Scars: A Killers Novel, Book 5

  SCARS

  A Killers Novel, Book 5

  Brynne Asher

  Text Copyright

  © 2020 Brynne Asher

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Only purchase authorized editions.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, things, locations, or events is accidental.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  SCARS

  SCARS

  A Killers Novel, Book 5

  Brynne Asher

  Published by Brynne Asher

  BrynneAsherBooks@gmail.com

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  Edited by edit LLC

  Cover Design by Dark Waters Covers

  Other Books by Brynne Asher

  The Carpino Series

  Overflow – The Carpino Series, Book 1

  Beautiful Life – The Carpino Series, Book 2

  Athica Lane – The Carpino Series, Book 3

  Until Avery – A Carpino Series Crossover Novella

  Killers Series

  Vines – A Killers Novel, Book 1

  Paths – A Killers Novel, Book 2

  Gifts – A Killers Novel, Book 3

  Veils – A Killers Novel, Book 4

  Scars – A Killers Novel, Book 5

  Until the Tequila – A Killers Crossover Novella

  The Montgomery Series

  Bad Situation – The Montgomery Series, Book 1

  Broken Halo – The Montgomery Series, Book 2

  Standalones

  Blackburn

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Beeps

  2. A Wager

  3. The Moment

  4. Prison

  5. Red

  6. Unless You Piss Me Off

  7. Where Dreams and Fears Collide

  8. Tou-fuckin’-ché

  9. The Ghost

  10. Complicated

  11. Checkmate

  12. I Look Fucking Good in a Tux

  13. Rules

  14. Exoneration

  15. Rage

  16. Like Old Times

  17. Next to Me

  18. Money

  19. Do You Trust Me?

  20. Plans

  21. The Bella Lottery

  22. Lost Time

  23. Welcome to Crew’s Fucked-Up Family

  24. Up Your Game

  25. Open Season

  26. Flirting Sperm

  27. Windmill

  28. Treasure Forever

  29. Macpussy

  30. You Were an Arsehole

  31. Kills Me

  32. Stampede

  33. Gray

  34. Dog Years

  35. Catch My Breath

  36. A Second

  37. Charlie Daniels

  38. Brilliant Babies

  39. Simple Man

  40. Shatter

  41. Coinci-fucking-dentally

  42. Sentry

  43. Double

  44. Cocky Self

  45. Bloody

  46. Diversify

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Brynne Asher

  Thoughts and Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1 of Bad Situation

  To my Beauties

  May you kick arse in everything you do.

  Prologue

  One year ago

  London

  Bella

  If my blood could boil, it would.

  When this nightmare began three weeks ago, I never imagined I’d end up here. I thought they’d realize their mistake, kiss my arse in apology—as they should—and we’d share a glass to laugh off their epic levels of stupidity. It’s a fuck up on their end that should’ve been smoothed over in a blink. Someone else’s fuck up—not mine. I don’t fuck things up, at least not at work, and never anything as royally as this.

  My personal life is a different story.

  “Bella, you can sit there and chew on this all day. Doesn’t change the facts.”

  I want to shift my feet, drag my sweaty palms down the sides of my denim, and then drop kick his arse across the room. But I don’t allow myself any of that. Instead, I tip my head, narrowing my eyes. “I dare you to call me Bella again. Only those I love or trust get that side of me and you certainly don’t fall into either category at the moment.”

  His jaw hardens and he sucks in a breath. “Let me call your father. You’re a Donnelly. We owe it to him—to his legacy and that of your grandfather. He can acquire proper counsel. You’re going to need it.”

  I open my mouth when I shouldn’t … but that’s nothing new. Holding my tongue has never been my strong suit. But this man, whose generation in British Intelligence falls somewhere between my grandfather and father, should be castrated—he’s that piss poor at his job. “I wouldn’t need a solicitor if you knew how to perform a bloody investigation. My grandfather is surely rolling in his grave knowing he once believed in you.”

  His voice lowers. “Isabella, do yourself the favor of taking me up on my very gracious offer of calling your father—”

  “You call my father and, I swear, he’ll bust your nuts for incompetence until you’re forced to beg him for mercy.”

  This beanpole of a man hasn’t always been an imbecile, but he’s worked too long and has seen better days. He hasn’t kept up with technology or the gym, and should’ve handed over his credentials years ago.

  Even so, this isn’t good.

  This is leaning on the side of catastrophic.

  If this were simply not good, they would have summoned me to Vauxhall. Instead, they cornered me here, a bogus meeting in an abandoned warehouse in Hackney under the guise of needing to discuss a case. My car is four streets over. One of me, five of them. I’m an operative, and an unarmed one, at that.

  I also know if they drag me in from here, there’s no way I can prove they’re bloody fucking wrong. Whatever they’ve done, they did a bang-up job of framing me.

  “The money trail doesn’t lie, Isabella. We’ve been following it for weeks.”

  “It’s bogus,” I snap. “Someone set me up and you know it.”

  He shakes his head and his minions, who’d dance a jig upon order, step in beside him. With muscle at his sides, he stands straighter and keeps spitting his poisonous lies. “We’ve got two in custody and they’re being transferred to the city as we speak. It’s not looking good for you. You need a solicitor, and from the evidence I’ve seen, a good one.”

  Fuck.

  From my periphery, the door is too far. I have no idea what’s behind me or if there’s another way out, but from the way they’ve arranged themselves, I highly doubt there is. Just because they’re minions, doesn’t make them dim-witted.

  All I can do is talk. Lucky for me, I’m brilliant at that.

  “They’re my targets and you’ve already shot my cover to hell. I’ll interrogate them myself and get to the bottom of this.”

  He shakes his head and has the nerve to smile. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Then, please, do me the honor of telling me what is going to happen.”

  He takes a step toward me but I don’t flinch. If we were alone, I would have been out of here twenty ticks ago and he’d still be writhing on the dus
ty, gritty floor. “You know what’s going to happen.”

  I know exactly what he means, but I keep talking because, at this point, my best chance is to rile him. “Have we traveled back a century where the boys with tiny balls take care of business in back alleys instead of Vauxhall where an asset can get a fair shake? Or are you still rubbed raw that my father was bigger, better, and more brilliant than you?”

  “Thorne has nothing to do with this.”

  “Like hell,” I toss back. “He’s hailed as one of the most integral operatives in British Intelligence history and has been traveling the world signing books with my mum while you’re here, creating your own fiction and trying to lay it on a woman because you think I’ll go down quietly for something I. Did. Not. Do.” When I take a step in his direction, I see it in his eyes—he braces. Well, he fucking should, even though I have no idea what I’m going to do next. “Do not expect me to fall on the sword for upper brass. Donnellys don’t give up and they don’t bow down. I don’t kneel for anyone, certainly not you.”

  He waves his hand and the man beside him starts for me. I turn fully to him and flex my fingers but don’t have a chance to move.

  Glass shatters.

  Noise fills the wide-open space.

  The air becomes so heavy, it’s tangible.

  I look to the side, but can’t see a thing. My eyes burn like a flaming brimstone and I blink away tears that form in an instant.

  All but one of the men threatening me shuffle for the door. The big one comes after me even through the gas-filled air. When he gets close enough, I hope to hell my instincts have my back since I can’t see for shit when I swing my leg around.

  I hear a humph when I make contact and then move for the perimeter. I’ll feel my way out.

  That’s when arms circle me from behind.

  Before I can do what I’m bloody best at, I hear breathing and feel a hard shell pressed to the side of my head.

  “Sweetness, don’t fight me today. You won’t win.”

  I freeze.

  I know that voice, even through a gas mask. I’d recognize it until the day I take my last breath. It’s my nemesis—and the man who’s also my bedmate when we’re in the same general vicinity.

  Then, even though my lungs beg for clean oxygen and my mascara is running down my face like a drippy faucet, he has the nerve to lift his hand and maul my left breast.

  “You’re in a fuckload of trouble, baby.”

  I cough and sputter and spit, but he doesn’t move. If he’s here to play the hero, he could get a bloody move on.

  “Time to do what I’ve been trying to for years—get you out of this country once and for all.”

  I squeeze his arm with all I’ve got because my stomach starts to roil from the tear gas.

  “And this time, you’re not running from me.”

  Damn him.

  When I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen, he moves.

  Cole Carson.

  The man who will surely be the death of me.

  When he’s not giving me orgasms, that is.

  Chapter 1

  Beeps

  Fairfax, Virginia

  Present Day

  Cole

  Beeps.

  It’s all I hear.

  They echo and roll around my brain. Slow … methodical. They’re sure to drive me insane.

  But I’m clinging to them.

  They’re the only thing reminding me she’s alive. Cutting through the room as sharp as the figurative knife I took to the gut when I got the call. Hollingsworth knows our history and told me. I got here as fast as I could and haven’t left her side.

  Bella.

  I had no idea she was even in the damn country.

  “Documents are on the way and hospital records have been changed.” I listen to Hollingsworth peck away on a keyboard.

  “You’re sure no one who matters heard her name?” I ask. I’ve worked with Asa Hollingsworth long enough and know he’s solid but I don’t know everyone who was in the waiting room when I arrived after finding out Isabella Donnelly took a bullet to the gut. Asa assures me no one there is a threat. I keep barking orders. “While she’s here, she’s Isabella Carson. I’m sure she covered her tracks on her way to the U.S., but we need to be sure. I have no idea when she’ll be well enough to run away from me. Because I have no doubt she’ll try.”

  Asa is smart enough not to ask further about my laying claim to her.

  I keep talking. “I want to know who she was here to meet. Do whatever it takes. The more I can find out before she wakes up, the better.”

  “Already on it. But if you, of all people, don’t know why she’s in the States, I’m not sure who else will. Bella can work alone and has proven she doesn’t need anyone at her back to survive. Your best bet is the source herself. She’ll wake up and the ball will be in your court. Don’t fuck it up. I’ll tell you, her being here was a surprise to all of us—even Crew—and she contracts for him.”

  That shit is about to change. Crew Vega had better get used to it and find someone new to be his eyes and ears in the Middle East. He and I only speak when it’s absolutely necessary. If I see Vega’s face again while Bella is lying unconscious in the ICU, I’ll rip him to shreds. Hollingsworth, however, knows this and is my go-between. He’ll do anything for Vega. He’ll also do most things for me.

  I turn my attention back to Asa. “I didn’t fuck it up last time, asshole. Until she wakes up, I’m counting on you.”

  “Right. And I need to go so I can hit it hard. Worming my way into these systems takes time. You’re lucky to have me.”

  I shake my head and don’t answer, never taking my eyes off her chest.

  Rising … falling … rising … falling …

  I need her to live and I need my employer to not know she’s here. And since she’s lying in ICU and I work for the Central-fucking-Intelligence Agency, that might be asking for a miracle. “Don’t call me until you have answers.”

  I hang up and stare at the woman who’s been circling the revolving door of my life for years. She was twenty-three when she rocked my world. I thought she was too young and too reckless to maneuver the underworld we swam in on a daily basis. It didn’t matter what her last name was or how much weight that name carried, I didn’t trust her. That was my first mistake when it came to Isabella Donnelly. She’s a force and anyone in her line of sight would be foolish to underestimate her. She’s proven it and continues to do so by contracting on her own while staying hidden all this time. And still, I’m the idiot who can’t tie down my wild Brit.

  I don’t take my eyes off her. The fire inside her is gone—the fire I loved so much that burned under my skin for years. I’ve tried to quench it and smother it. Hell, I’ve even tried to ignore it. I had to make the hard choice and walk away from it when shit got real at home. Little did I know, quitting her would be harder than dealing with the shit circling me in the States.

  Now, she’s pale and lifeless despite the damn beeps filling our space and I’d do anything to have her fierce flame back. That’s what happens when you take a bullet to the gut from point-blank range. She inserted herself into a situation that wasn’t her problem or her business. She saved lives but that doesn’t change the fact she is where she is.

  My phone vibrates.

  Asa – No one at our camp knows why she’s here. Crew is digging and I will too.

  Shit.

  I’m surprised Vega doesn’t know. He and I might not see eye-to-eye at times, but he’s no liar. At least when it comes to the good guys.

  Somehow she snuck back into the States without even him knowing. Given her status, her stepping foot onto U.S. soil is riskier than dancing into a bullfight dressed in crimson. But I’d bet my security clearance she didn’t give a shit.

  “What are you chasing, sweetness?”

  I get nothing but those damn beeps. How can I despise them while my gut hangs on every single one at the same time?

  I stand and mov
e to her side.

  “Sir, visiting hours for ICU don’t start for another two hours.”

  I look up and find a new nurse. They must’ve had a shift change because I went through this with the last one but I’ll do it as many times as I have to.

  I pull out my credentials. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Oh.” She chews on her lip and looks from my ID to me. “I might need to talk to my head nurse—”

  “You can talk to the Attorney General for all I care. I’m here until she wakes and I’m not leaving until she does. You’re stuck with me.”

  She looks down at her tablet and scrolls across the screen. “Isabella Carson. You’re her husband?”

  Good. The records have been changed.

  I glance down and for the first time am grateful the woman who haunts me is heavily sedated. If she knew I was spinning this, she’d try to wrestle me to the ground.