Assassin's Haiku (9 page)

“Yeah.” Diego scanned the area as he followed the child. They stepped through a narrow doorway, guarded by two armed female giants, into a large playground. Kids of all different shapes, shades, and colors played together noisily. One child crawled up the wall, defying the laws of gravity, while a tall brunette woman pleaded for her to come down. She was ignored. A little boy faded in and out of visibility as laughing children tried to poke him. An older boy balanced fireballs on the tips of his small fingers, impressing a gang of giggling girls. These weren’t normal kids.

If there was such a thing as normal anymore. After decades of war, Diego wondered if there was.

The children turned their heads toward them as they entered the room. Some of the more brazen children crowded forward, curiosity lighting up their trusting faces, while others moved to the far side of the playground, huddling together defensively. They watched him warily.

A little blonde girl skipped along beside them, circling to stand right in front of him, blocking his route. She wore a white dress with a big pink bow tied at her waist, and unlike the other rambunctious children, she hadn’t a speck of dirt on her. Even her shiny white shoes gleamed. She stared up at him with pale blue eyes, a thumb in her mouth.

She wanted something from him. Diego didn’t know what, and he didn’t want to know, so he ignored her, looking around the space for entry points. “There are cameras,” he observed. He didn’t expect a reply, but Jacob gave him one anyway.

“We have cameras and sensors everywhere. I helped place them,” the boy stated proudly. “They aren’t as good as yours, though. Yours don’t have lights on them.”

Lights gave away their positions. It had taken some tinkering to get the sensors to work without emitting visual clues. “I designed them myself.” He’d design more for the orphanage. Diego felt a tug on his gloved hand.

“Will you swing me around now?” The little girl in white looked up at him expectantly, her tiny fingers wrapped around his.

“Em, Diego is the best ass-in in the whole universe.” Lines appeared on Jacob’s forehead. “He does not swing little girls.”

“But, but”—her bottom lip quivered—“I drawed him swinging me.”

She drew him swinging her, so this must be the Emily who had given him the drawing tucked in his jacket, and with it, she’d given him hope for the future. “If you drew me swinging you, then it must be true.” Diego didn’t know how to swing little girls, but he crouched down. He was an intelligent man. He’d figure it out.

Emily put her baby hands on his shoulders and gave him a tremendous smile. Diego gingerly held on to her waist, aware of how fragile she was, and lifted her. She weighed nothing, even less than Haiku. He spun around in a circle, holding her securely, and she squealed with joy, her legs swinging out.

The faster he spun, the happier she was, her blonde curls bouncing around her chubby cheeks. Her gurgles of laughter were infectious, and Diego found himself grinning, his heart swelling painfully. He would kill for this little girl. He would die happily in this moment.

Her laughter quieted, and Diego regretfully lowered her to the floor. “There, I swung you.” He acted like nothing had changed, like swinging her hadn’t affected him.

“Thank you, Da-Da.” Emily wobbled away, a silly smile on her face.

“My turn, my turn.” His hand was grabbed again, and Diego looked down. A freckle-faced boy, younger than Jacob, gave him a lopsided grin. He was missing a front tooth.

He wasn’t the only child waiting. A line-up of toddlers, organized by his overly grim assistant, Jacob, stretched across the playground, and they waited for him, an assassin, to swing them into the air. Diego shook his head in disbelief.

A week ago, he had been satisfied with spending two days a week sitting beside the angel woman he adored. Today he woke up in that angel’s arms, and he had a playground of children trusting him to keep them safe. He was surrounded by love and joy.

“Da-Da.” His hand was yanked on, and the boy tilted his head, clearly confused by Diego’s lack of response. A wave of Da-Das flowed through the line.

He was needed, and he was loved. Diego’s legs trembled as he knelt on the artificial turf for the little boy. “Hold on tight,” he said as his voice cracked.

Chapter Twelve

Haiku stood at the edge of the playground, a backpack of retrieved clothes slung over her shoulder, and watched the scene before her with amusement. The children were circling her assassin, and Diego’s chuckles added an underlying bass to the chorus of high-pitched giggles.

She had worried that he might balk at the connections he called dangerous, but instead he seemed to be embracing them, indulging the children she loved so much. Diego’s black-eyed gaze lifted and met hers, his eyes shining with love. He loved her. Haiku’s body warmed. She was eager to be alone with him so he could physically express that love.

“Jules, Diego will play jet bike with you another day.” Haiku snatched a squirming toddler off Diego’s back. She laughed at Diego’s genuine smile of thanks and extended her hand to help him stand. Her usually impeccably clean warrior was a mess. The knees of his black leather pants were scuffed from the imitation-grass carpet, his hair stood up on end, having been pulled on by his riders, and his shades were smudged with tiny handprints. Children bounced around them, cheering his name, hyper from the extra attention.

“Diego will play jet bike with me later tonight,” Haiku whispered into Diego’s ear. Seeing him bent over with that gorgeously tight ass in the air had given her ideas, and none of them were appropriate for the little ears listening.

“Someone will be ridden tonight,” Diego murmured back, his deep voice making the hairs on her neck stand up. “It may not be Diego.” His smile became positively wicked as he squeezed her waist.

“Don’t go, Ku-Ku,” Georgie, a round-faced ten-year-old, begged, his grip uncomfortably tight around her legs. He had the strength of an adult but the intelligence of a five-year-old.

“I’ll be back soon, Georgie.” She ruffled his red hair. She hoped she’d be back soon, but the Agency continued to hunt her, and she’d only return if Diego thought it safe.

“She’ll be back tomorrow,” Diego amended. Tomorrow? He would bring her back tomorrow? Haiku arched an eyebrow, surprised.

“I’ll be back also.” Diego grinned as he walked with her to the drop shaft. “You’re not going anywhere without me.” He swung her into his arms before stepping inside.

“Why would I want to?” Haiku touched his tanned face. She felt safe in his arms.

Jacob squeezed in beside them, not saying a word, staring straight ahead. Did he think they didn’t see him? They did, because invisibility was not one of his powers.

“Jacob, no.” Haiku shook her head. There may be a day when Jacob would stay with them, but that day wasn’t today. “You are to stay here.” It pained her to leave him.

“Em says I should go with you,” he insisted, his chin stuck out stubbornly. Haiku’s stomach twisted. Emily foresaw a need for Jacob to accompany them. They were in grave danger. Of all the children, Jacob had the most powerful and violent abilities.

“No. You stay,” Diego addressed the boy.

“I’m going with you. I need to protect Mommy.” Jacob crossed his arms, staring up at his hero. Despite his belligerence, he clearly idolized Diego, and Haiku did nothing to dampen his hero worship, as she could not think of a better role model for the little boy than Diego.

“I will protect…Mommy.”

Diego paused before the word, the corners of his mouth quirking up, and Haiku’s face flushed. She saw no harm in letting Jacob think of her as his mother. They had a special connection, and she loved him like he was her own son.

“I need you to protect the children.” Diego assigned his junior self that important task.

Jacob narrowed his eyes. “Em said—”

“This is not a discussion, assassin,” Diego barked, his voice ringing in the small space. “That is an order, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy straightened. Although defiance flashed in Jacob’s dark eyes, he stepped out of the shaft.

Diego pressed the Up button. In silence, they watched the abandoned floors blur past them. They’d made the right decision, Haiku told herself. They couldn’t risk a child’s safety to save their own lives, and if anything bad happened to Jacob, she couldn’t live with herself.

“Thank you for that.” Haiku rubbed Diego’s chest. She couldn’t have convinced Jacob on her own. “Em usually—”

“Yeah,” Diego broke in. “We’ll be careful.”

He was careful, carrying her for over twenty city blocks. They headed away from the children and away from their home, following a random pattern that only Diego understood. It had rained again while they were underground. It was always raining, the gray clouds permanently covering the sun. Diego splashed through the acidic puddles. The wet didn’t burn him as it did her. His boots and leather pants protected his skin.

Haiku relaxed in his arms. She had worried that the day spent entertaining children would tire him, but Diego appeared as fresh as he had been that morning. He ran, his stride long and silent, his chest heaving, and she pressed her fingertips to the pulsing vein on the side of his neck. They didn’t need Jacob. Diego would keep them safe.

When Diego deemed them far enough away, he slid her to her feet. The pavement was slick, and she slipped, but he steadied her, his grip firm and sure. Haiku offered him a tentative smile of thanks. His eyes gleamed, and they were off again, running through the alleyways. The weather was cool and damp, droplets of water blistered her skin, but Haiku’s heart felt light. She was with the man she loved, and they were alive and free and happy.

They ran, playing a game of tag Haiku would never win. When she stumbled, Diego caught her, and when she tired, Diego slowed, taking the backpack from her. They didn’t need to talk. They were as one, sprinting through the city.

All too soon, though, Haiku read the change in Diego, saw it in the stiffness in his back. They were being followed, hunted, and her happiness turned to fear. They ran faster and faster, Diego’s zigging and zagging becoming more frantic as she heard the men closing in on them. The exits dwindled to fewer possibilities until they were trapped and could go no farther. The Agency operatives were all around them. She saw them, their dark forms detaching from the shadows.

“Diego,” she whispered, needing his reassurance. There was no longer a reason for silence, as the Agency had found them.

“Stay behind me.” Dropping the backpack on the wet ground, Diego backed up until Haiku was pressed against a brick wall. His body heat comforted her. He was with her, and they would survive this attack. Diego passed a gun to her. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Yes.” Haiku held it tentatively, the weapon heavy in her hands. “Sort of.” She’d practiced—everyone in the rebellion practiced—but she had no natural ability for shooting. She was more likely to shoot Diego than an Agency man.

With every passing second, more men surrounded them. Haiku stopped counting at fifty. Diego was the best assassin Haiku knew of, but he was only one person. Could he defeat more than fifty armed men by himself?

“Fuck,” Diego cursed, and Haiku’s hope vanished. It didn’t sound like he could. He held guns in both of his gloved hands. With his expression blank, Diego watched the enemy approach, their boots ringing on the pavement like thunder. “I’ll shoot a hole in them. You run.”

She
would run, not
they
would run. Diego planned to sacrifice himself for her, deflecting the enemy fire as she fled. “I’m not leaving you.” She’d die before deserting him.

“Haiku—”

“I’m not.” Haiku stepped out from behind Diego and aimed her gun at one of the men.
Shit
. She gulped. The Agency soldier appeared so young. There wasn’t a line on his face, and there wasn’t any gray in his hair. He hadn’t truly lived, yet today, he would die, because Haiku would kill him. Her hand shook. She had never killed anyone before, but it had to be done, and she steeled herself to do it, steadying her gun hand. If she didn’t kill the soldier, the soldier would kill them. “Either we both stay or we both run, Diego. That’s your only choice.”

“That’s not his only choice.”

A tall, gray-haired man stepped away from the group. The other soldiers wore black armor, but this man wore a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and a skinny black tie. He adjusted his cuffs casually, as though he was at a business meeting rather than a shoot-out.

“If you give her to me, Diego, you will both live.”

“Never.” Diego spat, his face hardening with recognition. He knew this man, and he didn’t trust him. Haiku glowered at the stranger. She wouldn’t trust him either.

“You don’t need her anymore.”

The man’s attitude was of condescension. He talked down to Diego as though he were a child, and the subtle insult to her assassin lover rankled.

“Once she has loved you, the power boost won’t increase or decrease. A woman’s love, in this rare case, is constant.” He smiled at his own joke.

Power boost? Haiku stared. What was the man talking about? She had no special powers. He must have been misinformed.

“So is this man’s love.”

Diego raised his guns. Their three guns pointed at the soldiers. The soldiers mirrored his action, and fifty guns pointed back at them.

“I know what happens with your experiments,
Doctor
, and I’d rather kill us both than allow you to use her.”

Haiku also knew what happened with the Agency experiments, and she shivered. Her kids woke up at night, screaming with those horrific memories. The Agency scientists would dissect her, take her apart piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

“You will both die if you don’t agree, Diego. I read your file, and I know your capabilities, model 12750. Twenty is your top kill rate.” The doctor’s eyes were reptilian cold.

Diego said nothing. Haiku touched his arm. He didn’t deny it, and he didn’t look at her.

The doctor was right. If he didn’t agree, they would both die. “Diego—” To save him, she would face the Agency’s experiments.