Her Name Is Knight（Nena Knight #1）
Yasmin Angoe
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 the 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.