Page 53 of Assistant to the Assassin

I smile, mouthing that I love her. She mouths it right back.

“Come on, boys,” she says, addressing us all. “Let’s go eat candy and plan how to kick those fuckers right in the ass.”

The four of us stand around the kitchen table, both maps spread out on the surface, and Henry pointing to different geographical points. When Henry made these maps, he made the one showing where the booby traps are on a translucent paper, so when you overlap the two, you can see every marking from both. It’s kind of jumbled when together, so I’m glad that we can look at them separately as well.

“You said that Harrison and his team are on two yachts, split into two groups of four and five, and their current location is the island closest to ours, about twenty nautical miles away. Correct?” H glances up at Ian, who is holding a mug of tea that’s comically small for a man his size.

He nods once. “We just checked the tracker we attached to one of their boats about ten minutes ago. They just got there, and if we assume that they’ll spend the day searching the island and then sleep through the night, they should be here before noon tomorrow.”

Ambrose, who is munching on a bag of skittles, sends a questioning look to all of us. “What the hell did you do to this guy?”

“I killed his twin brother,” Henry deadpans, looking back down at the map.

Ambrose pauses mid-chew and takes a moment to process this information, then he says, “Did it ever cross your mind that killing the twin of an ex-SAS agent-turned-mercenary leader was a bad idea?”

“We weren’t supposed to get caught,” I explain before Henry has time to comment. “So, what kind of booby traps do you have set? You never told me.”

Henry begins listing the traps, pointing to where each one is on the map. “Here around the perimeter are pit traps where jagged branches hide under mesh; in the north around this section of trees are three trip wire traps that ignite grenades; a few yards away from that trap and inside the east perimeter, are more trip wires that trigger automatic machine guns camouflaged into the foliage; on the inside of the west and south perimeter are spiked maces and tree logs attached to a chain that will swing into the person that triggers the trip wire, and then there’s some bear traps scattered around there too; once you get to the inner part of the island around the bunker’s entrance, that’s where the landmines are.”

“Oh, my fucking God, Henry.” I can’t believe I walked through that jungle and made it in one piece.

He shrugs. “Harrison and his team were trained like we were, so if we want to take them off guard, we need to use methods they aren’t prepared for. No one today teaches you how to handle swinging maces or pit traps.”

Ian confirms this with a nod. “True.”

“We’ll be in these trees.” H points to one tree in the north and the other in the south. “That’s where the beaches are largest, so the chances of the mercs docking there are high. Whoever survives the traps will get taken down by us from above.”

“And we’ll be down here helping you wherever we can,” I add, nerves starting to kick in. We’ve spent the past few weeks mentally and physically preparing for this fight, for the day that we kill the people hunting us down on our own turf, on our own terms.

But now that day is here, and I’m not ready. I’m not ready for our little safe haven to become a battleground, for the possibility that Henry might die tomorrow.

H must see the shift in my mood, because he suddenly tells Ian and Ambrose, “Go to the office and acquaint yourselves with our equipment. I need to talk to Beth alone.”

Knowing that there’s no room for questions or arguments, the two men flee the kitchen, and once the doors slide closed, Henry steps forward and cups my cheeks, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” he whispers.

Tears are welling up in my eyes rapidly, clouding my vision. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that makes you upset is stupid,” he counters.

God why does he have to be so sweet? “I’m worried about tomorrow,” I admit.

His jaw tightens, anger and passion filling his features. “Nothing will happen to you tomorrow,” he vows.

I try to blink back my tears, but it only succeeds in shedding them. “Not for me. For you. I know how skilled you are at what you do, and I know you’ve been in probably more dangerous situations, but this is the first time since I’ve known you that you’re going into a fight outnumbered and evenly matched. I’m terrified that I’m going to sit at a desk and watch you die tomorrow.”

He leans forward until his forehead touches mine, and I watch through blurred vision as he breathes me in, holding on to me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. “I won’t die tomorrow. Wanna know why?”

I nod, another tear slipping down my cheek.

“I’ve been fighting every single day since I was twelve because I wanted to save my mother, and when I couldn’t, vengeance became what drove me, what fueled me. I didn’t have anything to live for other than the memory of her, and it’s hard to live for something that is already gone. But then you came into my life, with your joyous attitude, your awful taste in music, and your obsession with fanfiction, and my life found meaning again. I found a purpose outside of revenge. I have something to live for now: you and the future we’re going to build together, and I’ll be damned if I am going to let Harrison take that away from me.”

I laugh, but the sound is strained and weak. “I don’t have an awful taste in music.”

He kisses my forehead, smiling against my skin. “Agree to disagree.”

I pull back from him a smidge, wiping my eyes with my fingers. “We should go join the others. We’ll have plenty of time together tonight, but for now we have guests.”

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