Page 11 of Stalking His Assassin

I lean against the wall, studying the box. Tomas piqued my curiosity by telling me that it has a short shelf life. Well, the whole thing piques my interest, if I’m being honest. The fact that Tomas found me and personally delivered the box is interesting enough. The whole “it’s been decided” thing has me curious too.

“Fuck it,” I say, striding to the box.

It takes two guesses to figure out the security code, and I’m unsurprised when my own thumbprint works to open the damn thing. I’d love to know where he got my fingerprints from since they are in precisely zero databases, and I wear gloves anytime I’m working. I’ll have to ask him about that one too. If it’s something the Syndicate has, I will have to consider the future of our relationship.

I take a deep breath and unlock the last latch. Before I can open the lid, it pops open on its own with force. I let out a very undignified squeal that I will deny making until the day I die and stumble backward, nearly falling on my ass. It takes me at least an entire minute for my brain to catch up with what I’m seeing. A delay like that could mean death and is unacceptable. Though considering the fact that I was just delivered a fucking man in a box should buy me a little grace.

“What the fuck!” I shout in frustration. “He sent me a fucking person?!”

I want to slam the lid shut on the man that’s flailing in the crate and send his ass back to Tomas, but from the looks of it, the guy wouldn’t make the trip to New York in that crate without severe damage being done to him. I can’t imagine he’s someone that needs killing. Tomas wouldn’t have told me to open the crate quickly if he was.

I watch the man try to sit upright, but both his hands and feet are tied up and connected in a way that has him curled up in the fetal position. How he managed to maneuver around enough to push the lid open with such force is a mystery because the dude is stuck like a turtle on its back. Not to mention, he’s got a hood tied over his head. I’m assuming he’s gagged because there are nothing but grunts and inaudible yelling coming from him.

I run a hand over my face, then pinch the bridge of my nose as I consider my options here. I suppose I need to find out whothe hell it is first, then I can decide what to do with him. With him tied up, I can safely remove the hood and determine if he’s a danger. I have sedatives so I can knock him out to get him out of the damn box. I have several options to chain him up with while he’s unconscious.

Decision made, I stride to the box cursing under my breath, then quickly pull the hood from the man’s head and am met with dark eyes so furious they could pierce my soul.

Fucking Tomas! What have you done?!

four

CHRISTOS

I'm fucking pissed.

I went to the address on the card that Tomas gave me and was immediately shot with a tranquilizer dart. I had enough time to pull the damn thing from my body before the world went black. I have no clue how long I was out, but I woke up in a fucking box. A small box. So small the bastards tied me in the fetal position. I'll give them credit; they're talented at tying a person up because I haven't been able to work myself free in the last however many hours I've been in this damn box.

Screaming does no good because I'm gagged, so at best, it's muffled. Though considering I can't hear a damn thing, I'm guessing the box is soundproofed, so no one will hear me anyways. The worst part is the damn hood over my face. It makes breathing difficult, and even though I'm not claustrophobic, I'm edging towards feeling that way between the small space and the limitations the mask puts on my breathing.

I know I've been moved several times based on the rough treatment the box has been through. Whoever it is obviously isn't concerned that I'll get hurt. And with how I'm tied and the padding I'm surrounded by, there isn't much risk that I'll be physically harmed unless they push me out of a plane.

I haven't moved in a while. I was in a vehicle for an indeterminable amount of time, then shoved out of it, which, despite the padding, wasn't pleasant. The sharp impact with the ground rattled my bones, and I can feel the start of a headache forming from the whole ordeal. I get the sense that I'm moving again, but I could be wrong. It's not until I hear the locks on the crate disengage that I know I've come to the end of my journey.

At the first hint of air slipping through the box, I heave myself upwards, causing the lid to fling open. There's a feminine squeal and stumbled steps, then silence. I thrash around, but I'm truly trapped. Stuck on my back like a damn turtle with no hope of righting myself in the tight confines of the box. I start shouting behind my gag, only quieting when I hear the woman shout:"What the fuck! He sent me a fucking person?!"

Even though I'm pissed at my situation, I inwardly chuckle at her outburst. Whoever this is wasn't expecting a man in a box to be delivered to her today, which is confusing but a massive relief because that means I'm likely not here to die. She's cursing quietly as she walks towards me. Without warning, the hood is ripped from my head, and bright light assaults my eyes.

I'm stunned when I focus on the lightest blue eyes I've ever seen. It's been years since I've been close enough to admire their beauty. I hate that they are filled with some mix of suspicion, anger, and what most would consider fear. I know better. This woman isn't afraid of anything. She's capable of taking down entire armies on her own and has kept herself safe in a business full of predators for years. She's proven multiple times that she could easily take me out if she wanted.

So, if it's not fear, what is it? If I wasn't still gagged, I would ask. This woman is an enigma. I've been chasing her for so long, and now Tomas or the Syndicate have delivered me to her. I should be enraged, but I'm ecstatic about my situation. Thechase is over, and I can't be mad about it. Maybe I'll send Tomas a fruit basket in thanks.

"Well fuck," she says, wiping a hand down her face.

She stares at me for another minute. I half expect her to slam the lid closed and leave me to rot. She paces away, then back again several times, mumbling to herself. I can only see her when she's close enough to look in the box at me. I devour her with my eyes every time she comes into view. She's so fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Maybe I should feel bad about wanting her as much as I do. She was a mere child when I first met her, but there's nothing childlike about her now. My feelings for her were innocent while she was a young girl. I wanted to protect her in a way no one did. I hated myself for being unable to do so. She protected herself in the end and is all the more attractive because of her ability to hold her own against the world's evil.

I won't ever lose the desire to keep her safe, but knowing she can protect herself gives me a lot of relief. Our world isn't safe. Even if she were to retire and shed her title of Ghost, she would always have enemies. I think I would go insane if she was an ordinary woman. I would have to glue myself to her side and make sure no one ever got through me to harm her.

Falling for an average woman was never an option. I resolved to be alone until I went to the Agency's facility and saw her for the first time in nearly two years. The once little girl had grown into a vixen in my absence. She was still too damn young, and it was wrong to find her attractive, but it was impossible to resist her siren's call.

That day, I decided to free myself from my obligations and vowed to save her from her uncle's grasp and make her mine. When I found out she had saved herself, I was both angry that I didn't have the pleasure of ending the man who tortured my beautiful girl and proud as hell at how she took control ofher life. I can't help but wonder how things would have been between us if she hadn't destroyed the Agency and her uncle before I got there.

She stops in front of me, dragging me from my thoughts. Her pale blue eyes study my face for a long moment. I don't cower from the hard look in her eyes. My cock painfully hardens behind my zipper at how intensely she's looking at me. I can almost picture her looking up at me with those same hard eyes as I bury my cock inside her. A lesser man would be pissing their pants at this exact look, not getting a painful hard-on.

"Before I cut those ropes, I want to make it clear that I did not ask for this. I have no idea why Tomas put you in this box and delivered you to my doorstep. This can go a few ways… Option one: I cut the ropes, you get out of that box, and we can figure out how to get your ass out of here without compromising my safety. I prefer this option and guarantee you will be much happier choosing it too.

"Option two: I sedate you, get you out of that box, and chain you up in a slightly more comfortable position while I decide how to proceed. This option will be a pain in the ass, and I can't guarantee you won't be harmed in the process. Option three: I keep you in that box and ship you to Antarctica butt-assed naked where you can make friends with the penguins."

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