Assassin

by Seiters, Nadene

  “They were looking for Pamela Alstein. Don’t ask me about it now; wait until Cassidy goes out to care for Reese’s Pieces.” Swallowing another mouthful of the water, Troy tries to remember if either one of them mentioned that name before.

  “What happened after dinner?” Grant’s small smile of confusion makes him feel sick again.

  “You mumbled about your head hurting and came out here to take a nap before heading out to care for that foal. It’s been about half an hour, Troy. You started dreaming, and I woke you.” The old man clears his throat and opens up a book to make his point that he doesn’t want to speak about it. Did Troy say something that would incriminate him in the case of whether or not he wants Cassidy? Suddenly embarrassed, he tries to stand, but a wave of dizziness has him crashing down onto the couch again.

  “Why don’t you just lie down and I’ll get you a blanket, okay?” That’s Cassidy back from her phone conversation. Troy tries to turn his head to let her know that he’s fine, but another wave of nausea has him propelling himself from the couch and into the small hall bath. He barely gets the toilet lid up before his stew re-enters the world.

  “Christ, I’d better go find a bucket.” The sound of Grant’s footsteps retreating upstairs just makes the pounding in his head worse. Did he eat something he shouldn’t have? If that were the case, the other two would be sick. Maybe it’s lack of sleep and his inability to think about going into the courtroom in two days to testify against the big boy that is dragging him down.

  “Dad’s got a bucket, Troy. Do you want to come out and sit on the couch again?” Cassidy sounds as if she’s talking to a sick animal, and it just makes him irritable.

  “No, could you just turn on the light and close the door? I’ll be out in a little bit. Go take care of Reese’s Pieces.” The frustration from his predicament is in his tone, but Cassidy does as he says without an argument. As soon as the door clicks, he vomits until he believes his stomach is in the toilet with his dinner, and flushes. He looks even worse than he feels.

  “Shit,” he mumbles as he rinses out his mouth and tries to get the film of sweat off his face with cool water. Troy’s cheeks look hollowed out, and his flesh is too pale. If there were a zombie apocalypse, he would be mistaken for one and killed on sight. “How the hell did I go from feeling fine to looking like this in a matter of a few hours?”

  “The flu can do that to you!” Grant is opening up the door as he comes in to survey the damage. “Come on, if you’re back on your feet I think you can make it to the couch. Cassidy’s outside with Reese’s Pieces, so there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

  “Whoever said I was?” Troy flinches at the hoarseness of his voice, and washes off his face one more time before he heads out to sit on the blue, cloth couch with a white bucket in front of him. It looks like a five pound bucket used to hold a severe amount of paint or some such, and Troy wonders if Grant believes someone like Troy would need one.

  “How about we turn on the TV and watch some Jeopardy?” Troy’s groan of agony is the only thing that reaches Grant’s ears as the man lets his head loll back. Worried, he stands up to check and see if Troy has passed out, but his eyes are wide open as he stares at the ceiling.

  “Your head?” He asks warily.

  “No, your choice of show to watch.” Troy mumbles and Grant chuckles as he takes his place in his chair.

  “Maybe you’ll learn something.” But Troy is passed out by the time the first round has started, and his deep breathing indicates that he’s in a sound sleep.

  * * *

  It’s nine thirty by the time Troy wakes up again, and Grant is still sitting on the chair with the television on. Yet his attention appears to be solely on the book in his hands. When Troy sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his finger to get the pain to subside, Grant finally glances up.

  “You’re awake.” He says absentmindedly as he flips a page. There’s some noise from the kitchen, and then the front door closes gently. Cassidy’s left the house again, and it’s just Grant and Troy inside.

  “Tell me about Pamela Alstein.” The naked expression of grief on Grant’s face startles Troy when he looks up, and he immediately regrets saying it the way he did. It takes a few seconds for Grant to get his emotions under control, and to bide his time he puts a bookmark in. Then he sets the book down on the tiny table by his reclining chair as he turns the volume down on the television.

  It’s not that he wants the room to be quiet while they’re talking about Pam, but he wants to know if Cassidy comes back into the house.

  “Why don’t I get you some aspirin again? This is a long story.” Judging by Troy’s body height and weight, he could sustain another six aspirin without bleeding out from a cut. Grant gets himself under control by the time he has the aspirin and another glass of water. His house guest thanks him for the small favor and looks abashed at his straight forward question.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, Grant. It’s just I thought it was someone calling about me.” Running a hand through his short, dark hair, Troy tries to think of the last time he didn’t want to upset someone who wasn’t family.

  “I understand. Pamela Alstein is Cassidy’s mother.” Troy finally understands why Grant didn’t want to talk about it around Cassidy. From what he’s seen, any mention of her mother makes her upset and moody the rest of the day.

  “She said her mother is dead.” He pushes the empty bucket aside and leans forward to grab his glass of water. Grant looks upset by the entire situation, but he’s holding himself together pretty well.

  “Cassidy probably thinks that would be better.” He sips on his water and puts it down again, looking at his hands in his lap. He’s leaning forward and whispering now as he begins to explain. “Cassidy was just eighteen months when her mother showed up on my doorstep. The poor woman was clothed in rags, and her child had a makeshift diaper made out of an old, stained t-shirt. Sometimes people lose their way on these back roads, and I thought she was mistaken in coming to my home. But as I was closing the door on her face, she said my name.” Grant pauses as he remembers the way the woman had looked on his steps.

  “How did she know your name?” Troy prompts him, afraid that Cassidy might show up any second now and overhear them discussing how she came to live with Robert Grant.

  “When I was a kid, I was adopted. My adopted parents owned a farm not far from here, and they took in kids from an orphanage about thirty miles north of here in New York. One of those kids was Pamela Alstein. We struck up a friendship, but it was never more than that. She left at the age of eighteen to become an actress in Hollywood, and I hadn’t seen her for six years before she showed up on my doorstep strung out on heroin and carrying a baby.

  You see she was looking for my parent’s old place, but they died about six months prior to her appearance. I guess she was hoping that she could dump the kid there, but no such luck. So she started asking around town, and someone got the bright idea of telling her I still lived here. So she showed up here, pretended that she wanted to get sober, and maybe she did!” Grant heaves out a sigh that sounds as if he’s trying to get the memories out of himself.

  “But she didn’t. Forty eight hours later she was gone, and Cassidy was still in my living room. I called the orphanage I came from when I was a kid, and told them what happened. They informed me that I had to call child services and Cassidy would be transported to a foster home for the time being. Yet when they showed up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was dooming her to a life in the foster care system. What if she didn’t find a home that was as good as mine?

  So to end this long story before I’m too winded, I adopted her. It took me months to be approved and get her back, but I did. She was two at that point, and she already had abandonment issues. Those first few years were Hell, but I could see what people in town couldn’t. The moments when she was calm and sweet with my one horse. So I got more in hopes that it would help her heal.”

 
They’re both silent as Troy tries to digest all of this. His head is still aching, but it’s no longer pounding, and he’s no longer sweating. He’ll have to tell Cassidy to cancel that doctor’s appointment. It was probably just nerves from assuming someone was calling about him.

  “Dad?” Cassidy steps into the living room from the kitchen doorway and both men jump guiltily. She has an eyebrow quirked, and Troy glances over to see Grant quickly sniffing back a few tears.

  “I’m fine, just some allergies, kid. How’s Reese?” She puts a hand on her hip and cocks it as she glances at Troy to see if he’ll offer an explanation, but he doesn’t.

  “He’s alright, I guess. Do you feel up to coming out to the barn tonight, or are you going to stay here?” She still sounds suspicious, but it’s obvious that neither one of them are going to talk about what they were just discussing. Maybe she can drag it out of Troy when he’s alone, but first she has to get him alone.

  “I’ll be out in ten. Let me just grab a quick shower and change.” Grant gives the man a warning look, and then he says goodnight to his daughter. He catches Troy by the elbow at the top of the stairs, and he doesn’t need to say a word to convey his meaning. This man had better not tell Cassidy about tonight, or he’ll pay for it.

  “Goodnight, Grant.” Troy whispers before he slips down the hall and into his room. His hands are shaking as he turns on the water and stands in the heated spray. It took all of his mental control not to pummel Grant in the face for touching him like that, and it frightened him. Troy doesn’t want to be a monster anymore.

  Cassidy is gone from the house when Troy gets downstairs, so he grabs a quick snack of three crackers. He feels much better after his purge, but he doesn’t want to push it by eating something heavy. After his crackers, he makes sure to drink two full glasses of water to rehydrate himself and tries not to think about what will be happening in two days’ time. He’ll be boarding a plane to testify against some of the people who hired him, and he’ll be dishonoring his vow of silence on the matters. All so that he can obtain revenge for his sister and niece’s murders, and so that he can be a free man.

  But is this really being a free man?

  Pushing that thought aside, Troy heads out to the barn and finds Cassidy sitting with her laptop open in the corner of the stall with Reese’s Pieces sleeping beside her. The foal’s head turns when the stall door opens, but as soon as he sees that it’s Troy, he goes back to sleep. Making himself comfortable, Troy switches on the small reading light he found in the living room and starts reading the book Cassidy’s father had, Of Mice and Men. He’s not much into reading, but he doesn’t want to tempt himself tonight by watching another movie with Cassidy.

  * * *

  “I’m going to pick you up tomorrow morning at seven. Don’t be late. And wear something respectable!” Moonlight Rogers doesn’t need to chide Troy, but he’s beginning to think that Moonie likes chastising him with just a tone. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling as he waits for this dreaded phone call to end.

  “Will I be coming back here afterwards?” There’s no one else in the kitchen, but Troy knows that Grant and Cassidy are listening from the living room. The television is turned down so low that a cat would have trouble hearing it.

  “I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that if you have any unfinished business there, you’d better wrap it up in case.” Frustrated by the agent’s lack of cooperation, Troy leans against the wall and balls a hand into a fist. He’s been working on his anger lately, but the reminder of his old life is bringing back old habits.

  “Right, well I’ll see you early tomorrow morning, Moonie. Don’t forget to wear your sunglasses, it’s supposed to be sunny in LA.” There isn’t even a breath on the other end before Mr. Rogers hangs up the phone, and Troy sets the phone back into its cradle. He tries not to grind his teeth together because it’s unhealthy, but they’re starting on their own accord.

  “That bad, huh?” Cassidy asks as she brings in her empty bowl that had ice cream in it only moments before. Troy nods as he lets his fingers relax and tries to adopt his usual expression of indifference. It’s difficult, but he manages it.

  “So you won’t be helping with Reese’s Pieces tonight?” He wants to tell her that he might not be helping with Reese’s Pieces ever again, but he keeps his mouth shut and just shakes his head.

  “No, I’ll come out with you.” Cassidy grabs her laptop off the kitchen table as Troy gathers the ingredients for the formula and shakes it up in a bottle for the foal. The poor guy will be two weeks old tomorrow, but he’s growing just like any other foal. The veterinarian was in today to let them know that everything with Reese’s Pieces is normal.

  “Goodnight, Grant!” Troy waves his free hand once before he follows after Cassidy. She’s done something different with her hair tonight, and Troy furrows his brows when he sees that she’s wearing a touch of makeup on her face. In fact, she’s wearing a skirt and a tank top, which is impractical for the weather. Just before they get out the front door, Troy grabs two blankets from the hall closet. She’s going to need them.

  As soon as he steps outside, he wishes he had grabbed a sweatshirt himself. The air is cool, and they’ll have to put a few blankets over Reese’s Pieces to keep him warm. The other horses are already starting to sleep after their nightly meal, and Cassidy wastes no time in feeding the foal after she sets her laptop on the feed trough.

  “Don’t put the blankets down. I want to stay up on the loft tonight.” Suspicious now, Troy leaves her to take care of getting a blanket for Reese’s Pieces, and returns with two. He settles them over the foal’s back, and tries to get a glimpse of Cassidy’s face. She turns from him at the last second and grabs her laptop.

  Still curious as to why she’s avoiding speaking to him; Troy follows her with the blankets in hand. Cassidy waits for him to spread one over the fine filaments of hay on the wooden floor, and then she sits down with her back to the wall. Sitting down next to her, he spreads a blanket out over her bare legs and rubs his hands together to get some warmth into them.

  “So you’re leaving tomorrow.” It’s not a question, so Troy doesn’t answer her. She opens up the laptop and stares at the blank screen for a long time. “Will you come back?” It’s barely a whisper. Understanding dawns on him when he puts two and two together. Cassidy wore enticing clothes and tried to dress herself up without looking too obvious in front of her father because she knows that he might not be coming back after the trial.

  His cover probably won’t be blown here, but there’s a possibility that the agents won’t want to take the risk.

  “I don’t know.” He tells her truthfully as he looks down at his hands forming fists on his thighs. The scent of lavender washes over him as she shifts closer and he feels the familiar warmth leaving his other limbs and flooding somewhere else. “Cassidy,” He warns, but she’s already putting a soft hand on his.

  “Troy, I’m experiencing-” He cuts her off with a finger to her lips and a warning look in his eyes. He knows exactly what she’s going to say, and he doesn’t want to hear her say it aloud. It’ll make leaving just that much harder.

  Her hand is moving up his arm until it’s resting on the back of his neck, which is a feat for someone much shorter than him. The pink streak in her hair is curled and falls forward into her face as she tilts her head down so that Troy’s hand is cupping her cheek. He feels the moment she blushes and fumbles for something to say to her.

  “We shouldn’t. It’ll only make it that much harder for you to accept if I don’t come back.” Sleeping with other women has always been so easy, but actually getting to know someone and considering them a friend is different. Cassidy Grant slipped in under his ribcage to his heart like no other woman has been able to do just by showing him herself.

  “But what if you don’t come back? I’ll regret never taking the chance when I had it. I want you, Troy.” The name slices through him and reminds him momentarily of why he shouldn’t be do
ing this, but he gently closes the laptop lid with his free hand.

  Cassidy’s gulping with nervousness when he pulls it off her lap and replaces the warm spot with his large hand. She’s not foreign to sex, but she’s also not exactly an expert on the matter. Troy Red is most likely not a novice with his good looks and the dark, enchanting way he carries himself. She’s sure that plenty of women have thrown themselves at him, and for a heartbeat she wonders if she’s being a fool to do the same. Who cares?

  “Your father is going to kill me if he ever finds out.” Troy mumble as his hand starts to slip up under her skirt. The heat his fingers meet shocks him, and he can’t help the grin on his face as he moves in closer and bends down to take her lips with his. He’s met no resistance of cloth, and marvels at her bravery in going commando with such a short skirt.

  “He won’t find out.” She whispers as he pushes her down onto the blanket.

  The ability to speak is gone when he slips a finger under the hem of her tank top and brushes it over her erect nipple. Cassidy’s corresponding gasp hits him in the gut like a punch would, and he inhales sharply when she does. Wasting no time, he pulls down the straps of her shirt until he has her bra exposed, and unsnaps it deftly. It’s obvious he’s done this a thousand times.

  What she doesn’t know is that he’s never spent so much time making sure that a woman is getting her fill before he gets his. She’s gasping, and her cheeks are flushed as he teases just her breasts, palming them and pinching at the nipples until the moment that she becomes rigid under him. His nose brushes against the spot where her neck begins, and he kisses her there softly.

  “You’re beautiful,” He tells her with a thick voice, kissing a trail up her neck to her earlobe. His teeth come down gently there, and she’s reminded of the time that she tugged on his. Trying to reciprocate the pleasure, she reaches a hand up to tug on his earlobe gently again, and smiles when she gets a muffled hiss in return.