Arrow to the Soul (7 page)

Enough.
“Where is Bullet?” she asked.

His face hardened and any interest she’d seen there seconds ago, dissolved. Bitterness rode the curves of his mouth and Arrow breathed in a sigh of relief. Bitterness she could handle. It was the other emotion that flared in his pitch eyes she refused to deal with.

She had used her body as a weapon before, though. Gave it a moment’s contemplation and then dismissed it. For some reason the thought of luring the man before her with sex made her stomach clench. Maybe because she recognized there would be follow through and that Arrow would never allow.

He watched her watching him and it became a test of sorts for them both. Things lay in the air between them that neither seemed inclined to reach out and touch.

“Bullet?” she asked again, keeping her voice light.

“I don’t know. Are you hungry?”

She laughed. “You’ll feed but not clothe me? Interesting,” she responded.

“There are clothes at the foot of the bed.”

Arrow picked the clothes up and stepped into them. White cotton underwear, white sports bra, black T-shirt, and black cargo pants. No shoes. She sighed, not bothering to hide it. “Tell me of this agenda,” she demanded.

“We want Joseph and The Collective destroyed.” His voice was hot, deep and stroked her skin like warm water.

“Yet you said our agendas didn’t align. It seems to me they ride side by side, together. That is what all of First Team wants. Bullet told you this when she gave you her name.” She looked up at him then, gave him the full force of her stare.

Most men turned away from her unable to meet her gaze full-on, understanding she was beyond their ability to handle. The man before her smiled and it unsettled Arrow. She licked her suddenly dry lips. His smile froze.

“You were headed to kill the Chinese president.”

She feigned a gasp. “No! Was I?”

“Tsk, tsk, Saya. Sarcasm doesn’t become you. You and I both know that’s exactly what you were headed to do. I tried to stop you from killing in Mexico. You asked why the tranq? You are a force to be reckoned with and we couldn’t allow you to throw the entire Eastern Hemisphere into chaos. The tranq allowed us to stop you and perhaps gain your cooperation.”

“Yet I would say that I came here on my own, thus your assertion I was on my way to kill the President of China is incorrect.”

He shook his head. “That you stopped here to visit Bullet doesn’t play into this discussion.”

“Yet here I remain,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Semantics.”

She stared him, hearing his words, processing them, and searching for underlying motives. He believed what he said. But this went much deeper than his off-the-cuff analysis of her motives, and she was going to set him straight.

Arrow breathed deeply, trying to control the rage she knew her next words would bring to the surface. “There was a child who lived in the Fujian Province of China. Her name was Ching Lan and when she was young, her mother and father escaped the oppression of her homeland and moved to Canada. They made a name for themselves there, grew to be respected as pillars of their Asian community. Their daughter went to school in America and eventually she signed up with an organization whose goal was to help children in need.”

Adam Collins stood still as she walked to stand in front of him.

“I met Ching Lan when I approached her about a particular child who needed a guardian. I’d watched Ching Lan, knew her to be not only a motherly type but also versed in martial arts, so a protector in all aspects. The child, you see, is precious to me and a simple, ordinary nanny would not do.” She stared at him, daring him to stop her. Surely he knew where this was going. “I set her up in Shanghai, told her she wouldn’t be allowed any communication with her family for the duration of her time as guardian for the child. She agreed and she was honest to a fault. She never swayed from the duty she’d accepted. She never faltered.”

His eyes flinched then, just the barest reaction to her tale.

“Until the day the President of China sent in a squad of killers to attempt to take the child. On orders from Joseph Bombardier, Ching Lan was shot and beheaded in front of the child she’d become guardian to.”

She moved so close to him the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. His heat called to her but there was no time to berate herself. “But you know all this, don’t you, Mr. Collins? After all, you were there.”

He blinked just once. It was enough.

She nodded. “I was too. But I was too late, her body was still warm, the boy gone, but there you were. You and Mr. Nodachi. You covered her body, but I took her home and only I heard her mother’s cries. Ching Lan took an honorable position as guardian and Joseph had China’s
president
,” she sneered the word, “kill an innocent. Do you know why, Mr. Collins? Do you know why the boy was so important?”

“I don’t,” he admitted into her silence.

She leaned even closer to him, eyes closing for a blissful second as their bodies meshed together almost perfectly. For a moment Arrow mourned her birth. Would that she could have known the touch of this man.

He didn’t stiffen, didn’t push her away, but she heard his knuckles pop as he fisted his hands.

“He’s important because he’s
ours
. Do you have any idea what we would do for those we consider ours? We would kill most definitely, Mr. Collins, but it goes beyond even death.”

“You cannot be judge and jury,” he said in a hard voice.

She stepped away then, shaking her head. “It has nothing to do with right or wrong. As the boy was ours, so was Ching Lan. What is ours no one has permission to harm or take. It is simple, Mr. Collins, the strongest survive. And the ones that aren’t strong, if they aren’t killed first, we do our best to protect. I realize Bullet wants to see Joseph and The Collective ended. We all do. But ultimately, it has always been about possession. We are the boy’s guardians. I was Ching Lan’s guardian. As she guarded the boy, I guarded her. And I failed. Her bullet-ridden body and her head lying two feet away attested to the fact.”

She took a deep breath and leveled her gaze on him.

“From the moment her life left her, the President of China became mine. His death is mine to dispense.”

•●•

Adam wanted to sink to his knees and weep. Never had the need to do so been so great. Her pain reached between them, its fingers clawing and ripping into his soul with vicious, sweeping strikes.

Her gaze sought to finish what her words started. Her amber eyes were beautiful; he’d not ever seen anything quite so lovely in his thirty-two years, but she was death. And it didn’t matter. He would hold her but knew she’d turn from him, never allowing the comfort of his touch.

He had been there when the woman was killed. Had just confirmed she was the one he was searching for when men in black masks stormed the house at the sea’s edge. The men moved like smoke and he’d been unable to get a bead on them with his scope. They’d killed the woman and begun searching for the child before he’d been able to get in position. Arrow was wrong about one thing: the child had not seen Ching Lan killed. He’d been safe though the men searched mightily for him.

The woman hadn’t pled for her life. Not once. Adam had wondered who she was being loyal to. Now he knew. The child was her priority and she’d been willing die for him.

“Where is the child, Mr. Collins?”

“I have no idea,” he said. And it was the truth. He didn’t know. It was better that way.

She gazed at him and again that feeling of sinking
into
her pervaded Adam’s mind. Would she watch him as he sank into her heat? Would she take his body as completely as she now tried to take his mind?

He shook his head, denial swift and brutal. What about Aziveh? Had his heart given up on her totally? No, he affirmed silently. Never. But his body was an entirely different matter, a fickle beast. Still he watched the amber-eyed woman before him and knew lust as he’d never known it—became acquainted with the texture and flavor of it. The scent of need rising from her skin permeated his pores. His cock hardened and he was disgusted with himself.

Killer
, his mind whispered.

Want
, demanded his body.

“Oh, I think you do, Mr. Collins, but make no mistake. As I stand here, Blade and Bone are searching for him, and they will find him. He is ours.”

Her attestation rang through the shadowed room. Adam believed she meant what she said. But she would not find the child.

“Are you hungry?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

Adam opened the door, intentionally brushing against her in the process. But it was a double-edged sword, the tip of which branded him. “This way then,” he said, and walked out the door.

Arrow followed him. Every muscle in his body rebelled at having a killer at his back. He could smell her and he hated himself—hated her. He’d sworn to Aziveh he’d return for her. That had been four years ago, yet each time he’d returned he’d been unable to find her. But he would, goddamn it. He would.

The smell of food wafted from the kitchen, blessedly drowning out the scent of plum blossoms. Carmelita had her hands full feeding the children and the men of Trident, but she did an amazing job with the task.

“How many people live here?” Arrow asked, the melodic tones of her voice rasped across Adam’s insides, drawing his body tight.

Goddamn it.

“Enough,” came the answer from table situated within the nook of the big bay window.

Arrow snorted. “Oh, an answer within an answer. Goody! Riddles are my very favorite thing in the whole world.”

“I see Bullet and Blade didn’t corner the market on being a smart-ass. Joseph must give amazing lessons,” Ken said from the head of the table.

Adam sat at the opposite end. Arrow remained standing, body relaxed, thumb and forefinger of her right hand rubbing together. He’d seen her do that many times. Perhaps that was her tell.

She glanced at Ken dismissively and something in Adam eased. For some reason he didn’t like when her gaze met another’s. He rejected the reason for that, letting the thought fade away.

“You’d be amazed at the lessons Joseph gave, Mr. Nodachi. You wouldn’t have
survived
them, but you’d have been astounded right before the breath left your body the final time.” She laughed and the sound was beautiful, tinkling.

Wrapped up in the tones of humor was enough pain for a thousand lifetimes.
Ancient
. He rubbed his chest before he could check the action. Ken saw him and raised an eyebrow. Adam flipped him off.

“Arrow was there that day in Shanghai,” he dropped into the silence left by her laugh. He poured her a glass of tea and slid it across the table.

“Was she now? So Blade wasn’t the only one? Interesting,” Ken said.

Arrow didn’t comment on what he’d said. “I prefer my tea hot,” she directed to Adam with a grimace.

“You need the sugar, drink up,” he ordered. She glared at him, but to his amazement she sat down at the table, directly between him and Ken, with her back to the door. What kind of discipline did that take? Did she fear nothing?

She lifted the glass, her long, delicate fingers at odds with her profession, more suited to a piano player. Her gaze met his and she proceeded to down the contents of the glass.

She coughed afterward and winced. “That’s awful.”

Carmelita placed a bowl of beef stew before her and Arrow’s hands clenched as the woman stepped close. She was like a feral cat, all sleek lines and wide eyes. Wild. Beautiful.

He berated himself for noticing. It fucking pissed him off. Try as he might, Aziveh’s face, her voice, everything that visited him in his dreams was fading under the sudden and virulent obsession with this death-bringer.

“
Es guiso. Usted necesita comer, hijo
,” Carmelita said, her Spanish lyrical.

Arrow looked up into the old woman’s face, her gaze iced gold. “I know it’s stew, old woman. And I am not your child,” she bit out.

Carmelita began to hum and Arrow stood to her feet, outrage in every line of her body. She picked up the knife at the side of the bowl and began to back away slowly.
“Tú estabas allí?
”

Alarm moved through Adam. Her Spanish was flawless, but why was she asking if Carmelita had been there? Been where? He stood, stepping closer to Carmelita in the event Arrow attacked. The assassin vibrated with fury.

Arrow cocked her head, lowering the butter knife, thumb and forefinger of the opposite hand rubbing against each other. “You hum, old woman. Who are you?”

“No-nobody,” Carmelita said in broken English. “Am nobody.”

Arrow stepped closer and Adam tensed. But Carmelita didn’t seem worried.

“Your name, old woman. I would have it.”

“Carmelita,
hijo
.”

Arrow looked at Adam then, her brow wrinkled, confusion wrinkling her nose. “Where does she come from?”

“She’s from Mexico,” Bullet said into the tension, her voice quiet, cajoling. “Put the knife down Arrow. She’s not Joseph’s.”

Arrow didn’t blink. “You are sure, Bullet? She hums.”

“I am sure. The babies taught her the song. She hums to them now as Juana did before.”

Between one blink of Adam’s eyes and the next, the apprehension eased from Arrow’s face and shoulders. She sat back down at the table and began to eat in measured bites that spoke of hunger and caution.
Wild.
Feral
.

Carmelita’s face didn’t show confusion, but pity was there around the lines of her eyes and in the shaking hand she reached toward Arrow. “Do not, old woman. Do not
ever
touch me,” Arrow growled.

Carmelita nodded, wiped her hands on her apron, and went back to what she’d been doing before. The tension remained heavy in the air but slightly less so now. Ken missed nothing, cataloging responses, searching for weakness, Adam was sure. He’d been doing the same thing. Bullet sat across from Arrow and Adam wondered where Rand was. Not that it mattered, if anyone were in danger it was he and Ken. Bullet and Arrow individually would be a handful. Together? Probably unstoppable.