Watcher (Killers Inc. #7)

Chapter One

Life was kind of boring since he hadn’t killed anyone in a while.

Foster didn’t think his family, the Agafonov brothers aka Killers Inc.

, were retired exactly. But it had been a damn long time since they had taken an assignment, and Foster was bored.

About a year ago, Foster had started hanging out at Club Affinity.

His brother had married the owner. While Foster didn’t indulge in any activities at the hardcore sex club, he felt a little less dead inside while there.

That had always been an issue for him. Sometimes he didn’t feel real—like a long-forgotten ghost refusing to move toward the light.

On the other hand, he had always been more of a watcher than a joiner.

It was possible that was why his brothers always forgot he existed.

He wasn’t bitter or jealous. In fact, Foster never felt much of anything at all.

Being raised in a Russian spy program, emotions had been stripped from him.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Sometimes, when he looked too closely at things, he wondered if he had ever had any feelings to take.

Foster’s gaze moved around the room at the men he had gone through hell with.

His brothers. A chosen family. Today was one of the rare occasions when he remembered he loved them.

He had chosen them for a reason beyond their being outcasts due to being gay in a country and program where that was not tolerated.

As he searched each face of the men scattered throughout the room, he saw good men.

On paper, they probably looked like a group of heartless psychopaths.

Maybe they were. Foster didn’t have the skills to figure that out, but they were also pretty amazing people in Foster’s eyes.

Today was Field’s birthday Christmas. Truthfully, each of them only had a day they had pointed to on a calendar and deemed it their day.

None of them knew very much about themselves at all.

But Field’s day was always one of Foster’s favorites.

Not only was Field his actual biological brother—not that it mattered since he felt equally about all his chosen brothers—but Field also threw the best parties on his day.

Field had gotten better at receiving gifts since he married Henry, but he still made his birthday about everyone else, deeming it his Christmas-birthday, which did not in fact fall on Christmas.

He gave them the dumbest of presents. It was great.

The way everyone came together to bring Field joy, the way he always did for them, was a beautiful thing.

Even with barely half a heart, Foster recognized how much love these parties showed.

A tingle crept up his neck. Years of training and keeping his brother’s safe kept eyes in the back of his head. He moved at a slow pace, checking over his shoulder without giving himself away. His gaze immediately snapped back to watching Field.

Field squealed at the new arrival. He made a path through the discarded wrapping paper and gift bags to jump Atticus. “You came!” He wrapped his arms around Atticus and bounced up and down, taking Atticus with him.

Despite who Field greeted, Foster smiled. Atticus smiled at the antics like he had known Field forever. They had only met once, and that was at Tracker and Zeus’s wedding. That was Field, though. A giant puppy.

Foster’s smile slipped away when Field took a step back, giving Foster an unimpeded look at Atticus.

He wore a huge grin and gave Field his full attention, the way he did everyone.

Foster had to look away. They had met way more than once.

The first time had been when Tracker and Zeus had had a massive misunderstanding that led to Atticus beating the shit out of Zeus, throat chopping Foster, and breaking Foster’s nose.

Not since his days of spy training had anyone bested Foster.

Immediately afterward, Atticus had turned shamelessly sexual.

Since then, he had seen Atticus everywhere.

It seemed a family day would join that list.

Field dragged Atticus into the fray and urged him to sit. Foster nearly barked out a loud laugh at Atticus’ expression at the idea of sitting on the floor. The guy wore what was likely a twenty-grand suit. Still, Atticus unbuttoned his jacket and sat.

Once settled next to Tracker, his best friend, he reached inside his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out an envelope. He passed it to Field. “Thanks for inviting me. Happy birthday.”

This time, there was no holding back. He snorted.

Thankfully, no one heard him over the rustle of paper being wadded up to clear more floor space.

Unfortunately, at the sound, Atticus looked his way as if he had echolocation.

He fucking smoldered. Foster’s heart skipped a beat.

He stopped breathing. Foster hated that shit.

Atticus was batshit insane and fought like a man who trained more than everyone in the room combined.

Considering they were all cold-blooded killers, Atticus’ skills were vast.

“I got you a present too.”

Atticus’ gaze moved from Foster back to Field at the statement. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t need anything. I’m pretty damn adept at spoiling myself.”

“Just open it.”

At Field’s insistence, Atticus opened the gift. He pulled out a t-shirt and laughed.

Tracker leaned his way and eyed the shirt. He burst out laughing.

“What does it say?”

Foster didn’t know who asked. That was how focused he was on Atticus. He was grateful as hell someone made the inquiry. Foster was dying to know the answer.

Atticus turned the shirt so everyone could read. If you ask me, I’m perfect.

Foster laughed. Thankfully, so did everyone else, but Foster still hated himself for showing any reaction.

For some reason, Foster couldn’t bring himself to let Atticus see a single emotion.

He didn’t know why. There was just something about the guy.

The way Atticus had fought him was a skill that had to come from somewhere. Foster didn’t trust him.

Atticus knew exactly how many times Foster looked his way.

He got the feeling those glances happened way more often than Foster realized.

Each time Foster’s ice-blue eyes slid his way, Atticus’ insides squeezed in desire.

Foster had passion. He had fire in his eyes.

For reasons likely tied to his past, Foster held himself tightly encased.

Atticus desperately wanted Foster to unleash all the suppressed need on him.

Not only did Atticus enjoy pain, but he also loved to fuck.

Foster would be fierce in bed. He craved the hatred-filled sex.

Yeah, he knew Foster loathed him, but Foster also wanted the dick.

Atticus was an expert at reading people. That honed ability kept him alive.

The party had been tiresome. Holding a mask of being perfect and smiling was exhausting.

Atticus was mentally drained. His shoulders ached from how tense he had been the entire time.

It was dark outside before the celebration ended.

The entire experience had been odd, but Tracker had warned him things would be that way.

He had known going in that Field preferred giving gifts on his birthday to receiving them.

That was why he had stuck with giving Field a four-day cruise.

Fourteen-day cruises were much better, but Atticus had stuck with a cheap gift.

He hoped Field wasn’t disappointed. While Atticus was a master at faking his way through events, he also never knew if he did anything right.

Atticus was a narcissistic bastard. He knew that.

Atticus was fully self-aware and was even in therapy to fix himself.

The issue was that while he didn’t want to be the person his family had made him, Atticus was also fully aware that everything about him kept him alive.

He walked more slowly than usual on the way to his car. The feeling of being followed had all his senses attuned to his surroundings. Logically, Atticus knew he was on Bosi property, surrounded by the weapons dealer’s army of security; that didn’t mean he was safe. The opposite, in fact.

“You realize I know you’re there, right?”

In response to his taunt, Tracker stepped from the shadows. “Sorry. I’m—”

Zeus appeared behind him, readjusting his clothes.

A smile exploded across Atticus’ face. It couldn’t have been more obvious they had been making out in the dark.

Atticus chuckled. “Don’t you two have a bed at home?”

Even with only floodlights lighting the driveway, Atticus saw the way Tracker blushed.

Married to a dungeon master and still so innocent.

Zeus was a lucky bastard. Of course, Zeus had a face and body to make angels sing.

He could have anyone he wanted. Tracker was a great choice.

Atticus would one hundred percent steal Tracker if he could. But they “loved” each other. Ew.

“Any place is a bed if you try hard and have no shame.”

Atticus shook his head at Zeus’ claim.

Tracker still blushed.

Before he could embarrass Tracker any further, Tracker changed the subject. “Thank you for today. I know we’re overwhelming, but this whole thing means the world to Field, and he deserves all the love.”

Atticus nodded along. “It’s no problem. I had fun. Plus, I got to see you. It was a good day.”

The possibility of having to fight Zeus again was worth it to see Tracker’s smile. “Yeah. It was nice not having a computer and a dozen miles between us. You don’t come to Affinity anymore.”

At the mention of the hardcore sex club Zeus owned, Atticus fought to stop his gaze from sliding Zeus’ way.

For years, he had paid Zeus to hurt him.

After kicking the guy’s ass, the power dynamic had changed.

Not to mention, it felt wrong to have his best friend’s husband beat him into orgasming.

Even though Tracker seemed oddly okay with it, he couldn’t do that.

Tracker was the only person who ever stayed his friend after getting to know him.

He could lose a lot of things without batting an eye, but Tracker wasn’t one.

Really, Tracker was the only thing… besides his money…

also his looks, and maybe not his car collection either. Damn. It was whatever.

“I think I should let you two get back to it. There are several meetings I’m expected to attend tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday?”

Tracker looked genuinely confused.

Atticus chuckled. “There’s no rest for the wicked.” Even Atticus heard how sultry his voice turned.

“Well, that’s true.” Zeus grabbed his husband’s hand and dragged him back into the shadows.

Even though Atticus shook his head at their antics as he climbed into his car, he had to admit he admired the pair.

They had chemistry. Atticus was too intense for people.

An image of Foster floated through his head.

The blue eyes, dark hair, and huge body combo always made Atticus hot.

One of these days, he would have the bored-looking Agafonov brother.

He saw the way life always felt lacking to Foster.

His emotions were easy to read for someone who needed social cues to keep themselves alive.

If Foster ever decided to give him a shot, Atticus knew exactly how to shake the boredom from him.