Till Surrender

Excerpt From: Till Surrender

"No killing the target until you hear from me."

Takayo 'Saint' St John leant back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and raised an eyebrow at his boss. Remi Parascu pushed a folder across the large mahogany desk towards him.

Saint grabbed it and flipped open the brown folder. "Tell me again how I got chosen to babysit a freaking human?"

This wasn't his normal assignment—most of Saint's missions were in—and—out jobs, like the one he'd recently completed in Germany. He hadn't even disembarked the Council's private jet when Remi showed up with this new gig. The Paranormal Security Council—known as the Council—marshalled the different paranormal sects in the US and abroad, providing security for high—ranking Para officials, and making sure Para laws were upheld. When anyone stepped out of line and broke those laws, the PSC also dealt with them. 'Dealing with them', more often than not, meant killing them, and Saint was one—fourth of the team given the termination assignments.

The president of the PSC met his gaze with unblinking eyes. "This is an elite's job and, since Prescott's on another assignment, you're up to bat."

That still left one other person. "And Voltaire?"

The female head of their team known as the Death—Bringer was the deadliest of them all. This job seemed more suited to her. Besides, Saint really wanted to sleep. And get laid. Though not necessarily in that order. It'd been a long—ass minute since he'd had a good dick suck and a balls lick. Fuck, but he was due.

Remi pushed her chair back and got to her feet. The tight grey skirt and blue blouse she wore clung to her lithe frame. Saint didn't have to be into chicks to appreciate her gorgeous feminine form.

"Voltaire's in Colorado."

The words were spoken evenly, but he had a feeling more went on behind Remi's direct stare.

"She's mated with a wolf out there and is apparently still in the honeymoon phase." Remi grimaced.

He chuckled. "Must be one crazy—ass wolf to risk mating with V. She's a live one."

"Yeah, well, at least she hasn't left completely. In fact, she's the one who recommended you for this."

"No shit."

"No shit." A knock came on the door of her office and Remi headed towards it. "Read up on your cover and the target. Wheels up in five hours so I suggest you get that pesky hard-on taken of asap."

Folder in hand, Saint surged to his feet with a grin and snapped a salute. "Yes, boss."

*****

Five and a half hours later, Saint still hadn't got any sleep, but he'd managed to rub a nut off in the shower. Not quite the same as a warm, wet mouth swallowing him, but he could hold on—barely, till he found a willing partner.

As the pilot turned off the seatbelt sign, he stretched his legs out on the seat in front of him and read through the folder Remi had given him. He grinned when he saw his name remained the same. He didn't technically exist, so they'd given him a brand new, and very violent background. Not too dissimilar from his real life, but the fake Takayo St John was all about honour and morality. Fighting for the greater good.

Ugh. Saint wanted to hurl. He already hated the new him. It was the perfect bait, though, to reel in the humans intent on making a move on the Council. He flipped back to the pages about his target.

Nathan Valte.

Tall and lean, the fair—headed former professor of literature looked older than his thirty—eight years. He'd turned activist against all Para citizens after his wife and child were killed by leopard shifters.

Literally torn apart.

Saint winced at the gruesome pictures. Since his loss, the professor had become outspoken about his hatred for Paras, amassing a pretty considerable following. Before now, no one in the paranormal community had taken him seriously, deeming him harmless and grieving. Something had definitely changed. What though? That info wasn't in the file, but several attempts had been made on Valte's life. The man was in desperate need of a bodyguard, and who better to fill the role but fake Saint?