Her Name Is Knight (Nena Knight) Read online

  PRAISE FOR HER NAME IS KNIGHT

  “A crackerjack story with truly memorable characters. I can’t wait to see what Yasmin Angoe comes up with next.”

  —David Baldacci, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “It’s hard to believe that Her Name Is Knight is Yasmin Angoe’s debut novel. This dual timeline story about a highly trained Miami-based assassin who learns to reclaim her power after having her entire life ripped from her as a teenager in Ghana is equal parts love story, social commentary, and action thriller. Nena Knight will stay with you long after you’ve read the last word, and this is a must-read for fans of Lee Child and S. A. Cosby. I found myself crying in one chapter and cheering in the next. I couldn’t put it down!”

  —Kellye Garrett, Anthony, Agatha, and Lefty Award–winning author

  “This was a book I couldn’t put down. Yasmin Angoe does a brilliant job of inviting you into a world of espionage and revenge while giving her characters depth and backstory that pull the reader in even more. This story has depth, excitement, and heartbreaking loss all intertwined into an awesome debut. The spy thriller genre has a new name to look out for!”

  —Matthew Farrell, bestselling author of Don’t Ever Forget

  “Her Name Is Knight is a roundhouse kick of a novel—intense, evocative, and loaded with character and international intrigue. Nena Knight is a protagonist for the ages and one readers will not soon forget. Her Name Is Knight isn’t just thrills and action, either—the book lingers with you long after you’ve finished. More, please.”

  —Alex Segura, acclaimed author of Star Wars Poe Dameron: Free Fall, Secret Identity, and Blackout

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2021 by Yasmin Angoe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542029957 (hardcover)

  ISBN-10: 1542029953 (hardcover)

  ISBN-13: 9781542029940 (paperback)

  ISBN-10: 1542029945 (paperback)

  Cover design by Anna Laytham

  First edition

  To my dad, Herbert Nana Angoe, chief of our tribe.

  Rest in peace, Dad.

  CONTENTS

  START READING

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  LANGUAGE NOTES

  1 AFTER

  2 AFTER

  3 AFTER

  4 BEFORE

  5 AFTER

  6 BEFORE

  7 AFTER

  8 BEFORE

  9 AFTER

  10 BEFORE

  11 AFTER

  12 BEFORE

  13 AFTER

  14 BEFORE

  15 AFTER

  16 BEFORE

  17 AFTER

  18 BEFORE

  19 AFTER

  20 BEFORE

  21 AFTER

  22 BEFORE

  23 AFTER

  24 BEFORE

  25 AFTER

  26 BEFORE

  27 AFTER

  28 BEFORE

  29 AFTER

  30 BEFORE

  31 AFTER

  32 BEFORE

  33 AFTER

  34 BEFORE

  35 AFTER

  36 BEFORE

  37 AFTER

  38 BEFORE

  39 AFTER

  40 BEFORE

  41 AFTER

  42 BEFORE

  43 AFTER

  44 BEFORE

  45 AFTER

  46 BEFORE

  47 AFTER

  48 BEFORE

  49 AFTER

  50 BEFORE

  51 AFTER

  52 BEFORE

  53 AFTER

  54 BEFORE

  55 AFTER

  56 BEFORE

  57 AFTER

  58 BEFORE

  59 AFTER

  60 BEFORE

  61 AFTER

  62 BEFORE

  63 AFTER

  64 BEFORE

  65 AFTER

  66 BEFORE

  67 AFTER

  68 BEFORE

  69 AFTER

  70 BEFORE

  71 AFTER

  72 AFTER

  73 AFTER

  74 AFTER

  75 AFTER

  76 AFTER

  77 AFTER

  78 AFTER

  79 AFTER

  80 AFTER

  81 AFTER

  82 NOW

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Memory is both a gift and a curse.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Please note this novel depicts issues of emotional, sexual, and physical abuse; parental death; human trafficking; and both physical and sexual violence. The descriptions of violence are vivid, and I have worked to approach these topics with the utmost sensitivity and respect; I wanted you to be aware in case any of the content is triggering. Please use the resources below if you need any support.

  One other thing: This novel is about one fictional woman’s story, told concurrently during two different times of her life. During her childhood her story is in first person present tense so that you see the world and her journey through her eyes. As an adult, her story is in third person past tense to give you a panoramic view and scope of what this kick-ass assassin can do.

  Thanks,

  Yasmin

  Suggested Resources for Victims of Human Trafficking and Abuse:

  RAINN National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)

  Department of Defense Safe Helpline: 1-877-995-5247

  National Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-888-373-7888

  National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233

  National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

  National Alliance on Mental Illness Helpline: 1-800-950-6264

  Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

  LANGUAGE NOTES

  Wudini (pronounced WHOA-dih-knee)—a noun.

  Twi, one of the Ghanaian dialects from the Fanti region of the Ashanti.

  Translated, “wudini” means murderer, killer, or, as it relates to Nena Knight, assassin.

  1

  AFTER

  Echo cast one more look at herself, making sure the swim cap was securely on her head, the waterproof earpiece embedded in the diamond stud earrings she wore. She bent down, grabbing the fluffy white towel next to her, making sure her tool was nestled within its folds. Nigerian businessman and fixer Adam Mofour liked to take a swim early in the morning, before the community pool began to fill with patrons preparing for classes or practicing on Nigeria’s Olympic team.

  She padded out of the locker room toward the inside pool. She could hear the mark’s splashes echoing in the hallway as he took his laps. Smelled the chlorine before spying the blue of the water with the black painted lines on the pool floor. She stopped at the entrance, scanning in case anyone was there and she’d have to take them out too. The place, as she’d anticipated, was empty.

  A disembodied voice said through her comms, “Security is doing rounds. You’re clear.”

  She laid her towel on the tiled floor next to the edge of the pool as Mofour approached, slicing through the water with t
he grace of an athlete. From the intel she’d received, Echo knew swimming was a passion of his. He should have stuck to that, rather than selling out the Tribe and passing state secrets to their enemies for his financial benefit. Wasn’t her concern if he was truly guilty or not. The Tribe had marked Mofour for dispatch, and she was there to see it through.

  His strong arms cut through the water in a breaststroke. She readied herself. When his fingers were about to touch the pool’s edge, she struck out, yanking him toward her so she could wrap her arm around his neck. She lifted his head above water, using one hand to prop herself along the edge as she brought him in thrashing and choking with surprise. She used that surprise to pull him up farther while she plucked the syringe from the towel and injected the needle into his neck. She adjusted, leaning her weight on him as she plunged his head below the surface. His arms shot out, beating at her in weak attempts to get her off. She could hear his garbled yells as his body convulsed. She held on with a viselike grip until her mark’s thrashing began to wane, till the gurgles stopped bubbling to the surface, till the stimulant took effect, stopping his heart. Then Echo let him float away.

  She got out of the water, wrapped the emptied hypodermic back in the towel, and returned to the locker room, where she changed her clothes and dumped the towel, her suit and cap, and the empty syringe in her duffel to dispose of elsewhere. She waited until Mofour’s security team passed the locker room on their way back to the pool to check on their boss. When she was clear, she slipped out and walked the opposite direction up the stairs and out the front entrance. She was approaching the car she’d lifted when Witt, head of the Dispatch division of the Tribe, spoke through her comms.

  “Nicely done. As usual.”

  “Thanks.” She buckled her seat belt.

  Her mouth twitched with pleasure at the rare compliment from her mentor. Then she turned the ignition and drove off amid the blare of sirens as paramedics and police raced to the scene.

  2

  AFTER

  “Is there a problem, Dad?” Nena asked, watching her older sister pace the floor of Nena’s quaint little home. Elin rarely came to this part of Miami, but today was an exception. She must have been pretty upset to make the trek from Coconut Grove to Citrus—“slumming it,” as Nena’s upper-crust sister liked to say. In the next breath, after the insult, Elin would comment that Nena’s home was the calmest place she knew. It was peaceful because Nena made it so. When she walked through her front door, she was no longer Echo, only Nena.

  From their secure line, Noble Knight’s smooth voice, laced with an edge of irritation, came through the speaker so both his daughters could hear. “The problem is that this is the job you’ve been given, and it needs to be done,” he said. “Handling the attorney now will be a show of good faith to our incoming Council member. We need the deal he’s bringing us to go through with no complications.”

  Elin glared at Nena but said nothing. But the mark’s a federal attorney, Nena was thinking. And what did Dad mean by “show of good faith”? Since when did the Tribe dispatch people as a “show of good faith”? She didn’t like it one bit, but who was she to question their father? He’d never given her a reason to doubt him, not since she was fifteen and he and her mum had adopted her off the streets. Still, the thought niggled in her mind.

  “This mark seems out of the norm, no?” Nena asked when they’d ended the call. “Out of the norm for us. I mean, we’re not mercenaries.”

  “Why the second-guessing?” Elin countered, rifling through her bag. “Do you have something better to do than the job? Sit out in the hot-ass sun in your backyard? Or go play with your best bud with the crude name.”

  “Keigel,” Nena supplied helpfully. He was her neighbor three doors down and also the head of a large local gang. “I ask because this guy isn’t our typical mark.”

  Elin let out a burst of exasperated air. “I could use a smoke. You’re stressing me the hell out.” Elin produced her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe the guy’s a perv or crooked. That seems to be the standard to get the—” She completed the sentence by slicing a well-manicured finger across her throat.

  Nena leaned forward from her perch on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re quite rude. You know that?”

  “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Elin broke out into a magnificent grin and wouldn’t stop until her sister shook her head in defeat.

  “Is this guy really more crooked than the man he’s prosecuting?” It had been all over the news. Alleged money launderer Dennis Smith was to be tried on RICO charges and witness intimidation.

  “You know how it all goes down,” Elin said. “Council makes the decree and sends up the names; I work the intel at Network; Dispatch carries out their orders. We never question the Council’s reasons.” She shook her head in concession. “Anyway, Smith’s dealings are questionable at best, and while the Tribe wouldn’t normally get involved, they’re doing it to secure our new Council member. Politics.”

  “Politics isn’t what the Tribe is supposed to be about,” Nena griped.

  “Yes, well, plot twist, this member happens to be the father of the man I’m screwing, so there’s that.”

  Nena scoffed. “Screwing? Is this an arrangement? A traditional pairing like back home? Did the man’s father present goats and liquor to Dad?”

  Elin shot her a middle finger. “No. He brought a country.” She deflated, suddenly looking tired. Or perhaps annoyed. “The Council wants Lucien Douglas, and Douglas wants Smith—for whatever reason—to remain prison-free. It’s easier to take the lawyer out and keep the man happy. And it’s cheaper and less time consuming than buying off a jury.”

  The words were cold and callous coming from Elin’s lips. To be killed just because it was the easier choice. It didn’t make the Tribe sound inspirational when the advancement of the African diaspora was supposed to be their ultimate goal. It made them sound selfish, greedy . . . wicked.

  “Dispatching this federal attorney, this Cortland Baxter, sounds a bit self-serving, yeah?” Nena ventured.

  Elin gazed at the cigarettes longingly, then gave her sister a pouting look, but Nena shook her head. Elin released a frustrated sigh and shoved them back in her bag. “Douglas has close ties with one of the countries that have been hard to bring on the team. So if making the new guy happy means the African Tribal Council secures this country so we can shore up imports and exports from the coast, then yeah, the Tribe is self-serving.”

  She twirled her ponytail of long box braids around her fingers, studying Nena for the first time since she’d arrived. “Are you all right? Real talk.”

  Nena shrugged. It was the only answer she could give at the moment because she didn’t know how she felt. She was thinking about how the attorney’s dispatch felt like a break from the Tribe’s norm. It wasn’t her job to like or dislike any dispatch. It was her job to carry it out as commanded, and doubting the organization she’d pledged her life and loyalty to was what made her uncomfortable.

  “Anyway,” Elin said, “don’t think too much on it. It’s just another job. Focus on the Cuban dispatch coming up in a couple nights. I can’t make the dignitary party that night, so you need to attend that, too—as yourself.”

  “Elin.” Nena felt her anxiety heighten a notch at the thought of having to attend a pretentious party as the Knights’ youngest daughter. “You know I don’t care for those people. The party plus the Cuban is double duty.” Nena paused, thinking some more. “I can go alone, right?”

  Elin ignored her. “We’ll call in the rest of the local team.” She ticked off the jobs on her fingers. “You just completed the Nigerian dispatch; the Cuban is next, and then the attorney. After that, little sis, you need to lie low for a few months. Witt’s on board with it. He’s hated having to assign you these back-to-back jobs, but it’s been difficult trying to square all these different factions away.”

  “And the party? I prefer to go withou
t a date.”

  Elin wouldn’t answer, but her face said it all. She clomped in her thick-heeled sandals to the front door, throwing it open just as Keigel’s fist rose to knock, his other hand bearing a container of lemon-pepper wings. It was Nena and Keigel’s thing, their shared love of this wing flavor. Nena saw the hopeful look on his face, the puppy dog way he looked at Elin, on whom he had a major crush. He’d likely seen Elin’s car and thought to use the wings as an excuse for coming over, rather than waiting for Nena to pop up at his home like she normally did.

  Nena didn’t have the heart to tell him he and Elin would never happen.

  “Oh, look,” Elin said wryly, “the cavalry’s here.”

  Keigel was handsome—even Nena thought so—with a headful of long locs, an immaculate beard, and brown eyes that betrayed how much of a softy he was. “What I just walk in on?” he asked.

  “Nothing, lovie,” Elin cooed, trailing her long nails lightly along the angle of his jaw. He visibly melted from her touch. Stuff like that tickled her.

  Nena barely heard their exchange, deep in her own thoughts—about the attorney, about her two upcoming jobs, about this party she didn’t want to go to. “Do I have to take a date?” She didn’t like surprises.

  Elin slid past an openmouthed Keigel, gracing him with a heart-stopping smile. She called over her shoulder, “Naturally. But better pick one out before I do.”

  3

  AFTER

  Up until this point, dispatch jobs were no different than clocking in at a nine-to-five. Her kills didn’t get a second thought. However, tonight, when the Miami sky looked like the inside of an African diamond mine, the thought of leading another mission zapped the strength from her. For a second, she’d rather have been navigating the perils of Miami’s elite than running through the upcoming dispatch of the Cuban cartel’s second-in-command for the millionth time.

  A sense of unfulfillment sneaked up on her, making her wonder where this sudden ache welling up in the middle of her chest was coming from. What was she thinking? She chastised herself, swallowing down the wretched feeling as quickly as it had come upon her. Joining Dispatch had given her purpose and a blessed reprieve from a lifetime of cursed memories. Yet as Nena looked down at the rifle in her hands, she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to life than taking lives.