Elliot
ELLIOT
stared down at the bound assassin warily. As much as he wanted to believe Clay and hoped he could trust him, his professional caution prevented him from committing immediately. The man was someone who made a living through sneaking, lying, manipulating, and ultimately killing people.
Clay’s outstretched arms sagged slightly. “Can’t say I blame you. Not like people in my line of work are very trustworthy.”
It was precisely what had just been thinking, but hearing it come out of Clay’s mouth made it sound awful. Clay had done everything he could to keep collateral damage to the absolute minimum, to the point of risking his job and life. And if Clay was telling the truth, he also made sure the people he killed were...well, wasn’t sure if he wanted to say they deserved it, but they certainly wouldn’t be missed. Whether Clay would admit it or not, it did speak of someone better than a bloodthirsty assassin.
And God save him, he hated the resignation tinging Clay’s voice.
reached into his pocket and drew out his folding knife. Flipping it open, he took hold of the ropes intricately tied and knotted around Clay’s wrists. The sharp blade cut clean through the rope, freeing Clay’s arms. Next came the legs, drawing a low sigh from Clay as he flexed his now free limbs.
“Waste of perfectly good rope,” Clay noted, rubbing at his arms.
“Easier than trying to undo every knot,” said as he put the blade away.
“I wasn’t going to say it, but it did seem like an excessive number of knots.”
“Is this your way of fishing for a compliment?”
“No, but it is nice to see I’m estimated about as much as I estimated you.”
There it was again, Clay's oddly modest demeanor. figured people like Clay would be smug, cocky bastards who knew they were badass and had no shame in proclaiming it. Clay certainly didn’t lack confidence in his skills but seemed to accept it rather than something he felt the need to rub someone else’s nose in.
A little pleased at the compliment, had to ask. “Where did you learn to do all that?”
Clay looked up. “Do all what?”
“You know how to get around undetected, get through security no problem, handle weapons, and handle yourself in a fight. Those aren’t things that people just...pick up. You had to be taught,” said.
“No, I was trained,” Clay said, scooting to the end of the bed.
“By?”
“By...the people I work with. And then, I was assigned a mentor. They taught me the basics, built the foundation, but he made me into the weapon I am.”
winced. “That all you are then, a weapon?”
Clay snorted. “And what were you to the government?”
“Disposable.”
“Exactly. Any other questions?”
“Yeah, how old were you?”
“For what?”
“You know what. When you were brought into this life, when you started getting trained.”
Clay hesitated, looking away. “Ten for what counted as the academy. Fourteen when I was introduced to my mentor.”
“Jesus,” muttered.
Well, that certainly explained a lot.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. My life wasn’t exactly phenomenal before my parents got their stupid asses killed, and I got found by the Agency. If anything, it was better than wasting away in the system and being shuffled around like someone else’s luggage,” Clay huffed as he stood up.
“Is that how you see it?” asked.
“Can I use your bathroom?”
Subtle.
jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Go ahead.”
He watched Clay as the man passed him on the way to the bathroom. There was a grace to his movements had never been able to appreciate before. Knowing what he did, couldn’t help but wonder if what he saw was the product of Clay’s natural dexterity or the forced training and indoctrination of his youth.
He stirred from his thoughts when he heard the shower turn on, drawing a chuckle from him.
“Help yourself,” murmured as he stepped into the hallway to go to the kitchen.
His thoughts didn’t leave what Clay had told him. How was it that someone ended up being snatched from their life and thrown into assassin boot camp? It would certainly go a long way toward explaining why Clay was so blasé about what he did. Bloodthirsty was ’s original thought, followed quickly by sadism. Yet Clay took no sick pleasure in what he did, his actions more practical and realistic than ugly and mean.
“God, ten years old,” he muttered as he began rummaging through the freezer for something to pop into the oven.
He could ask what that sort of environment could do to someone, but he had a living, breathing example using his shower. had thought being thrown through the system as a boy had been hard enough. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be pulled from it and turned into a weapon.
Yet despite all that, thought it spoke in Clay’s favor that the man retained some form of a soul throughout the process. His careful habit of avoiding unnecessary and possibly innocent bloodshed was a big one. The other, and was growing convinced that Clay wasn’t lying, was the choice of his targets. Assassinations still went against the rule of law, but choosing to go after the worst of the worst was far better than going after whoever he was paid to.
Was he honestly trying to give Clay credit, and if he was, why? He didn’t know a damn thing about the man, and as he slid the frozen lasagna into the oven, he couldn’t find one logical reason to believe the guy. Maybe it was just that Clay wasn’t the monster had originally believed. Maybe it was seeing him, talking to him, witnessing Clay cooperating instead of fighting.
And maybe it was the defeated way he’d told he had nothing and no one before the drugs had taken hold.
Clay’s voice came from behind him. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare clothes that won’t hang off me, would you?”
jerked, whirling around. “Jesus Christ!”
Clay’s hair stuck to his forehead, and he smirked. “Sorry, guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Apparently, the fuck not,” muttered.
Only then did he realize Clay was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with only a towel wrapped around his waist. blinked, unable to help it as his eyes swept over the man’s bare and still slightly damp body. He watched as a drop of water ran a trail between the man’s well-developed chest muscles and over the flat plane of his stomach, disappearing somewhere below the towel. He knew Clay was in good shape, but it was something else entirely to see the man’s skin on display, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist.
“So, do you?” Clay asked.
looked up, feeling his face grow warm. “Uh, there might be a pair of shorts or something in the closet. Can’t help you with the shirt, though.”
“Shame, I’ll just wear my dirty shirt then,” Clay said, turning away.
He’d already ogled the man to his face, so went in for the full view. He tilted his head as Clay walked off, noting that the back of Clay was just as impressive. certainly appreciated a good back on a man, and Clay had that. It was the shape of his ass against the towel that drew ’s eyes, however. His appreciation stopped short as he noted a jagged scar on Clay’s right side, tracing down to disappear beneath the towel.
“You staying for dinner?” asked.
“Figured I might as well stay under supervision for a while. Don’t want you getting nervous and charging off to save your boss,” Clay called back.
Oh God, was he staying the night?
“You don’t mind if I steal the couch, right? I’ll take the floor if I need to,” Clay continued from somewhere down the hall.
“Uh, no, that’s fine. I have to work early,” said, resisting the urge to see what Clay was doing.
“Ah, yes, must go play bodyguard.”
frowned but didn’t say anything. In truth, he hadn’t lied to Clay. truly wanted to discover if there was any truth to Clay’s accusations. Everything the man had said about Anthony sat oddly in ’s gut, but he wasn’t making a decision until he had more information.
In the meantime, he was apparently going to play host to the man he’d essentially been hired to stop. had experienced a few odd events in his life, including having to hide out on a goat farm after his team had escaped an ambush. Somehow he thought the next few hours were going to be more awkward than being stuck in a barn with half a dozen horny billy goats.
“And don’t think I didn’t see you eye fuck me either,” Clay called.
Yeah, very awkward.
* * *
was awake before the sun had begun to do much more than peek over the horizon. He supposed it was a little unfair to be relieved that he had lived to see the next day, but he felt it all the same. The apartment was quiet, with only the soft hum of the air conditioner breaking the silence. The streets below were quiet, as the night owls and morning people had yet to cross paths on their way home or to work.
He dressed quickly, forgoing his morning shower. Walking as quietly as possible, he peered into the living room. The second dose of relief struck him as he spied Clay curled up on the couch beneath a blanket. Clay was still awake when went to bed, and wondered if the man would be there when he returned. Once more, he was struck by how young Clay looked when he was asleep, and he wondered if the man ever had any pleasant dreams.
Gathering up his phone and keys, he mused at how his initial prediction about the night before had been completely off. Despite his relatively amicable demeanor when dealing with , Clay had lapsed into silence. He’d murmured thanks when had returned his bag full of supplies but had said little more.
drove to Anthony’s office and wondered if leaving Clay alone was such a good idea. Then again, he had let the man sleep in his apartment without any issues. All he could do was hope Clay stuck to his word and didn’t make a move on Anthony. Though would be the first to admit he found Clay’s silence a little unnerving, he wondered what the man was plotting.
He wasn’t surprised to find Miss Stein already stationed at her desk. True to what he’d come to expect, a small smile flashed on her face as she spotted him entering the lobby.
“Well, good morning, , another early day?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Just doing a sweep before I fetch Anthony,” he told her.
“Well, by all means, have a sweep. The security boys are where they’re supposed to be, and everything’s been quiet.”
“Well, you know me, I have to be thorough.”
She hummed. “I certainly hope so.”
Knowing her eyes would follow him down the hallway, breezed past her desk and began his sweep. Security had become considerably tighter since he’d come into Anthony’s employ, but that didn’t stop him making random checks. He checked the supply room and the small offices that were rarely used by anyone. Inevitably, he would make his way to the back, but as per his routine, he also checked Anthony’s office.
didn’t bother to check the office when he entered it. The source of danger for Anthony was currently asleep on his couch after all. Instead, he immediately went to the desk where Anthony’s work computer sat. Over the past couple of weeks, had unintentionally been witness to Anthony’s password numerous times. It wasn’t the first time on a job had witnessed passwords, passcodes, or once, a passphrase.
This would be the first time he’d ever used one, though.
The computer stirred to life after he hit the power button. His heart began to speed up as the password screen appeared, and he promptly typed it in. wouldn’t have much time before someone came looking for him. Everyone knew he was in the building, and was sure Miss Stein would have already messaged Anthony to let him know was there.
If Clay’s assumptions about Anthony were correct, there would be something somewhere. Anthony’s work computer was a bit of a stretch, but considering how much time the man spent on it compared to his home computer, hoped that if there were something to find, it would be on there.
His eyes darted to the door as he opened files, scanning their contents as quickly as possible. The click of the mouse sounded loud in the quiet office. He knew it was impossible to be heard through the thick office door and down the hallway, but his nervous brain told him Miss Stein would eventually hear. He was made for combat and strategy, not subterfuge.
The only thing left was a file marked Sundown. Most of the folders had nicknames, apparently for Anthony’s sake. The whole thing was turning into a wild goose chase, and his only hope would be to go through Anthony’s personal computer at home.
He paused as the folder opened, reading the subfolder names. Burro came before Downtown and before the list of subfolders labeled Suburbia. cracked the folders open and found a list of files. Each had a title based on random objects. He clicked on the one named Star.
’s eyes widened as a detailed sheet opened on the screen. Attached to physical attributes, background information, and even work history was the picture of a lovely woman. Her blonde hair was tossed over one bare shoulder as she smiled at the camera.
Heart hammering, jammed a flash drive into the computer, closed the file, and copied the contents of the Sundown folder to the device. A thump from the hallway brought his head up sharply. Breath catching, he quickly closed the folders, yanking the device from the computer and shoving it into his pocket. The door to the office opened just as he quickly hit the combination on the keyboard to put the computer to sleep.
Balding and out of shape, Gregory Rhymes walked in and paused as he caught sight of at the desk. had never officially met the man, though he had seen him around the office several times. Anthony’s partner seemed as busy as Anthony and rarely did more than wave as he passed. Most of their business was done over the phone and was usually an argument.
“Uh, you’re not Anthony,” Gregory said.
flashed a smile he hoped was genuine. “Nope, just doing my normal security sweep of the office before Mr. Howell comes in.”
“You check his desk?”
“Considering I found a bomb under his driver’s seat, I thought it important to do a full sweep of his office, especially where he’s normally going to be sitting.”
Gregory watched him for a long moment, brow shining with sweat. “Right. So, he’s not in yet?”
stood up from the desk. “No, I have to go fetch him. I can have him call you when we get back.”
Greg gave him a nervous smile. “No, that’s fine. You just...I’ll tell him myself.”
really didn’t like how uncomfortable Greg looked. The last thing he needed was for the nervous-looking man to tell Anthony about finding at his desk. It felt like the flash drive full of evidence was practically screaming into the awkwardly quiet room.
“Alright, well, I should probably continue with my sweep. I still have to check how security is holding up,” said, walking around the desk.
“Yeah, uh, good luck with that,” Greg said before practically darting out of the room.
let out a shaky breath, unsure if he should be relieved or even more worried. Worse, he would have to continue his job as if nothing were wrong. The files could have been nothing more than Anthony being obsessive about private bed partners or perhaps just the files of people from various charities and businesses.
A sinking feeling in his gut told him he was grasping at straws.