Assassin's Mate (Supernaturally Shipwrecked Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter Three

Brock picked up the envelope that was slipped under his cabin door. He was thankful his handler finally contacted him and sent the target information. The sooner he finished his assignment the faster he’d be able to get back to courting his redheaded dancer. It was ironic. If she hadn’t followed him earlier he would’ve met his contact and had the opportunity to do the deed before the cruise left port. He may have never had the opportunity to meet Scarlett. Fortunately, her interference kept him from the meeting, and now he was stuck on the twelve day cruise - unless he got off on the next port. If things kept progressing with Scarlett he may have to enjoy the cruise, and do the job after the trip. It was the first time in years that he wasn’t hastily opening the envelope and getting the job done.

He left the envelope unopened as he savored the rest of his steak and cheese sandwich with raw vegetables on the side. Good meals were rare on missions so he decided to enjoy the luxuries the ship had to offer while he was onboard.

He had a few hours before Scarlett’s show and decided to take a look at the content in the envelope. If he was lucky, it would be something he could work on to make the afternoon go by faster. Time stood still when he opened the envelope and took in the picture. He assumed his job was a royal or powerful supernatural. Two million was a hefty price. He never would’ve guessed he’d be asked to kill her. Why would there be a hit put out on her? She was a dancer, right?

He’d seen her running through her routine on the stage as he headed to his meeting with his handler. She looked so exotic that he couldn’t help but stop and stare. She was beautiful as she flew through the air, landed and spun out. It was mesmerizing to watch until she spotted him. Then he ran. He didn’t expect her to follow, but was glad when she did. It was a brave thing to do for a dancer.

His hands were digging out the satellite phone before he even knew he was moving. This girl’s head was worth a two million kill? It made no sense. That was the fee for a high profile hit, not a dancer. There had to be a mistake.

“I take it you got the package?” A calm, mature, male voice answered the phone.

“Yes, well, no. There has to be a mistake.”

“No mistake.”

“We need to discuss.” He didn’t need to add the face to face, it was understood.

“No discussion needed.” The man hung up leaving a very confused Brock staring at the picture of a woman who could very well be his mate, the woman his group had been contracted to kill.

“Someone has some explaining to do,” he told his empty cabin.

*****

Scarlett hated to admit it, but she was looking forward to her dinner date. The mysterious stranger had a way of getting under her skin and she liked him there. She knew it couldn’t be more than a simple fling and she was alright with that. They’d have a week of fun, and then both go their separate ways. Besides, something told her he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy.

It was getting chilly as the hour waned on. He was late, but she was excited to see him so she hugged her sweater close to her shoulders and waist and decided to give him a few minutes before she started worrying about him. It was the first time she’d been single in, well, forever, and she wasn’t sure about all the dating rules. So she sat down in one of the auditorium seats and let her mind replay the night’s performance. As a cast member she never saw the finished product unless she watched the tape. All she had to go off of was the audience’s reaction and a critique of her dancing. The mental notes she made from missed marks and mistiming were in contradiction to the viewer’s response. They loved the show. It was a common problem she faced. Should she believe the crowd’s response or her own criticism? She took them both in stride and found a middle ground to stand on. The performance was okay. It wasn’t blockbuster, but it was done well overall.

“Scarlett, I have to close down the auditorium.” Eric, the stage manager’s gentle voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she stood and walked with him to the main entrance.

“Good performance tonight.” He grinned as he locked the double doors.

“It’ll get better.” She smiled back. “I really want to thank you for the opportunity.”

The older gentleman vampire took both of her hands in his. “Scarlett, it’s me that should be thanking you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a professional dancer that is supernatural?”

She never pondered that thought before. The life of a supernatural being was full of danger. It was simply the nature of the beast. There were probably very few that had time to become professional performers.

Eric kissed her cheek and patted her hand in a fatherly way. “You came out of nowhere and I’m thankful you did.”

“I’m just glad I was able to find a home here.” It was the truth. The alternative was not a great option.

He started heading toward the exit and she followed. “It’s an even bigger blessing that you’re so naturally talented. Have a wonderful night, Scarlett.”

“You too.” She gave him a preoccupied smile when she realized her date was now thirty minutes late.

He stopped in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Have a great night.” She was so occupied with being stood up she barely noticed he left. Brock Martin better have a damn good excuse for his absence tonight. She decided to head to the food deck to grab a bite to eat which she took back to her room. A small part of her wished he was waiting for her at her cabin, but any air left in that hope-filled balloon deflated when he wasn’t there, and there was no note left. She figured it was better that she discovered how bad he was now rather than after she slept with the man.

Chapter Four

Brock felt a twist of guilt in his gut over missing his date with Scarlett the night before, but dating her would make things far harder if he was required to kill her. His order was not very forgiving if a contract was not fulfilled. In most cases being arrested and spending the rest of your life in jail was preferred over not following through with a commitment to them. The very thought alone made him shudder. He was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, and was now scrambling to find a way out of the corner he found himself in.

Even now he doubted he’d be able to take her life. He rubbed his hands over his eyes to help moisten and push away the blurriness that came from staying up all night. Instead of sleeping, he spent the night hours calling his contacts and searching for a clue as to why someone wanted this woman dead. He needed to know for his own sanity. It was the biggest mistake an assassin could make, getting emotionally involved in the hit, but he couldn’t turn his mind off of the idea that there was more to the story.

The grumbling of his stomach and the pressure building behind his eyes had him walking to the food deck for nourishment and perhaps a coffee. Lack of sleep never does a body good. He was no stranger to sleep-deprived nights, but the other emotions rolling around his head like a storm brewing made the entire situation more dangerous.

He’d found very little on Scarlett Jennings, other than the identity she goes by is false. The obvious indicator was that she didn’t exist fifteen years ago. A nagging voice in his mind told him he’d have to get the woman to trust him and tell him who she really was if wanted to know the whole story. There was nothing tying her new identity to someone else, whoever remade her was good at it. But then again, in the supernatural world there were many people who were good at remaking an identity. It was a necessity for people who lived hundreds of years.

The designer of Scarlett’s identity was good, but he was better. His next option would be to get her fingerprints, and if possible, her DNA. It would be a last ditch effort to go to the high council to gain identity through DNA, but he’d do it if needed.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re still alive.”

Brock turned around to see a very pissed off redhead. She stood with her arms crossed over her bountiful chest. Her green eyes were narrowed on him, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t get to finish the apology. Her hand shot out and slapped him squarely in the jaw. The smack was so hard it had to have left a red mark across his cheek. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped at her action. Without another word she spun on her heel and rushed off the food deck. Brock, never one to shy away from a chase, put down his coffee and breakfast on an empty table and raced after her.

Scarlett couldn’t believe she’d just slapped the mysterious man. What the hell was wrong with her? ‘
He was going to lie to us
,’ her inner cat snapped in her mind. ‘
Even so, you don’t go around slapping people
,’ Scarlett hissed at her inner pissed kitty.
‘Someone had to stick up for us,
’ the cat pouted.

Scarlett felt a strong grip squeeze her arm as the man she didn’t want to see spun her toward him. “Why the hell did you slap me?”

“I wasn’t in the mood to hear your lies.” She raised her chin defiantly.

“I wasn’t going to lie. Something important came up and I was trying to apologize. Why I’m trying to explain that to you I have no idea. You’re absolutely crazy, and I should be running in the opposite direction.”

“So why don’t you?” She pushed down the urge to claw his eyes out. Her cat didn’t handle rejection very well.

He released her arms and cupped her heart shaped face in his strong hands. With one quick movement he could complete the contract and be done with this nonsense. It would be so easy. There was no one around. Somehow, they had found privacy on a boat full of supernatural beings. But one look into her emerald eyes and the only thing he wanted to do was kiss her, possess her. His lips were drawn to hers like metal to magnets. He couldn’t stop the draw even if he wanted to.

The kiss started tender and exploded into something hot as it deepened. Both reacted with blossoming passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and helping to ignite the desire growing between them. He plundered her mouth like a desperate pirate while his hands roamed down her sides and slipped under the baby pink t-shirt she was wearing.

His touch set her nerves on fire and made her knees weak, and she hated her traitorous body for reacting to him. He slid his thigh in between hers giving her support as his lips moved to her neck causing tiny sparks with each little nip along the way. “You taste like strawberries.”

“And you smell of strength.” She grinned as she pulled his black hair at the nape of his neck driving on the passionate exchange. “I can’t explain why I’m so attracted to you but…”

Her words were swallowed with a kiss. Words obviously weren’t this man’s preferred form of communication, but she was okay with that. She decided to simply go with it despite her knowledge that it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

He broke the kiss. “We need to talk.”

She couldn’t find her voice so she simply nodded. He laced his fingers into hers and led her back to his cabin. Neither spoke, neither trusted the other or themselves. Something about this man wasn’t right. She felt it deep down. Underneath his sexy exterior, under the desire they both felt, there was something dark. A warning rang in the recess of her mind.

He opened the door to his room and she froze at the threshold. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, warning her of danger. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t go in.”

He turned and saw fear on Scarlett’s face. “What do you mean? Come on, Scarlett. We really need to talk.”

She pulled her hand from his and shook her head. “No, I can’t.” She couldn’t explain it, but all she felt was dread creeping up her spine and she knew without a doubt that she was not going in that room.

“Scarlett, you’re in danger,” he warned.

“We’re all in danger. It is part of being a shifter.” She pulled her eyes from the doorway and looked at her handsome panther. She’d bet he was a beautiful cat. His rugged good looks were marred with concern.
Was it real
? “Let’s talk someplace more public.”

“You don’t trust me?” The hurt in his eyes was painful.

“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

“I think we’re a little more familiar with each other than strangers.” He gave her a grin that would make most woman swoon. But she wasn’t most women.

She resisted the urge to slap him again. Bastard! He was throwing the kissing in her face at this moment. “The making out was good and all but it isn’t enough to make me fall head over heels into foolish land and trust a stranger. And if you think ‘we need to talk’ is code for sleeping together you have the wrong idea about me, buster.” She accentuated each word of the last sentence with a poke to his chest.

He snatched her hand and pulled her against his body. They fit against each other like hands to gloves. “Stop that.”

Her breath seized in her chest. “Let me go.”

“I don’t want to… I mean I can’t. You’re in danger, Scarlett.” He reiterated his earlier warning.

She pulled away from him. “Stop it. I’m going to grab a bite to eat. If you want to join me, I wouldn’t mind the company.” She headed down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Someone wants you dead.”