Early Sins (Dangerous Games Book 0) (9 page)

“Smith…”

“You have your secrets, and I have mine, C. Now, what do you want to eat?”

Dropping back against the pillows she breathed out a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t share anything further with her. “Whatever you want, Smith.”
If that’s even part of your real name.

“That’s the other thing I liked about you, C. You weren’t picky.”

Chapter Seven

Four Months Later

Camille came around the corner in the park towards him, and he continued jogging backwards for a bit until he was sure she had him in sight, and then he continued. His long legged stride outpaced her too easily, and her gait still wasn’t where it had been before that bastard had shot her. The image of her on the floor when he’d snuck into the building, her soft whimpers as the son of a bitch had slid his hands over her body, had burned into his brain. He heard it when he closed his eyes, he saw it, over and over.

She hadn’t gone easy though, breaking the man’s nose and kicking him back even though it had to have hurt immeasurably to shift her weight like she had. Then she’d gone for her gun, and he would have let her have it, let her have the kill, but the other man had been faster. His gun had come up, and before he could think Smith had shot him. Clean through the head, without a thought to the consequences.

Because it was her
.

He shook his head and focused on the feeling of his feet slamming into the running path, the measured beat of his shoes on the earth a comfort as his mind tried to wander again. Back to that afternoon when she’d stormed out, and he’d stood there stunned and unsure what to do.

Somehow
he’d known to go.

She would have died if he hadn’t followed her, if he hadn’t trusted his instincts that something was wrong. Hell, he never should have gone on that job in the first place, he’d felt she was off when he left. What would have happened if she’d gone after the guy before he’d returned?

C would have been dead.

Or worse.

With a groan Smith stopped at the side of the path, staring off at the rolling lawn of the park in front of him where couples were taking picnics, kids were playing, dogs barking – it was so picturesque, peaceful.

“What the fuck, Smith? Are you trying to ditch me?” C slowed to a stop next to him, her breathing a little harder than it would have been six months before when she was in peak shape.

“Really, C? Language. There are children.” He chastised her, but in truth he didn’t really mind. Her mouth was just another aspect of her personality that kept him from going cold through and through, she was his lifeline to a normal world – even if she didn’t know it.

“Yeah, right, the kids. I’m sure they’ve never heard the word fuck in their lives.” Bracing her hands on her knees she took deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth until it slowed. Just like he’d taught her.

“We have another mile to go.”

“Are you fucking kidding? We’ve gone three miles already, you think this dickbag is going to try and run from me? For
three
miles?” She shoved the errant strands of white blonde hair off her forehead, clearing the sweat from her face with her forearm. Her skin was getting a hint of the gold of summer already, and as they stood there he noticed the way men glanced at her in her running gear. Skin tight from head to toe, and it made him want to block her from their view, to cover her in a shapeless sack – or kill them for looking.

Who are you to feel possessive?

No one.
You have no right.

“If you want to argue we’ll run two more, it’s up to you.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she muttered but then she took off ahead of him. From behind he tried to ignore the sight of her body moving underneath the black and pink running pants, and instead focused in on her right leg. Was her ankle wobbling more than the left? Was she still unsteady? Was the muscle ready for a fight if she needed it?

She’s ready. You know she is
.

And that meant a job. A kill. Her first in this new life.

Either way, she wasn’t going to be patient for much longer. If he didn’t take her on a job she’d do something incredibly stupid,
again
, and that was something Smith was pretty sure he couldn’t handle a second time. It had almost stopped his heart when he’d realized she’d been shot, the blood leaking from her leg. Slow enough that he knew it hadn’t nicked an artery, but she’d still passed out on him.

It had been the first time in almost a decade that he’d felt anything close to real emotion. After she had blacked out, he’d called Adam back, shouting at him to hurry, to get there and bring his medical bag. Even Adam had looked wild-eyed and panicked when he’d shown up to find him holding Camille in his lap, his grip tight on the belt to make sure she didn’t lose too much blood.

Adam hadn’t asked about the body, or the unconscious girl, he’d just gone to work. Cutting away her pants, applying a more substantial bandage, and then they had both got her in his car. With a quick threat on Adam’s life, he’d let the man leave with Camille and stayed behind to make sure the man he now knew as Joe Wilson was taken care of. Disappeared, along with more money than he cared to admit, with the cleaners he knew.

Over the last few months she’d worked harder than he imagined, her mindless dedication no longer a mystery.

Now, there are three.

Her hollow voice still haunted him. To speak of the things they’d done to her like she was talking about someone else, someone else’s body they had done things to, it was wrong. His eyes lifted when he caught up to her, running at his normal pace as he was dragged through memory, and she tried hard to keep up with him as he started to pass her. Pushing herself harder than she should, but he kept his mouth shut. Her blue eyes were like ice as she glared at him, her blonde hair pulled up high in a knot at the back of her head.

“Tired?” he asked through his own stressed breathing.

“Fuck off,” she panted. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands in loose fists at her side as she kept her pace, and he was tempted to pass her fully, but he slowed and stayed next to her for the last half of the mile. When they finally crossed the landmark he’d been looking for he slowed to a stop and she kept going for a few feet, shaking her arms and legs out in a way that made her chest bounce. Things he was going to stop noticing
right now
. The last thing C needed was him looking at her like something other than the warrior she was making of herself.

“Alright, come on. Showers, then lunch, then we review the plan.” He tilted his head in the direction of the hotel and she sighed audibly.

“Again? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, I can quote you the plan while we’re walking back to the hotel.”

“Then prove it.”

She knew the plan inside and out, and no matter how many fucking questions Smith asked her – there were no changes. Even over the drive out to New Jersey, the nighttime walk by the target’s house, she had never wavered.

It was her first real job, and she wasn’t going to fuck it up.

“What’s the first rule?”

“Don’t get caught,” she answered, practically squirming in the passenger seat as the adrenaline started flooding her too early.

“And how do you do that?”

“Observe.”

“So, how many people have passed in the last ten minutes?” Smith asked, his voice full of measured calm.

“Three cars, and two people. A couple that walked by on the right side of the road about five minutes ago. She was wearing a skirt and a blue top, he was in shorts and a white shirt with writing on it.” Camille turned to face him. “Want to know their hair color?”

“Don’t get cocky. This is the real deal.” He turned in the driver’s seat, reaching between them so that he almost brushed her arm until she pulled it back, trying to avoid the electric rush she got every time she was in contact with his skin. The small black duffel bag was in her lap a second later and she knew exactly what was in it. Two 9mms with silencers. Two extra clips.

“I’m not cocky, trust me.” The memory of her failure before was too fresh, even though Smith had started kicking her ass as soon as she could stand. Exercises, then runs, then full workouts and obstacle courses and sparring matches.

“Second rule.”

“Shoot and run.”

“Right, but do you ever actually run?” His green eyes were trained on her; she could feel them even when she wasn’t looking at him.

“No, not unless I have to. If I’m alone I walk calmly, react the way anyone else does. Look confused, interested, wander away whenever it’s reasonable.”

“And when you’re with me?”

For a moment she imagined what it would be like if Smith actually wanted her, wanted to walk down a street like this with her. Wanted her to hold his hand as something other than just a cover.
Idiot.
“I hold onto you, react. Couples are never looked at.”

“Exactly.” He took a slow breath. “Have any questions?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t want to know what he did?”

This time she did look at Smith, and she found the same placid expression he held ninety-nine percent of the time. “Do I need to know?”

“Absolutely not, I just thought you’d be curious.”

“Do you know?”

“…yes,” he answered, his eyes flicking towards her. “They told me when I took the job.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s young, so I wanted to know, but he did the wrong thing and pissed off the wrong guy.”

“What did he do? Steal something? Kill someone?” Camille shifted in the seat so she was facing him completely, and he turned towards her, his gaze measuring her.

“Do you remember our discussion about why we kill?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. We kill for the money, not for the why.”

“And what does that mean?” It seemed like class was back in session, even though they were a block down from the target’s house.

“It doesn’t matter if you hate someone or not, doesn’t matter if you can rationalize their fucking decisions – it’s kill or wait to be killed, and I’m the only one who benefits from the situation either way. Let them go, someone else will kill them, and probably come after me too.” She steadied her gaze at him. “You’re not going to fuck up my focus, Smith.”

“Good. That’s right. If the money’s good, we do the jobs we take.”

“And
is
the money good?” She grinned and he laughed softly, returning her smile as he palmed one of the nines in her lap and tucked an extra clip into his back pocket.

“It’s
very
good.” With a nod towards the gun left in her lap he waited until she mimicked him, tucking the extra clip away, and gripping the gun. She did a quick check, loading a bullet into the chamber, flipping the safety off and back on, and then she looked over at him.

“Alright, remember the plan.” The sound of the doors unlocking was a loud clunk, and then he stepped out, tucking the gun into the back of his pants before he adjusted his shirt over it and shut the door behind him. She followed suit, repeating the movements, until they were both on the sidewalk and he was locking the car with the button in his hand. “Still good?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought so,” he muttered and then his hand slid into hers. Palm to palm, skin to skin, and it sent an electric shiver up her arm as they walked forward. For a moment the job faded into the background because she was walking with Smith on a moonlit street in suburban New Jersey, with the trees waving in the spring breeze above her head. Other than the fact that they were on their way to execute some idiot bastard in some shitty little house, it was almost romantic.

When they got to the right address, Smith looked around, pulling her close so that she could have leaned onto her tiptoes and kissed him if she wanted to – but he was scanning,
observing
, and using her as cover. “We okay?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

Turning her head she looked around at the empty streets, off in the distance there was a pair of headlights and she nodded at them. Smith squeezed her hand, pulling her tighter against him as the car passed, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of his hard body even when he stepped back.

“C?”

“We’re good.” She nodded.

“Then come on.” Smith released her and she felt the absence of his touch more keenly than she would have expected, but then training took over. He walked between the two dark houses and into the shadows where they became invisible. As if the skies were watching over them, clouds passed in front of the moon, further camouflaging them from anyone at the street. Silently, Smith pointed at the window in front of him, and slid a metal tool along the frame between the top and bottom half. With a dull
click
the window slid up relatively easily, and he held it for her to climb in first. Gun out, safety off, maintaining her soft steps by staying up on the balls of her feet.