Read Online Bone Deep by Lea Griffith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lea Griffith
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her and Bone turned, meeting the rush of a fist and ducking to avoid a solid blow. Now here were Joseph’s killers. His Sicariorum . The man’s silence was all she needed to realize these were First Team’s male counterparts. Their presence spoke volumes about Joseph’s desperation.
She took a fist to the cheek and twisted to miss the follow up. Blood welled, the copper scent of it a blessing in the crisp air. This was what she knew…this was where she found herself.
He was large man, compact but at least twice her size and so quiet she wanted to commend him. He too had been conditioned in the fires of Hell though she was sure hers had been hotter. Bone’s gaze narrowed as she picked him out of the darkness. She watched his motions, judging his timing. Then she waited.
He stilled and it seemed neither would move but then a second man rushed into the clearing. Joseph sought to end the game. He’d sent them to kill her this time.
“You cannot kill what you cannot see,” she whispered. She took a single step into the man and punched once, leveling him with a single blow to his side.
The thudding crunch of his ribs sounded loud as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. She turned to meet the second assassin. He struck her in the leg and she was grateful for her training. Had she not learned to absorb these types of blows he would have snapped her thigh.
That was how hard he’d kicked her.
“Do not make me kill you, sister,” the man urged in a low voice. “Go with us in peace.”
“There is no peace with The Collective, brother ,” she spat.
She side-stepped, kicked, and met his advance with a foot to the head. He staggered but didn’t go down. The first man stood then and they were in a circle of sorts. A ring of killers.
Bone laughed, her thoughts fanciful as she caught them looking at each other.
“ Ring around the rosie ,” she sang to the sky.
She attacked then, moving between them like water, a foot to a knee, a punch to a shoulder. A finger to an eye, an elbow to the head, and the dance became vicious. Bone became again what Master had taught her. She became death, let it flow through her body and out of her fists. It was systematic, her retreats and advances, a coordinated play that resulted in one man on his back, gasping for air and the other on his knees, waiting for the end she would give him.
They were worthy opponents but they weren’t her. She’d dealt with the first man at a distance in Moscow, just days ago. He could be their team’s sniper but he wasn’t Bullet. His movements had been easy to track, the light bouncing off his scope a clear indication he was nowhere near the killer Bullet was. When you trained with the best and encountered less than that, it was easy to evade the death they sought to bestow upon you.
The second man, though she had never seen his face before, was bigger than the first. His voice was distant as if the humanity had been carved from his chest bit by bit. Rough and bitter, he reminded Bone of herself but again, not as good.
“Tell me, who trained you?” she asked the man on his knees.
She didn’t venture close because while they might not be First Team, they were some of the best she’d come across in her lifetime. Joseph tried so hard to mimic the success he’d had with she and her sisters. The difference was the Sicariorum didn’t have a purpose. They didn’t have Ninka. They didn’t have a young boy who’d been born in the dark of night, fragile and innocent and theirs.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am no one,” the man said.
The words she’d been conditioned to speak from the moment Joseph Bombardier took her all those years ago brought wrath that grabbed at her heart and shook until she thought she would expand and explode. It gnawed at her stomach, biting and rabid. She couldn’t ignore the need so she opened her mind and accepted it. She wrapped her hand around his throat and
She took a fist to the cheek and twisted to miss the follow up. Blood welled, the copper scent of it a blessing in the crisp air. This was what she knew…this was where she found herself.
He was large man, compact but at least twice her size and so quiet she wanted to commend him. He too had been conditioned in the fires of Hell though she was sure hers had been hotter. Bone’s gaze narrowed as she picked him out of the darkness. She watched his motions, judging his timing. Then she waited.
He stilled and it seemed neither would move but then a second man rushed into the clearing. Joseph sought to end the game. He’d sent them to kill her this time.
“You cannot kill what you cannot see,” she whispered. She took a single step into the man and punched once, leveling him with a single blow to his side.
The thudding crunch of his ribs sounded loud as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. She turned to meet the second assassin. He struck her in the leg and she was grateful for her training. Had she not learned to absorb these types of blows he would have snapped her thigh.
That was how hard he’d kicked her.
“Do not make me kill you, sister,” the man urged in a low voice. “Go with us in peace.”
“There is no peace with The Collective, brother ,” she spat.
She side-stepped, kicked, and met his advance with a foot to the head. He staggered but didn’t go down. The first man stood then and they were in a circle of sorts. A ring of killers.
Bone laughed, her thoughts fanciful as she caught them looking at each other.
“ Ring around the rosie ,” she sang to the sky.
She attacked then, moving between them like water, a foot to a knee, a punch to a shoulder. A finger to an eye, an elbow to the head, and the dance became vicious. Bone became again what Master had taught her. She became death, let it flow through her body and out of her fists. It was systematic, her retreats and advances, a coordinated play that resulted in one man on his back, gasping for air and the other on his knees, waiting for the end she would give him.
They were worthy opponents but they weren’t her. She’d dealt with the first man at a distance in Moscow, just days ago. He could be their team’s sniper but he wasn’t Bullet. His movements had been easy to track, the light bouncing off his scope a clear indication he was nowhere near the killer Bullet was. When you trained with the best and encountered less than that, it was easy to evade the death they sought to bestow upon you.
The second man, though she had never seen his face before, was bigger than the first. His voice was distant as if the humanity had been carved from his chest bit by bit. Rough and bitter, he reminded Bone of herself but again, not as good.
“Tell me, who trained you?” she asked the man on his knees.
She didn’t venture close because while they might not be First Team, they were some of the best she’d come across in her lifetime. Joseph tried so hard to mimic the success he’d had with she and her sisters. The difference was the Sicariorum didn’t have a purpose. They didn’t have Ninka. They didn’t have a young boy who’d been born in the dark of night, fragile and innocent and theirs.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am no one,” the man said.
The words she’d been conditioned to speak from the moment Joseph Bombardier took her all those years ago brought wrath that grabbed at her heart and shook until she thought she would expand and explode. It gnawed at her stomach, biting and rabid. She couldn’t ignore the need so she opened her mind and accepted it. She wrapped her hand around his throat and
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