It was the sound of her moniker on his lips that made her decision.
She took a deep breath and centered herself. “Bodies are tools, easily controlled by strong minds,” she bit out.
His eyes narrowed, gaze tracking across her features, hands tightening in her hair. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I control my body, not the other way around.” She bucked him off and slid out from under him. As earlier, she fully realized she wouldn’t have been able to do so had he not allowed it.
He’d shown he could overpower her with sheer strength. Remi always learned from her mistakes. A tiny voice inside her head mocked her. Yeah, she’d done a great job learning not to push Rand Beckett, hadn’t she?
His hands were clenched, his face hard as he stood there. He flipped every switch she’d never known she had. He was magnificent. Strong, able . . . protector.
She shook her head. “What happened, Mr. Beckett, to your number one priority?”
The tension in the room snapped ice cold. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms, and she barely restrained the urge to rub her hands up and down them. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Ugly emotion twisted his lips, but still she wanted them on hers.
“You think just because I want to fuck you that my priorities have changed?”
His words cut deeply. But it was what she needed to hear. What he needed to feel. If they ever gave in to this insane desire between them, it would be deadly for them both.
He laughed and the sound was low, horrible. “You overestimate your importance.” He walked close to her, stopped but a foot away, and his stare could have cut glass. “I’ve fucked a few women since Lily died. None of them meant anything but release. You were here, available, and your body can’t soften for mine fast enough.” Rand reached up, gently brushing an errant strand of hair from her cheek. His touch at odds with his words, electricity struck where his skin brushed hers. “You are right about one thing. A strong mind can control a weak body. Thank you for the reminder. I am simply a man who was almost ruled by his cock.”
He dropped his hand and walked out, shutting the door softly as he exited.
Remi took a deep breath and rubbed her chest. The pain was intense. But it was as it should be.
She sat back down on the floor and closed her eyes. The words hovered on her lips, but it was the tears that fell. She’d lost too much. Better she never have him. If she lost Rand Beckett, it would be a fatal blow.
Her heart knew it to be true.
Remi took supper in her room. Dmitry brought it in with a caution to remain there for the night. She didn’t question him. She’d heard movement going on below her for some time since Rand had left. Ken Nodachi’s voice could be heard at a low hum in the rooms beneath her.
He’d brought someone with him, a prisoner he’d called the person, a
killer
. Remi knew well who he had. And she had zero intention of remaining in this room throughout the night.
What the hell Blade was thinking, she had no idea. To allow herself to be caught? She was supposed to be in Shanghai, protecting her most valuable asset and setting the stage for...
Something sharp stole its way through Remi’s mind. She pushed it aside, refused to acknowledge the one emotion that would weaken her resolve to do this thing she’d set out to do. Blade was here for a reason; better Remi discover what it was and get her out of here.
She ate the meal Dmitry had brought in, careful to consume every bite with care. Her body was so much stronger, thanks to the supplements and food. She was almost where she needed to be. Almost.
Three hours passed as Remi waited for the noise in the house to die. She listened to every creak and groan on the floors, tracked every whisper of sound. They were holding her sister in the same room they’d held Remi at first.
She readied herself. No doubt, Nodachi and Rand were waiting for her move. She strapped her knife to her thigh and placed her Walther at the base of her spine. It felt right there. Her heart clenched.
So sad, that.
She opened the door and walked to the top of the stairs. Nothing moved below her and she walked down, careful to make no noise but not staying to the shadows. They were watching. Her only hope for getting Blade out lay in the speed of her attack.
Remi walked to the stairs that led to the basement and pushed the door open. Still no sounds, no telltale prickling at her nape. Worry didn’t factor into her present concerns. There was only a need to separate Blade from these men.
She walked down the steps and entered a corridor that had two doors off to the left. She took the first door, and what she saw took her breath.
Blade was hanging by her wrists from ropes tied to bolts in the ceiling. Her head hung to her chest, and her beautiful blonde hair had been shorn from her scalp. Cuts littered her head, and though her breathing was even, it was shallow. She was still dressed, but her clothes were tattered and ratty in places.
Remi pulled out her gun and swept the entire room with her gaze. Nothing jumped out, and with an efficiency born of training and desperation, she shot out the lens of the cameras in each of the corners. She pulled her knife from its scabbard and stealthily moved toward the other woman. One swipe of her arm and Blade was falling to the ground in a heap.
Remi quickly picked her up and headed to the door, but was brought up short when she saw Ken Nodachi standing there. He smirked, and when Rand walked in behind him, Remi felt the first stirrings of her blackening rage.
Joseph had trained them all to levels of rage. The intent was to operate on instinct. He’d taken Nietzshe’s “God is dead” to a whole new level. Nothing was more important than self-actualization to Joseph. Become what you need when you need it, and you are the best weapon in the world.
The ultimate killer reached what Joseph called “blackening rage” at the point where they were about to take life. Remi was almost there.
It was only the dark indigo of Rand Beckett’s eyes and the look within them that stopped her from dropping both men.
“Move,” she managed to ground out.
It would be their only warning. Blade was injured. Remi’s only thoughts could be of her now. Something had happened. Her hair was shorn. Joseph had gotten to her somehow. Thoughts ran at her, clipped her brain, and retreated. The dark edges of her vision were collapsing, everything narrowing to that miniscule point of death right on Ken Nodachi’s forehead.
Nodachi’s eyes widened and Rand said, “Move, goddamn it!”
Both men took different directions, but Remi simply stepped back and leveled her gun on Nodachi. “In the corner,” she whispered.
There was that acidic taste again. She swallowed and took a deep breath. Blade struggled to stand, grabbing Remi by the shoulders, and holding on for all she was worth.
“Don’t shoot him,” her sister said in a clear voice. “He’s mine.”
Remi didn’t pay her any attention. How was her voice clear? She was beaten to within an inch of her life. Goddamn Joseph. Or Ken Nodachi.
The crystal clear sigh of metal over leather sang through the air and in a second’s worth of breath, Blade had Ken Nodachi’s neck under smooth, razor-sharp metal. Nodachi was a stupid man to not have removed her leather scabbard. That it had been molded to fit under her clothes was irrelevant. He should have checked her.
Remi shrugged. His bad. She relocated her sight to the man’s heart and waited.
Blade stood tall beside the enormous half-Asian man and laughed mockingly. “For all of your training, Mr. Nodachi, it seems even you can be overcome. Tell me where the boy is.”
There it was, drenching and cold, something Remi had never expected and was certainly not prepared for . . . fear. Blade’s voice was horrible in the silence of the underground room. It echoed off the walls, and Remi wondered if the man with the awesome steel blade at his throat had any idea what he’d unleashed?
“What the fuck is this—” Nodachi started only to be cut off by the blade slicing into the skin of his tanned neck.
“Let him go,” Rand said from the other side of the room. He’d leveled a nasty-looking Kimber Tactical handgun on Blade. He obviously had no idea what he was dealing with either.
Remi took a second to control herself, the fear that had slithered down her spine now a memory. They had work to do. The boy was gone. It was yet another obstacle in a course of many. They’d overcome it.
“He will not be let go until he tells me where the boy is,” Blade bit out. Her gaze found Remi’s and a question wavered there.
Remi nodded. “She will kill him and anyone who has information about the boy until she finds him. Doubt it not,” she said, now looking at Rand.
Silence stretched for long moments, taut and pregnant with all manner of things. It was Nodachi who broke it.
“He was gone when I got there. The woman guarding him was dead.”
“Bullet?” Her sister’s voice was a whisper, but it rang like a shot.
Remi nodded, never dropping her gun, never taking her eye from Rand. “He’s telling the truth.”
Another sigh of metal on metal, and the sharp point of the sword disappeared from the man’s neck. Blood stained his pristine white shirt, and Remi wondered why Blade hadn’t taken his head.
“Your truth saves you. The girl was dead—you’re sure?” Blade asked in a frigid voice.
“Head severed from a body full of bullet holes.” Nodachi’s gaze sliced over them both. His meaning was clear.
Remi nodded at him, then laughed without mirth. “I only ever make one shot, Mr. Nodachi. I never miss.”
Blade didn’t say a word.
“I need to know,” Remi reminded her.
“I do not—” Blade’s words caused the fear Remi had bottled to uncork and stream through her blood. “If I knew, he would be safe. It can only be Joseph.”
“What the fuck is going on here?” Rand interjected into the conversation.
Blade made a move and Remi stopped her. “No!” One word, but it was enough.
Her sister looked at her and cocked her head. Remi didn’t answer this unspoken question. She couldn’t. Not now.
“Your choice. But he’d be better dead. I believe I told you that the first time,” Blade murmured.
“We will not do this here, sister,” Remi hissed out and then turned to look once again at Ken Nodachi. “It would be best if you didn’t move until she’s gone. She’s wicked quick with her knife, and I’d hate for Dmitry to have to patch you up. Dmitry? Why don’t you come on in?” Remi nodded toward the door. “You, too, Mr. Collins, or may I call you Adam?”
Both men walked in, hands up in the air, and she grinned at Dmitry, whose eyes were like blue ice in his head. He wasn’t very happy with her. Oh, well.
“Mr. Beckett, perhaps you can join the little party over in the corner. I would hate to have to shoot to make my point.” Remi waved him toward the others. He was pissed.
And again, oh, well.
Remi glanced at Blade. “Joseph?”
The other woman ran a hand over her shorn hair and simply nodded. “He’s furious. And he knows we’ve moved against him. Jesuit gave her life to help me escape. She asked only that Phina be spared.” Remi was grateful she hadn’t killed the girl in Washington. Blade drew in a short, harsh breath. “They will mobilize in approximately two weeks, Bullet.”
“Find the boy, and we’ll have Joseph.”
Blade’s voice was a scythe in the quiet. “Joseph has the boy now, therefore he has me. I must move differently.”
Remi hardened her heart against the plea in her sister’s eyes. They’d agreed and known long before the boy had ever been born that he would be a tool used against them. Still, whatever had to be done would be done. “We move the same as we’ve planned. If Joseph has him, he will not harm the boy. You know this.”
Blade glared at Remi, and for the first time in her life, Remi
felt
another person’s hatred. It cut deeply. Different from Rand’s emotional hatred, this was a blooded sister’s hatred, and it stung, wormed its way into her confidence. Remi moved her hand, and in a heartbeat, had the gun trained on her sister.
Blade snorted. “You will not shoot me, Bullet.”
“I’ll put a slug in your leg and leave you lame—leave you here while I take his head with my bullet. Would you have me take that from you—your piece of him? Don’t try me, Blade.”
A rustle in the corner where the men were almost had Remi turning, but then she steeled her spine. No matter that the men had verification they now had two of Joseph’s assassins in their midst. Blade had to be Remi’s sole focus.
Blade shook her head and clucked her tongue behind her teeth. The sound was mocking and it grated.
“You’ve always been so hard, Bullet. But you forget I’m the one who held you when you cried for her.” Blade sidestepped to the doorway, cautious and wary, like a cornered animal seeking freedom. “You won’t shoot me any more than I would take your head.” She shook her own again, the gesture weary, and a signal to Remi that the toll was heaviest for this sister.
Out of them all, she had the most to lose. For Bullet, Bone and Arrow there was only life to be lost. For Blade, there was much, much more.
Remi dropped her weapon, left her arms loose, her stance wide, and prepared for anything. She’d come down here to rescue Blade but should have known the other woman always had a plan. Like the rest of Joseph’s first team, Blade needed nothing and no one. Remi glanced then at Rand Beckett. He watched the scene between her and Blade with interest, but his eyes burned as they met hers, and it stopped her breath.
Maybe there was something else for the woman who would have been Gretchen Dearborn, was sometimes Remi, but would always be Bullet. Maybe . . .
“Tell me, sister, is he for you?”
Remi ignored the question. It was simple; there was no answer.
“He mentioned her, Bullet. He wanted us all to remember. . ." Blade took a deep breath, shoulders rising then lowering, her pain conveyed in the tightening of her lips. “He wanted to remind us of our loss. He’ll never know that, in her name, is our purpose. He said to remember
Ninka
.”
A swift inhalation of air from the corner had Remi’s head swiveling, and she listened as Blade fled. The echo of her steps reached into Remi’s heart and pulled at old wounds.