Assassin Deception by C. L. Scholey Read Free Book Online

except of how much closer she needed him to be. She became a slave to her passion for him when their bodies collided in an almost desperate dance of the living. A wild dance of instinct, something that couldn’t be taught. He would make love to her, she vowed.
    “I want you,” Damien said. More of his hard body pressed against her. Once more his hands reached for her.
    With resolve, Chloe stilled his hands again. “I’m tired, Damien. Please give me some time. My mother has just died. I need my strength to traipse through those boxes in the house tomorrow. Wait for me, please?” she asked. She removed the hand he had once more settled onto her breast and kissed his open palm.
    * * * *
    Damien sighed. She was worth waiting for, always had been. He bowed his head to rest on her shoulder. He allowed himself the luxury of resting his weight on her slight form while he glided his hand from her creamy, bare breast to her heart, feeling it pound beneath his open palm, while his own hammered in his chest.
    He smoothed his other hand up and down her slender back, calming himself, feeling the painful pulsing in his loins. Resolved, he rose to his feet in front of her. After dragging a quick hand over his eyes he once more cupped her chin, lifting her face to look up at him.
    “You know where I am, sweetheart, if you change your mind. I’m happy you’re home; you’re safe now.” She nodded up at him.
    Chloe watched as Damien left her room. She stood up on shaking legs and entered the bathroom. With an unsteady hand she splashed cool water over her face, then gulped down a large amount. Lifting her head, she looked at herself scornfully in the mirror. For the last three years she had battled her wants, insisting she was strong. She didn’t need a knight in shining armor anymore; she could take care of herself. She was independent, self-reliant, self-sufficient. Why did she suddenly feel so stupid?
    “The hottest man in the world declares he wants you and you say you’re tired. You’re not only tired, but crazy!” Chloe grouched at herself. Shaking her head, she strode back to her bed and flopped onto the sheets.
    * * * *
    Chloe lifted the picture from the box. She was going through her mother’s things at the small house. She removed the tissue paper and gazed with sadness at the three smiling faces. It was a picture of her and her parents. A happier time.
    Chloe had been no more than two. She was smiling while being held by her mother. Her father’s hand rested possessively on her mother’s shoulder. He had been a very handsome man, with dark, captivating looks, a broad, powerful chest, smiling eyes. It was no wonder her mother had been enamored of him when they had first met. Her mother’s bright-eyed expression gazed up at her. It was sweet and clear, fitting for one so young and in love.
    Sighing, Chloe went to place the picture back into the box, but was startled as a small black book fell to the ground. Studying the picture carefully, she realized the thin rectangular shaped book had been taped to the back of the picture frame, giving it the illusion of being its backing. Over time the tape had become worn, dulled with age, and finally gave way.
    She ran her thumb over the book. A vague image of her father holding the book and studying it flashed through her thoughts. Shaking, feeling pensive, she opened it. The dates were worn, and for the most part unrecognizable, the paper yellowed with age. Parts of it were water damaged. The writing had fared better. She recognized her father’s handwriting.
    December, Iron Hand wants my ‘mark’ done dirty. A real bad ass. I’m not used to that. Usually I get the pop and walk, easy stuff. I might ask Dirk for help, his advice on how he should be done. He’s used to this kind of stuff. It’s kinda embarrassing, especially when he’s younger, but hell he was weaned on this crap, trained from birth to kill. I heard tell he plugged his first at eighteen. Holy shit, no