My grandfather was nothing like I thought he’d be. He looked young as if he’d only been fourteen when my mother had come along; it turned out he’d been only fifteen. At thirty-three, just a year after his daughter had left home, Peter O’Keefe had become a grandpa. My mother had been a teenage mother, and apparently had struggled with life after my birth, not that, by my grandfather’s version of events, he had known anything about my existence.

His eyes were as wild as my own, the vivid green storm behind every look making me shiver every time I witnessed it. The hereditary heart-shaped birthmark also taunted me every time he blinked.

“You’re so like your mother,” he remarked as he held me back so he could take a look at all of me. “So utterly stunning.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. The heartache in his eyes made my stomach twist with grief and, stupidly, I said quietly, “I miss her too.” It seemed like the right thing to say to soothe his pain. Yet, the truth was, I hadn’t a damn clue what to say.

“You’re very much like her.” Taking a lock of my hair in his fingers, he twisted it, his eyes watching the action with a heavy look of grief.

“What was she like?” I hated that I asked but found myself unable not to.

His smile was full of so much longing but with so much happiness. “She was a little bugger.”

I laughed, gathering so after my own characteristics. “Sally has more of her beauty.”

He frowned, tipping my chin with his fingers, so my face turned in all directions. “Elsie, you’re the replica of your mum. You have her long eyelashes, her pronounced cheekbones. You even have the small dimple in your chin. Just because you don’t share her eyes, or her hair colour, doesn’t mean you don’t carry her with you with every breath you take. She’ll always be in you; in the flow of your blood, the tilt of your lips, your own thoughts, even down to the colouring of your porcelain skin. But most of all, her words and the things she shared with you will remain in the silent memories buried deep in your subconscious.”

I forced back the emotion, not allowing him to see my pain. I didn’t know him, and to share our grief was still a little early for me. “What happened?”

He paused, his eyes turning sad with the memories that plagued him. “Me, this life, proved to be too much for her. Your mother was a delicate soul, as they say. Anything hurtful impacted her in so many ways. She didn’t cope with reality like everyone else. She saw things differently to others.”

“Things?” It sounded like a supernatural program you watched on channel four when you couldn’t be arsed to fetch the remote to change the channel. Nevertheless, there was something in his tone of voice that held my attention. “Peter?”

He sighed and gestured for Euan and me to sit. The room was opulent, full of many expensive pieces of furniture, but not only that, the paintings on the walls and the classy figurines placed precisely around the room screamed of distinguished wealth. I wasn’t sure if I fitted to his ideas of ‘family’, then I found I didn’t really care anyway. Life had been tough for me, and if I worried about what people thought of me as well, then that was when being a Weapon fucked me up mentally as well as physically.

“She had a delicate soul, Elsie. What some call an old soul. Any hint of negativity and she was saddened and hurt by it. She physically drifted through her childhood, her love and compassion for nature making her so very sensitive to all that worked against diplomacy.” He stared at the wall, lost in each comforting memory he had. “She was so full of life, a free spirit. But her compassion was her downfall,” he added with sorrow. “She had countless friends, yet made so many enemies.”

“I can’t believe she’d make enemies if she were such a caring person.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Not everyone in this world is scared by violence and lies, Elsie. The truth is often received with hostility.”

“The truth? Any specific truth?”

The flash of heat in his eyes stirred my intuition. However, it was the small tilt of his lips that drove an extra kick into my heartbeat.

“Any truth held about a particular person is always a secret. And it’s those secrets that one never wants to give liberation to.”

His cryptic statement held an underlying tone, a warning I couldn’t miss.

“I’m sure it’s lies that can destroy someone, Peter.”

“But lies can’t bring someone to the ground. Lies can’t suffocate and wreck what has been built over many years; only the truth can do that.”

The door opened after a soft tap, breaking our strange conversation, and a large guy in a suit strolled in. He ignored Euan and me and whispered something in Peter’s ear.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I felt Euan’s stare on me when Peter and his sidekick left the room, and I studied the area. A cold prickle ran up my spine when my eyes landed on the window locks.

“Elsie?” Euan queried when I walked over to the window.

Silently I ran my finger down the edge of the window frame. The join of the glass and frame had a fresh covering of sealant; the thick gunge precisely applied with no breaks.

Turning around, I scanned the room. The three vents situated high on the walls turned my mouth dry.

“Fuck!”

“Elsie?” Euan followed my gaze, spotting the vents. When he looked to the window, his teeth buried into his lip with trepidation. “Shit!”

Grabbing a couple of cotton throw cushions, I tore at the case, ripping two lengths of material, and handed one to Euan.

“Quick.”

He fixed the fabric around his head, covering his mouth and nose with it, as I did.

“You tooled up?” he asked, pulling his piece from his inside pocket.

“I am,” I answered, but when I walked away from him without pulling out my gun, he frowned.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Euan’s mouth dropped open when I lifted the samurai sword from its display brackets above Peter’s fireplace. “Idiot thinks she’s a fucking ornament,” I whispered as I ran my fingers delicately over the blade. “Not as smart as he thinks he is.” Who the fuck would have something so utterly violent and never use it for its proper purpose? “Maiden voyage, huh, gorgeous.”

“It’s obvious he doesn’t know you’re a Weapon,” Euan chuckled. “Otherwise he’d have removed that first.”

We both looked up at the vents when a fine mist started to trickle into the room.

“Or maybe he does,” I debated. “He just didn’t think I would get out of this room alive.”

“And how the fuck are we going to get out?” Euan asked as he searched the area for any signs of escape.

Giving him a wink, I plucked the small device from my inside pocket and inserted it into the door lock.

“Very James Bond,” he stated with amusement. “But tell me, why did you come equipped? He’s your grandfather; surely you couldn’t have expected this?”

“Things are never what you think they are, Euan. There’s a reason why Frank took Sally into hiding and tried to keep me locked up. I’m not sure what yet, but I know it has something to do with my grandfather.”

Slowly turning the door handle when the lock pick had done its job, I quietly opened the door.

“Shut the door behind you. We don’t want that shit following us out,” I told Euan, referring to the drug that Peter had hoped would kill us.

The corridor was quiet, surprisingly. Peter either foolishly thought I really wouldn’t get out of that room and hadn’t put a sentry on the door, or he had another surprise for Euan and me.

Euan had my back as we slowly ventured down the hallway. The sword lay heavy in my hand, the weight of her giving me courage and granting me assurance that she would keep me safe.

The many other hallways that led off the one we were in had Euan whispering, “How the fuck do we get out of here?”

Tutting quietly, I shook my head. “You have a lot to learn. Always remember your way in, then the way out is always obtainable.”

The movement of a shadow at the end of the hallway had me lifting a hand to stop Euan.

“There’s just one,” I mouthed. “I’ll take him.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” he whispered almost inaudibly. “There could be more.”

“There isn’t.”

And there wasn’t.

Euan stared at me with wide eyes, then dropped his shocked gaze to the severed head that lay by his feet, the strength of my blow sending it careering down the hallway towards where he waited for me.

“Jesus.”

I glanced down at the head and clicked my tongue. “Nah, don’t think so. Jesus would have picked a more colourful tie.”

His lips twitched, and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know whether to be aroused or scared shitless.”

“Either works for me, as long as you can still fight with a hard cock.”

“Depends on who I’m fighting with, Peter’s guys, Jesus, or you.”

I laughed but quietened quickly when the sound of someone approaching from another corridor caught my attention.

“One to the east corridor,” I informed Euan as I pushed him back against the wall out of sight.

“You want me to take this one?”

“Nah, I’m having fun.” I stroked my fingers along the sword and smiled. “Besides, she’s only just getting warmed up.”

Peter’s home was like a bloody maze, a mass of doors and various hallways leading to different wings of the mansion. Three Blades was similar in size, it had to be to house all of Frank’s Weapons, but Peter’s home was on an entirely different level of wealth. The vastness of it told me how much Peter loved himself, the array of luxuries and ludicrously expensive fixtures around the place exhibiting just how far up his own arse he was.

I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed because I was. I had hoped for family, finally, someone to love me. Instead, it turned out my own grandfather wanted to take me out, and that was a little unfortunate. But, hey, we couldn’t have everything.

Peter’s man was a little shocked by my stealth when I rounded the corner, his horrified stare and his frozen state when he saw the samurai slice across his gut, spilling his intestines all over his shiny shoes, showing just how unexpected I had been.

He held on to his stomach like just his hands would stop his life from spewing from him so quickly. The sight of his blood, drawn by my hand, was so satisfying. To be the one that had that much control over whether another person continued to breathe was so utterly erotic.

A shiver raced through me, and I released a contented sigh.

Euan, watching me, quirked an eyebrow, yet he refrained from commenting.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him, and quickly spinning around, my footing stuttered sideways when Euan pushed me aside and took the guy down with a single bullet to the exact centre of his forehead.

“I’m impressed.”

“You should be.” He smirked. “I’m meticulousness, in absolutely everything, sweetheart.”

His words weren’t erotic, but the way his voice lowered in pitch, and the way he stared hard at me had me swallowing heavily. The sword slid a little in my damp palms, and I forced myself to look away from him.

“Time to finish this shit,” I murmured, turning from him and scoping out what I could see down the darkening corridors.

“At least leave me one,” Euan chuckled as he followed me. “I’m partial to a bit of knife play myself.”

“Will you quit with all the innuendo,” I grumbled, although I hid the small smile from him. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Just saying that you’re getting all the fun. Such a control freak,” Euan whispered behind me, his warm breath tickling over the nape of my neck. I shivered and bit my tongue when he added, “But hopefully not in the bedroom. I’d guess more of a submissive in that department. Eh, Miss Grey?”

“Fuck me; you make me sound like I should be in an E L James novel!”

His soft laugh was contagious, and I soon found myself laughing silently with him.

Damn him. He was growing harder to resist, and the thought that I was so easily being swayed didn’t sit well in my gut. I never danced with caution; I always stood firm with self-discipline. But I was finding it harder to shield both my thoughts and feelings around Euan Sinclair. And as Frank had always taught his Weapons, if you let them find a crack in your armour, they will shatter you with their final blow.