Domiel Read Free

raised his arms above his head and pushed his chest out, heard the telltale crack of his back. Sex really was worth the fall from grace, though he’d thought some form of emotion would have accompanied the act. He’d slept with countless women, yet he rarely remembered their names. Kelsey, on the other hand…
    Someone pounded on the door of the armory. Well hell. That explained what had ripped him from his dream. He grabbed his torn jeans lying on the floor and pulled them on. He’d been sent to the armory to get a few weapons for training, but he’d run into a hot new recruit, and well, that had been that. He checked his watch. He’d been gone for over four hours.
    Three more solid pounds on the door and Domiel yanked it open, jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, not the least bit ashamed at being caught with the newbie—until he saw who stood on the other side.
    Ambrose, his feet planted apart, looked ready to do battle. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back, his brown leather jacket wet from the rain, his face taut with pain. He looked behind Domiel to the sleeping form, then back to him without blinking. “I need you to track someone down. Immediately.”
    Surprised Ambrose had sought him out in the armory, Domiel only nodded. He had yet to go on his first mission for the Alliance. Where the hell was his shirt?
    When Ambrose didn’t elaborate, Domiel figured he should say something. “A tracking mission?” Normally assassins were given a name and address, and their mission was to assassinate whatever vic they were sent in for. The heads of the Alliance were the individuals to hand down the sentence, and the assassins were sent in to deliver the sentence, but tracking? He hadn’t signed on to be a tracker.
    Finally finding his shirt hanging on the barrel of an M16, he slipped the black cotton over his head and tugged it down his torso.
    Ambrose had taken a few steps into the armory, staying out of the rain. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood there for a few seconds. “Kelsey. She left about an hour ago.”
    Domiel had leaned over to pick up one of his boots when the familiar name stopped him cold. He must not have heard him right. “Kelsey? As in…”
    “You’re wasting time.” Ambrose bit out. “I need you to bring her back for questioning.” His body remained rigid, his face stoic.
    Damn, could Ambrose be that cold? The male was known for his soft spot concerning the three musketeers—Alexia, Jade, and Kelsey. They got away with shit the other assassins could only dream of. Kelsey, however, had always been the quiet female of the bunch. If anyone should be taken to task, it should be Alexia, not Kelsey. “Why?”
    “Your business is to track her and bring her back, not ask me questions.” Each word had come out as its own sentence. Ambrose’s temper seemed at odds with the pleading look in his troubled eyes. “I’m sending you because you aren’t involved with her. There’s no one else who can be objective. Kelsey has a way about her once you get to know her…” His voice trailed off, and he folded his arms. “She left about an hour ago from the training field.”
    Domiel wasn’t close to her, but she remained the only individual he’d desired to get to know better. The thought of having to apprehend her for a crime sat ill with him.
    Ambrose looked around the armory. “I’ve turned a blind eye to your indiscretions for months now. I’ve allowed you a time of leave after your fall from grace.” Ambrose’s gaze returned to him. “No more. You prove your worth to the Alliance or you forfeit your place as an assassin. You know as well as I do that once you leave the Alliance, Luc will waste no time in approaching you for his own legions.”
    Domiel’s name no longer graced the Book of Life. Luc could coerce him. At the very least, Luc would make his life a living hell.
    “She also has the ability to communicate through thought,” Ambrose continued. “She’ll use that