The Assassin's Blood: The Confradia Assassins 3

Chapter 3: Providence

Declan

A harried Hunter meets me near Priest's garage door. He's pacing in place and coursing his fingers through his hair nervously, so you know he's stressed. "Sorry for interrupting you, man. But we found something you really need to hear. Go on back, Priest is waiting for you." I nod my head and stride purposely through the garage. This is no ordinary body-shop. Priest owns a street racing garage. The garage is located in an industrial area surrounded by aluminum fencing. It's about the size of a factory, but inside it is wall-to-wall steel with industrial lifters and equipment. There are at least sixteen cars in various stages of readiness littered around the large space. I pass by Priest's prized black Tesla and make my way to his office.

Several men in jumpers wave as I pass by. Once I reach Priest's office door, I step in without knocking. "Priest, this better be good because I was in the middle of something."

Priest is one of the top trainers in the Confradia. We met seven years ago while he was working on a case. I was fairly new to the Confradia. Priest was on a mission, and I needed some help. He pulled me out of some real deep shit. Let's just say he wasn't happy and took it upon himself to make sure I didn't kill myself. Priest is a badass. To add to his myth, the fucker used to be blind. Yeah, I said it, up to a few months ago he was blind. Even blind, the guy was a well-honed machine that could kill without a thought. It was only a few months ago that the Confradia set him up for an experimental surgery to repair his eyesight. And now he can see. We are amazed. Hunter thinks that Priest sold his soul to the devil or something.

Priest rises from his chair and raises a questioning brow. He's an intimidating fucker. Which is saying a lot to someone my size. Priest's about six foot two with wavy brown hair and silver eyes. He's muscular but not weight lifting muscular. Sleeker, like a jaguar. The other Assassin's and I like to give him a hard time because he's the ultimate pretty boy. Women literally swoon when the guy walks into a room. It's almost embarrassing. I remember we went drinking once, and some girl walked up to him and asked him to marry her. No joke. She was a hundred percent serious. Hunter, Micah, and I were speechless. She made some speech about him looking like an angel and being the most good-looking man in the world. Seriously the guy is so pretty that I've found myself staring at him.

He let the girl down gently. To be honest, it's rare to see him with women considering what he looks like. I remember Hunter asked him if he was gay once. He simply quirked a brow and told him that he was one hundred percent hetero.

"So, what the fuck was so important that you had to call me in?" Ignoring my belligerent tone, he turns to his computer and presses a few buttons. I move closer to the monitor and look over the information on the monitor. "Holy shit. Is that...?" Priest tightens his jaw, then gazes in my direction, "As you can see, there are repeated transfers of information going from a source in the Confradia to an unknown entity. Whoever took this information tried to make it seem incidental. They made sure to take enough data that it wouldn't raise suspicion. The person has done it routinely enough to gain a good amount of information during a long span of time. Knowing that we cross-referenced what was taken with any data that has been used by Christoph and Willem Kazik─it matches. The person doing this is surprisingly crafty. He'd take inconsequential data that no one would think twice about at first. Then, once he realized no one was wise to his plan, he'd download more crucial material. Unfortunately, he didn't count on anyone stumbling upon his treasonous acts. As a matter of fact, we would never have known if it wasn't for Hunter's program. Once Hunter began entering information and looking for matches, all kinds of red flags went off. The bastard has no idea that he has been caught red-handed."

He presses another button, and a picture with a file comes up. "Meet our Confradia leak, Sam Collins. Sam has been a loyal Confradia employee for sixteen years. That is until he began having a few money problems. Apparently, Collin's had gotten in over his head with a few gambling debts. We've researched his financial records and found a few suspiciously large money transactions from a foreign bank." Priest taps his index finger on his desk, emphasizing his point. "He's the one that gave Christoph and Willem Kazik all of the top-secret Confradia information." I stare at the picture with a grim look then face Priest and Hunter. "Looks like my work isn't done after all."

The man slumps down the wall with a painful shriek that echoes through the empty subway. Before he can get up, I stomp my heel against his face. Blood spatters across the floor, followed by the sound of loose teeth sliding against the ground. The clink of his teeth as they fly across the tile's surface to land a few feet in front of him makes satisfaction course through my mind. He glances back at me with a groan and tries to crawl up, but I kick him in the head and knock him unconscious. Removing zip ties from my pocket, I restrain his hands and leave his prone body lying helplessly on the floor. I'm not worried, though. I'll call the Confradia cleaners to pick him up later. I hit him so hard that he won't be waking up for at least a couple of hours.

Once I'm done, I stride towards Santana and appraise her for any injuries. "Are you okay?" I ask gently. Santana swallows hard before she replies. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little bruised from sliding down the stairs." Extending my hand, I help her rise from the soiled floor and lead her to my car. Holding the passenger open for her, I gesture for her to take a seat and remove the first-aid kit from my glove box. Thankfully, there are no wounds to disinfect or bruises, so I just clean the dirt and grime she collected after her fall. Santana bites her lip and gazes intently into my eyes before she whispers. "Thank you for saving me back there." I shrug my shoulders in reply. "I'm just glad you're okay."

I have to stifle a cry when she bites her bottom lip and whispers. "I don't even know your name." My heart skips a beat at the husky tone of her voice. I can tell that she's nervous, which turns me on even more. "I'm Declan," I mutter back with a note of hunger in my voice. Santana's eyes widen at the sound of my name. "Declan. Thank you, Declan."

Glancing around the empty street, I place the first-aid kit back inside the glove compartment, lean close and whisper. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?" To my delight, her eyes glazed with desire, and she huskily replies. "Want to go somewhere and talk?" Taking a deep breath, I mutter. "I know the perfect place."

I don't know why I brought her home. Come to think of it, other than my mother, I've never invited a woman to my place. There's just something about Santana that is making me act out of the character. Taking her hand, I lead her into my house and take her jacket. Her eyes widen in awe when she gets a good look at my home. "Wow, your house is beautiful." She mumbles shyly. Looking around, I frown with consternation. My place is nice, but it's nothing out of the ordinary, which makes me wonder about her living conditions.

Looking back at her, I quirk a questioning brow. "Where do you live?" I ask casually. Her face flushes with embarrassment before she replies. "In a little apartment in Brooklyn." Seeing her discomfort, I take her hand and lead her to the living room couch. Her eyes glow beneath the light as she gazes intently into my eyes. "Listen, Delcan, I don't usually do this, but there's just something about you that intrigues me and…" She drifts off nervously and looks at me from beneath the fringes of her lashes. She's so beautiful and innocent at that moment that it takes my breath away.

Leaning close, I caress her cheek and whisper. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Santana. It's up to you." Her eyes glaze with desire at my words. Not giving it another thought, I lean close and kiss her perfect lips. The kiss starts out as a soft and gentle nip, then turns into this intensely pleasurable meeting of tongues. Biting her lower lip, I pull her into my lap and slide my hands down her waist.

Her body trembles with desire at the contact of my body, but she doesn't run away. Instead, she pulls back and begins to unbutton my shirt. Helping her remove my shirt, I unzip the front flap of her uniform and kiss my way down her throat. Her tight, firm body is revealed with every inch, igniting all of my predatory senses. Her beautiful rounded breasts are covered by a simple white bra that doesn't hide the stiff crowns of her nipples. Groaning with pleasure, I suck on the tight buds and slide my hand down until I reach her cloth-covered pussy. Santana mewls with pleasure and grinds against my stiff cock, opening her legs to give me better access to her needy center. Sliding her panties to the side, I suck her nipples harder and touch her shaven folds. Her hands sift through my hair as soft moans of desire resound through her lips.

I'm about to slide her panties off when the sound of a ringing phone awakens us from our lust-filled stupor. Looking around, I reach down and pick up her phone. My hackles instantly rise when I see the name, Connor on the screen. "Who's Connor?" I ask suspiciously.

Jumping up, Santana takes the phone from my hand and panics. "Shit, I have to take this." Before I can retort, she zips up her dress and answers the phone. "What's wrong, Connor?" I watch intently as she responds to the person on the other line, but what shocks me most is when she ends the conversation. "It's okay, Connor. I'm going now. I love you too."

Rising from my seat, I adjust my slacks and button my shirt back up. I'm beyond pissed at this point. Without a thought, I shut all of my emotions down. Unaware of my rage, Santana turns back to me and urgently mumbles. "I…I have to go." Shrugging my shoulders, I pick up her things and walk over to her. I'm not proud of what I say next, but I'm too angry to see reason. "I should have known you'd be a tease. I'll call you a cab." A frown mars her face. "What?" She mutters confusedly. Shrugging my shoulders, I carelessly throw her, her jacket and bag, and growl. "For future reference, don't pick up other men when you're in a relationship. What a waste of my fucking time." I mumble carelessly.

Mouth gaping open, Santana takes a step back and whispers. "That was my brother, you asshole. The police called him because our parents just died." Guilt washes over me at her words. Before I can say a word, she grabs her things and walks out the door. Collecting myself, I follow behind her. "Santana! Wait!" But she ignores me and widens her stride. Thankfully, I'm taller than her and am able to reach her before she makes it too far. "Don't touch me!" She slaps my hand away with a deadly glare. Holding my hands up, I take a step back and evenly reply. "Fuck! I'm sorry. Let me give you a ride." Eyes blazing with rage, Santana shakes her head. "Go to hell!" But she soon loses her bluster as tears begin to rain down her face. Not knowing what to do, I pull her into my arms and whisper. "Look, you can hate me later, but let me give you a ride home."

Breath hitching as silent sobs wracked her body, she nods her head and whispers. "I need to get my brother. I need to go to the police station."

The ride to the police station is a wretched one. Santana silently cries in her seat and pretends that I'm not there. Not knowing what to say, I remain silent through her grief. Once I stop in front of the station, Santana turns to me and dejectedly grits out. "Tonight was a mistake. Please don't follow me in or come looking for me again. Forget I exist." I don't reply as I watch her rush out of my car. I don't need to because I agree. In a few simple hours, this woman has made me feel a plethora of emotions, and I don't like it. I like my encounters to be casual and my life free of complications, and Santana has complicated written all over her. I guess she's right. Tonight was a mistake. One that I can't afford to repeat.