Heart Shot (5 page)

“Look, just because you’ve somehow managed to carry around a big gun doesn’t mean—”

“I can
use
that weapon,” she snapped, agitated. “I’m bloody proficient at it too. Gosh, I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this.”

Fin’s heart thumped as she ran a hand through her hair. Fire heated in her dark gaze, lighting her from within. Emily was stunning. His dick hardened in his trousers. He gulped and tried to control himself. Sporting a hard-on here in the street would not be a good look.

“This has to involve you,” he said a little hoarsely. Fin paused to clear his throat. “I can’t buy the coincidence that you were walking down the street, heard gunshots and instead of running or cowering like every other person in the vicinity, you pull a weapon and start looking for whom to shoot back at. Are you in intelligence? Or with another Agency? A freelancer?”

For a moment sheer, untarnished horror crossed her face.

Shock held Fin immobile. What had he said to cause such a reaction?

“Are you?” she returned.

Fin shook his head, not following. Was he what?

“Intelligence?” she continued, clearly reading his befuddlement. “With an Agency? Oh, man. Who are
you
? You looked so handsome, so deliciously, wonderfully normal.”

“I
am
normal,” he countered. He felt enraged she could think him strange. It only took a moment for him to realize that, well he wasn’t precisely what the girl next door might consider ‘normal’.

“Well,” he hedged, “I’m normal in every sense that matters.”

Emily lifted her hands and pressed them against either side of her head.

“You’re one of them. Aren’t you? A spook. A spy. Oh shit. I need to get out of here.”

Fin tightened his grip and lifted his other hand, grabbing both her upper arms, holding her firmly in place. He wasn’t certain why, but now he felt even more strongly that he couldn’t let her go. Marshall was safely hidden away, he knew. So while Preston would be calling him any minute once word reached him of what’d happened, Fin knew he could get the answers he craved now.

Emily was clearly upset at the thought of him working with the government. That raised a bunch of questions in his brain. Was she an illegal immigrant? A criminal? Worse? Fearfully he held her with one hand and patted her down with his other.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked. Wriggling, she tried to squirm away.

“Stop that!” He shook her, though not with much force since he only held one shoulder. “I need to know who you are, you either tell me, or I bring you back to the police. Just stay still a minute. I’m looking for your license, or ID of some form.”

He ran the palm of his hand smoothly over the pockets of her slacks. He could feel they were empty. Not deterred, he dipped his fingers inside her jacket and delved into the inner lining. He found a single key—which looked like it could fit into any dead-bolt lock—a few coins and crumpled notes and an Oyster travel card.

No wallet. No purse. No ID.

Who the hell was she? And what had he fallen into?

“Look, sweetheart, I need some answers here.”

“You’re completely out of your mind,” she answered haughtily. Jerking her arm and tearing herself free, Emily straightened her spine until her posture reeked of dignified arrogance. “I’m just an innocent passerby. Unless you’re going to arrest me, I want to go.”

“And if those goons were shooting at you?” he probed.

“There’s no chance that’s possible,” she said. “I haven’t done anything to warrant that kind of attack. Besides, like I said earlier, I can take care of myself. I don’t need help, certainly not from someone connected with…well not from you, anyway.”

Fin tried to hide the unusual hurt her words caused. He wasn’t normally a person to stick his neck out for a complete stranger, no matter how pretty her eyes and smile were.

Neither was he used to being snubbed because of his work. Actually, it was usually the opposite. Women flocked to him when they found out he worked with the government, wanting to hear spy stories and thrilling tales of speedboat chases and shoot outs.

Emily was unlike anyone he’d ever met before.

Surprise, hurt and confusion had him letting her go. Silently, he watched as she turned on her heel. At that moment, however, he saw four men walking in pairs come onto the street. They were up ahead, a short distance away.

Their stance, the almost robotic precision, coupled with the heavy thud of their boots and their posture screamed to him that they were armed and well trained.

Fin reached out to lightly touch Emily’s shoulder.

“Em,” he warned. She jerked out from under his touch. But as she lifted her gaze he knew the moment she caught sight of the other men. She froze.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that she recognized them for what they were, just as he did.

Trained killers.

Elite and powerful.

They were in deep shit.

The men caught sight of them both, their gazes honing in on Emily. They split off, two of the men picking up their pace and coming right for Emily and Fin while the other two crossed the street, presumably to come around and block them off.

“Come with me,” Fin insisted. He took Emily’s hand before she could utter a protest, then whirled around and ran.

For the first time since they’d laid eyes upon one another, she didn’t contradict him. Fin didn’t kid himself, had she wanted to stand her ground and fight this out, she could have. He laced his fingers between hers and held onto her. But they weren’t glued together.

No. She
let
him lead her into a small fishmonger’s just two doors down. They ran hard and fast, keeping pace easily with each other. Fin ducked behind the counter with a quick wave to the owner who let them both through with a bright grin. Fin took Emily out the back door and continued running down streets at random, weaving a complicated pattern.

He was determined to lose those men.

Only when he was sure they were alone did he pause. Impressed that she was breathing heavily, but clearly could have continued, he wondered yet again who the hell this amazing woman was. Her face glowed. She scanned her eyes across their surroundings and appeared to take everything in to the finest detail.

She wasn’t some random woman caught up in all this, there was clearly more to her than that.

But no one involved in his line of work would be caught dead without their ID, even just a driver’s license. Not unless they were deep undercover. Was that it? Or was she a freelancer, perhaps on holiday? No, she knew the area too well. And there was still that gun. Carrying such a weapon was highly unusual.

One other thought gnawed on the edge of his mind, worrying him with its weight.

Mercenaries rarely carried identification. People who didn’t
want
to be fingered should they be caught. That thought didn’t sit at all well and Fin pushed it away, refusing to believe anything of the sort. Emily wasn’t like that. Couldn’t be mixed up in something like that.

“Let’s muddy the trail further,” Fin said. Neither of them had made a move to let the other go. Still holding her hand, he started down the stairs to the tube.

Checking the signs for the next train, Emily and Fin hopped on board the first to arrive. The silence between them wasn’t heavy, but Fin was unsure how to break it. He sat down with a sigh, Emily followed him. She pressed her body flush next to him on the cramped seats.

He could smell the faint apple scent of her shampoo, and the warm, musky smell that was pure woman beneath. Emily stared out of the window—she appeared deeply lost in her own thoughts. Fin needed answers. What had she become caught up in? Could he help?
Should
he help?

Not knowing where to begin and somewhat apprehensive of starting down a road he couldn’t control, Fin gathered his courage and turned to face Emily.

“So do you still think this has nothing to do with you?”

Chapter Two

Emily swallowed hard. She’d been desperately racking her brain, trying to figure out what had bloody well been going on back there. Nothing seemed to fit or make the least bit of sense.

Which really, was par for the course so far today.

Fin’s question bit at her. Why she hadn’t ditched him at the station eluded her. Hell, why she hadn’t pulled her hand free and fled the moment they’d been clear of those goons was a mystery.

She’d always worked alone. Been better off that way, too.

Emily couldn’t deny, at least to herself, that she wanted to taste those full lips. Would they be soft? What would he taste like? Need clouded her brain and had her body aching. Her pussy grew warm and tingled with anticipation.

“Look, we can go back to my work,” Fin suggested. “We’ll be safe there. But I need you to answer my questions. If you work for an Agency yourself, or one of the other divisions then it might be smarter if we retreat to your people—”

Emily groaned softly and rubbed a hand over her forehead. Fin had been speaking in a low tone, though no one seemed to be paying either of them any mind. More than half the people in the carriage had ear buds in. Others had books and papers they read. Still, she bit down on her lip to silence herself.

In the heat of the moment she’d forgotten he was connected. She couldn’t begin to explain herself. She knew practically no details about James, certainly not enough to extract herself should she tell Fin she’d been conducting surveillance on Keyton to see if she should execute him.

How did one start to discuss that sort of thing?

Besides, she was deniable. Even if she gave James’ number to Fin and he called, no way would her story be verified. Those were the rules, and had always been.

She looked up as they pulled into the station. Deciding she had to go, she stood up. As she let go of Fin’s hand, her heart gave a tiny flutter, a lurch of sadness.

For a few brief moments she’d felt cherished. Safe.

She’d been deluding herself.

“Em,” Fin came to stand behind her as she opened the doors.

“Don’t,” she snapped as softly as possible. Stepping onto the platform she then headed in long strides to the exit. Fin was taller than her and had no problems keeping up. Emily gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to make a scene—couldn’t draw attention to them—but she didn’t want him following her either. Or not really. Only a little.

Part of her didn’t want to see that light in his eyes dim when he realized what she was. Emily couldn’t bear for him to know how stained her soul was, how she was one of the monsters he tried to protect others from. She treasured the masculine interest he showed in her, the way his gaze made her hot and tingly. She wanted to hold onto that, not have him wrinkle his face in disgust. Turn away from her.

The station was a small one, and she’d been stalking away from the few people hovering near the stairs to the exit. When they were as far as possible from them she stopped suddenly. She turned to face him and kept her tone low.

“How do you know it’s me they’re after?” she lashed out. “Those shots weren’t necessarily for me—it could easily have been anyone in the café.”

She thought of Marshall again, and wondered if she’d been the only person told to kill him. It wouldn’t be the first time multiple parties had been given the same target. She always held off, made certain the mission was one she was comfortable with, but few were as thorough as her. It was quite possible other assassins had been offered money to silence Keyton and they’d followed through far quicker.

“Then why would those men follow you?” Fin riposted. “It didn’t look to me like they wanted to speak civilly, ask you delicate questions.”

Emily tilted her head, acknowledging his point. She narrowed her eyes as another possibility occurred to her.

“Maybe it wasn’t me they wanted. I don’t work with any agency or department. I…freelance. On contract. I’m not on any records or databases. But you…you’re connected to this. How do you know it wasn’t
you
they were after?”

Fin opened his mouth at that, but then shut it again silently. In truth she’d been floundering, seeking to push him away so he’d leave her. In her panic, she seemed to have hit a tender place. Instantly she was remorseful.

Stepping close to him, she then laid her hand on Fin’s expensive jacket.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said in a soft, contrite tone. “I was talking wildly.”

“No. You’re right. It could be I’m the one leading you into danger.”

Never had she felt so conflicted, so lost and confused. Until now every mission had been quite clear-cut. Paranoia and self-doubt rarely had any place with her. But she’d been inundated with both from the beginning of this.

Looking around, she spotted a dozen CCTV cameras, as well as the Underground’s own security systems. If anyone thought to look, she’d bet they were on dozens of monitors.

The feeling of possibly being watched, tracked—
hunted
made her skin crawl. Not just for her own safety, but Fin’s as well. Sometime in the last hour she’d come to care for him, and now she valued his well-being—not just her own.

She’d meant to guilt him into leaving her, despite the pang it caused in her chest. But he seemed to think her words had merit. For the first time, she pondered if he might truly be in danger.

Anger stirred in her. This handsome, intelligent man couldn’t be taken from her. She felt sick at the thought of him being hit by a sniper’s bullet, or gutted like a fish.

Not while I still draw breath.

For the first time all week things snapped perfectly into place. She scanned the area like the professional she was. The long tunnel was not an ideal place to mount a good defense from, but neither was it where she’d try to make an ambush. The warren of corridors on the levels above them though, that was a different matter. There’d easily be a dozen places she could make a sniper’s nest in.

With the multiple entrances and exits, as well as the sheer volume of people strolling around, it was an assassin’s wet-dream for a hit. No one knew where they were, but they’d been standing here long enough had someone thought to send out a discreet alert for them…they could be ambushed in minutes.