Assassin Deception (2 page)

“You could have killed the woman or child!" James thundered. "You know at times he storms off with the girl to frighten the mother!
Damn you!
” He brought his fist down onto a solid mahogany desk. “The mother was terrified, thinking she and the child were supposed to be in the car with him. The bastard had manipulated her thoughts, swearing he was the only one between us and them. She was hysterical before the police arrived, begging me for the life of the little one. I had to sedate her, making it look like she fainted.”

Chloe crouched outside the partially opened door, now frightened. She had never heard James yell so loudly, not even when she and Damien had found a bottle of one hundred-year-old brandy and used it for a tea party. Upon reflection, she didn’t remember much of that particular day. The next day both she and Damien had been very sick.

“Something must have gone wrong with the wiring," a man replied. "It wasn’t supposed to blow until I wanted it to. For God's sake, James, you know I would never hurt the child. I know what she means to you.” His hands were shaking and his face had paled to a sickly white.

“I had been under the assumption you were an expert,” James said. His eyes narrowed on the man in such a way Chloe began to cry. It was the same type of look her father wore before he struck her. Chloe didn’t want to be hit again; her back still ached from the beating her father had given her the day before.

“Chloe, what are you doing out of bed?” Dirk was suddenly before her, lifting her into his arms and drying her tears with a gentle stroke of the back of his hand. Dirk always lifted her with care, ever wary of the bruises she often sported. He ran a soft hand down her long, golden-brown hair.

“I wanted a cookie, my tummy is hungry. Is James mad at me?” Chloe sobbed, heartbroken.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” James said. “Why don’t you take Chloe to the kitchen for a cookie and some milk? Once finished she can go back to bed.”

James placed a sound kiss onto her cheek and tweaked her nose. Though he was now smiling, there was an odd set to his features that gave Chloe an uncomprehending chill. She was happy when Dirk took easy strides away from the den, where she heard the door snap closed behind them.

Soon enough Chloe sat munching on an oatmeal raisin cookie and sipping at a warm glass of milk mixed with cinnamon. Dirk was watching her.

“Chloe, did you hear what my father and that man were discussing?” he finally asked. He bit into his own cookie, his eyes remaining fixed on her features.

“James was mad.”

“Yes, sweetheart, he was very mad."

“Why?”

“The man was careless.”

“Like I am when I leave the milk out to spoil?”

“Something like that.”

“I promise, Dirk, I won’t ever leave the milk out here. I wouldn’t want James to ever yell at me like that,” Chloe said, shuddering.

Dirk chuckled. “I can’t imagine you ever doing anything that would make my father yell like that. But, Chloe, it’s not polite to listen to people's private conversations.”

“I’m sorry, Dirk. I didn’t mean to. Are you mad at me?”

“No, Chloe, I’m not mad at you either. But I want you to do me a very big favor.” Dirk squatted down to eye level with her and took both of her hands into his own. Chloe stared at him, her eyes wide. In the past he had often asked her to keep secrets for him. Secrets she couldn’t even share with Damien. “I want you to forget anything you heard said tonight. Can you do that for me, please?”

Chloe nodded solemnly at him, gazing into his stunning, clear blue eyes. “I will forget, Dirk. I promise.”

“Why will you forget, honey?” Dirk encouraged, offering her the smile she found so captivating.

“Because I love you and you love me,” she said with a practiced ease. She smiled happily at him, exposing a gap in her teeth from a recently lost tooth. “Because after I marry Damien, I’m going to marry you.”

Dirk pulled her into his arms. “I don’t think Damien will share you with anyone.”

“Not even you?” Chloe asked with astonishment. Damien adored his big brother. Chloe was grateful he shared Dirk with her.

“Not even me,” Dirk replied.

Damien was still slumbering when Dirk returned Chloe to his room, oblivious to any occurrence. His even breathing sounded in the quietness of the large room. His blond hair seemed white in the silver moonlight as Dirk settled Chloe on a bed close to his. She unlocked her hands from around Dirk’s neck and kissed his cheek.

“I do love you, Dirk,” Chloe mumbled sleepily. He was one of the most important men in her life. She adored him as much as James.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Dirk replied. He nestled a floppy-eared, velvety soft dog he had given her for her birthday into her tiny arms. She crushed it to her chest with a smile of delight, her eyes already drooping.

Dirk settled Chloe under her covers. He stroked a lock of her hair back into place. He then sat holding her hand until she drifted off into a restful sleep. Dirk was her shield, her security blanket in the dark night. It was a comforting thought.

Chapter One

Once more Chloe lifted a slender hand to pull back the long vines of the aging willow tree. The magic within was no less captivating at twenty-six than it had been when she was a small child. She lifted her one-eyed doll into her arms and smiled sadly. The pink yarn had faded from neglect and had become ratty and frayed over the years.

Chloe took it over to the wrought iron table and chairs and sat. She sighed. It had been many years since she had ventured back here. The demise of her father had brought sudden changes. Her mother had always seemed so fearful at times when her father was alive, but the fears soon escalated and engulfed her, causing her to become irrational.

Thankfully Granny had been with them for a few more years until Chloe turned twelve. Once Granny had passed away it seemed like her mother gave up. She stopped taking care of herself and Chloe, who then grew more dependent on James and Samantha’s charity while she tried to take care of her mother. The responsibility had proved to be too much for her at times; she was still so young. Too much rested upon her small shoulders.

Chloe had been saddened to hear of Samantha’s passing three years prior. It had been Chloe’s last visit home to help offer support and garner it from loved ones. The woman’s death had seemed to shatter James in a way. In another, he seemed to pull a tight rein on his family; his hold had grown smothering.

Both Damien and Chloe had rebelled in different ways. Chloe wanted to pull all of them closer, feeling a bit frantic herself, while Damien wanted his space. Samantha’s demise had hurt Chloe deeply, more so than her own mother’s recent passing. Chloe had always felt Samantha had been more of a mother to her than her own, she had wished she
had
been her mother.

Chloe had received word from James the old house was now in need and she had to go through her and her mother’s things. Another of his men wanted it for himself and his own wife and young child.

Chloe hoped they would have better luck than her family. She was grateful James had allowed her mother to stay at the small home with care from a nurse, while Chloe was sent away to school.

That last thought caused her a deep pain. She still remembered clinging to James in desperation, pleading with him not to send her away; she needed him. She could see the tears in his eyes, and when he held her crushed to his chest it seemed he was loath to release her. She had been confused and hurt at what she felt was a betrayal. She had returned to her home only for holidays and her birthdays. She had finally come to the conclusion that no matter how hard she begged, James would not relent. She was always returned to school after each visit.

Her mother had pleaded with her not to venture next door, but Chloe couldn’t stay away from them. They were her family too.

James made certain Chloe wanted for nothing. Her clothing was outrageously expensive; she always had the ‘proper’ jewelry Samantha insisted she have. Her allowance enabled her to buy whatever she wished. She had her pick of the beautiful horses in the schoolhouse stable; the teachers showed her a tremendous amount of respect.

The other girls in her school were convinced she was as wealthy as the rest of them. They thought the handsome, debonair James D. Flare was her father, especially since she had been enrolled under his name. Chloe never bothered to correct their assumptions.

Over the years her mother’s crazed ravings about their neighbors became too much to cope with. From the moment Chloe walked through the front door, her mother would begin. They were all bad, every one of them, evil to the core. Chloe’s father knew; he tried to warn them, to keep them safe. James had finally disposed of him. Her mother cowered and hid whenever the doorbell rang, talking to herself in a harried, incoherent whisper, her body twitching uncontrollably.

Disgusted and annoyed, Chloe’s visits became less frequent, until finally stopping altogether. Her anger had mounted, then overwhelmed her. How dare the woman trash such a wonderful family? A family who had welcomed them with open arms, cared for them unconditionally.

It had been Chloe’s father who was the evil one. Her mother’s ravings had caused a deep void between them. Only her death and a direct command from James had brought her back. She would have preferred the past be buried with her mother; it would seem that would not be the case.

“Aren’t you a bit big for dolls?” came a deep voice.

“Salvator!” Chloe screeched, the doll forgotten. She launched herself into Damien’s strong arms. She clutched his short, thick blond hair, pulling him close. She had missed the feel of his broad chest pressed to her own as his powerful muscles bunched and flexed, and the way his six-foot-three and a half frame towered over her protectively.

* * * *

Damien chuckled at the use of his old nickname. She was the only one to ever call him that. He hadn’t heard the name in over three years.

“I’ve missed you,” Damien said, lifting her slight form from the ground to cuddle her. He wrapped his hand in the generous length of her dark locks. He tasted her soft, sweet skin while he breathed her in. Time stood still while their past raced to connect them with their present. When the two collided, an overwhelming sense of life-complete enabled them both to breathe easier as mathematics ceased and conceded with its confusion—two separate beings formed one whole.

Damien claimed her mouth with his. Breath to breath, reviving one another. Remembering one another. When the passionate kiss ended they clung to each other, foreheads pressed together. Fingers entwined into each other's clothing.

“I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Mother just became too much. The last time I was here it was awful. Dirk came into the house to invite me for dinner, and Mother freaked. She cried at him not to hurt me, calling him James. I told her neither Dirk nor James has ever harmed me or anyone and would never harm her, but she was on her knees and weeping, begging him to leave. The nurse finally gave her a sedative and Dirk carried her to her room.

“She made him sound like a saint, when he wasn’t, that he loved and protected us, when he didn’t. I remember the awful abuse. I had been confused when he died. I wasn’t sorry he died. I hated him. I was growing to hate Mother too. Do I sound horrible?”

“No, you don’t sound horrible,” he replied, setting her back onto her feet. He gazed into her anguished face flushed with a longing to be forgiven. He knew of her confusion concerning her mother. Often enough he had listened as she cried herself to sleep as a child, feeling helpless at her misery, inadequate, not knowing how to offer her comfort as he had seen his father and Dirk do in the past.

“Your family took care of me after my father died. James provided us with everything, and paid for my schooling. If it wasn’t for your mom and dad and Dirk and you, I would have been so terribly alone and lost, especially after Granny died. We would have starved to death; we would have had to beg in the streets. I would have been taken away and placed in a home. You know I have no other family. We had no one, nothing to call our own.”