Early Sins (Dangerous Games Book 0) (8 page)

Aim for the lung. Watch him choke on his words as he chokes on his own blood.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Like you did Steve?” He shrugged, laughter in his voice, his hands dropping onto his hips. “Steve was a drug addict. A total idiot, so I’m not surprised you got the drop on him. But as much as I disliked him, he knew where to find young, tight pussy didn’t he?”

“SHUT UP!” Camille screamed, wiping her eyes on her hoodie.
Was she crying? Fuck.
Joe was a blurry mess in front of her, and when she blinked hard she felt the hot streaks sliding over wind-chilled cheeks.

“You know, I thought I saw you yesterday.
That hair
.” He groaned, reaching down to grope the bulge at the front of his coveralls. “I always loved having a fistful of that hair when you were on your knees.”

“Go ahead and think about it, asshole, because it’s going to be the last thought you have.”

“You’re not going to kill me. You’re going to be a good girl, and get on your knees for me so I can remind you where you belong.”

“FUCK Y-” The scream was cut short suddenly, a blinding, hot pain lighting up her thigh. Her body collapsed under her, and that was when she saw the pistol in Joe’s hand. Scrambling, Camille reached for the gun a few feet from her. It had dropped from her hand as the bullet had ripped through her leg.

Shit
, there was blood. A lot of blood.

It was smearing onto the concrete under her as she dragged herself towards the weapon, but Joe rushed forward and kicked it out of reach.

“Did you really think you could just get a gun and come after me?” He dropped to a knee next to her, grabbing onto her thigh and squeezing hard. Pure agony exploded inside her, arching her off the ground as a scream tore at her throat. Black spots danced in her vision, and then he let go, leaving the throbbing ache behind. She was crying, hard, her breath hiccupping as he ran his hand up her waist. “Fuck, I’ve missed your screams. Listen, you stupid little bitch, I was a fucking cop before that slut and her complaints got me kicked out. I could have shot you dead just now, but I didn’t. I have better plans, and you should be
very
grateful.”

“Don’t touch me,” Camille hissed through gritted teeth.

“Little girls shouldn’t play with guns.” Joe ignored her, grabbing her breast through the hoodie, twisting hard until she arched and cried out in pain again. “Because you know what happens? Bad shit. Bad shit happens to little girls who play with guns, and you’re about to find that out first hand. I’ve got a couple of friends who would love to help me teach you that lesson.”

There was a buzzing in her ears, and she recognized it from the times Smith had practiced knockout holds on her. Except this time there was no arm across her throat, and Joe was not going to let her tap out. If she didn’t do something she was going to black out, and then Joe Wilson would have her. Rolling her head to the side she could see her gun just behind him, completely out of reach, and the sight of it made a cry break through her lips.

“Shh, shh. Admit it, you just came back because you wanted me to fuck you again. Wanted my big cock right here…” His hand slid south, under the edge of her yoga pants and the brush of his fingers across her underwear jolted her into action.
Fuck no
.
Never again
. She drove the heel of her hand into his nose, snapping his head back, and then twisted her hips to kick him back with her good leg, the excruciating pain as her weight settled over the wound in her thigh made her vision go dark for a moment, but she gasped and lifted herself onto her elbow, dragging herself towards her gun. “The fuck? You fucking cunt! I’m going to -”

Just as her hand brushed the metal, she heard a shot, and she braced for another impossible pain that would mean she was dead. That her life was over at the hands of one of the men who had ruined it in the first place. Her body instantly ran a check to see where else she’d been hit, but all that came in response was the horrible throbbing in her thigh. Tightening her grip on the gun she rolled to her back again, and raised it to where Joe had been a moment before, but he wasn’t there.

Propping herself up, she couldn’t process what she saw. Joe, on his back, leg bent at a strange angle half underneath him, with a bullet hole through the center of his forehead. Blood was already pooling underneath him, and her vision shuddered, the edges flickering like a cheap movie reel. “What the fuck -”

“Jesus Christ, C…” the low voice from behind her made her twist at the waist, aiming her gun behind her, and Smith froze in place, his own gun angled down at his side.

“Smith?” Her voice cracked as she said it, and he nodded slowly.

“Yes, it’s me. I need you to lower that gun so I can check on you.” He glanced at the weapon in her hand, the one that was shaking, her knuckles white from how hard she gripped it.

With more effort than she thought it would take she slowly eased her grip and set it on the floor beside her, before promptly collapsing to the cement.

“What did you do, C, what on earth did you do…” He slid to the floor beside her, running his hands over her fast until he ran his palm over the bullet hole in her thigh. There was so much concern in his face, something that almost looked like fear, and he looked beautiful. Deadly and beautiful.

“You killed him.”
Why did her voice sound so fucking strange?

“Of course I killed him! He was - why were you even here, C? What were you doing? This? This was why you couldn’t stay and have lunch? Your
plan
that you couldn’t cancel was getting shot in a warehouse?” He shook his head and tore his belt free from his jeans. “This is going to hurt, try not to scream.”

“It already hurts.” Which was true, and she thought it hurt as much as it could, until she felt the belt tighten suddenly and white-hot lightning shot a jagged route through her leg. Smith’s hand clamped down over her mouth, and then his perfect eyes filled her vision, his silent reprimand unnecessary.

She had screamed.
So fucking weak.

“It’s almost over.” With another sharp jerk, another strike of vicious pain that almost sent her into a blackout, she felt him securing the belt in place – painfully tight. Her teeth were clenched tight against the urge to scream again, a guttural groan escaping instead, and tears were pooling in her eyes as his face appeared above hers. Smith cupped her chin as he captured her gaze. “C, I’m only going to ask you this once. Is this who you wanted the gun for when you came to me? When you wanted to buy the gun at Bill’s?”

She nodded, and felt the swell of a sob working its way up through her chest, but she bit down on it. Smith had already seen her fail, he’d probably already written her off, but there was no way she was going to break down in front of him. “Yes.”

“Damn it all,” he growled, and a quiet laugh escaped her, jerking his eyes back to her face.

“Language, Smith.”

“Now is not the time, C.” He shook his head and reached into a pocket, pulling out the little cell phone he had, but almost never used. Tapping on the buttons he raised it to his ear and waited, his gaze scanning the room, and her, and Joe, and then the room again. “It’s Smith. I need a pick-up and clean up at…”

His voice faded as the buzzing in her ears picked up, and she felt a horrible sense of sinking. Black creeping in to overtake her vision, and even with Joe Wilson dead on the floor she felt like he was waiting just on the other side of consciousness to take her into hell with him.

“C!” Smith’s voice yanked her from the black, his cool palms holding her face in his hands. “Stay with me. I’m going to get you help, I have someone coming, but I need you to stay awake.”

“I’m sorry.” The words left her lips and a sob escaped with them. “I was so weak, so fucking weak.”

“This was stupid, not weak. And as soon as you’re patched up we’re talking about this, and reviewing every tiny mistake you made. You think I’ve been training you hard? You have no idea what I’m about to put you through, clearly nothing I’ve taught you has sunk past your irresponsible, ridiculous -”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

“Why would I kick you out?” Smith’s face was a mix of anger and concern and raw determination, but she could see the flicker of surprise that crossed his uncontrolled expression as he asked the question.

“Because I failed you.”

“Failed me? I didn’t send you on this job.
No one
sent you on this job.” He shook his head and sat down next to her, moving one hand to the belt to add more pressure, which had her hissing air through her teeth. “Either way, this vendetta of yours is over -”

“Not over,” Camille’s voice slurred as she spoke, and this time the wave of black was going to crush her. She knew it. It was cold, and dark, and it was about to swallow her whole.

“What do you mean not over? He’s dead! Look!”

“Others. The others aren’t.” Her head lolled back, and she felt him grab at her, the scent of his aftershave overwhelming the coppery tang of blood in the air, and she knew some of it was hers.

“Others? C! Tell me what you mean, open your eyes and tell me. Talk to me. They’ll be here in just a few more minutes. C, tell me what you mean by others.” His voice was insistent, demanding, but she was fading.

“Camille,” she whispered, and then everything went dark.

Chapter Six

Consciousness came on slowly, like floating up from the bottom of a deep pool. Cold, then warmer and warmer towards the surface, and then with a gasp of breath she was awake. “Shit…” she groaned as the thump of pain in her thigh reminded her of everything that had happened.

Joe. The argument. The shot. His threats. Then Smith.

He’d come for her.

Her eyes creaked open onto a room that didn’t look like a hotel room. It looked like someone’s home. Pictures of people she didn’t know stacked on top of a dresser, an alarm clock to her left on a table, and on her right an IV stand. Following the winding, clear tube she found the end exactly where she expected it – in her arm.

In her stupid,
fucking useless
, non-Joe Wilson killing arm.

“Dammit.” Dropping back into the pillows she realized just how weak she felt. Like someone had wrung her out and left her to dry on a rack. Speaking of dry, her throat might as well have been constructed from sandpaper. Clearing it as best as possible she raised her voice, “Hello?”

Smith appeared in the doorway a moment later, shirt rumpled, brown hair askew. For a blissful moment a relieved expression passed over his face, and then it was gone, replaced with the cold, determined one she’d lived with for half a year. “Hey. You thirsty?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The stuff I gave you. Always gives me dry mouth too.” He stepped back from the doorframe. “Just a minute.”

Soft voices came from the living room, both male, but too hushed to make out, and then she heard a door open and shut. The sound of running water filled the silence of the apartment until Smith appeared again and brought her the glass, brooding at the side of the bed.

“Is this where you yell at me?” she asked as she took a sip.

He sighed heavily and crossed his arms. “I’m not going to yell at you.”

“Well, that’s good ne -”

“Yet. I’m not going to yell at you
yet
.” Smith shook his head and paced the few steps he could in the small room. “You have some questions to answer.”

“Fine.” Camille settled back against the pillows, because if she was going to have this fucking conversation with him, she was going to be comfortable. He stopped where he was and took a deep breath before he turned to face her.

“First, who was the guy?”

“Joe Wilson.”

“Did you know he had a gun?”

Rolling her eyes she scoffed. “Of course I didn’t know he had a fucking gun. You know what else I didn’t know? I didn’t know he used to be a fucking cop that would know how to use a fucking gun.”

“Used to be? Are you sure he isn’t still a cop?”

“He said he got kicked off. So, yes, I’m sure. He’s been working at that shithole of an auto shop for a couple of years at least.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because he used to bitch about the job, and that was how I found him after -” She cut herself off and clenched her jaw tight.

“After what?”

“Nevermind.” Turning away from Smith to avoid his gaze, she felt him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Camille…” The sound of her name in his soft voice, low and quiet, sent a thrill up her spine.

Fuck, had her name ever sounded that good?

“I guess I didn’t dream saying that.”

“No, you didn’t, and we’ll talk about
that
too, but first you need to tell me what happened. Why did you go after that guy? Why did you want to kill him? What did he -”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Camille flinched as she tried to shift farther from him on the bed, the pain in her leg a dull throb under whatever pain medication was filtering down the IV bag.

“That’s too bad, you need to explain what this guy did to deserve to die. To deserve you running off like that just to do it.”

“Trust me, he deserved it. He deserved a lot worse than a quick hole in the head.”

“Alright, then tell me. What did he do?”

“Smith -”

“Now, Camille.”

“Fine! He used to fuck me, okay?” It was impossible to keep the anger out of her voice, the rage as the memories teased at the back of her mind.

Smith took a slow breath, and then his voice came whisper quiet, “You mean he used to rape you?”

“Go to hell.” She kept her eyes on the far wall, counting the lumps in the paint as if she could actually derail the conversation. Keep him from knowing just how weak she used to be, how pathetic. He wasn’t ever supposed to know about them, he was supposed to be the path to their destruction. A pit stop that she’d spent too long with already.

“When you were down, after he shot you, you said there were others. Is this what you meant? There were others that -” When Smith stopped talking she turned to face him, his features pinched in a strange expression.

“Others that used to fuck me? Use me? Do whatever the fuck they wanted to me? Yeah. There were others.” She scoffed and shook her head. “You can’t even say it out loud, fucking hell.”

“How many?” Smith asked. His voice was deadly serious, his shoulders stiff, tense. When she followed the rigid line of his arm down she saw the tight grip he held on the edge of the bed, white knuckled anger hidden by his impossible self-control.

“Now?”

“Tell me the real number.”

“There were five. Now there are three.” The words seemed to lift something inside her, like shifting a boulder aside, but she ignored it.

“What happened to the first one?”

“I climbed onto his lap, straddled him, and slit his fucking throat.” Camille kept her eyes locked on Smith’s face, waiting for the surprise, or the disgust, the pity, but nothing surfaced through his cold exterior.

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded once and then he looked at her. It seemed to take more effort than it should have for his eyes to meet hers. “So, then you got away?”

“First, I killed his good-for-nothing addict of a wife who didn’t care what they did to us as long as she could lay in bed high as a kite.”

“Us?” Smith asked, and she cursed under her breath. “They had more –
Jesus Christ
.” He stood up and walked away from her, towards the doorway. In a jerk of motion he slammed his fist into the door, forcing the knob into the drywall behind it. He tugged it free and muttered under his breath, his broad back the only thing she could see.

“Smith -”

He turned and faced her, the controlled exterior cracking while she watched. “You tell me right now,
right now
, where the last three are.”

“I don’t know.”

“This is not a game, C!” He shouted, and came to the end of the bed, his hands gripping the footboard. “What they did…” his voice was a growl as he shook his head, “I don’t even know what they did, I don’t want to know because I’ll lose it, but I will make them suffer before they die. I swear it, but you need to tell me where they are.”

“I don’t know, Smith.”

“Do
not
lie to me about this. This is not the time for you to be territorial, this is the time where you tell me where they are so I can teach them exactly how much pain they can endure before they die.” His words made her eyes go wide, a vicious, uncontrolled side of him showing itself that made her wonder exactly who Smith had been before he’d become the man she knew. It made her imagine the kind of man he was when he was on a job.

“Shit, Smith, I really don’t know.” An exasperated sigh came from him as he moved away from her, throwing his hands up. “I’m not lying! I only knew how to find Joe because he talked all the fucking time. Bitched about that damn auto shop to Steve constantly. Even if I wasn’t in the room I could hear him complaining.” Slamming the glass of water down on the side table she pushed herself into a sitting position, ignoring the twinge of pain in her thigh as her own anger returned. “And even if I
did
know, you’re not killing them for me. I’m not helpless.”

“You couldn’t pull the trigger when it came down to it, C.” The accusation felt like a second gunshot, burrowing into her chest with a burning, vicious ache. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes as she glared at him.

“I didn’t get the chance to, he fucking
shot me
.”

“And why didn’t you shoot first? Why the hell didn’t you ask me for help? To go with you?”

“BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LET ME!” She screamed the words, and then wiped hard at her eyes. “All you’ve been telling me for months is that I’m not ready. ‘
You’re not ready yet, C’
,” she mocked his low voice, grimacing as she forced herself to sit up further. “Well, I knew where he was. He was just out there, living his fucking life. Hell, he could have put together another little house of horrors while I was playing assassin-in-training with you. You said you didn’t know if I could kill or not? I was fucking
covered
in their blood when I killed Steve and Carrie, and I have
never
felt guilty about it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I can kill, Smith, I just didn’t get the fucking chance!”

“Don’t twist this around on me, C. Don’t you dare. Why didn’t you shoot first? You had your gun. I know that because I picked it up off the floor beside you. There was plenty of space in that warehouse for you to approach, and I’ve seen how far you can shoot with accuracy, so why? Why didn’t you shoot him first?”

Camille buried her face in her hands, groaning against her palms. “He needed to know.”

“Know what?”

“That it was me! That I was the one that killed him, that I was the one that made
him
scream, made
him
beg.” Furiously brushing tears away she fought the urge to freak out as too many memories of her time with them clawed at the cages she kept them in. “He had to know.”

“Why does that matter?” Smith’s voice was urgent as he moved closer and grabbed her face, his fingers threading through her hair. “Why did he need to know, C? He could have killed you. If I hadn’t followed you, if I hadn’t been there, he could have…”

She turned out of his hands. “I know exactly what he would have done.”

“Then why?” His thumb brushed her chin, trying to make her look at him, and she finally relented. Pale green eyes spearing her with all the soft concern she both hated and craved. “You could have died, C.”

“Camille,” she whispered, and the edge of his mouth ticked up into a smile.

“Right,
Camille
.” He sat back on the edge of the bed. “I need you to promise me that you won’t run off like that again. You want to kill someone, you tell me. Let me back you up.”

“You don’t have backup.”

“I’ll have you. As soon as you’re healed up and back in shape anyway.” He groaned and wiped a hand across his face. “You know, the reason I wanted you to stay and have lunch with me was because I got us a job. Both of us, they knew you were going to come with me on it. I guess I’m going to need to make a call and get that covered.”

“Go ahead and go.” Gesturing at her leg she shrugged. “Not like I’m good to anyone right now.”

“No. Don’t you remember me telling you that I’m going to make you train harder than I ever have before?” His voice was playfully ominous, and then he smiled slowly. His whole attitude shifting in an instant. “I wasn’t joking. Enough of the questions. You hungry yet?”

“Can I eat?” she asked, stunned by his odd behavior.

Smith laughed a little and stood up. “It was just a gunshot wound. An associate of mine patched you up, you’ll be fine in a couple of months as long as you do what you’re told.” He paused, and then shook his head. “Actually, since it’s you, it will probably take longer.”

“Fuck off.”

“Language, C.”

“You can call me Camille now. You already know it.”
And it sounds amazing crossing your lips.

“Ah, that.” Smith took a breath and leaned back against the wall. “Here’s the thing, C, names are power. I’ve always been a little glad that you were smart enough not to give out your real name, even if Candy was a ridiculous choice.”

“I fit in just fine on the street with Sugar and Cinnamon.”

He leveled his gaze at her and then sighed. “Either way, you don’t give up your name. C fits you perfectly, it’s the name I told my contact, it’s how Bill knows you. And names are all power, just like the names of friends are power, the names of family are power.”

“I don’t have any family or friends.”

“I know.” Smith smiled. “It’s why I was willing to work with you. You just had this fire in you, C. A tiny, blazing ball of rage in the bar, and even at the range I could see you had talent. Finding out you were already alone, no ties to cut, just made it an easier choice.” His eyes dropped back to her. “Giving up your name, or the name of anyone you care about, is like painting a target on your chest – right over your heart. Trust me, I know from experience.”

Camille’s ears perked up as a shadow passed over his face. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. You need to eat, I just got you strong, I won’t have you wasting away like a waif again.”