Читать книгу Her Assassin For Hire - Danica Winters - Страница 11

In life, there comes a point when all people are forced to pick a side and show who they really are. In the stories, it was always good versus evil—and those with the purest hearts won. However, in reality, nothing was ever that simple.

As a child, Zoey Martin had a favorite maple tree. It stood proud and unyielding in her family’s front yard, a symbol of strength and longevity. She would spend hours climbing around, whispering her secrets into its bark and imagining her future...a future that would bring only happiness and success. Each dream was a bit different, but there was always the same ending—her, standing in front of a crowd of cheering fans, wearing the shining armor of a knight who had once again saved the innocent.

She had relied on the strength of the maple tree and over the years had almost come to take it for granted. It was always there, always shielding her as she hoped to shield others someday. In a way it was her hero.

One day, when she was nearly ten years old, the seemingly healthy limb she had been sitting on snapped beneath her. She had tumbled to the ground. Even now, so many years later, if she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still hear her leg snapping as she struck the unyielding roots of the behemoth she had loved.

Over the years, when her first boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend, and later when her college boyfriend ghosted her, she thought back to her tree. It was her first hard-learned lesson in the wicked truths of trust—just because everything looked good from the outside, healthy even, it didn’t mean its heart wasn’t rotten.

Since then, Zoey Martin had been happy giving her trust to a few within her family. Her only heroes were their STEALTH team and their teams of courageous contractors.

Even limiting who she loved and trusted, ever since her sister’s death, she felt herself tumbling to the ground. Her family’s work in STEALTH, something she believed in so strongly, had pulled the stable branch out from under her family.

She’d had to move forward in the faith that she was sure she was bringing something positive to the world.

She tugged down the edge of her hot pink dress as she sauntered to the front of the tent. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor she had her staff put down just so her shoes wouldn’t stick in the grass. Today everything had to be perfect...especially her appearance.

Rubbing her lips together, ensuring her specially blended-to-match lipstick was in place, she turned to face her audience.

They looked bored, most checking their phones or staring longingly at the bar in the corner of the room. No doubt, the crowd was made up of gold-laden investors, soggy board members and straight-backed rivals. They all held their pints of beer or flutes of champagne like lifelines.

She couldn’t wait to see their faces when the fun started.

So far, it had been two days of looking over the next year’s models of top-of-the-line weaponry and tactical gear, speeches on the merits of self-protection and gun advocacy, and the late-night bar meetings that led to the next morning’s multimillion-dollar deals. And she had one hell of a hangover.

Though their new line of tac-gear wasn’t through the final phases of testing, they were taking orders. And after today, they were going to come flooding in.

There was a smattering of polite but unenthusiastic applause as she took out her prepared speech. She couldn’t blame those in attendance for their lackluster response. Zoey wasn’t one of her brothers. Until recently, it had always been Jarrod who had been the face of their private government contracting company, STEALTH, and no matter where Jarrod went, with his wide jaw and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson brooding but sexy scowl, women and money followed. Thankfully her new friend and her brother’s fiancée, Mindy Kohl, had put a stop to that party and Jarrod had settled down.

As Zoey cleared her throat, she checked to make sure her team was in place. The two men stood at each of the front corners of the tent in ready position, looking more like her private security team in their black suits and earpieces than what she had actually brought them here for.

She looked toward the waitstaff who were lowering the lights and closing the flaps to shut out the bright, midevening sun. The lights on the catwalk came to life, readying for the show.

A smile played at the corner of her lips as she adjusted her formfitting little hot pink dress one more time.

She didn’t want to die...but if this was how she went out, at least she’d go out with one hell of a bang.

Either way, she was about to become infamous.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” she started, looking out over the crowd as they found their seats. Most took out their phones like they were going to take notes, but in reality, were probably checking their backlog of emails from their days away from the office. “I appreciate you coming to the Heinrich and Kohl Alliance demonstration today.”

It felt strange to have their new venture into tactical gear manufacturing umbrellaed under Mindy’s company. But it was best to stay shielded from the public...especially when it came to her family and the worldwide manhunt that centered on them. Anonymity was their only saving grace.

“As some of you may know, our team has been working diligently over the last few months to bring you a new and innovative line of tactical gear and body armor.” A man slipped into the tent and into one of the many open seats at the back of the room, carefully keeping to the shadows.

“Our decision,” she said, thinking of Mindy, “to expand our manufacturing businesses to include self-protection and advocacy, came from a very honest place.” And she honestly couldn’t help but feel like she was using her sister Trish’s death to profit—and she hated herself for it.

She cleared her throat as a few people turned off their phones and glanced up at her. “Last fall, my sister was shot and killed in the streets of Turkey.” The last few voices in the crowd were silenced. “She had been there on a mission of her choosing. She was wearing body armor and was well equipped for the fight she knew she would face. But when the mission played out, her tac-gear and armor weren’t enough to save her.”

A woman near the catwalk shifted in her seat like talk of such a death at an arms show and convention was strictly taboo. Regardless of social mores, it was the truth. These people had to know death, and fear it, as they were the only constants in their line of work.

“Her death was a major blow not only to our family but to our business, as well. She was our linchpin, the one who always brought us together even in the hardest of times. She was our rock. And now she is gone.” A lump rose in her throat, but she forced the emotional traitor to submit as she swallowed it away. “As you can imagine, thoughts of vengeance led to plans of retaliation against the group responsible. However, these thoughts were soon checked. Logic must reign when emotions threaten to rebel.”

There were a few ill-timed chuckles, but she appreciated them.

“After careful planning, we chose to use her legacy to advocate for positive change, and this new line of tactical gear was designed in her honor. Through our work, we hope that no one else will ever have to endure such a tragedy.”

She paused. There were no longer any dim lights from people playing on their cell phones in the crowd. Finally, she had everyone’s rapt attention. Perfect.

“At H&K, we are in the final stages of testing our new lightweight phase armor we have affectionately dubbed Monster Wear. Today we will be taking preorders for our designs. Please feel free to see any one of our representatives, those with the white name tags, throughout the rest of the conference.” She waved at two women who were staged beside the main entrance. “Without further ado, we are excited to unveil our full line of Monster Tactical Gear and Specialty Fashion for you today.”

She gave a small clap, and the curtains opened from the side of the tent and their first model came out and strutted down the runway. He had on their line of UV protection sunglasses, their shellback tactical Cyclops plate carrier, tac pants and full duty gear. With his well-toned arms and buttery tan, the man looked like he’d just walked off the battlefield. Perfect.

Several more men and women followed, each wearing gear from the new line, but none wearing the best-of-the-best—at least not yet.

Zoey scanned the crowd. They seemed interested, but underwhelmed by the nearly generic gear on display. Which was, for now, just fine by her.

The man who had come in late stood up and moved closer to the catwalk. Zoey couldn’t see his face, but something about his dark brown hair and V-shaped body seemed all too familiar. Maybe it was the way he roll-walked through the crowd, or how he seemed to be most comfortable in the shadows, but she was intrigued.

Her thoughts moved to Eli Wayne, her ex-boyfriend and STEALTH’s former ghostlike point man. From the back, the man looked just like him.

The lump in her throat returned.

It was more than possible he would be here, sniffing around her demonstration in hopes of making contact with her. He’d always been like that, lurking in the darkness and waiting to sweep her off her feet just when she was at her most vulnerable—it was also one of the things that had made her fall for him in the first place.

In many ways, she missed him. And she hated him for breaking her heart. And... Ugh... No. She couldn’t let thoughts of Eli mess with her head. She was here to do her job. To make her family proud, and to put him and their cursed past even further behind her.

She had to focus.

Ten different models moved through their line of gear, each doing quick changes in the back, before reappearing on the catwalk. A few in the crowd oohed and ahhed as the models rolled out.

As the time grew nearer to unveil their greatest achievements, the nervousness swelled within her. She took a series of deep breaths as she tried to control herself. This was just a simple event—a sales pitch. It was nothing in comparison to sitting behind the screen and running IT for her family as they infiltrated and took down an enemy encampment. Now, that was something to be nervous about. One poorly timed click of the button, one little sneeze, and she could blow away an entire village—or hurt one of her own.

And yet there she was, getting butterflies at a fashion show. Maybe she was more of a girlie girl than she had realized. Or maybe it was the thought of Eli being in the room that was really getting to her.

She ran her hands down her dress, trying to dry her palms.

Feeling this way was simply ridiculous. He wasn’t here. He didn’t care about her anymore. Even if he was here, he wouldn’t waste his time by checking in on her.

“And finally,” she said, as the last model slipped behind the curtain, “I’m proud to announce the arrival of our new and groundbreaking line of fashion... Please give a round of applause for our models wearing our new Level III ballistic protection Monster Wear.”

The curtain opened and a man came out in a well-fitted black suit nearly identical to the Armani her men at the side doors wore.

She walked over to the model and gave him a smile. “If you note—” she lifted the fabric of the jacket and twisted it in her fingers “—the cloth moves and breathes just like regular cotton. It is thin, light and available in a variety of colors. No more need for steel plates and heavy, movement-restricting armor.”

A few in the audience caught their breath.

Zoey waved the model on. He took off his jacket, revealing his white dress shirt. He glanced back at her and gave her a sly smile as he dropped his jacket to the ground. He leaped forward, his hands raised in the air, and he did a tight spiral backflip onto the ground, landing just in front of the woman seated in the front row.

There was a roar of applause.

Yes.

Money would be flowing in no time.

If they could sell just ten thousand button-up shirts, they would recoup their entire investment, and anything beyond would be gravy.

She sent a silent prayer up to Trish, one begging for her forgiveness.

As the model weaved through the crowd, letting the audience touch and feel the Lycra-like cloth, the next model entered from the side. She wore a black pair of yoga pants and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy, and nothing to indicate she was prepped for a firefight.

“We are proud at H&K to design clothing that meets everyday needs for all. We don’t simply create clothing for high-profile events and celebrities, but we also want to protect those who are just like us—those out there risking their lives for the greater good.”

Several models followed the woman as the crowd jostled in their seats for a better view. People were slipping in from the back entrance and, as there were no longer any seats available, standing room became a premium.

As the last model disappeared, the crowd moved to their feet with applause.

“Thank you,” Zoey said, glancing over to her guards, who now looked more nervous than ever. “We appreciate your support in our continuing effort to bring safety to those who most need it.”

A woman’s scream pierced through the air.

Zoey turned to her right. There, just a few yards away, one of her guards raised his gun. He didn’t hesitate as he pointed it straight at her center mass and pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck true.

She crumpled to the ground as pain flooded her senses. “It’s okay, everyone. He works for me.” She struggled to catch her breath.

Her hands moved to her chest. A trickle of blood seeped between her fingers.

We should have done more testing.

Or maybe Trish is calling me out for using her death to profit. If she was still here, I would tell her this was for her...all for her...

The world spun as Zoey tumbled downward and darkness swallowed her whole.