Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] (6 page)

Christy savored the other half of her cookie and closed her eyes. Though afraid, she gave in to her compelling exhaustion, pulled herself into a tight ball, and slept.

* * * *

Lando was aware the moment Christy fell asleep. She began weeping, and occasionally cried out for her mother. He knew she wouldn’t be foolish enough to make those noises while awake. He had ignored her creeping body as she moved closer to the fire. She ventured so near, he briefly wondered if she were about to climb into his lap. Her attempts at being silent were about as successful as a drunken goat in a china store, a big, clomping goat.

After almost stumbling on her while looking numerous times for kindling, Lando had been tempted to shout at her. Was she really so naive as to think he couldn’t see her? Did she think him that stupid and unobservant? He could only cough so often; his throat was starting to protest. No wonder he never strove to save a life. He was ready to kill her out of annoyance.

Feeling grouchy, Lando crossed his arms over his chest. What he should really do is pick her up and bring her over to the fire, her fear of him be damned. She would either get used to him or die of fright. The last thought is the one that stopped him. He had seen people expire from sheer fear. Knowing he was the cause on a few occasions made him grimace.

Lando considered himself a real hard ass. He’d grown up alone, and as an adult he stayed alone. He preferred it that way; no one to nag him, no commitments. No one to hold anything threateningly over his head. Once again, his thoughts reflected back. Lando was a true professional. He took care of the filth even the cops wouldn’t go near. He took out the meanest of the mean. He made cold, evil men beg in terror. The women he slept with would stab him in the back if given a chance; they found him dangerous and exciting. The ones who were out for a cheap thrill got more than they bargained for with him. They usually fled, frightened for their lives. Christy’s terror-stricken face flashed before Lando’s eyes.

He hardly said a word to her and she had been so afraid. Gentle, petite women like her usually never looked twice at him, unless they looked back to see if he was chasing them. Oh, he had been told often enough he was handsome, devilishly so; yet, there was something in his eyes, or perhaps lack thereof, they found disturbing.

His profession radiated from his very core. His old boss had seen what he was the moment he laid eyes on him. But his boss had been in the business so long he could spot potential. The mafia family snapped up Lando quickly and he was well taken care of, his every whim catered to: desirable willing women, continuous money, fast expensive cars, and a high life filled with endless excitement and ultimate power, which he wielded with expertise. He, in turn, took care of his ‘family.’ Whenever one of his people lost someone close, Lando took care of the assassin. That he more than took care of them was well known even in the farthest of circles. His reputation was fierce, his hard-handed blows to powerful predators unparalleled.

But this last job…Lando’s boss’s wife and daughter had been gunned down mercilessly; a pointless execution from an ambiguous man who challenged their family dynasty in a senseless power play. The pain of his boss’s loss consumed the man; revenge was the only logical thought. Any shred of decency he once possessed was destroyed.

As Lando predicted, a hit was ordered and he was anxious for it, hungered for it. He respected his boss’s deeply devoted wife, and his daughter had been beautiful, a cheeky, well-loved cherub of nineteen, quick to offer a teasing smile at what she referred to as the face of granite. She was as close to a little sister as Lando allowed, and now she was gone.

When the call came down, Lando sat speechless as he was ordered not to kill the assassin, but the man’s family. The wife, a woman of only twenty-two, a nine-year-old son from a previous marriage, and a three-week-old baby girl. Lando had been outraged. He stormed at his boss he didn’t do women; he knew it was one of the deals. That he was the best in the business was the reason he had been chosen gave him no peace of mind. They would be extremely difficult marks to be sure; they were undoubtedly well protected. Up until then, his boss always respected that one flaw in Lando’s armor; he killed the evil, not the innocent. Absolutely no one would make him slaughter a young, helpless boy. The baby girl…three weeks? Good God. What was her crime, except to be born into the wrong family?

Sickened, Lando stood while his boss’s empty, soulless gaze looked at him threateningly. His boss, teeth gnashed, informed him perhaps it wasn’t the hit that was in question, but Lando’s loyalty.

Lando walked out after that, but not before he did some threatening of his own. He perhaps unwisely informed his boss if anything happened to the woman and those children, he would answer for it. Ten days later, a deep rage settled over Lando as he stood over a grave containing the burned bodies of a twenty-two-year-old woman and her baby daughter. Thankfully the young boy had been away. Lando strode, fuelled by fury and disgust, for the police station and offered his ex-boss over on a silver platter. Hopefully, he could still save the boy. In return for turning over evidence, Lando would be placed in the witness protection program, and would never be heard from again. Lando highly doubted the last part. He knew the people he dealt with.

The situation happened over a month ago. There were numerous contracts out on his life. Not that it bothered him. He had gotten to people who had been out for his blood first. Now it would be people he once called family. The closest he ever had.

Lando knew his loyalty had never been in question. The minute his boss demanded the death of an innocent, defenseless woman and her young children, he knew it was his boss’s loyalty at fault; his ‘family’ life was an illusion.

Lando once more focused his thoughts on Christy. Her crying quieted, her whimpers all but ceased. In her exhausted state, she unconsciously sought out the warmth of the fire, and her slight body emerged from the protection of the tree to venture closer out into the open. Taking care to be silent, Lando rose. With a great deal of tenderness, mindful of her bruising, he lifted her, placing her down beside the roaring flames. Removing the mitt on his hand he ran his palm across her cool brow, aware she was now sleeping the sleep of one completely exhausted. Lando resisted the urge to throw Sam’s coat over her slumbering form or cuddle up beside her. He settled back against the rock. All thoughts of causing her demise vanished. Perhaps he never really would have killed her in the first place. Or would he have? He felt thankful he wouldn’t have to find out.

* * * *

As Christy woke with a start, Lando watched. The action undoubtedly caused pain in her ribs as her slender hand grasped her side. She gazed with some confusion into the sky as dawn ascended. She cast a fearful gaze toward the dying fire. Her body had shifted toward the warmth unconsciously during the night, drawing her closer to Lando. He noted her concern as she could just make out his large form facing her; his eyes remained partially closed. Her mouth formed a huge O. Christy rose to a crawling position, turned hastily. Butt in the air, on hands and knees she scrambled as though the hounds of hell were about to rip her to shreds and hid behind the nearest tree.

Lando resisted the urge to tell her she had a nice ass. He’d watched her as she slept during the night. The flames of the fire danced across her heart-shaped face. Even bruised and dirty she was beyond beautiful. The innocent face of a cherub, two nicely rounded bumps under her coats, breasts perfect for his touch. Rosy red full lips for ravishing. He groaned, shifted and rearranged his junk into a better position. He hadn’t been with a woman for a long while.

Lando rubbed at his eyes, pulled his hands away and began another performance. His lashes fluttered and he yawned with exaggeration. Fingers scratched at his belly. Amusingly, he thought he should take up acting once this was over. He was certainly doing a fair amount of it. Lando reached into his pocket for the last chocolate bar. He could almost hear Christy’s mouth water from behind the tree.

He took a healthy bite, groaning, his eyes closing to savor the flavor of delicious caramel and crunchy nuts, which tasted ten times better on an empty stomach, and wondered how he could leave Christy some. Simply announcing he was full wasn’t an option and would raise suspicion. Truth be told, he’d like to cram it down his throat and eat the whole damn thing alone. Yet, he had been providing her with sustenance, though meager amounts, up until now; he couldn’t demand she suddenly fend for herself. He doubted she would be capable anyway. In his line of work, he’d never come across anyone so defenseless and helpless.

Lando could see Christy watching unobtrusively. She took the occasional glance around the tree to see what he was doing, if he was leaving. Her yearning, starved doe gaze made the decision for him, and a thought came to mind. Lando jerked forward and grabbed at his jaw.

“Damn cavity,” he groaned, hoping to appear in obvious pain.

With a tremendous amount of flourish, Lando sent less than half the chocolate bar flying in her direction, still in its wrapper. He pretended not to notice the eager hand that shot out and caught it once it hit the ground. As Lando packed up his belongings, he couldn’t help a small chuckle. Yep, he could just envision his Academy Award. Move over, Mathew McConaughey!

* * * *

Christy thought her legs were about to fall off. Her entire body protested with every agonizing step, her ribs burning, her tortured limbs aching, she moved with deliberate slowness.

She was even too tired to jump anymore at the occasional scream of a cougar. Lando was moving at a relentless pace. She couldn’t see he would have any possible destination in mind. He couldn’t possibly know where they were. Everything looked the same to her—frightening, overgrown and uncivilized.

They paused at a fast flowing stream. Though the water was frigid, Christy dunked her sweaty head into the current and shuddered. She scrubbed at her dirt-streaked hands. The water had turned so cold her head buzzed with pins and needles; she sneezed. She splashed water onto her face in an effort to clear her mind. Thirst overwhelmed her and she drank, shaking as the coldness inhabited her flesh, seeping into her bones. She was so hungry and tired. Lando moved off as if in search of something. Christy watched from behind a cluster of rocks. Lando returned and started a little fire. The fire established, he took out a small knife, once belonging to Howard, stuck in his boot.

He sharpened a tiny stick less than the size of his baby finger on either end to a point. Lando turned over a few large rocks, digging deeper in the ground with a thick twig and, after finding a large worm, he wrapped it, impaling it around the sharpened stick. Using a fine shoelace that belonged to the cop, he tied it in the middle of the nicked stick, and rose. He stopped, as if thinking of something.

“Well, my slimy little friend, you’re going to catch me some lunch,” Lando said, his deep voice louder with the surround sound water makes. He moved off at a steady gait.

Christy waited until he was out of sight, then raced to the fire to warm herself. She sat as close as she dared without burning limbs or hands. She threaded her fingers through her wet hair in an effort to dry it. Christy had become used to Lando’s incessant need to talk to himself. It proved to be very handy. At the last stop, he complained about a missing package of two crackers and stomped about, looking for it to no avail. Christy discovered the package on a rock in plain view. She found his voice, deep and rough, to be comforting now instead of frightening. At least she was aware she wasn’t all alone, even if he was too dangerous to approach.

She heard Lando’s familiar, hacking, loud cough. Christy scrambled for safety. Out of sight, she watched as Lando set up two forked sticks over the fire and draped a large fish, perhaps salmon, across the stick suspended between the two others. Her mouth watered with longing as the tantalizing scent of the cooking fish wafted to her nose. She was famished.

For a brief moment, Christy considered showing herself. She thought if she approached Lando and begged him not to kill her he wouldn’t. Her heart saddened. He had no mercy, at least not for her. First he had wanted to kill her, even in her helpless state, then he left her for dead, uncaring and unfeeling, when all she needed was a shoulder to lean on. Men could be cruel.

Maybe if she offered him herself, she thought frantically. She had seen his interest. No, she would just be raped before he killed her, and she would die starving and hurting and terrified.

Christy watched as Lando gorged on the fish she wasn’t certain he bothered to fully cook. He noisily smacked his lips, sucked on his fingers, and proclaimed it to be the best thing he’d eaten in months. Perhaps his incessant chattering wasn’t so comforting anymore.

Christy almost wept in her despair. Maybe she could catch her own fish. She wouldn’t be able to cook it, a fire would be too dangerous, and she had no matches. She enjoyed sushi. She realized she had no culinary skills; their family had hired a maid and butler. She was never required to learn anything domesticated. She’d spent her years trailing her mother at charity functions, learning about the importance of fund-raising for those in desperate, dire need, and how to socialize with precision.

Feeling flustered, she tried to remember what Lando had done with the tiny stick, though she had no knife and grimaced at the thought of the slick, slimy worm. Maybe a sharp rock would suffice, and she was hungry enough to touch anything.

While she was pondering her rapid thoughts, she noted Lando stomping out his fire, eager to get moving. He grabbed at his things and was again on the move. Christy jumped to her feet, panicking. She couldn’t lose him. Her head swam suddenly at her quick motion and she thumped to the ground, landing sharply on her bottom. Sobbing, Christy resisted the urge to cry out to him to wait for her. She again rose, only this time with careful movements; with hope she approached the bones of the fish Lando left on a rock in plain sight.