Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] (8 page)

Christy practically pounced on the meat, grasping it from him, and then scurried back again to the safety of the cave wall. She stuffed large amounts into her mouth, shoving in piece after piece, ripping into the chunk he gave her, filling her cheeks chipmunk-style, chewing noisily. She stopped only for a brief moment as her choking, agonized throat protested. She grimaced in pain, pausing for a moment, and then shuddered. Taking a smaller bite, she chewed with more caution.

Lando was eating slower, watching her with intensity. He cast his dark-eyed glance to her fingers that were bloodied, yet not from the rabbit. She shifted self-consciously, trying to hide them. She remembered clawing at the stone in the back of the cave in an effort to escape from him while engulfed in absolute terror. Her fingernails were ripped and crusted over; her knuckles were swollen and bruised. She knew she must look a sight. Her hand lifted to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She felt a smudge of rabbit grease down her cheek.

After Christy ate what he had given her, she settled back further from the roaring fire. It wasn’t just her fear of him that caused her retreat. The flames were making her sweat. Though enjoying the warmth, she was now feeling lightheaded from the heat. Lando hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Every movement she made was critically studied and assessed and she was becoming more alarmed by the minute. She was fearful of giving up the safety of huddling protectively within Howard’s jacket. She felt it was an extra barrier. Lando was a huge man, much larger than Chad. If he were to be brutal, he’d hurt her.

“Sit closer to the fire, Christy,” Lando encouraged.

His voice was low, deep, rough and somewhat frightening but suited him. Her gaze shifted about the cave until, resigned, she crept forward. The sweat beaded her forehead. Lando had already removed his outer jacket. The small cave warmed nicely, even though the storm raged outside and the occasional draft of frigid air made its way through cracks in the doorframe.

She was now feeling too warm. She could see by his confused stare he didn’t understand why she hadn’t made herself comfortable. Fear, safety, confusion, her thoughts wouldn’t settle on one emotion.

“Take your coat off, Christy,” Lando suggested. “Aren’t you feeling a bit warm?”

She nodded stiffly and, remembering her promise to obey him, she reluctantly removed Howard’s coat. She was hopeful Lando would honor his promise not to hurt her. She shifted the coat underneath her instead, to sit on it. Her head remained bowed so low it almost rested on her chest. She was incapable of controlling the small, pitiful, agitated noises she was emitting. Noises Chad would have slapped her for, and hungered for. The man was so confusing eliciting things from her he knew were provoking. Chad wanted a reason to beat her—until he didn’t need any at all.

She was unable to control the movement of her fingers as they began to dance and entwine in frustration. She didn’t want to feel so frightened; she hated her fear. For almost a year, her worthlessness had been drilled into her head. The pain of Chad’s final blows replayed in her thoughts. He’d caused so much damage, Christy wondered if she would ever recover.

“Christy?” Lando commanded. “Christy, look at me.”

Hesitantly, she lifted her head; she knew her fearful gaze looked imploringly into his. Lando was studying her.

“I’ll keep my promise and not kill you.”

“You’re so big,” she whimpered back. “If you are too cruel, you’ll hurt me.”

Understanding lit Lando’s eyes. “I’m a killer, Christy, not a rapist.”

Christy pondered on that for a moment, wondering if his statement made her feel better or worse. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d spared her life for another reason. Once again, the fire drew her attention; the heat seemed overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, Christy felt resigned. She took off her other jacket and unzipped her hoodie. If he wanted her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. Perhaps he wouldn’t hurt her if she cooperated.

Lando shifted toward her; she stiffened in apprehension at his approach. He wet a handkerchief in the bowl of water. He took one of her bloodied hands into his own and gently cleaned it. When finished, he cleaned the other. The warm wet cloth slid around each finger to her thumb. He wiped the spatters on her palms and wrists. His hands were twice as large as hers. Hands that held guns and knives and only God knew what else.

His head remained bowed, intent on his task. Raven dark hair fell across his cheek. Christy had never encountered a man with such powerful shoulders; he would look out of place in a tuxedo. Chad looked fantastic in a tux and for a moment Christy was glad Lando looked nothing like her ex; everything about him was different. Her slight hand shook between his steady palms, but she didn’t pull away from him. When he finished, he moved away from her, lay on his back on his coat, tucked his arms beneath his head, interlocked his fingers and closed his eyes.

Christy watched him for a moment, stunned. He hadn’t hurt her! Chad promised if she complied he wouldn’t hurt her, but he did every time. She was as trapped with Lando as she had been with Chad, but Lando kept his word. Lying down on her own coat, using one of her jackets as a pillow, Christy closed her weary eyes. She reasoned she was powerless against him; he could do as he wished with her. With her tummy full and her body finally warmed after being exposed to bitter cold for so long, Christy wearily gave in to sleep. Though frightened of Lando’s presence, she was grateful for it.

Finally she wasn’t alone. Fear and pain followed aloneness. Fear and pain was what her life had become after her parents died. When Chad was with her she felt alone, trapped. She was trapped, but like Sam, Lando didn’t add to the sadness. It was an odd thought to ponder. Maybe the nightmares wouldn’t come. Maybe she wouldn’t need to call to her mother tonight as she huddled in the far corner of a kitchen bloodied and broken—or begging for her life.

* * * *

Lando listened as Christy’s breathing deepened. Once again, she curled into a fetal position with her fist tucked under her chin. It wasn’t long before her pitiful cries started, as they always did when the dreams came to haunt her. She begged not be left all alone. She called to her mother, her father, and then to Sam. Her frightened, mournful sobs of anguish had Lando taking action this time. He moved to her side and with care gathered her small body next to him. She woke instantly and cried out in fear. She struggled only moments, before stopping abruptly, and then she went limp. He loosened his grasp after she ceased struggling. She watched him, fear in her eyes, for him to make his next move.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you. You aren’t alone anymore,” Lando told her.

Lando lay holding her. He did nothing else. He could hear the moans and howls swirling just meager feet from where they lay. A heavy reminder death was just a breath beyond. Christy’s body shook with terrible tremors; she was too defenseless to stop an assault. He knew her realization of her vulnerability was the reason she’d stopped struggling. Her fear of being alone, abandoned, would have eaten at her soul. She would be grateful for any amount of kindness.

After a few moments, Christy reached a tentative hand to clasp at his arm, which was draped across her chest; he made sure to keep any weight from her side. She pulled him to her, and he knew she needed the reassurance he offered. He pressed his body next to hers; she was warm and soft. He slowed his breathing, waiting for hers to keep time with his. In time, her tremors ceased. He could feel her heartbeat. She was taking comfort from him, and he lay still, waiting for her to relax. Once more, she slept.

* * * *

Christy woke to the scent of fish cooking. She looked up at Lando as he stripped the bark off a long twig with easy, precise strokes from a small, sharp knife. Once finished, he placed the twig in a beat up metal container holding the remains of meat and bones of the rabbit and water. Placing them on the burning ash part of the fire, he stirred the bones around in the pot for a moment.

“Do you do dishes as well?” Christy asked, then felt the blush creep up her face, surprised at her lame attempt at a joke. It was beneath Chad to do anything.

Lando offered her a calculating look. “I have to; I killed my hired help.”

Christy didn’t think she appreciated his lame attempt either…or was he serious? Christy sat undecided. Lando smirked at her, then handed her a large piece of fish.

Christy ate with care. Her throat was feeling better, yet she was fearful of more bones. The two sat in awkward silence, finishing their meal. The eerie groans of the wind whistled with intensity, rattling the cave barrier. The silence between them was becoming uncomfortable. Lando maintained his intense study of her that she found unnerving. She squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Christy concluded Lando no longer wanted her dead. She wondered if it was her company he coveted. If he wanted to force her to submit to him, he would have already; she was powerless to stop him. She remembered Chad pounced on her eagerly enough. Sometimes painfully, claiming he needed her and couldn’t wait for her to be ready.

“Why did you want to kill me?” The silence between them had stretched until the intensity reached a climax. “I’m no threat to you.”

Lando was studying her, she bowed her head and her hands shook from a nervous habit—compliments of Chad.

“I felt at the time it would be best, under the circumstances.”

Her head shot up and she glared at him. “I was hurting and alone, and you thought it best to kill me? Don’t you realize how terrified I am of you?”

“I thought your mind was gone. Those bruises must hurt; they’re nothing short of hideous. I think, from the way you move, one or more of your ribs are broken. I didn’t think you’d make it. A wild animal could’ve got you; you might have frozen to death,” he countered, sounding defensive.

“A mercy killing?” she spat out. Again she was confronted with a man who would assume what was best for her without even asking how she felt. “You’re all cruel. Assassin or doctor, it makes no difference.”

“Is that who hurt you?” Lando asked. “Chad? You cried out for him not to hit you. Did he beat you, Christy?”

Tears began to fall from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. “He never once threatened to kill me,” she countered.

Lando stirred the rabbit bones in the pot. He added the remainder of the fish, careful of the tiny bones.

“Why do you kill people?” Christy asked, she dragged the back of her hand across her wet cheek trying for some semblance of control. She had been hid away for so long. Sam was the first person she had engaged in a conversation in months. She felt if she stopped talking she may never speak again.

“Why do you take pictures of ferocious animals? Does it give you a rush? Does the fear excite you?” Lando countered almost fiercely.

“How do you know what I do for a living?” Christy asked, unnerved.

“Mac, the cop, asked before we boarded. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Christy’s eyes widened at that. Hurt him? Kodiaks would run in terror from him. “I’ve never hurt anyone in my whole life,” Christy declared, outraged.

Lando snorted at her statement. “I’ve no doubt you’re completely harmless. You’re sweet, vulnerable, and innocent. Killing you would no doubt be like offing the Tooth Fairy.” He offered her a cheeky grin at the image that conjured.

“You’re laughing at me. How dare you.”

“I used to kill. I’ve killed so many men, I’ve lost count. Old men, young men, evil, dangerous men. Men who would make the boogeyman seem adorable and cuddly. Men you’d cower in terror from instead of me.” Lando’s voice had a dangerous edge to it.

Christy could see his anger build as he became animated. He spoke with gestures, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows narrowed. He stood now. His tirade made Christy retreat back to the far side of the cave; she cowered from him fearfully in shock, ending their conversation. It was too much; he was too much. She waited for him to come after her and her heart pounded. She watched his hands waiting for them to curl into fists. She waited for the foul words bellowed in rage.

Nothing happened—for a moment. Then real terror struck.

* * * *

Lando watched as Christy shrank back fearfully from his outburst, huddling against the back wall. Her chin quivered to the point her teeth clacked together. She stared at him wide-eyed, as if trapped in terror. He then realized she was.

His life was foreign to her, to a point of being incomprehensible. He was hard and dangerous, corrupt. She wasn’t like the women who checked him out for a cheap thrill. She had been thrust unwillingly into this position. He started out to kill her, for whatever the reason. Under normal circumstances, she never would’ve ventured near him. He disgusted her. One more person in Lando’s life who would run as far away from him as possible if given the chance. He’d do it for her.

Lando threw on his coat and, shoving his makeshift door aside, he ventured out into the blizzard that still raged.

* * * *

Christy watched, terrified, as Lando left. She pressed her hands to her face to stop the flow of tears. Everyone was always deserting her. Yes, she found him frightening, but the aloneness was far worse. He hadn’t killed her, beat her, or raped her. He fed her and soothed her nightmares. Why was he leaving her? She didn’t understand his world, she couldn’t help her fear when his voice rose in anger; it triggered too many hurtful memories.

“Please, come back.”

The stewing bones began to bubble over and Christy crept forward. She placed the pot off to the side. She waited for what seemed to be an eternity until her fear exhausted her. He wasn’t coming back. She was certain. She had angered him. He’d abandoned her. She would die all alone in this cave and there was no one left to care. Everyone whom she loved or knew was gone. Lando really was the only one she had. Now he was gone, she had chased him away.

She lifted her hands to shield her eyes from confronting the aloneness before her. If she couldn’t see the nothingness inside the lonely cave, she could somehow bear it. Christy cried until sleep claimed her. There was no safety even in sleep. Nevertheless, she curled up on her jacket and drifted off into a fitful slumber.