Table of Contents
Books by Amber Malloy
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by Amber Malloy
Spies R Us
Spies R Us
KILL SHOT
AMBER MALLOY
Kill Shot
ISBN # 978-1-78686-489-5
©Copyright Amber Malloy 2019
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright July 2019
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
Published in 2019 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book two in the Spies R Us series
The only thing standing in the way of a perfect life is her torturous past.
Invited to speak for the United Nations, International Attorney Ashe Marcille is on the fast track. However, everything changes when she finds her law partner dead. Left with no option but to abandon her hard-earned career, she goes on the run.
Walker Knight, owner of a high-tech security firm, left the spy game years ago. A former agent for J8, he has no intention of returning to that life until the agency calls in one last favor. It should have been an easy job—pick up then drop off a lawyer with no questions asked. But the best-laid plans…
Attracted to the attorney from the minute he lays eyes on her, Walker sets out to solve her case. Until he can figure out who wants her dead, he’ll have to keep her close…very close.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
NBA: NBA Properties Inc.
Jameson: Irish Distillers Limited
New York Knicks: New York Knicks LLC
Neverland: J.M. Barrie
Jeep: FCA US LLC
Mocha Frappuccino: Starbucks Coffee Company
Glock: Glock Gesellschaft MBH Limited Liability Joint Stock Company
Sig Sauer: Sig Sauer Inc.
Tom Ford: Ford, Thomas C., Individual
Tinder: WildFireWeb Inc.
Jeopardy!: Jeopardy Productions Inc. dba Merv Griffin Enterprises Corporation
Mensa: American Mensa Ltd.
iPhone: Cisco Technology Inc.
Thor: Marvel Comics Group
The Ellen Show: The Hurwitz Company, CBS Productions, Columbia TriStar Television
On-Cor: On-Cor Frozen Foods LLC
Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores Inc.
Willy Wonka: Ronald Dahl
Wi-Fi: Wi-Fi Alliance Corporation
M&Ms: Mars Incorporated
Barbarella: Paramount Pictures
New York Mets: Sterling Mets LP
Oakland As: Oakland Athletics Baseball Company
The Wizard of Oz: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
Netflix: Netflix Inc.
Jasmine Magazine: Jasmine Malaysia
The New York Times: The New York Times Company
Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America Corporation
Thing 1: Dr. Seuss Enterprises LP
Thing 2: Dr. Seuss Enterprises LP
Uber: Uber Technologies Inc.
Archie: Bob Montana, John L. Goldwater
Riverdale: The CW Television Network
Beverly Hills 90210: Darren Star, Aaron Spelling
Botox: Allergan
Andes: Andes Candies Inc.
Barbie: Mattel Inc.
60 Minutes: Don Hewitt, CBS News
Dumb and Dumber: New Line Cinema
Christian Dior: Christian Dior Couture USA
Grape Ape: Hanna-Barbera Productions
AARP: American Association of Retired Persons
Doublemint: Wm. Wrigley Jr. Company
Hermes: Hermes International Corporation France
Vera Wang: Bridal House Limited
Dolce & Gabbana: Dolce & Gabbana Trademarks SRL LLC
Coach: Gail Leather Products Inc.
Mercedes: Daimler-Benz Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
America’s Next Top Model: Tyra Banks
YouTube: Google Inc.
Tommy Bahama: Viewpoint International Inc.
Fantasy Island: Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Television
Wolverine: Marvel Characters Inc.
HGTV: Scripps Networks Inc.
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Grammys: National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences
The Field Museum: Field Museum not-for-profit Corporation
CNN: Cable News Network Inc.
Fox News: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation
E! Entertainment: E! Entertainment Television Inc.
BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
OxyContin: Purdue Pharma LP
Oscars: Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences Corporation
Starbucks: Starbucks Coffee Company Corporation
TASER: Taser International Inc.
Wonder Twins: DC Comics Time Warner Entertainment Company LP
Legos: Lego Juris A/S Corporation
Williams-Sonoma: Williams-Sonoma Inc.
Chapter One
O’Brien’s, the Midtown Manhattan pub, aired the NBA playoffs on every television in the bar. Walker Knight ordered
another round of Jameson for his boys. His crew—younger than him by at least ten years—congratulated each other on a job well done.
“To the best security team this side of the Pacific.” He lifted his drink for a toast.
“Come on, boss. We thought you were going to say ‘in the world’,” a newbie joked.
“That’s a tall order. It’ll take more than one job together for that.” Walker wanted to celebrate, just not to the level of wasted. His crew had no problem staying up all night, but he needed to catch some zzzs. “Next round’s on me.”
They’d spent eighteen hours on a plane to the Middle East. In three short days the team had taken down a faction of a religious sect named Glory’s Soldiers. Pleased with their quick extermination of the zealots, WLK Security’s oil clients had provided them with a major bonus.
As he was signaling for the bartender to settle their tab, a newbie squeezed in beside him.
“What’s next?” the rookie asked.
With a total of three partners—two from his school days and one silent—they ran a private security firm. Walker led their missions and could always tell the adrenaline junkies from the dedicated worker bees.
“Give it a couple of days,” he lied. Walker honestly didn’t think he would see the guy again. The kid’s jumpy nature grated on his nerves.
The bar cheered at the Knicks’ three-point basket at the buzzer. After signing the credit receipt, he chucked deuces to his crew. Dead on his feet, Walker headed for the exit. He couldn’t wait for his head to hit the pillow.
As his phone vibrated in his pants, he fought the urge to ignore it, but habit forced him to fish it out of his pocket.
“Walker,” he answered.
“Well, if it isn’t my Knight in shining armor,” the woman cooed.
Walker stopped in his tracks. That voice was straight out of his past. A form of Neverland—not all bad, but not one he wanted to deal with.
A shoulder check from a drunk blonde got him back into gear. She winked on her way past, and he smiled in return but offered nothing more. “Thought I would never hear from you again. How did you crawl your way back from the dead, Eden Morgan?” he said.
“Trust me. Raising twins is much harder.”
Walker chuckled at the spy. J8, the American Intelligence Agency recognized as top in their field, had put her out to pasture by burning her status. Thankfully, Walker had never had to deal with the aftermath of her departure because he’d left long before that had happened.
“Since I’m positive this is not a social ring-a-ding-ding…” He pushed opened the door to the bar. Shielding his eyes from the descending rays of the sun, he headed to his Jeep. “What’s up?”
“I’m calling in a favor.”
Walker searched around for the women on the other end of the call. Spies were the sneakiest devils. However, the busy streets gave no clue if she was in the vicinity or not.
“Sorry, sweetie, I got out of the game a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry,” Eden told him. “No heavy lifting on your part.”
He snatched open his Jeep’s door to hop in. “There’s nothing in me that believes that.”
“We’ve been monitoring two lawyers from a good distance but one of them has gone off the radar.”
“And you want me to find them?” he asked. Walker put the key in the ignition and waited to see what she would say before he started the truck.
“No, I’m pretty sure she’s dead. We need you to intercept her partner and keep her safe until we can extract her. I’ll send you the info.”
“Hold up, Eden. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“That’s the funny thing about favors, Knight. They have no expiration date.”
As the text alert vibrated in his ear, she hung up before he could protest. He pulled his phone down to check the screen. The name E.A. Marcille and a location pin appeared. Nevertheless, Walker’s interest didn’t pique until he saw the profile picture accompanying the directions.
Why would anyone want to kill her?
Putting his truck in gear, he ditched his original plans and decided to go see about a lawyer.
Chapter Two
A sliver of sun remained above the horizon. Soon the last glimmers of light would disappear and the crazy hum that vibrated in the streets of New York would amplify to an even louder beat.
For a good twenty minutes Walker kept eyes on the coffee house from across the street. The lawyer sat in an Upper East Side café with her back to the wall. She wore a cream-colored suit that complemented her cocoa-colored skin. It didn’t help her blend into her environment in the least.
Long, black hair cascaded down her impeccably dressed shoulders. Glancing between the cell phone she held in her hand and the front door, the beauty nervously bounced her leg up and down.
Sidestepping the looky-loos, Walker jogged across the busy crosswalk. He slipped into the packed coffee shop behind a pair of hipsters. The target didn’t appear to notice him. Hoping her temperament skewed toward forgiving, he ordered a Mocha Frappuccino and headed in her direction.
Catching the lawyer’s eyes, he gave her a small smirk before he tripped over his feet. Walker spilled the fluffy drink into her lap.
“Oh crap, I’m sorry,” he loudly announced to the room. Scooting in closer to her ear, he lowered his voice. “Three men are waiting outside for you…” Then, loud again, “I can’t believe I did that. Please let me pay you for it!” he said. Walker slid a key card on the table in front of her and lowered his voice again. “Three blocks over is a loft. The address is on the card. My name is Walker Knight. I’ve been hired to get you out of here. Make a scene and leave now. I’ll follow.”
Since she hadn’t moved a muscle, he couldn’t tell if she’d understood him or not. Time seemed to tick by at a snail’s pace.
“This is a two-thousand-dollar suit!” the target screamed like a crazy, uptown professional. She used a napkin to snatch the card off the table. “I doubt you could afford the dry-cleaning bill, let alone the price tag.” She stood and stormed out of the café.
He shrugged at the crowd that they’d attracted and threw the remnants of his drink into the garbage.
“You can’t please some people,” a busboy said. He set his dish tub down to clean off the table.
“Apparently not.” Walker chuckled.
“But that one there? She was definitely easy on the eyes. The last two dudes who worked up the nerve to come over here got shot down pretty quick. I thought you at least had a chance, butterfingers.”
Not wanting the lawyer to get too far ahead, he let a couple of seconds slip by before he rushed out.
Bright city lights greeted him on the street, so Walker easily tracked her cream-colored clothing in the crowd. From a slight distance he counted at least three men following her. Dressed in dark suits, they resembled Secret Service. However, their clothes weren’t properly tailored to conceal a weapon, and the guns were Glocks, not Sigs.
Mere feet away from the first goon, Walker took the switchblade out of his pocket and popped it open. He estimated the man stood a good six-foot-one to his six-foot-three. Gaining speed, he got close enough to cut him. With three quick thrusts, he stabbed the man. The guy dropped to the street. Rush-hour pedestrians maneuvered around him.
Blending into the crowd, he searched for Ashe. He caught sight of her moments before someone yanked her into the alley.
“Shit,” he hissed.
Out of discreet ploys, he ran straight toward the second man, elbowing him into oncoming traffic. A car horn blared before the impending crunch of bones on metal cut through the city noise. Walker didn’t have to look back. The crowd’s reaction gave him a good idea about the man’s condition.
Sprinting toward the alley, he entered the dark side street to witness the goon pulling her past the dumpster. Fearing the man had a gun, Walker ran straight for the lawyer.
After punching her attacker in the throat, she quickly kneed him in the nuts b
efore he could recover. Down for the count, the man toppled to the ground.
As the target picked up a soda-pop crate to finish him off, Walker grabbed her arm.
“Come on,” he said.
She was resistant at first. It seemed to take her a moment to snap out of her hypnotic trance.
* * * *
Dirt and blood stained various parts of her Tom Ford suit. Although it’d been a beautiful number at one point, Ashe couldn’t wait to trash it. While her mind wandered, she followed the stranger into a Manhattan loft. Dipped into darkness, she couldn’t see two feet in front of her.
“Sweep, Daisy,” Walker announced.
“Performing sweep,” a robotic voice replied.
“Where are we—?”
While the automated system ran a check, he held his finger up to silence her. Different diagnostics went across the screen before it turned green.
“The loft is clean,” the robotic voice announced.
He flipped on a lamp, illuminating the stylish brick walls, wood floors and a stone fireplace.
“Is E.A. Marcille how people generally refer to you?” he asked.
“That’s what they call me at the firm. We use initials. My partner was C.T. Cruz.” She tried to stop the catch in her voice but failed. “One of the cooler names.”
A slight smile changed the serious expression on his face. Pity, she figured but couldn’t really tell. This man’s type of handsome inched dangerously close to divine. However, a slight scar across his forehead mixed with his calculating expression destroyed his shot at male modeling.
“Do you have a name you can easily remember?” the man asked.
“Ashe. Family generally calls me that.”
“Okay, Ashe, why did you come with me?”
“Uh, um…” Thrown by his question, she dug in her jacket pocket. Ashe pulled out the burner phone to show him the side profile shot of his face. “I was sent this text.”
“You were waiting for me?” Walker asked.
“My instructions were to meet you at the café.”
His expression gave nothing away. She would have found his demeanor unsettling, but it didn’t come close to topping the list for that day. The lifeless body of her law partner easily held the number one spot.