Page 2 of Assassin's Heart
“Or what?”
My words were deadly quiet. I could feel Levi’s shock in the silence after them, knew he understood what I was saying—there was nothing he could do to stop me. I worked with my brothers because I wanted to, not because it was necessary.
The silence ticked by with the passing of car after car parked in front of each square of idealized domesticity. Levi finally spoke.
“Look, I love you; you know that. I even understand where you are coming from.”
Because he knew about Leah. Or rather, about a woman; he didn’t know her identity.
His voice went from gruff to dark and deadly, much as mine had been moments before. “But Remi, if you don’t curb yourself, if you put Eli and Abby in danger, I will take care of business, don’t you doubt it. I won’t want to, but I will.”
I didn’t doubt it one bit. Levi would storm through hell to keep his woman safe. I knew because I felt the same. “Noted.”
I clicked to end the call before either one of us could say something we really would regret—or before Levi could. I’d gone far beyond regret even before I took care of Mr. Wife Beater Clarkson.
Leah had parked in the driveway of a small gray house with weathered white trim. I pulled into a spot in front of a house catty-corner to hers, at just the right angle that I could see her fumbling to gather her things and get out of her car. I could see her walking up the sidewalk, her curves pulling my gaze down her body as she moved. I could see her sidestep to avoid the crack at the turn in the pavement just before the steps up to her porch. I didn’t need to see any of it—I had watched her so many times that I knew each move by heart—yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
And because I was watching, because I knew her body language better than my own, I saw the moment she hesitated outside the front entrance. Saw her keys fall from her hand to patter on the concrete before she yanked on the screen door.
Something wasn’t right.
I was out of my car and crossing the street, heart pounding to the rhythm of my running feet, without a moment’s hesitation. Leah’s name escaped my lips over and over again, a mantra against the jacked-up fear I couldn’t escape, no matter how irrational. It had been a single moment, one fleeting glimpse, but something inside me—instinct, paranoia, I didn’t know what—said this wasn’t irrational at all.
Put me in front of a gun with a round in the chamber and a finger on the trigger and my breath wouldn’t even hitch. But Leah in danger? There was plenty of hitching. And swearing. And pleading with whatever spirit ruled the universe to keep her safe when I saw the broken-off knob on her screen door and the deep white gouges scarring the inner door’s wood.
Someone had broken in—with Leah’s child inside.
“Leah!”
Inside, chaos reigned though the room was empty. Furniture was out of place—the couch cushions split open, the coffee table overturned, the TV on its back as if its cabinet had been shoved. Toys and books and throw pillows were scattered among glass from a broken lamp and a teacup and plate shattered into pieces. Every drawer, every door was open as if someone had been searching for something.
I took it all in with one sweeping glance as I struggled toward the kitchen to the left. “Leah!”
The kitchen was empty as well, the destruction in the front room repeated here. A tornado had torn through the house, but still, I saw no sign of the people who lived here.
Until a startled scream came from one of the back rooms.
I cursed, stretching my long legs as far as they would go, taking the hallway like a sprinter with the finish line in sight. I hit the back bedroom in time to see Leah kneeling beside an older woman on the floor next to a heavy dresser. The angle of the woman’s neck told me all I needed to know, but Leah couldn’t read the story—one shaking hand was reaching to find a pulse.
I snatched her back before her fingers could make contact.
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Chapter Two
Leah —
The hard hands grabbing me sent a jolt of terror through my already trembling body. Before I could spin around, an arm slammed across my ribs and I was jerked back against a strong, muscular chest. Strength like that couldn’t be escaped—my father had taught me that.Best way to defeat your attacker, Leah girl; just don’t let him get his hands on you in the first place.
Too bad I hadn’t paid attention to my six. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight.
Nails. Heels. Fists. I threw everything I had—for nothing. This guy was like a brick wall, unmoving. The thought of the same hands on my daughter, of what they’d done to Lydia, only sent my panic higher. And then a hand clamped onto my mouth, too wide to bite, and the brush of stubble against the side of my neck threatened to undo me.
“Stop right now, Leah. You hear me? Be still and listen.”
Oh God.
I squeezed my eyelids shut tight. It couldn’t be. I’d imagined that voice too many times to count in the past year and a half, that same hot, heavy tone. It haunted me, that voice. Why would it be here now?
