How to Shield an Assassin Page 2

  She looked at him curiously. “You’re not going to choose for me?”

  “Seems like someone already did that once and picked a name you didn’t like. I think it’s your turn.” Ari slowed for a red light and gave her his best smile. “Benelli’s your last name. Whatever you pick, try to think of something that works with it.”

  “Benelli?”

  “Yeah. My mother…that was her maiden name.” Ari had only recently figured this out. He didn’t know a lot about his mother’s people, as he’d lost her so young and had no records from her. He and Luca had chosen to do some investigation, as what they remembered from childhood was sketchy at best. It had taken digging to find her name, and he wanted to use it now. To have some connection to the warm mother he’d lost. It seemed appropriate. “I thought I’d take it.”

  “Benelli,” she repeated thoughtfully.

  Ari let her mull on the question as he consulted his phone’s GPS for a Walmart. There was one ten minutes away, and he punched it in, taking the next turn to wind his way that direction. When she didn’t say anything else for several minutes, he prompted her, “Nothing springing to mind?”

  “I want a strong name. An assassin name.” She trailed off, becoming quieter with each word. “I don’t know…what’s good.”

  Ari was a little stuck on that himself. “Maybe take a name from one of the gun companies? Smith and Wesson, Glock, Remington—”

  “Remington?”

  Stopping at another light, Ari darted her a look. “You heard of Remington?”

  “Yeah, there was a news report. Kelly Clarkson’s baby is named Remington, right?”

  News to Ari, but then, he didn’t follow celeb news. “Really? Well, I mean, all of the gun companies are basically named after the men who designed the guns. So I guess it makes sense it’s a real name.”

  “Remington Benelli,” she whispered to herself.

  That didn’t quite jive to Ari’s ear. He played around with it mentally for a minute before offering, “Maybe Remi Benelli?”

  Remi gave him one of those rare, genuine smiles again. “Remi Benelli. I like that.”

  “You like it enough to keep it? Or do you want to keep thinking about it?”

  “No, I like it. Remi.” She repeated to herself again, like she was getting used to it. “Remi. Remi.”

  They arrived at the partially filled parking lot for the supercenter. Ari pulled in near the front, under a street light, because doing otherwise was stupid. You didn’t have enough light to see what might be hiding in the backseat otherwise. Coming around, he caught Sa-Remi as she slid out of the seat. “Climb in under my jacket, gattina. You’re not dressed for this cold.”

  She snuggled underneath, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist. He kept an arm under her as a support, the other clutching his jacket closed. She still shivered even then, and he swore to get warm clothes on her as quickly as possible. Maybe pay out, then take her into the bathroom, let her change.

  As he speed-walked into the store, he tried to get her to open up a little more, as this quiet routine of hers really alarmed him. “What’s your favorite color, gattina?”

  “Blue,” she said shyly against his neck.

  “Yeah? Any colors you don’t like to wear?”

  “Pink.”

  “Really? I thought girls like pink.”

  “Pink’s too girly.”

  Ari nodded hello to the Walmart greeter, pausing a moment to get his bearings. Let’s see, little girl’s section was—there. “Too girly, huh? Okay, we can do without the pink. Damn, I should probably get a buggy. You’ll need lots of stuff.”

  Her tiny hands dug into his shirt as she whispered doubtfully, “But you said I can’t buy a lot.”

  “I said you got a two-bag limit. They can be big bags, you know. Bags I can carry.” His heart felt like someone jabbed it repeatedly with a hot iron poker. God, he remembered being there. Being told he couldn’t have things. Being told he was only allowed so much. Bad memories from his own childhood rushed to the forefront and Ari shoved them ruthlessly down. He wasn’t going to let her stew in the same nightmare he’d lived through. Like hell would Ari let that happen.

  He fetched the buggy and maneuvered it with one hand a little awkwardly. Remi refused to let go of him, even after they reached the right section and he’d put her down. She kept a hand on his pant leg at all times, pointing to things she liked. Ari didn’t chide her for it. She was likely still reeling after the events of the past hour. He certainly was.

  Ari picked up the first sweater she pointed out and then paused. “Wait. Remi, what size are you?”

  She shook her head in ignorance and gave him an uncertain look.

  Of course she wouldn’t know. “Huh. Gattina, you might need to try things on until we figure that out. Let’s see…this one looks like it might fit? Let’s grab that one, and maybe the next size up. We’ll try both, yeah?”

  “Excuse me,” an icy voice demanded from behind him.

  Ari didn’t do well with people coming in from behind and he whirled quickly, barely checking the impulse to pull a gun. The woman behind him skittered a foot back in alarm, no doubt from the expression on his face, but she stood her ground, bag clutched in front of her like a broadsword. She wore nurses’ scrubs, her black hair in a multitude of braids swept up in some sort of bun thing, and there was a hard expression on her face.

  “Why is this child covered in bruises?”

  Oh shit. A good Samaritan. Ari was really bad at dealing with this type. The woman had every right to question Remi’s state, but how did he respond and get her to go away?

  Remi latched onto his hand. “My stepfather was beating me. Daddy found out and came and got me.”

  The woman’s ire doubled. But she bent down to Remi’s level and asked her, “And he’s good to you?”

  Remi nodded fervently. “Daddy won’t ever hit me. He said I won’t go back there.”

  The woman gave Ari a sidelong look. “You got custody of her?”

  “Yes.” Which was true. Sorta.

  She seemed to believe it, at least enough to stop glaring at him. “Why don’t you know her sizes?”

  “I lived with Mom before this,” Remi answered again, truthfully.

  “I see. Well, it’s true a lot of men aren’t good with shopping for girl’s clothes anyway. What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Remi.”

  “Remi, how about I stay and help you figure stuff out a little?”

  Ari really wished the woman would just go away. But he also sort of needed her help because he was seriously out of his depth. He had no doubt she was lingering to make sure Remi really had told her the truth, but he’d deal with that as he went. “That’d be great, ma’am. Maybe you can figure out what size she is?”

  Someone should have warned him how expensive little girls were. His credit card actually flinched after the total rang out.

  It took three hours in Walmart to figure out what all to get his new daughter and stick it in the cart. Figuring out her sizes alone was a pain in the ass, and it would have been downright impossible without the nurse’s help.

  Bless Remi for her quick thinking and brains in answering the many, many questions posed to them. The woman had finally turned sympathetic towards Ari instead of calling the cops, and she’d even stayed to help Remi figure out which shampoos and conditioners and other hair things a little girl needed.

  Now they were at a nice hotel, Remi all scrubbed up and passed out in the middle of the queen-sized bed. Her hair was still wet and tangled, and only time could heal the bruises, but at least she was clean. She had a giant unicorn with a purple horn firmly clutched in her arms, the only large toy she’d asked for. Everything else could be crammed into a duffle bag.

  He sat on the edge of the other queen, watching her sleep, and wondered for the nth time what the hell he thought he was doing. Four hours he’d had her, and Ari was clearly out of his depth, but…the way she looked at him.
As if he were a hero. As if he were her hero. And there was a part of him, the part still a child, that would have given anything to be in her shoes. To have a dedicated protector looking out for him.

  All he could do was his level best to give her what she needed. Ari didn’t have any role models to go off of, but maybe he didn’t need one in this case. Remi, fortunately, was street savvy enough to fill in for him when he fumbled. Like at Walmart, she’d known exactly what to say to get the nurse off Ari’s back. Bless her.

  But that didn’t mean he could just let things ride. There were things only he could handle, and that meant making a few phone calls. Sighing, he snagged his phone before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he dialed his brother’s phone.

  Unlike him, Luca had managed to get through the foster care system firmly still believing in justice and fairness and all of that. He was determined to make changes to the system so that it worked better. Ari had gotten to eighteen not giving a rat’s ass about the law, but his brother had become a lawyer, as straight as a bleeding arrow. Most of the time they agreed to not talk about Ari’s profession and got along alright. The fact they barely saw each other more than three times a year also helped their relationship stay steady.

  This? Well, this would make his twin contemplate murder himself.

  The call finally picked up with a groggy, “Hello? Oh dammit, Ari. Really, you can’t remember what time zone I’m in?”

  “I did remember,” Ari defended himself. “I’m just in a spot and need your magic touch.”

  “I’m so not making bail for you.”

  “Not bail. And I resent the implication anyone can catch me long enough to get me in jail.” Ari paused, trying to decide how to word this so Luca didn’t hang up on him and call for the National Guard. “I, ah, adopted a little girl today.”

  The other end went dead silent.

  “Luca? You still breathing, man?”

  “Aristide. Who in their ever-loving mind would give you a little girl to raise? Wait, you didn’t buy her off some slave market, did you?”

  “You do know me well. I’d totally do that. But no, I didn’t. She was abandoned by her mom, her dad was shot tonight—”

  “Wait. Wait, her dad ‘was shot’ or you shot her dad?”

  “To be fair, he was a bad man.”

  “Oh god. Why do I pick up your phone calls? Why do I do that to myself?”

  Ari grinned at the bland hotel wall. “You know, that’s a very excellent question. I do wonder that some days.”

  “Aristide. I want you to listen to me. You can’t adopt a child out of guilt. Alright? That’s not the right response here.”

  “Naw, it’s not guilt. She actually hired me to stop him from beating her. I knew what I was walking into.”

  An audible silence rang over the line. “You’re telling me she hired an assassin. To kill her father.”

  “Stepfather. Stepfather who was beating her, starving her, and tried to sell her to me.”

  “Oh hell. This now makes perfect sense. Still, Ari, have you considered turning her into Child Services? That’s the correct, responsible thing to do in this case.”

  “Are you done with your last-ditch effort now?”

  “Yeah,” Luca sighed in defeat. “I’m done. Thank you for calling me on my cell and not at the office. I would hate to have this recorded in company logs.”

  “See? I do look out for you.”

  “You lying liar. Alright, I assume you want me to make a new identity for you two so no one comes looking for her?”

  Ari grinned. He did love his brother. “Yup.”

  “What would you do without me?”

  “Go to illegal sources.”

  “I will hang up on you. Right the fuck now, I will hang up on you.”

  “Luca,” he softened his voice, not quite pleading. “She literally has no family. You really want to throw her to the wolves?”

  “You really think you can do better than foster care?”

  “Well, I’ll feed her, won’t beat her, and make sure she can do the things little girls like. What do you think? That sound better than foster care?”

  There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. “You know, I assumed that because you’re gay, I’d never have any nieces or nephews. Way to make an uncle out of me without giving me a head’s up first, bro.”

  Ari grinned. “Love you too.”

  Something flopped, like a pillow hitting the floor, followed by the rustling of sheets. “I don’t know what crime I committed in a previous life to deserve you, but it must have been a doozy. Alright, give me particulars. Name, birthdate, and what city hospital should she be born in? Mother’s name?”

  “She wants to be called Remi. She’s eight, birthday is today. The rest, we don’t care. Ah, give me a new last name too: Benelli.”

  “Aristide and Remi Benelli. It does roll off the tongue, I give you that.” Luca paused and the next words were spoken more carefully. “Are you intending to connect with the family, now that we’ve found them?”

  “Naw. I mean, they’re so uptight, no way they’d accept me. You can try, though.”

  “I’ll pass. I’m not eager to meet people who threw a pregnant teenager out of the house. I’m just surprised you want to take on the name.”

  “I’m doing it more to honor Mom.”

  “Ah. Should have figured. I’ll work it up, but it might take a few weeks. Nothing about the government is fast. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “Find a nice place to settle in for a bit, give normal life a try.”

  Luca busted out laughing.

  Ari pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to stick his tongue out at his phone. “Stop laughing. I’m a professional assassin, how hard can it be?”

  2

  A scream woke him out of a sound sleep. Ari dove for the gun under the other pillow first, trying to open his eyes in the process. What was it? What was happening? Why was he even hearing screaming when he lived alone in this house—shit, what house was he in again?

  Sobbing followed the screaming, then abrupt silence.

  Remi. The name barreled through his barely conscious mind, and he was alert in a split second like he had never been before. Ari scrambled out of bed, shaking off a clinging top sheet as he did and almost nose diving into the carpet. In a less than graceful move, he got out of his bedroom and into the one across the hall, hitting the light as he did so. The single bed in the middle of the room was empty, the Black Widow blanket missing and the pillow half-way to the floor.

  Alarm shot through him all over again to see that empty bed. Terrible visions of someone managing to get through his security and grabbing Remi scrambled his brain. It took far longer than it should have to spot the huddled form crammed between wall and dresser in the far corner.

  “Rems?” He cautiously approached, fear dissipating, but worry rising. He saw no signs someone had broken in, but his little girl was terrified of something.

  There was another muffled sound, like a sob choked back, and he belatedly realized what this must be. A bad nightmare. Ari ached in brutal sympathy because he still had those—even as an adult. Putting the gun down on her nightstand, he slowly came around and sank onto his knees in front of her. “Remi, gattina, come out of there. Was it a bad dream?”

  The blanket completely covered her from head to toe but he saw the dip as she nodded.

  “Okay. Bad dreams happen sometimes.”

  A threadbare whisper came from the blanket. “You too?”

  “Yeah, gattina, me too. I have them sometimes.” What was the right tactic here? Did he force the issue of her coming out of the corner? Let her take it at her own pace? Just sit and talk to her for a while?

  Ari really wished he had someone to talk to about this. His brother was flat out. Luca was still uneasy about leaving a kid in his care and was about one trigger away from coming and getting Remi himself. Ari hadn’t told hi
s two closest friends about her yet. Ivan and Kyou were two people he trusted the most in the world, but he didn’t know how the thief or hacker would take the news of him picking up a child. Well, Ivan might take it well. The man was supportive when it came to family. Kyou was so anti-social some days it was hard to predict which way he’d jump. Even if he told them, Ari didn’t expect a lot of help. They wouldn’t know any better than he what to do with an abused child.

  Sometimes, he really wanted a listening ear as he figured this out.

  Remi still wasn’t budging. Ari didn’t know what to say to her, really. Maybe if he shared a little of his past, she’d realize they were more alike than she thought? “Some of my dreams are about jobs I’ve been on, jobs that went really wrong. But most of ’em, they’re about when I was younger. More your age. See, I lost my mom when I was just shy of eight years old.”

  The blanket slowly came down, revealing a disheveled head of hair and two red rimmed eyes peeking over it at him. “Really? What happened?”

  Ari wet his lips and answered, although part of him would really rather not. Since this conversation would apparently take more than a few seconds, he settled more comfortably, crossing his legs. “My mom was from Italy. She got pregnant with me and Luca, and her boyfriend wouldn’t marry her. Her family kicked her out because of it, and she came to America. She didn’t make it big over here or anything. She was a waitress, but we did okay. She was always able to feed us. But one night while she was working, the restaurant had a mob family inside having dinner. The place got shot up. She was hit in the crossfire.”

  The blanket came down a little further. “No one helped her?”

  What an innocent question. “Nothing to help. She was struck in the heart. Dead before she hit the floor. At least, that’s what the cop told me when I asked. After that, Luca and I were sent into foster. They tried to find relatives for us, but…well. Mom had burned that bridge pretty thoroughly. They wouldn’t take us. Foster was…not good. Sometimes I stayed somewhere decent. But most of the time, it wasn’t good. It’s why I couldn’t let you go into it, gattina.”