Assassin's Haiku (6 page)

“How many special kids do you have?” Diego eyed her with consideration.

Haiku set the drawing back down on the counter. This was hard for him, she knew, as he was accustomed to being alone, and now he had her and her accumulated family. “They’re all special to me, but many of them are very special.” She touched his arm, his bicep warm and strong and unyielding under her fingers.

“You love them.” Diego said the words as though they were a curse. “Connections will get you killed, Haiku.” He draped his leather jacket over a chair, revealing the gun stuck in the waistband of his pants.

His fear was that the Agency would find her and kill her, but he didn’t know that some of the children, Jacob included, had less benign abilities. “Connections are the only reason to live, because without love, we have nothing.” She caressed Diego’s face, and he pressed his cheek into her hand. She understood that he was trying to protect her, that he worried for her because he cared. “I know you want to keep me safe, but I can’t stay locked up here forever, Diego.” The kids missed her, and she missed her kids.

His gaze slid away from hers. “Are you that eager to leave me?” he asked with a manufactured casualness.

“Of course not.” She smiled, his expelled breath at her answer belying his cold attitude. “If you had room here for twenty kids, I’d never leave.”

“Twenty kids,” Diego repeated. His eyes surveyed the room. Was he considering where to fit them? Would he do that for her? Haiku’s heart swelled with emotion.

“In the bunker?” He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

“Yes, that’s impossible.” Swallowing her tears, she managed a laugh. “So it might be best if I visited them instead.”

“If I arranged for you to visit your kids, will you stay with me?” Taking both of her hands in his, Diego studied her face, his expression grim and serious, as though his life depended on her response.

“Yes, if you wished me to.” If he wished her to, she would happily stay with him forever.

His reply was to pull her tightly to him, her hip pressed against his hip, her breasts flattened against his chest. Her soft curves filled the spaces between his hard muscles, and they were as one, fitting together perfectly.

Diego stared down at her, his eyes warming to black velvet. He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth sealing over hers, his tongue probing between her lips. She opened up completely to him, giving Diego the surrender he demanded.

He searched her mouth, exploring every crevice. Haiku didn’t know what he was looking for, as everything she had was his. Trusting him to support her, she allowed her body to go limp, sagging into him. He caught her, one of his hands covering the arch of her back and the other spanning her shoulders, his fingertips massaging her spine.

He broke the kiss and pressed her head into his heaving chest, and they stood, arms around each other, alone in their underground sanctuary. Diego played with her hair, her scalp tingling from his tender caresses. Haiku listened to the comforting beat of his heart. He was alive, he was well, and he would stay that way.

“I’ll take you to see the kids tomorrow.” Diego sighed deeply before stepping away from her. “Tonight, I have to work.”

He had to work. Haiku watched as he opened a wall panel, behind which was displayed a meticulously arranged assortment of weapons. Diego would kill someone tonight. He picked up a fully loaded shoulder holster.

“You will be careful out there, right?” She swallowed her fears and adjusted the twisted holster straps with shaking hands. He grunted as he strapped blades to his forearms. “Right. Of course you’ll be careful.” She answered for him. This was his job, just as taking care of children was hers, and she had to accept who he was, learn to live with her fear. “You’re always careful.” He was the best, she reminded herself, and he’d be okay. “Yes, you should go, work…safely.” She gave him permission both to leave and to kill. “And I’ll stay here.” She looked around the small space, wondering what she’d do while he was away. “Waiting for you.” She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she knew he was all right.

Diego slipped blades into his boots. He was armed literally from head to toe, weighed down with weaponry.

“I’ll be late,” he advised gruffly, his jacket covering the arsenal on his back and chest.

“It doesn’t matter.” Haiku summoned up a smile, clutching her hands together to keep from clinging to him. “I’m not going anywhere…unless…” She couldn’t finish her thought.

“I’ll be back,” Diego reassured her.

He stared down at Emily’s drawing, a softer emotion resembling wistfulness flashing across his hard face. The emotion was so fleeting, Haiku wondered if she’d actually seen it or merely imagined it.

“I’m taking this too.” He deftly folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.

Chapter Seven

Diego slinked along the shadows, following the Agency men down the street. The soldiers-for-hire were looking for Haiku, flashing her image to locals and asking questions. They knew not to ask about him, because the people they questioned feared him more than they feared the Agency.

Their informants didn’t know that Haiku was now an extension of himself and that he felt their betrayal of her more keenly than if they had betrayed him. It was his error, as he hadn’t broadcasted that she was under his protection, not wanting her linked to him.

Despite his precautions, the Agency had made that connection, and unfettered, they would know everything about Haiku by the end of the night. She would be enemy number two, second only to him.

That was an unacceptable situation, and after returning to his compound to collect the necessary weapons, Diego would correct his mistakes. He waited patiently until the four men were alone, the streets devoid of innocent bystanders. The operatives were sloppy, confident that no one would touch them, but he would touch them. Tonight they would die, any information they gathered perishing with them. They would not be allowed to harm Haiku.

Diego ran along the sides of the buildings. The Agency men didn’t sense him until he dropped to his feet before them, but by then it was too late. While they reached for their weapons, he attacked, his surroundings blurring around him. He sliced and moved, sliced and moved. One man squeezed a shot off, but it was aimed at where he had stood three attacks away; the rest were dead before they could fire. Diego wasted no bullets on them; instead he sliced them to pieces with his blades. He didn’t liquefy them, as he wanted their body parts left as a warning. He would not be taken, and Haiku would not be harmed. That was his grisly promise.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Diego stood in the alleyway and surveyed the damage. Severed body parts were strewn on the pavement. Blood dripped in puddles. Faces were distorted in pain. If Haiku saw this, she would be horrified. She wouldn’t look at him with love, and she wouldn’t wait for him with open arms.

She’d eventually see the results of his profession. That was inevitable, as he was an assassin, and work had a way of spilling into his personal life.

“You are faster, my friend.” A huge figure separated from the darkness. “What have you been doing?” Eyes as black as his gazed at him.

“Killing Agency operatives.” Diego’s fingers closed around his guns. Vienno wasn’t a friend. They had once been coworkers, both brutally trained as Agency dogs, and now they fought on opposite sides.

Vienno chuckled while they circled each other. “You wouldn’t have to, Diego, if you gave up the girl. They are offering you full clemency for her.”

Fuck
. They wanted Haiku. “What girl?” Diego played dumb. He didn’t understand. How could she be a bigger threat to the Agency than he was?

Vienno’s smile held no humor. “You know what girl. Your white-haired poet. You give me her, you get forgiveness. No more Agency operatives will be sent after you.”

He’d killed thousands of their men. They’d never let him walk. Diego knew this as surely as he breathed. “Do you believe that?” Vienno didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, because they both knew the answer. There was only one way to leave the Agency, and it didn’t involve breathing. “Why do they want her?” What had his softhearted Haiku done?

Vienno shrugged. “You know how it is—they tell us nothing.”

He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth drooped. The years had not been kind to him.

“Let’s not dick around, Diego. What is your answer?”

“I’m going to kill you. That’s my answer.” Diego looked for a weakness and found it immediately. Although they were trained to fight with both hands, Vienno now favored his right.

“Unlikely.” Vienno’s response held no conviction. “But if you do kill me, it won’t be any great loss to the Agency. The new recruits are young, and they have powers I’ve never seen. I have mere months, if I’m lucky, before they retire me.”

The Agency’s retirement present was a bullet between the eyes.

“Let’s do this old school.” Vienno flung his guns to the ground. “Hand to hand, blades only.” His knives clicked into place, extensions of his arms.

“Agreed.” Diego dropped his own guns, as he was equally skilled in both weapons. Plus he needed the physical exertion. It would burn off some of his worry over Haiku. He watched Vienno limber up, noting that the Agency assassin could only rotate his left arm partially. He’d seen enough.

“Now.” Deigo ran at Vienno. Vienno twisted away from him. Blades whistled through the air, but neither of them made a connection.

Diego pivoted as he bounced back and attacked again, not allowing his opponent to catch his breath. He flung himself through the empty space. Vienno ducked but not quickly enough, Diego’s blade slicing through his right shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound.

“Fuck,” Vienno cursed, rolling on the pavement. He staggered to his feet, his right arm hanging uselessly, the tendons and nerves severed.

Diego watched dispassionately. This was war, and Vienno was the enemy. He’d threatened Haiku.

Diego coiled his body and sprang. Vienno made no move to defend himself, the downward arc of Diego’s knife severing bone in the Agency assassin’s left shoulder. Vienno’s blade clinked on the pavement.

“Don’t play with me.” Vienno swayed. “Finish me, friend.”

The man was as good as dead. Diego could leave Vienno like this and consider his job done, as the street thugs would take him apart piece by piece, using him as target practice. Diego circled the assassin.

Vienno stood still, calmly awaiting his fate, blood forming in a circle of red around him. His wounds weren’t healing, and if Diego waited long enough, he would bleed to death.

“Do you protect her for the resistance?” Vienno asked.

Diego didn’t have to answer, his feelings none of Vienno’s business. “No.” He protected Haiku because she was his. “It is personal.”

“Then my death is worth it.” Vienno closed his pitch-black eyes, a dreamy smile curling his lips. “A woman who can love one of us deserves our protection.”

It was as close to forgiveness as Diego would ever get, and he repaid that kindness by killing his former brother-in-arms so quickly, his smile didn’t waver. Diego grimaced. He had no friends, but he supposed this ache in his soul was what killing a friend would feel like.

All the deaths today were different. In the past, Diego had killed for revenge, as the Agency had taken all that was human from him, and in return, he took the lives of their best men.

Now he killed for Haiku. Propping himself up against a building, Diego pulled out the drawing. He’d killed for this future. Although the street was dark, with his enhanced eyesight, he saw the characters clearly. There he was, standing beside his beautiful Haiku, and she was pregnant with his child. He knew that as surely as he knew the mechanics of a laser pistol. He had a child, and he was surrounded by children who looked at him like he belonged, like he was part of their family.

It was a depiction of everything he had secretly dreamed of and never thought possible. Diego carefully refolded the drawing, tucking it into a pocket deep within his jacket. The Agency threatened that dream. They threatened Haiku and his unborn child. They threatened her extended family at the orphanage. Their threats wouldn’t be successful. Diego ran through the streets, his nostrils flaring and his ears filtering sound as he hunted. He would kill every last Agency operative to protect their future.

Chapter Eight

“Diego, what did you do?” Haiku rushed to the gruesome apparition standing in a stupor at the door. He was covered in blood, but that wasn’t what scared her. It was the blank look in his black eyes, as though all hope was lost.

“I killed everyone I could find.” Diego stared down at his bloody boots, his gloved fingers dangling. Red droplets splattered on the white floor.

“I don’t care about those people.” She knelt at his feet. The laces were slick with blood and gore, and she had to wrap the ends around her hands to better grip them. “What did you do to
you
? Are you hurt?”

Diego stepped out of his boots. Even his socks were drenched. She stripped those off too. “Hand.” He removed his glove and held his hand up. The gash was deep and wide. Haiku saw bone, and the room spun around her.

“Here.” She grabbed a gleaming white kitchen towel and wrapped it around his hand. “Hold on to this.” She placed his unharmed hand around it. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” She frantically opened cupboards, searching for the box.

“Drawer closest to the door,” he mumbled, swaying.

She slid the drawer open, grabbing the antiseptic agent, the suture gun, and the gauze. “Sit here.” She pulled a chair toward him, and he sat down with a thump. “Give me your hand.” She peeled the towel away from the wound. It was already healing. She splashed the antiseptic on it, and he hissed. She clucked in sympathy as she cleaned his hand. “I have to do this without painkillers. Sorry.” She hadn’t time to wait for painkillers to take effect. He would heal too quickly, and it would leave a scar. She tugged the skin together, positioned the suture gun, and pressed the button.

It was extremely painful. Haiku knew, having used the suture gun on herself more than once. Except the only sound her tough guy made was a gasp. She brushed her lips over the wound, kissing it better. “Are you injured anywhere else?” she demanded. Blood dripped down from his wet hair, and his eyelids fluttered, flicking the moisture away. She dabbed a clean corner of the towel over his brow, so he could see better.