Assassin's Haiku (3 page)

He set a grueling speed, taking the stairs two at a time. With her shorter legs, Haiku had to double-time her steps to keep up with him. Although her calves burned and her lungs ached, she didn’t protest his pace, determined not to slow him down. She would prove herself worthy.

“No talking, and keep behind me,” Diego instructed as they slipped through the exit door.

He squeezed her hand, silently signaling that he had her, that he wouldn’t let her go. Haiku squeezed back, telling him that she understood, and she would follow him wherever he went.

The dark alleyway stunk of refuse and urine, garbage swirled around their feet, and a black nothingness stretched above their heads. Clouds drizzled unnatural acidic rain upon them, burning her skin, but there was no time to protect her face. Diego darted down the deserted side streets, keeping to the shadows, following a map that existed only in his head. After the fifth abrupt turn, Haiku lost all sense of direction. She didn’t know where they were going, and that was okay with her. As long as she was with Diego, she was safe. He’d protect her.

Chapter Three

Any rebel deaths tonight would be his fault, because he’d fucked up royally, putting everyone at risk. Diego silently cursed as he led Haiku through the dark streets. Ranked Agency enemy number one, he was the person they hunted with the raid, and the Agency dogs had found him. His patterns had become too predictable.

He'd become predictable because Haiku was predictable. She haunted the same clubs on the same nights. She worked at the same place every day. She associated with the same group of people. Predictability was bad, as it allowed the enemy to anticipate their moves, to set traps to catch them. If they were to have a relationship, he’d have to teach Haiku to be more spontaneous.

If
they were to have a relationship… What hallucinogens was he injecting? Diego mentally snorted, disgusted with himself and his fairy-tale thinking. He was an assassin, a killer, and while at the moment, Haiku found that thrilling, no normal woman would settle down long-term with a killer.

Haiku accidentally kicked a piece of metal, the sound ricocheting across the alley, and Diego grimaced. Knowing the Agency was hunting him, it would have been wiser to leave her with the twins. He had considered that option for a full five seconds, until he thought of them touching her.
Fuck no
. He might not be able to keep Haiku, but he wouldn’t give her to another man, not while there was still breath in his not entirely human body.

They moved through the night, once again engulfed in silence yet entwined in their shared goal of survival. Diego was achingly aware that he no longer played his life-and-death game alone, that Haiku followed an arm’s length behind him, trusting him to lead her to safety. Her hand was small and fragile in his, and the taste of their first and last forbidden kiss lingered on his lips.

As they rounded a bend in an alley, a hum filled the air. Diego turned his head, trying to locate its source. That sounded like…

“Behind me.”

They couldn’t outrun their robotic tail, so he backed Haiku against a brick wall and covered her completely with his body. She trembled against him, her fingertips fluttering on his shoulder blades, her breasts rubbing against his leather jacket. With GLOCK 2090s in both hands, he faced the potential threat.

A flat black disk, undetectable to human eyes, slid along the alleyway.

“Fuck.” Diego stomped on it with his boots, breaking the tiny robot into pieces. “A sniffer.” They hadn’t much time. The Agency would be there within minutes.

“They’ve tracked us.”

Diego heard the fear in Haiku’s voice. However, it wasn’t them they tracked—it was
her
, as it was impossible to track him. Fuck. Connections got assassins and everyone they cared for killed. He knew that.

“I’m sorry, Haiku.” He holstered his guns. They were now a team, whether she liked it or not. He was Agency enemy number one, and she was the bait they could use to catch him. That relationship would bind them together forever.

“It isn’t your fault.”

His generous woman’s automatic response warmed him, even as it chilled him. It was his fault, and she would eventually hate him for taking her life away from her. But he didn’t have time to think about it now. He had to get her away from here. Diego quickly ran through their limited options, dismissing her place as it wasn’t secure enough, which left them with his underground bunker. The thought gave him a moment’s pause, as he had never brought another person to his home before. Haiku would be the first.

“Climb onto my back.” Diego crouched down, his gloved fingers braced against the dirty pavement. Sniffers couldn’t track her if she didn’t touch the ground.

He felt the heat of Haiku’s body as she straddled his waist, her pants-covered pussy pressing against his back. Her sweet womanly scent filled his nostrils, making his nose twitch and his cock harden. Her arms looped around his neck, her soft fingers linking in front of him, her breasts flattened between his shoulders. He took pleasure in the contact, as it was a rarity in his solitary world.

Diego straightened with a grunt, surprised by how little Haiku weighed. He’d carried guns heavier than she was. Grinning at that thought, he ran so quickly, their surroundings blurred around them. He didn’t need to see the streets, relying instead on smell and hearing to warn him of danger, as well as his memory for direction.

Diego ran for hours without tiring. He had always been strong and fast, as that was how he had been designed, but he had never been this strong and fast, not even after an adrenaline-pumping fight. He pushed that observation to the back of his mind for future contemplation. Haiku’s safety was his top priority.

Diego paused in a dark alcove located in a rebel-friendly district far from his home. “Check your messages.” His softhearted girl would want to know her friend was safe, before she disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Here?”

Haiku slid off his back, her feet thumping on the pavement. She’d never see the outside world again, not without him by her side, because if she did, she’d die. She was too noisy to last long as an Agency target.

“Here. You’ll have no access where we’re going.” Although his home was in the middle of the bustling city, it was disconnected from the rest of civilization, since connections, as had been proven tonight, were risky.

Haiku rested her cheek on his shoulder as she looked at the communicator’s tiny screen. Diego liked that, that she leaned on him, and he put his arm around her, marveling at how tiny her waist was. He could span it with his hands.

“There are two messages.”

He heard the sharp intake of her breath, the sound triggering protective instincts he, before tonight, had never known he had.

“What is it?” Yesterday, Diego wouldn’t have asked, respecting Haiku’s privacy, but today she was his responsibility, and he needed to know the answer to keep her safe.

“One message is from Beth, and she’s all right, more than all right. She’s having the time of her life.”

Haiku attempted a smile, but Diego wasn’t fooled. She was worried, and that worried him.

“And the other one, an earlier message, is from a coworker with a numeric code, signaling that they have relocated to a safe location and all the children are fine.”

“Everyone you care about is okay, then.” Diego batted down the envy writhing in his gut. He’d put her life at risk with his selfishness, and he certainly didn’t deserve her caring. “We should go.” Rebel-friendly area or not, staying still for too long aboveground was dangerous.

“No, we shouldn’t go, Diego, because it wasn’t a planned relocation. That message only goes out if the center is evacuated.” Haiku frowned, her plush lips drooping downward. “The Agency hit both the center and the club tonight. A sniffer was sent after us. Oh God, oh God, oh God, it’s me they’re after.” She stepped away from him. “You should go, Diego, alone.”

She pushed him with both hands, but he didn’t move, as Haiku had all the power of a raindrop.

“We shouldn’t be together.”

She was rejecting him. Diego knew it would happen eventually, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. “It’s too late for that. They know you are…” He couldn’t say it, that she was his weakness. He couldn’t explain that because the Agency knew he cared for her, they would use her as bait. He couldn’t confess that she was the one person in this harsh, unforgiving world he had feelings for, and he had put her in danger. “Climb on my back, Haiku.”

“No.”

She shook her head, that wonderfully stubborn chin of hers protruding.

“They’ll catch me before they catch you, Diego.”

Her fingers shook as she stroked his cheek, her gentle touch making his stomach flutter and his brain melt, which explained why he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“Go. You’ll be safe.”

He’d
be safe. Diego stared at her, the pavement unsteady under his feet. He’d be safe, he repeated, trying to make sense of her words. “Haiku—”

She covered his lips with her fingers, thankfully stopping his sure-to-be incoherent next thought.

“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.” Her gaze shifted from his, and color bloomed on her high cheekbones. “I care too much.” She bit her bottom lip.

She cared…for him. Diego blinked, feeling light-headed. She cared for him, she worried for him, and she offered to sacrifice herself for him.

A rustling of newspaper brought him back to the present. It was nothing, only the night wind tossing garbage around, but it could have easily been a legitimate threat. Diego had allowed himself to become distracted. He gave himself a mental shake. He was a seasoned assassin, and the street wasn’t the place for revelations, earthshaking though those revelations were. “Get on my back, Haiku.”

“But—”

Diego didn’t have time to argue with her. Her breath whooshed out, and her protests stopped as he slung her over his shoulder. He wrapped his hands around the curves of her calves, securing her small form, and sprinted, not feeling the extra weight against his back. His mouth was set in a thin line, while inside he rejoiced. She cared for him. He needed to get her to safety.

Chapter Four

While Diego activated the multiple door locks, Haiku circled the underground bunker, exploring his home. Diego’s private space was impeccably neat and clean and secure. Video images from the security cameras were projected upon the stark white walls, and the white tiles covering the floors smelled of bleach. It could have been anyone’s home, as there were no personal items interspersed with the sparse, modern furniture, but it wasn’t anyone’s home; it was Diego’s, and he had opened it up to her.

“Well?” Diego leaned back against the door, watching her, his arms crossed defensively.

“It’s absolutely beautiful. I love it.” Haiku beamed at him, and Diego’s normally grim lips curled upward. “Though it’s so clean, I’m afraid to touch anything.” She had removed her grubby boots at the door, but the rest of her was just as dirty from creeping through the alleys. She didn’t want to track grime across his white apartment.

“I require all visitors to shower immediately upon entering.” Diego’s grin spread, taking years off his handsome face. “Come.” He strolled through an equally white bedroom to the bathroom, appearing almost eager.

“Do you have many visitors?” Haiku followed, noting with interest the massive bed. They’d sleep in that bed together tonight, naked and exhausted, after a bout of hot, sweaty sex. Diego looked back over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up. The bathroom was as large as the bedroom and covered with the same glaring white tile. The entire bunker must have been designed to be dosed from floor to ceiling with cleaning agents.

Diego removed his gloves, placing them on the counter. “You are my very first visitor.” He turned a tap, and water trickled from a showerhead.

“You have a water shower.” Having never seen one before, Haiku stared up in wonder and held out her hand. The precious liquid ran in rivulets down her arm and felt like rain, except without the stinging acid.

“The water is purified and recycled. There is no waste.” He turned the tap off, saving the scarce resource. “And after an”—a muscle in his jaw ticked—“intense day, I find it more refreshing than an air shower.”

His day was spent killing, so by intense, he must mean bloody, Haiku realized. After his intense, bloody days, he retreated to his white apartment with his massive bed and his water shower. There he was safe and clean but alone.

He wasn’t alone anymore; he now had her. Haiku tapped her stocking feet on the tile, excitement curling around her fluttering stomach. She was eager to have that cool water run down her entire body, washing away the filth of the outside world. “Do you want to shower first?”

“You shower first.” His black-eyed gaze slid away from hers.

If he wanted to be a gentleman and let her go first, Haiku wouldn’t argue with him. She undid the top button of her blouse, her movement drawing his attention to her chest. Her nipples tightened under his perusal. “And then you’ll shower?” They’d both be clean and naked and wet. His tanned chest would glisten with water droplets, tempting Haiku to pop each one with her tongue. Heat and longing swept over her.

“I’ll shower tomorrow.” Diego shrugged his wide shoulders, the action rippling his leather coat.

He’d shower tomorrow. Diego lived in a painfully white home, and he chose to stay dirty overnight. That didn’t make sense—unless he didn’t have a choice. Examining the small water tank attached to the shower, Haiku realized there wasn’t enough water for two showers.

Although he was a big guy, she wouldn’t take up much extra space, and the shower was large, so they should both fit. “You won’t shower tomorrow. You’ll shower tonight, with me. We’ll shower together,” she decided. She’d never showered with a man, she’d never taken a water shower, and she’d never seen Diego naked. It would be a night of firsts. Her fingers fumbling, Haiku continued unbuttoning her blouse.

Diego raked his fingers through his jet-black hair. “No.” His jaw jutted out.