to emerge from the bedroom door and would be ready for me. I didn’t want to do what was expected.

  Holding the knife, I slipped out of bed and went to the window. The house was all on one level, so the bedroom window led out onto the yard. I kept a spare back door key on a chain around my neck, just in case. I wasn’t the type of person to hide a spare key outside of my house—knowing how easily it could be found—and I didn’t have anyone I could leave a spare with.

  If someone was inside the house, I’d be able to come at them from an angle they wouldn’t be expecting. If no one was in the house, I’d be having myself a nice little stroll around my yard at three in the morning, for no reason whatsoever.

  I always slept in a tank top and shorts, and I kept the window well oiled so it wouldn’t squeak when I opened it. Yeah, I was completely paranoid, but I had every reason to be.

  I braced myself and lifted the sash and propped it open. Then I pulled my body through, thankful for my tall, slender figure, and swung my leg over to drop quietly onto the lawn outside.

  Ducking low, and keeping close to the side of the house, I ran around the perimeter. There were no unexpected vehicles parked outside, nothing that would alert me to any intruders. I made my way around to the back of the house.

  I stopped, my breath catching. In the small window beside the back door, a hole had been cut in the glass, a perfect circle. And not only that, it seemed I wouldn’t need my key, as the door was already ajar.

  Fuck.

  My suspicions had already been confirmed. Someone was in the house, and I didn’t think they were there to do anything good. My first thought went to my sister, sleeping peacefully and unaware of the danger. How much time had passed since I’d first woken—two minutes? More? Enough time for someone to be killed, that was for sure. I felt woefully underprepared with only my knife gripped between my fingers. If the person was armed, which they most probably would be, I didn’t think the blade would do much good.

  Moving on my tiptoes, I slipped through the gap in the door and into the back hallway.

  Thwack, thwack!

  It was the unmistakable sound of a gun with a silencer firing two shots.

  I froze, my stomach dropping, fear and horror clutching at my throat. I was too late. I hadn’t been quick enough. Those bullets must have been meant for Nickie—there was no one else in the house.

  A painful lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. My eyes remained sore but dry. I was focused only on one thing now—gutting the son-of-a-bitch who had murdered my sister. There was time for grief later. Right now, a red haze of rage had taken hold, and I wanted to sink the blade of my knife into bone and flesh, and scream with the bastard as he died.

  But as I turned right down the hallway, toward where our bedrooms were located, I drew to a shocked halt.

  A man was standing in the hallway, his back to me. At his feet lay two bodies, sprawled out on the threadbare nylon carpet. He was looking down at them, his head bent slightly, elongating a strong neck, his hair cropped short at the nape. A black shirt was stretched across his broad shoulders. His gun was held loosely at his side.

  Who the fuck was that?

  A second thought went through my head—my sister might be all right.

  This strange man may very well have saved my sister from being murdered, but I also didn’t believe he was in my house for any good reason. He’d entered through a door which had been opened illegally, and he’d brought a gun into my house. No, the dead men must have wished us harm, but I suspected so did this man.

  I didn’t plan on standing around and waiting to see if he killed one of us. I needed to act.

  Securing my grip around the knife, I edged forward. If he swung the gun on me, I’d be dead. If Nickie woke up and came out of her room, she’d die, too.

  I needed to take this guy out before anything else happened, though I had no idea what I’d do with the two dead men on the floor afterward.

  My breath was caught in my chest, too terrified to exhale in case the man heard me. Even my heartbeat sounded too loud, and I was amazed he couldn’t hear it pounding, sending blood rushing through my veins like a waterfall.

  I wanted him dead, but something made me pause. These men had been sent after us, that much was clear, but by who? I could hazard what I believed would be a fairly accurate guess, but why had this guy killed the other two? He had either betrayed them for some reason, or else they hadn’t been together at all and I had two separate groups of people after me.

  Or after Nickie.

  Each situation was as plausible as the other. I needed to know the truth if I was go
ing to protect myself and my sister.

  The only person who could possibly go some way to answering my questions was the asshole I was currently stalking with my knife.

  Chapter Six

  X

  FROM MY POSITION in the bushes, I had watched the two men steal into the house. I found a strange amusement in them opening the back door in exactly the way I had planned. But I couldn’t let them continue. I didn’t know what they were doing, but from the fact I hadn’t been warned about the possibility of their presence, I had to assume they hadn’t been placed here by the same man I was currently working for.

  This caused me a problem. Yes, they might do my job for me, but they might also kill the sister, or do something even worse to her, which would be difficult for me to explain. It wouldn’t go down well if I said I’d stood by and done nothing. There were some people you didn’t want to piss off in the world, and the man I was working for was one of them.

  Plus, something about the idea of these strangers going into the tattooed woman’s home and killing her while I stood out here twisted something deep inside me. I needed her to be dead, but I didn’t like the thought of another man doing the job. I wanted that intimacy for myself, wanted to look into her eyes, touch her skin, inhale her scent. Yes, I’d promised myself it would be quick, and I’d have done it in her sleep so she wouldn’t have had time to fight back, but now I discovered I wanted more. I wanted to experience just a little part of her, and these two guys looked like they intended to take that away from me.

  I waited until the men had entered the house, and then slipped in behind them, moving as silently as possible. I held my weapon at my side, my finger on the trigger, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. The silencer had been attached, though it never made a gunshot completely silent. When I killed the two men, it was bound to wake at least one of the inhabitants of the house, and then I would have to deal with the fallout. It wasn’t ideal, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t bring myself to walk away, not now.