Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

MINA

The dream was always the same.

I stepped through the darkness, silent as a ghost.

The layout of the house was seared into my memory. I'd gone over the map more times than I could count, making sure it was embedded tight. Every room, every door, every corridor.

The only variable was the placement of furniture, and that was predictable. The couch under the window, dining table near the kitchen. 'Standard for today's living,' as those home design shows on TV called it.

The room where my target should be sleeping was at the other end of the house.

Some people in my line of work like to wake up their targets before they kill them. I didn't. It was a waste of time, and added another unknown variable to the situation. The target might wake quickly and set off some kind of alarm. Worse than that, they might offer more money than the hit out on them. That created conflict and uncertainty I had no time for.

Once I took a job, I saw it through until the end.

No, they'd never know I was coming.

I placed my gloved hand on the doorknob and started to turn it.

"Who are you?" a voice said behind me.

I turned.

What happened next was always a blur. I don't remember the knife going in, or… much of anything. I went from standing beside the door, to finding myself on the floor, holding the girl until long after she died.

"You shouldn't still be here."

Even in my dream, hearing Kurt's voice, looking up to see him, gave me chills. He loomed over me, dressed like I was, all in black.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

I had no answer. This was not what I'd come here for.

"Mina," he hissed. He grabbed my arm and tugged me to my feet. "We need to get the fuck out of here."

I let him pull me to the door and out into the night. The moment the cold air hit my face, I stopped.

"I need to finish what I started." I turned to go back in but froze at the sound of a scream from inside the house.

Kurt's grip tightened on my arm. "Too late." He huffed out a frustrated breath. "You fucked this up. Hell, Mina, you were trained better than this."

"It was an accident." But he was right. I had fucked it up. Badly. I was better than this. I'd never been sloppy before. Never killed anyone who wasn't my target. Especially not…

"Cry about it later," he snapped. "We need to go."

I nodded vaguely and followed him through the dark, to our waiting car. We just got inside when the front of the house lit up. Sirens wouldn't be long.

Kurt started the engine and drove away like we weren't in a hurry. Even if we were seen, we'd soon ditch the car and use another. We'd have to, to be sure we weren't caught.

"What the hell, Mina?" He glanced over at me.

"I don't know," I said, vague and numb. "I don't know what happened." I ran through it in my head, over and over, but all I found was a blank space between her seeing me, and her dying. I didn't remember moving toward her, but obviously I had. Her death was evidence for that.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen next," he said. "The Sparrow is going to have to disappear for a while. We'll put it out there that someone else was behind this tonight. With any luck, they'll buy it. Fortunately, at least one of us did the job they were there for tonight." He lifted a hand from the steering wheel and rubbed his chin.

I pressed myself down, smaller against the seat. I'd had a bad feeling about this job from the start. I was used to working alone. Kurt was there to hack into the computer system and get some information. I was there to take out my target.

I'd failed.

"We'll get past this," he said. His voice was a fraction milder now, his attempt to soothe me after what I'd done. Him and me against the world. That was what he wanted.

We were never going to happen. Not like that. He was too short-tempered and aggressive for my taste. Too much of a hothead. I preferred men who weren't rash and snappy. Sooner or later, he'd realise I meant it when I said I wasn't interested. Not in him.

Not in anyone except the one man who was completely out of my league. There was no way he'd look twice at me, but my heart ignored my attempts to tell it that. Either way, Kurt Lasalle wasn't my future.

"Are you listening?" Kurt snapped, reminding me again why I should keep my distance from him.

"Yeah," I lied. I'd tuned him out for the last couple of minutes.

"Good, then we understand each other. You know why I need to do what I need to do next."

"Mina?"

I awoke so violently, I almost threw myself off the side of the bed. The covers were tangled around my legs. My body was slick with sweat. I wasn't in the car with Kurt, and I wasn't chained in a filthy cage in a dank basement.

The mattress underneath me was comfortable, the room clean and tidy. Like everything else in Reuben Brantley's house.

It took a moment to register that someone else spoke. I wasn't alone.

As if he knew he occupied a place on the edge of my dream, Reuben sat on the side of the bed. He was dressed only in a pair of black, silk pyjama pants. The early morning light that slipped between the curtains illuminated the frown etched on his brow.

"You were dreaming," he said. "Or having a nightmare."

I pushed myself up to sit back against the pillows. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't." He rested his weight on the palm of his hand, and made no move to touch me.

He seemed to know when I'd be more likely to freak out. Clearly uncomfortable at the prospect, he held himself back, more tightly controlled than usual. Which was saying something, given how controlled he generally was.

"I was already awake," he added.

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. One of those old-fashioned ones with an analog face and little feet.

"It's not even six o'clock in the morning yet." My eyes lingered on the grooves of his abs and the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. Unless he had one hidden under his pants, he had no tattoos. That didn't surprise me. There weren't too many people he'd trust to go anywhere near him with a needle. Besides, his body was a work of art without one.

"Is it?" he asked. "The day is half over then."

I snorted softly. He wasn't given to joking overtly, but he had a sense of humour, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. Like everything else about him, his voice was understated and controlled. I wasn't sure if he knew how to shout, even if he was inclined to. He didn't need to. If Reuben Brantley spoke, people listened.

"I don't remember it," I lied.

Parts of it were vague, like they always were. The bits that lingered in my memory… I couldn't explain. Not yet. I wanted to. I needed to. But I needed to find Kurt first and kill him. Before that, I couldn't risk Reuben not understanding what happened that night.

Then there was the additional concern that he might not want an assassin living under his roof. No, his response was a variable I couldn't control, even though he made it clear how he felt about me. That I was his.

I was sure he must see right through me, into my thoughts, but he nodded.

"I can have a therapist come to the house," he offered. "A discreet one."

I appreciated his offer. I even considered it. Five years of being chained up, tortured and used, would fuck anyone up. Five years of dwelling on what happened that night and being so sure I deserved everything Kurt did to me.

I fought him at first, or at least, I tried to. Between the chain, the cage, the lack of food and guilt, fighting was difficult. Once I realised it got him going, I stopped. All he got from me were occasional bouts of anger or frustration. Most of the time, all I really wanted was to die so it could end.

"I'll think about it," I said.

He rolled his lips a couple of times. "You can talk to me anytime. There's nothing you could say that would shock me." A hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth. "Bear in mind, I've had nineteen years of listening to the twins. I'm desensitised to shock value."

That got a smile from me.

"I'll bet. They seem to get great pleasure from trying to push the buttons of everyone around them."

"Especially mine," Reuben agreed. "Lucky for them they're both useful. Otherwise, I wouldn't keep them around."

"They would say otherwise," I said. "They'd probably say you keep them around because you love them or something." I couldn't resist the gentle tease.

"They would say that," he said. "I'll neither confirm nor deny the accusation."

He wouldn't, but I was certain he loved his brothers, and that was reciprocated. It was hard not to like Hunter and Parker. They could charm the pants off almost anyone. Anyone but me. They were also too wild and hotheaded for my taste.

Reuben placed a hand on mine and laced our fingers together. "I understand how difficult it is for you to trust anyone. Between our lifestyle and what that asshole did to you, I don't blame you for being guarded. Anyone would be. I hope someday you can come to trust me."

"I want that too," I said softly.

I knew what he was asking. It wasn't just about trust. He knew I was keeping secrets and he'd prefer I tell him before he found out some other way.

I'd do whatever I could to make sure he didn't find out from anyone else. As far as I knew, the only person alive who knew what I was, was Kurt. That was another on a long list of reasons why he needed to die. Not only because he might tell Reuben, but because he might reveal my identity to the world.

How many people would believe sweet Mina DiMarco was really an assassin?

Perhaps more than I'd like. Once everyone knew, I'd never get another job.

I was anxious to get back to work. I needed the money to help fund the search for Kurt. For that, I'd take on anything.

Almost anything. I'd never take a job that meant killing anyone who lived under this roof. Or any of my family members. Anyone else was fair game.

"Would you care to join me in the gym?" he offered. "I was headed down there when I heard you cry out." He squeezed my hand lightly.

"I'd like that," I said. "I need to build my muscles back up."

After so many years of disuse, I was weaker than I liked to be, my reflexes slightly slower.

I knew from the two people I killed a few weeks ago that I still possessed the ability to take a life, but I wanted my body to be quicker and sharper, like a knife. I had to be able to rely on it as well as any tool. I could not, would not screw up again. I needed to be even better than I was five years ago. If they thought the Sparrow was daunting then, they'd seen nothing yet.

"I'll see you down there." He leaned in to swipe his lips over mine.

Electricity crackled between us, so tangible I could almost see it. It could have set the whole city on fire.

He wanted more. If I let him, he'd press me down on the mattress and slide his cock into my pussy. He'd fuck me long and slow and thoroughly. When I was ready, that's what he'd do. As long as it took, he'd wait for me.

If I wasn't careful, I might just fall for him the way he'd already fallen for me.