Page 13 of Assassin's Game
One man in the vicinity walking back there, sure. But two? Suit Guy hadn’t been squirming in his seat like Sullivan—yes, I’d noticed. His water glass was half-full, and he’d barely sipped from the wine he’d debated with the waiter over.
Suspicion narrowed my eyes as I followed the man’s progress across the room. “Guys?”
Monty responded with a questioning grunt. Rhys would stay silent, unwilling to risk being overheard in the echo chamber of the tiled restroom.
I raised my napkin from my lap to dab at my lips. “Incoming, Rhys. Seems suspicious.”
“Our watcher, you think?” Monty asked.
“Maybe.” I settled the cloth on the table and stood. “Titus, keep your ears open.” The women’s bathroom was directly beside the men’s; I knew from the blueprints Maris had downloaded last night. “Rhys, big blond guy in a suit. Longer hair.” It was the only thing that made him stand out, that and his size. Most of the men here were gym muscular, not naturally bulky, and their hair was cut professionally short, but not this guy.
A soft hum reached my ears—Rhys acknowledging my words. I stopped in the narrow hall outside the restrooms and leaned against the wall, pulling my cell from the clutch hanging on my shoulder, for all appearances waiting casually for my man to exit.
“On my way,” Titus said through the earbud.
I made a quick noise of assent as Rhys came into the hall. Without hesitation he stepped close, his body blocking me from view, hands on the wall on either side of my head. His body language screamed aggression, possessiveness, but his face remained emotionless.
I smiled, flattened my hand against his rock-hard chest, playing my role. Seconds passed as we waited. I consciously relaxed my muscles in succession, keeping myself alert, ready.
The door behind Rhys opened. He leaned closer, his head tucking against my ear. I breathed in the reassuring heat of his body even as I exchanged the cell in my hand for the knife in my clutch.
Over Rhys’s shoulder I caught a glimpse of Sullivan’s raised eyebrows as his gaze glided over us before he moved toward the end of the hall and the dining room. A light pat of my hand told Rhys the coast was clear. His body tensed against mine, and then he was turning ahead of me, pushing through the door of the restroom. I followed without hesitation.
If I’d thought I might be wrong, the intent look on Suit Guy’s face as he stepped toward the now blocked door wiped the doubt away. The narrowing of his eyes on Rhys, the recognition—one badass acknowledging another—made my gut tighten. “Titus,” I whispered.
Suit Guy’s eyes flicked to me. There was no surprise, only caution. He knew who we were, or maybe what we were. I could tell. Only when the door opened again and Monty entered, his fingers flipping the lock on the door, did those amber eyes widen the tiniest bit.
Rhys took advantage of the moment of inattention by slamming his palm against the man’s chest, forcing him backward a step. Monty and I moved forward to flank Rhys.
“You’ve got ten seconds,” Rhys growled. “Tell us where X is before I cut your dick off and shove it up your ass.”
Any other man on the receiving end of a threat like that from Rhys would be—you guessed it—wetting his pants. Not Suit Guy. In fact, that smug smile he’d graced me with earlier made a reappearance, bigger this time. Ignoring the tensing of the three bodies in front of him, he slid his hands into his pockets and jiggled what sounded like change or keys. “Now that would be a complete waste of a great dick, dude; it really would. Especially since I have no idea who X is, or who you are.” His amber gaze grazed me before returning to Rhys. “How about we talk first before we skip to dismemberment?”
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Chapter Seven
Eli —
The first rule Levi had taught us when we started this life was simple:Never harm the innocent. The guilty are fair game.From the looks of these guys, that choice was a no-brainer.
It was the second rule he taught us that was my problem here:Never do the job alone.
That rule hadn’t applied to him, but as his younger brothers, it had been a line in the sand we better not cross. We were older now, able to take care of ourselves, but I’d never broken the rule.
Until now.
Basically I’d fucked myself.
I kept my eyes off the beautiful woman to the redhead’s left. I had zero doubt she could be as lethal as the men in the room, but looking at her was too much of a distraction. I felt myself getting caught up, staring, just as I had when I’d spotted her crossing the dining room earlier after I’d been seated. Her long black hair fell around her like a cloak, her green eyes shining brilliantly in gorgeous contrast.
Yes, she was definitely a distraction, and ignoring her was the lesser of two evils.
The sequence played out clearly in my mind’s eye—slipping my hand from my pocket to the small of my back, where the knife I’d stashed was within easy reach. Or going for the gun tucked beneath my armpit. The suit was specially designed to conceal weapons, unlike my opponents’, and the knife and gun were just two of several I was carrying. I would use the threat of either one to move the trio away from the door, where I’d flick the lock and get ghost.
There was more than one problem with that sequence.
First, these guys had to be sufficiently motivated to move. And I wouldn’t delude myself—in this small area, with all of our sizes but Beautiful’s taking up too much space, it would be easy for them to disarm me. Or kill me and leave the mess for someone else to clean up.
