Double Down Read Online Free

And none of them had food . . . grocery shopping was something her mother rarely remembered to do. Growing up, Tyka survived on bread and potatoes and not much else. She’d taught herself the ways of petty thievery . . . how to steal loaves of bread from the trucks, how to eat meals and run out without paying. She’d learned how to connect to people only out of necessity, not out of a desire for friendship or closeness. She had developed some exceptional survival skills; she was extraordinarily self-sufficient, independent, and adaptable. And she’d come to accept that she didn’t need anyone.
    Sort of.
    She looked over at Mahmoud. “What say we go around back and do a quick rundown? I’d like to have a closer look.”
    â€œSo would I, Ms. Tyka,” he said, stepping toward her, a look of desire in his eyes.
    â€œReally, Mahmoud. It’s time to focus, don’t you think?”
    â€œAs you wish, Ms. Tyka. I live to serve.”
    He sharpened and neutralized his features. Tyka recognized the expression well, something Gabriella used to call “the neutral mask.” It was how they all looked when they focused on a task or were about to take someone out. Focused, and like they had no feelings whatsoever. Tyka found herself surprised at her sudden disappointment in seeing Mahmoud’s persona armored again.
    In truth, Tyka dreamed of finding her other half, but she would never share that particular intel with a soul. She had thought about partnership a lot over the last few years . . . especially since she’d had a front-row seat watching Chas and Susannah’s romance. She’d connected with this group partly because of Chas, but mostly because of his father, Chuck, who had known her during one of her first jobs. When she was fifteen, she had run away from home and found her way as an apprentice to a young man named Spliff, who’d been hired to take out the Italian. When Spliff was outed and killed by one of Bruni’s bodyguards, she’d inherited his job. Along the way she’d met Chuck, and he’d given her a message to pass on to his son if things got rough for Chas. Years later she’d had that chance, and seeing the man Chas had become made her want a man of her own. But what other half could there be for a Ukrainian assassin who traveled all over the earth killing people? It was a lot to stomach. Of course, the fact that the people she took out deserved it did make it better. But who was she kidding? Who was going to fall for a hired gun?
    Except for another hired gun.
    She looked away, then back at Mahmoud. Pretentious fuck . He had really grown on her, though. Beneath his exterior was a loyal and caring heart; she could see it in his eyes. Sometimes, briefly, she caught a flash of something gentle and vulnerable underneath the sharply tuned elegance that was Mahmoud. Something she longed to see more of.
    â€œWell, if you live to serve,” she said drily, “I am in need of a cabana boy.”
    â€œSomeone to hold your weapons?” he asked, his face still neutral.
    â€œI would never let anyone touch my weapons.”
    â€œOf course,” he replied. “Your crown and scepter, then. Or perhaps the train of your robe.”
    â€œReally, Mahmoud. I only have need of someone to carry my cigarettes. And occasionally a bottle of chilled vodka.”
    At this he cracked a smile. “I left my cooler at home. But your cigarettes I have at the ready.”
    She took a moment to look him up and down. He was dressed all in black, simple clothes, good for reconnaissance. Though it looked like he carried nothing, she knew he had at least four concealed weapons, as did she. And, she now realized, her cigarettes. He was staring intently at the villa, likely trying to figure out the easiest access point. Birdsong’s home was a rambling old estate right on the coast; it had untended gardens and stone stairs