Coming for You Read online

  Contents

  COMING FOR YOU

  Description

  PART ONE

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  PART TWO

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  END OF BOOK SHIT

  Available at most online retailers

  COMING FOR YOU

  Dirty, Dark, & Deadly #3

  By J. A. Huss

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Cover Photo: Scott Hoover

  Cover Model: Nick Ayler

  Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Huss

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-978-1-936413-65-2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Description

  James, Harper, and Sasha are products of their environment. Born into a secret organization that runs a global shadow government, and taught to kill since they were small, they find themselves both indispensable and expendable to all the people they used to trust.

  Twenty-eight year old James Fenici has been an assassin since he was sixteen. He’s amassed debts and favors from countless Company brothers and participated in hundreds of Company jobs. But there are not enough favors in the world to clear his debt and make him worthy of the only girl he’s ever wanted.

  Eighteen year old Harper Tate is the girl who doesn’t exist. Born and raised on a megayacht in a tropical paradise, she was destined to be a secret until now. No history, no records, and manipulated into having no opinions or ambition of her own, Harper is suddenly presented with more choices than she can handle.

  Thirteen year old Sasha Cherlin is the girl who knows everything and understands nothing at all. Her future is filled with vengeance and death, but her dreams are filled with hope and a promise. A promise who no longer wants her.

  The game is on, the pieces are in place, and the players have everything to lose. But who can you trust when everyone’s a traitor?

  PART ONE

  Prologue

  Sasha - Last Christmas Eve

  I see him, but he doesn’t see me.

  I’m practicing for the future. That’s how hunters work. You gotta be sneaky.

  His friend, who I have seen before—but who ignores me like I’m dust—goes into the back room to meet my dad. It’s a gun run, so I don’t pay any attention to him. But this guy, the guy who looks like he could be a hunter, but whom I’ve never seen before, which makes it unlikely (though not impossible), that he is a hunter, stops to look at stuff after his friend tells him to wait.

  He picks up a knife.

  “That knife sucks,” I say from my seat across the aisle. “I wouldn’t buy that one.”

  He checks the brand, then the blade. “Yeah, this is crap.” He puts it in the basket and I make my move.

  I set my Little House book down and walk over to him. “Wanna see the good ones?” I ask. He turns and looks surprised that I got so close without him hearing me.

  I’m good at being sneaky.

  I show him the good knives and he looks at me like I’m weird. They all look at me like that once I let them into my world. They know I’m different. This guy—Ford, he says his name is—he knows I’m different. He jokes with me about grownup stuff. He laughs and listens to me when I help him shop for his mom and girl-who-is-a-friend. I gift-wrap his two presents, and while I do that, I realize something.

  I’ve known almost from the moment he walked in that he’s a good guy.

  His friend peeks out of the back room and tells Ford to leave. Things are getting complicated. My stomach does a little turn at that word. I don’t like it. I like things to be simple. Complicated is bad. I switch my frown to a smile before Ford catches it. “You have time for me to gift-wrap your knife.”

  “It’s for me, Sasha. It doesn’t need to be gift-wrapped.”

  “It’s like a present to yourself, Ford. Just go with it.”

  He laughs. I keep my back to him and concentrate on my gift-wrapping as he asks why I’m working today.

  Why am I working today?

  Buddy, I think to myself, you would not believe me if I told you. I reach in my pocket and palm the little hard drive I took from my dad last night. He was drunk. My dad hardly ever gets drunk. And as much as I’d like to believe my Christmas Eve is going to end up with me sleeping soundly at my grandparents’ ranch tonight, I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s happening today.

  When the hunters show up, bad things happen.

  I pull the flash drive out of my pocket and slip it inside Ford’s knife box. When he opens this tomorrow, he’ll find an old battered piece of plastic covered in stickers. If he plugs the drive into his computer, he’ll see photographs. All my best moments in my short life.

  And maybe that’s the end of it. Maybe he tucks it inside a drawer somewhere, laughing at the little girl up in Wyoming who got attached. Maybe he never thinks of it, or me, again.

  I can only hope.

  But I don’t think that’s what’s gonna happen.

  I think that by the time this is all over, he might wish he never met me.

  Chapter One

  Sasha - Present Day

  Some people look peaceful when they sleep.

  James Fenici is not one of them.

  He doesn’t talk, or thrash wildly from nightmares. Only stupid people do that. Weak people.

  James Fenici is not weak. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not weak.

  No. James has this little twitch. It’s almost not noticeable, and it only affects the one eye. But it’s there. I’ve been watching him for about an hour. I’ve been on a private plane twice now—once on my way to Vegas, and this time, on my way home from California. But let me tell you something. They are pretty fucking boring.

  Fracking. Fudging. Flucking. I should not swear in my thoughts. James hates it when I swear and if I swear in my thoughts, I’ll swear in real life.

  But fuck it. This plane ride sucks. There are no drinks because Harrison was too busy fishing me out of the ocean after James shot me to stock up the cooler.

  Yeah. This stupid plane has a cooler. Like something you put ice in. Not like a refrigerator that even our stupid nineteen seventy-eight RV had back when I was a kid. A cooler. I’m not impressed.

  So no soda. Not even a fracking, fudging, flucking bag of pretzels.

  God, I’m so hungry.

  “James?”

 
He’s across the aisle from me, but that’s like two feet away tops. I kick him when he doesn’t answer.

  “James?”

  “Kick me again, and I’ll break all your toes,” he says without opening his eyes.

  “I’m so hungry.”

  He cracks one eye open. “Do I look like a vending machine? I told you, we’ll stop in Burlington after we get the truck.” He closes the one eye like this matter is settled.

  “How far away is Burlington?”

  “Go ask Harrison.”

  And that’s it. I watch him for a few minutes to see if he’ll apologize for not having food. But he doesn’t. He’s asleep again because there’s that twitch.

  I don’t want to ask Harrison. He’ll say something with coordinates that make no sense without a map. If it was light I could look out the window and at least see if we passed the mountains yet. Burlington is on the prairie.

  I slump down in my seat and pout. I know that’s very childish and I should man up and stop doing it. But I’m not a man and I’m still a child. So hey, might as well enjoy it while I can.

  I think of Nick instead.

  I can’t believe he never told Harper about me. Is that weird? She didn’t even know I was his promise. That’s not weird. I don’t think, anyway. Promises are supposed to be secret. I shouldn’t know Nick and I are promised. But he told me last year when he started coming to see me in Wyoming.

  Well, he came to see my dad. But he took an interest in me and it was very hard for me not to take an interest back because Nick Tate is what girls call hot.

  He and Harper have some similarities, obviously, since they are twins. But Nick is taller than Harper. He’s got nice muscles for a boy of only eighteen. Not like James. James has man muscles. He’s a big guy compared to Nick. But Nick is quicker than James. Harper is quicker than James too. I saw her fight a little while we were together.

  Nick is smart too. He knows so many things. He knows secrets for one. Secrets that even James doesn’t know.

  Hell, even I know secrets that James doesn’t know.

  But if I thought that gave me an advantage, I’d be wrong because there’s more to James than just… James.

  Of course, there’s the little matter of Number One too. He tried to kill Harper. And I don’t know what to make of all this. Or of James’ sister, Nicola. Or the Admiral. Or Nick for that matter.

  Who should I trust?

  So far it’s just James. But once I see Nick, I’ll have to make a choice. Because you can’t be loyal to two people at once.

  Can you?

  Harrison yells from the cockpit. “We’re getting ready to land, you guys. Buckle up.”

  James lowers his feet off the seat across from him and sits up straight. Has he been awake this whole time? Shit, I stopped watching him. Did he see me thinking?

  I don’t like to think about secrets in front of James. It’s not like he reads minds or anything, but he’s got instincts. He reads faces. And body language. And even voices.

  I know because my father taught me how to do it too. But the thing about instincts is that you have to use them in real life to make them second nature.

  I have never done a job. Aside from killing those four men who came to blow up my grandparents’ ranch, I’ve never done anything exciting. All the teaching in the world is useless without experience.

  James has experience. James has killed hundreds of people. He’s overthrown governments. He’s worked in conditions I can’t even imagine. And he was a prisoner of war down in Honduras once.

  I’ve heard that story enough times to recite it in my sleep from people more important than him. Back in the desert he told Harper and me that he was running a shadow government down in San Pedro Sula, but that wasn’t his first time in Honduras. No. The first time was when he was captured.

  I know what happened to him down there. Both times. I chance a look over at my new partner and smile.

  “What’s on your mind, Smurf?”

  Shit.

  “I’m so, so, so, so hungry.” He stares at me and I can’t help myself. I squirm.

  “Burlington has a McDonalds. We’ll get some breakfast there.”

  I would die for McDonalds right now. “And then what are we gonna do?”

  The plane drops the landing gear with a thud and this gives James the opportunity to ignore my question.

  I don’t like when he ignores my questions. Because that means I won’t like the answer he’s not giving me.

  “We’re partners, right?” I ask him, suddenly feeling needy.

  He turns back to me with a smile. I love it when he smiles. Because as far as I can tell, the smiles are never fake. “Till death do us part, midget.”

  I smile back. I really do like James. I’m just not sure I can trust James.

  Because as far as I’ve been able to tell, Tet is in charge in all the situations that count. The most notable was back at Merc’s house in the desert when he told me he might have a plan. The second time was after Harper was drugged by One. I’m still not one hundred percent sure of who was actually in charge that first time. But the guy who told me he was going to shoot me in the chest was definitely Tet.

  And even though I think James is on the up and up, I have a hard time understanding how he can live two lives at the same time.

  Everyone in the Company—and I do mean everyone—knows that James Fenici is a twisted dude. You need him to kill his brother? No problem. Just tell Tet. You need him to kill a trainer’s kid? No problem. Just tell Tet. You need him to trail your daughter and lead everyone on a wild chase to take the heat off your son? No problem. Just tell Tet.

  But the problem with James and Tet doubles when you realize you can’t have one without the other. They are not two separate personalities.

  They really are the same guy.

  I think that makes James/Tet more insane than if he was one of those crazy people with split personality disorder. Because at least if they were two people you could sorta count on them.

  For instance, when the Admiral texted James and told him to come out to Colorado and “pick me up” what he really expected was for Tet to come out to Colorado to “pick me off”.

  Nick told me the night before James showed up. He said, If you see him first, he’s James and you should give him a chance. If he shows up as Tet, you’ll never know he was there.

  Is it fucked up that Nick didn’t just tell me to get the hell out of there?

  I’m not sure.

  But Tet wasn’t around when that text from the Admiral to come “pick me up” came in. James was. And James was busy with Harper, so he didn’t need Tet.

  See, the Admiral, for all his uppity smugness, really has no clue how James/Tet operates. I suppose that’s why he instructed me to kill James that day. It was a two birds kind of thing.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the plane touches down, bounces once, then again, and we roll the rest of the way towards the small airport surrounded by cornfields on three sides.

  When we come to a stop James stands up and stretches his arms above his head and touches the top of the cabin, pressing his hands flat against the curved plastic. “I’m starved too, McSmurf. And I need coffee.” He says that with a smile.

  God, I love that smile. I might not like Tet all that much, and James is not one of those nurturing people like my dad was. But when he smiles at me like that, I absolutely love him.

  Chapter Two

  James

  I watch the Smurf watch me through the smallest crack of an eye during our plane ride.

  She’s making me nervous. She’s not asleep, but she thinks I am. She’s watching me, but she has no idea I’m watching her.

  Jesus fucking Christ. I have no idea what I’m doing. I know things they don’t think I know. But I’m not even sure what to do with some of that information.

  And I have no idea what Sasha is doing. I know she’s operating on someone’s orders. I’m just not sure who’s orders they are. The A
dmiral? She definitely was. But now? Not sure. Nick? Don’t know about that either.

  Merc? Now that’s the real mystery. The one that matters most right now because he’s the first person we’re gonna see.

  And Nick. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but Merc has. He knows a lot about me. Maybe more than he should. Definitely more than he should.

  And so this is the test. Who works for who is a question I’ve had no solid answer to for a very long time. But pretty soon all the players will be present and I can sort it out.

  But pretty soon is not now, so I need to just let it go. I’m moving forward on trust alone. I have to trust her. It’s my only option.

  I think about Harper instead and that makes my chest hurt in a way that’s new to me. When I saw her lying on the floor in her old apartment—fuck. I stopped breathing. It had to have been no more than two, three seconds. But it felt like eternity. Slow mo, right? They say that in emergencies, time changes. And I believe it. I’ve felt that a lot over the years. When reality is so in your face. When death is right there—all you gotta do is reach out and he’ll pull you across that thin veil and make it all end, once and for all.

  I’ve been there so many times. But the first time is the one you never forget.

  Honduras. Twelve years ago. James Fenici, barely Six, not yet Tet. Already fucked up.

  Even now when I close my eyes, I hear the spray of bullets. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t even load my fucking rifle. And when I finally shot my first gang member down in the fucked up place they call San Pedro Sula, I missed. The first bullet skimmed past his temple, just enough to ruin his eye, and give me a nice visual burned into my memory. Still, to this day.

  I never even got a chance to fire a second shot and finish the job, because I was caught and the guy who was forever called Mistake Number One in my head lived.

  But I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and wished he hadn’t. I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and told himself he lived for one thing only. To make James Fenici pay.