Hayashi's Hero

Chapter Two

They returned to the house the next day pleasantly sated. Kisho hadn't been sleeping well lately. He'd commandeered the backseat, and the orgasm he'd had before their eight-hour drive back to the mansion in North Carolina had given him a much-needed rest.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we're here.” Tersch's gruff voice never failed to amuse him.

Though the lumbering Viking liked to act like the bully on the block, he'd give his life to protect his team.

Kisho stretched. “Thanks, Blondie.”

Tersch hated the nickname only slightly less than Frederik—his real name and the moniker Fallon continually called him by, if only to irritate him. The giant swore and slammed out of the truck.

“Nice one.” Fallon grinned at him over the front seat before exiting the vehicle.

Kisho trailed after them inside, wondering how much time Mrs. Sharpe would give them before demanding a full account. And there she stood, just inside the foyer, waiting for them.

For a petite and deceptively slight-looking woman, Mrs. Sharpe commanded the Dawn Endeavor Circ team with the utmost authority. With skin the color of rich earth, intelligent amber eyes, expensive clothing that suited her petite frame to perfection, and a frosted sweep of black hair framing her elegant face, the woman could have passed for forty, though Kisho personally thought she neared the end of sixty.

As usual, ivory pearls stood out against her throat and earlobes, like a talisman of quality that only added to her imaginable worth. The woman remained a mystery even after four months of working with them. She had more than political power; she had psychic power as well. Of that he was certain. But what kind and how much, none of them knew.

Admiral London called her a troubleshooter. Kisho thought trouble maker made more sense. So far, she'd managed to take them off the meds keeping their mating heats in check. She worked with them to expand their psychic abilities until their heads ached. And she continued to push them into doing jobs they didn't want to do, instead of going after Delancey with both barrels blazing.

“Kisho, Gunnar, Jesse.” She nodded, calling them each by their given names, and smiled.

“You made good time. I didn't expect you back until later today.”

“Fallon was lovesick, so we took pity on him,” Tersch said with a straight face.

Fallon frowned but didn't deny it. “Where's Olivia?”

“She didn't get much off the mercenary Miguel brought us. Miguel left with the merc right before you arrived. Olivia's currently with Jules and Ava, entertaining the newest member of our team.”

Kisho and his friends froze.

“Excuse me?” Kisho asked, feeling not at all well. A psychic flare of change settled into his bones like a virus.

“We need all the help we can get tracking down Colonel Montaña. So I brought in a tracking expert. He knows Spanish and Portuguese—”

“Olivia speaks that.”

She ignored Kisho's interruption. “And he knows how these men work, since he used to be a mercenary.”

“A merc?” Fallon groaned.

“I said 'used to be,'” she corrected.

Tersch huffed. “Great, Alicia. Why not put out an ad in the paper and ask for guns for hire?”

A look from her and he glanced away, stiff and unyielding, until Ava entered the foyer.

Kisho found it interesting that Ava spent as much time not looking at Tersch as he spent staring at her, not that Kisho could blame him. Ava had the face of an angel and the body of a centerfold. She had to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Light mocha skin, hazel eyes more green than brown, with a pert nose, high cheekbones, and thin brows that arched when she spied Tersch.

A hint of a smile played about her lips, and Kisho heard Tersch's low groan.

“And you call me lovesick,” Fallon muttered before leaving the group and yelling for his mate.

Not mate. Wife. Kisho reminded himself to think in human terms, not the way his beast did. The animal inside him sought a mate, but the man inside him preferred a partner.

Tersch took off after Ava, who said something about getting his laundry for him in a voice too sweet to be trusted.

“So much for a pleasant introduction to the entire team.” Mrs. Sharpe sighed and held out her hand. “Kisho, I can always count on you for manners.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Kisho thrived in the world of niceties and expected behavior drilled into him first by his father, then the navy. So unlike his formative years spent foraging in the slums of Okinawa. Burying the unwanted memory, he placed Mrs. Sharpe's thin hand in the crook of his elbow and walked with her to the open living room.

The mansion where they lived, courtesy of the government, boasted close to fourteen thousand square feet. Two floors, a gymnasium, pool, greenhouse, and an underground lab were just some of the amenities provided for them as a reward for the life-threatening missions they worked.

Kisho especially liked the open floor plan. The kitchen had more counter space than most restaurants. Melissa, their cook, often prepared their meals on the marble countertops and served their dishes either at the massive kitchen counter bordered on one side by stools—where they normally congregated to eat—or at the long oak table that could easily seat a dozen people.

Beyond the counter sat a spacious living room, complete with a sectional sofa, plush, high-backed leather chairs, and a wide-screen television and media center. Off the living area, the poker and pool tables completed the space's functionality as a place to relax. A fireplace bordered one end of the room, and at the other end a set of French doors led to the outside garden, where Kisho spent a good deal of his spare time meditating and trying to capture an inner peace that often eluded him.

Olivia and their new hire sat with their backs to Kisho and Mrs. Sharpe. Kisho couldn't see any more of the merc than a hint of dark hair just visible above the chair. Fallon, clearly irritated, stood with a scowl by Olivia's side. Jules sat across from them on the couch, his expression intent. When he caught sight of Kisho, his face lit up.

“Finally. What the hell took you so long?” Jules stood and crossed to greet him. “Fallon's being an ass. I could use the head of reason by my side.” Mrs. Sharpe took her hand from Kisho and patted his shoulder. “So nicely mannered. You should teach Gunnar a few lessons.”

“No shit,” Jules muttered when she moved out of earshot.

Then again, Mrs. Sharpe saw and heard all. Who knew what the hell her limits were?

“Where were you?” Kisho asked.

“Busy entertaining our newest team member,” Jules muttered. “He's an asshole. I don't like him already.”

A snort of deep male laughter came from the individual next to Olivia. The one Kisho couldn't see but felt like a bad rash.

Spikes of anticipation filled him, and Kisho had a terrible feeling deep in the pit of his gut.

“You know, I'm not feeling so good—”

Jules latched on to his arm. “Uh-uh. I gotta be here, you gotta be here. Come on. Might as well get it over with.” Jules pulled him around to face the ex-mercenary still seated in the chair.

Kisho started his inspection from the bottom and worked his way up, putting off the inevitable as long as he could. The merc crossed his huge feet at the ankles. He had long legs, a flat belly, and broad chest.

Kisho's heart raced, but he continued his scrutiny, past thickly muscled arms, visible under the rolled-up sleeves of a flannel shirt, until he found himself transfixed by familiar lips.

Full and firm, a muted red, and quirked with amusement. That quirk patronized, annoyed, and intrigued him to no end.

“Meet Morgan Reynolds. Reynolds, this is Kisho Hayashi, another member of Dawn Endeavor, and my demolitions man,” Jules said by way of introduction.

Kisho finally looked at the man's face. Bright green eyes blazed with a familiar hunger that made Kisho want to run. Simultaneously, images bombarded his senses.

Tersch, Jules, and Fallon sneered at him, rejecting him because of his association with Reynolds. Then another image. One of death, of agony. “You did this!” the man with green eyes shouted, pointing at Kisho, who lay still on the ground. Next to him Jules bled out, dying slowly, painfully.

Over the years he'd had them, the visions constantly changed, but in each one they featured Morgan Reynolds. In recent months, however, the visions had changed in tone from sexy to deadly. Kisho's team turned on him, casting him out. A fate worse than death, in Kisho's opinion.

But there was death too. In every damned vision he'd had since falling from the Sunfield building, he saw his own death, followed by Jules's death. And lastly, always, Morgan Reynolds's accusation, pointing at someone else. “It was you,” he'd say again and again. No matter how Kisho died, that never changed.

Kisho's instinctive fear pushed him to curl his toes and stand tall. He glared down at the male until Reynolds stood. Then they stared at one another. To his surprise, Reynolds was huge.

He stood an inch or two taller than Kisho himself.

Reynolds's smile faded. “Kisho, pleasure to meet you.” He held out a hand.

To refuse to take it would be the soul of discourtesy.

Kisho thought a split second about refusing, shored his nerve, and reached out. The minute their hands made contact, something shifted inside him. A flare of recognition burst in Reynolds's green gaze, and his eyes darkened.

Kisho quickly withdrew his hand. “Reynolds.”

“Call me Morgan.” A deep voice, firm, yet filled with warmth.

Kisho didn't like him. He turned to Jules. “When are we debriefing?” Unfortunately, he glimpsed Olivia's curiosity directed his way. Terrific. With his luck, she read his unease as well as his attraction, and she'd no doubt share her findings with Fallon.

Mrs. Sharpe answered with a frown and glanced from him to Reynolds, as if warning him to behave. “Be at the conference room in an hour. Oh, and Kisho, would you mind showing Morgan around on your way upstairs?”

“I'm going outside.” He'd intended to go upstairs and lie down in his room, to soothe his growing headache. Now he had a sudden need to see the garden.

“Perfect. You can show Morgan the evergreens before you go upstairs. His room is right next to yours.”

Kisho clenched his jaw and glanced at Jules, who looked no happier at the announcement.

What the hell was Mrs. Sharpe thinking, inviting a civilian to join their team? Olivia at least was Circ. She fit Fallon to a tee. But she didn't accompany them on missions, and she had no problems submitting to her mate and to Jules, their team leader. Kisho sensed this man would demand to be in charge and included. And that would cause some major problems.

He turned on his heel. “Come on,” he growled but didn't look behind him to see if Reynolds followed. Because the way his day seemed to be progressing, he'd just found a new shadow, one he had a feeling would be hard to shake.

Morgan followed Kisho Hayashi, stunned and trying not to show it. The job offer from Alicia Sharpe came with strings, and he'd both expected and accepted that. But this…

He couldn't stop staring. Kisho kept some distance between them but didn't look back, thankfully missing Morgan's slack-jawed expression. As it was, the empath and mind reader in the living room had done their damnedest to penetrate his shields. Hawkins had scrutinized him from head to toe for a good hour, hoping to read his aura. But none of them would see anything Morgan didn't want them to see.

Morgan assessed his new teammate. Alicia and her fucking stipulations. For once, the woman had what he needed, and instead of giving it to him for past services rendered, he had to play her game to win the prize. The old Morgan would have taken what he wanted. To hell with everyone and everything else. But he was trying to be a better man.

For those broad shoulders, long legs, and that tight ass in front of him, he'd have to be better. Do better.

Then Kisho turned around, and he lost his train of thought, drowning in that dark, fathomless gaze that sucked him deeper. The need to possess hit him hard, and Morgan almost tripped over an uneven flagstone.

“You okay?” Kisho asked, his deep voice gruff. Despite the man's displeasure with the situation, he vibrated with sexual tension. An added bonus and just one more reason for Morgan not to mess up his shot.

“Just fine.” I was so busy staring at your ass I tripped. No worries. Morgan flashed him an arrogant grin that had annoyed so many others, and smothered a chuckle when Kisho tightened his lips in annoyance. “So what's it like, living in this big place and working for Mrs. Sharpe?” Kisho shrugged. “It's a job.”

“Not too many rules, I hope.” He walked closer, testing to see how close Kisho would allow him.

When the handsome Asian growled low in his throat, Morgan pretended he hadn't heard him and stopped to look at the sculpted evergreens in the garden. His heart raced; he was so near what he'd been looking for for so long.

Kisho let out a breath. “Back off, Reynolds.”

“Morgan.”

“Morgan. Back the fuck up.”

To Morgan's delight, Kisho neared him until they stood nose to nose. He could feel the heat bleeding through their clothes, could scent the subtle flavor of cinnamon on the air.

“I don't know who you are or why you're really here. This team is my family. So you try screwing with anyone, you'll answer to me.” Kisho's threat sounded all the more impressive, delivered as it was in a quiet, controlled growl.

Morgan licked his lips, and Kisho's gaze fixated on the movement. “Easy, Kisho. I was hired by Mrs. Sharpe to assist you. Not to hurt anyone or make waves. I'm here to help. Anything you need, I'm your man.” He leaned closer, so that his lips were nearly brushing Kisho's. To his delight, he had an inch or two on the man, and it gave him a heady feeling of dominance he wasn't sure he could continue to pull off when he and Kisho eventually tangled.

The idea he'd have to fight for what he wanted made his arousal almost unbearable.

Before he could blink, something sharp pricked his throat. A bead of blood trickled down his neck, the tickle of pain just one more tease he'd have to deal with.

“That's my left pinkie. So when I tell you I want some space, you'll give it to me, won't you?” Kisho whispered. His eyes flashed with a heat he tried to hide, but Morgan saw it all the same.

The stubborn male wanted to play. Oh God, he is so damned perfect. Morgan took a step back, away from Kisho's hand and the lethal nail extending from his finger. Captivated by the savagery in the still, gentle warrior, as Alicia liked to call him, Morgan took a deep breath, inhaled more of Kisho's spicy scent, and coughed to hide a groan.

“Sorry if I offended. Not my intent,” Morgan rasped and shifted on his feet.

Kisho's gaze followed the motion. Only the slight flaring of his nostrils told Morgan he'd noticed Morgan's erection. “I don't know what you intend, Morgan.”

“Oh, I'll make sure to let you know.” Morgan wanted nothing more than to ease his sudden, voracious need for the handsome male before him. Instead, he hid the truth behind a facade, the way he normally did. “Now, handsome, how about that tour I was promised?” He wiped away the blood from his neck. The wound had closed seconds after Kisho had opened it. Morgan hoped he didn't notice the speedy healing.

Thankfully, Kisho looked away from him. It didn't take an empath to see his new friend was annoyed. And aroused.

“This is the garden. Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house.” They walked past a ton of rooms downstairs, but the ones that interested Morgan most were the gym and the backstairs that led to the wing where the Circs lived. They ascended to the second floor, where Kisho took him past the team's wing further down the hallway that opened to overlook the foyer. On the other side a bevy of rooms stood waiting.

“Our wing is private. This wing, where you'll be staying, is for guests.” Morgan didn't bother correcting him. Let Alicia set him straight.

“So are all of you bi?” he asked with a bluntness that took Kisho aback.

“What?”

“I'm familiar with Circs. I know the original project started way back, over thirty years ago. Dr. Elliot Pearl came up with an idea to create enhanced humans. The military jumped on the idea to start an army of super soldiers, except Pearl's formula didn't work the way it should have. Now there's a team up north, a bunch of Special Forces Marines who made it past the crazy stage of life. Project Dawn, right?”

Kisho didn't answer, sizing him up.

“And then there's you four. The Dawn Endeavor team. Prior SEALs with deadly skills, courtesy of the U.S. Navy, not to mention your own psychic twists. Pair that with the ability to transform into beasts with armored skin and lethal claws, and you're pretty intimidating. Only problem is you guys have mating heats that, left untreated, turn you into psychotic killers.

History of the Circ in a nutshell, eh?”

“How do you know—”

“I've met Dr. Evan Dennis, the Circ expert in Jersey. Doc's a nice guy. His Circs are a bit aggressive, but I'd expected that. Kind of proprietary about their females, too.” Morgan shook his head. “I mean, I reached out to shake a hand and nearly had my head ripped off.” He rotated his neck. “No harm, no foul, I suppose. Doc's not only pleasant, but he's a smart guy. A lot easier to read than your Mrs. Sharpe, that's for sure. So are you or not?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you all bisexual?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Morgan liked Kisho's anger. His slightly slanted eyes narrowed, and his full lips firmed. So damned sexy. He wondered what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock. “Well, I know you like me. But will I have to be on guard around the others and Olivia? I get the feeling Fallon doesn't like to share.”

“I don't like you. And Fallon and Olivia are mated—married,” Kisho quickly corrected.

“Since you seem to know everything about Circs, you know we do what we have to do to survive, not because we like it.”

The defensiveness in Kisho's voice tugged at him, because Morgan swore he detected a thread of shame. He brushed any sympathy aside. Nice wouldn't win him the prize. “But you do like it, don't you, kitsu?”

Kisho shoved him so hard, his head bounced against the wall. “What did you call me?” Kitsu, an ancient Japanese word for fox and Morgan's special name for the perfect partner he'd been promised so many years ago. Satisfaction replaced the hint of doubt worrying him. Ah, so Kisho did know what their future held in store for them. One problem solved.

“Take your hands off me, little fox, before I put them where they really belong.”

Kisho stepped back in a rush. Then he took a hesitant step forward, as if he couldn't help himself. But Morgan didn't mistake the surge of panic in his dark brown eyes now black with anxiety.

Come on, my little kitsu. Look deeper. See me. Know me.

“Whoa! Hayashi, buddy, you okay?” Another giant joined them, this one blond, and ruined the moment.

Morgan wanted to gut him. Instead, he turned to him and raised an arrogant brow. “You must be Frederik. Nice to meet you.”

Tersch glanced at Kisho and growled at Morgan. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nice mouth, Gunnar,” Ava's husky voice sounded from behind him. She peeked out around Tersch's large body and grinned. “Morgan! Hey baby! Nice to see you again.” She threw herself into his arms, and Morgan hugged her back. Tersch's annoyance spoke volumes, and Morgan's grin widened.

“You just keep looking better and better,” he said, aware he spoke the truth. “Thanks for the tour, Kisho. Ava can finish for me. See you later, hmm?” He took her under his arm and walked away, conscious of two Circs burning holes into his back.

“They still looking?” he whispered.

“Oh yeah.” Ava wiggled closer, and Morgan swore he heard Tersch's teeth grind. Once out of sight of the others, however, Ava dragged him downstairs, past Mrs. Sharpe's grand study, and into a smaller room.

Organized without a speck of dust anywhere and with a contemporary design, the room felt like Ava. She threw herself into a chair and waved at him to do the same. “Nice to see you, cuz.” He smiled. Though not related by blood, their families had been good friends for years. He didn't deny the association. “I haven't seen you in forever, but I see Alicia's still keeping you hopping.”

“No shit.” Ava sighed, then shook her head. “But don't change the subject. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Sharpe hired me to work some leads. I'm here to find Captain William Delancey for your team. From what I gather, he's a traitor, a murderer, and he nearly killed your Circs at one time or another, though no one can prove his involvement.” She frowned, her sparkling eyes lit from within with an energy uniquely Ava. “Hold on.

No one told me you'd be coming.”

“I'm sorry. Was I supposed to clear this with you? Or maybe Alicia should have asked you first?”

“Asshole.”

He chuckled. “So what's it like, living at Circ central?” She sighed. “Trying. Alicia's a pain. She's gotten really bossy in her old age.” Ava grinned.

“The guys are great. Not sure what you did to piss them all off, but since that's your usual M.O., I'm sure the death threats and fights will keep us hopping for days. Or however long you're here, which is how long, by the way?”

“Worried I'll try to steal your boyfriend?” he teased. He hadn't missed Tersch's proprietary manner with Ava, or the way she'd looked at him.

She flipped him the finger, and he laughed.

At that moment, Jules Hawkins poked his head in the door. Seeing Ava and Morgan together, he scowled. “Reynolds, I need a word.”

Morgan's humor faded as he spied yet another obstacle preventing him from what he'd come to claim. The team's possessive, aggressive leader would be a problem. Especially when he realized what Morgan really intended for one of his Circs.

The minute Morgan stepped out the door, Jules pinned him to the wall. No mean feat, considering Morgan had as much weight on him as Jules. But he wasn't stupid enough not to realize the predator holding him could carve him up in seconds.

“I don't trust you, and I'm watching you. Mrs. Sharpe might want you here, but the Circs belong to me. Fuck with them, and you'll wish you were dead. I promise you.” Jules dropped him to the ground before Morgan realized his feet had been off it. He landed, breathing hard, and watched Hawkins disappear down the hall.

So much for the warm welcome he'd hoped for.

“Oh yeah. Making friends and influencing people all over the place.” Ava stood in the doorway and shook her head. “Come back in, and I'll fill you in on our happy little family. Just promise me you won't get killed before this mission is over. The last time you died, your mother nearly had a coronary. And she's twice as bad as Alicia.” Morgan winced. “You had to bring that up, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Morgan pushed away the memories of the blood, pain, and darkness he worked so hard to hold at bay. Darkness that faded whenever he envisioned his kitsu waiting for him. “Well, cuz, let's talk about your new 'family,' then. Because I have a lot to do before my next death. And considering the trouble that circulates around this team, I'm sure it'll be a real doozy.” Ava sighed. “And the world just keeps getting crazier and crazier.”