“I could say the same about you,” she whispers as her hands reach down to unbutton his jeans. This is risky, but it’s the only chance they might get. So she pulls his jeans off his hips and feels the weight of him in her hands.
“Good enough?” He asks with amusement as she strokes him until he’s as hard as a rock. Cassidy doesn’t answer him, well, not with words. She lets him push up her skirt until he can cup her bottom and bring her in close. It’s not how he imagined it would be because it’s much better than that.
Cassidy’s gasp of surprise fuels him as he inches into her slowly and waits for her to adjust. Then he takes her up and over the edge over and over again. He has to keep a hand over her mouth to keep in her screams as she orgasms. When he’s not holding them in with his hand, he’s tangling his tongue with hers to swallow them. Troy’s body becomes rigid suddenly as he loses his control and spills into her, and then he keeps going.
Chapter Eight
The alarm on Cassidy’s laptop is glaringly loud when it begins at five thirty in the morning. Troy rolls over on the blanket and immediately clicks the button to get it to stop, and glance at Cassidy’s sleepy face. Her hair is mussed, and her lips are swollen from his kisses. She’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in the morning, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with her forever.
“You should clean up. You look as if you’ve been ravaged all night.” Cassidy’s tinkling laughter at his words makes him hard all over again, and he has to inch away from her to keep from letting her know just how much just the sound of her voice makes him excited.
“You know, I’ve heard morning sex is the best.” Her hand snakes out to take him in it, and Troy growls when she starts to stroke rhythmically. Before she can utter another word, he pulls her on top and slams her down hard. Cassidy’s shocked squeak is breathy and enticing.
He doesn’t make it back to the house until six in the morning and manages to sneak past the kitchen without attracting Grant’s attention. They had to stop several times the previous night to feed Reese’s Pieces but in between those times they were busy getting busy. His shower is bitter cold and fast, but it does nothing to help the turmoil inside.
After brushing his teeth three times, Troy figures there is no more that he can do to waste time before he has to go down and face the old man. Breakfast is waiting on the table when he gets down there, along with a much more proper looking Cassidy. Their eyes meet for a millisecond before Troy starts into his breakfast like his life depends on it. He doesn’t want Grant asking any questions about last night.
“So that guy’s going to pick you up at seven?” Grant is looking at the clock on the stove when he asks, and Troy glances in its direction. He has ten minutes to be completely ready before Moonlight Rogers is on Grant’s doorstep knocking. Something tells Troy he won’t be late.
“Yeah, seven.” He grabs his plate and rinses it in the sink. Cassidy appears next to him and her arm brushes against his bare one. The hairs stand on end at contact, and he tries to hide the way his body reacts to her proximity. It was the best one night stand he’s ever had, and will ever have. Troy is certain of that.
He puts his plate and fork in the dishwasher before he goes to the hall bathroom to wash up one more time. Looking at himself in the mirror, he realizes that he’s changed. He looks the same, but there is something lacking in his eyes that used to be there. The cold, rigid Robert Trenton is missing. He’s been replaced with Troy Red, a man who wants nothing more than to stay on this farm and take care of a foal while he’s sleeping with a beautiful woman on the loft. If only he had just a few more days, a few more hours.
Gritting his teeth against the physical pain of knowing that he might not come back to see her again, Troy swallows his agony and flushes the toilet to give himself an excuse for spending so much time in the bathroom. Then he wanders out to the kitchen, sits down in the chair, and stares at the table in front of him with a fist resting on the cheap wood. The doorbell rings.
Grant answers it, calls to Troy that his ride has arrived, and Cassidy’s eyes begin to fill as she leans against the kitchen counter. Her chest is tight, and she’s having a hard time breathing, but she doesn’t allow the moisture to fall. Glancing at the doorway that leads to the hall where the front door is, Troy stands up from the table. The chair scrapes against the floor in the deadening silence and he turns to leave.
Realizing that Grant will probably never see him again either, Troy closes the distance between himself and Cassidy. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her up so that she’s sitting on the kitchen countertop. Her look of utter shock replaces the devastation on her face, and Troy leans down to kiss her roughly before he leaves. He won’t promise her that he’ll come back because that could easily be broken.
“I’ll do my best to come back.” That he can promise her. She chokes on a sob as he turns his back on her with hunched shoulders and brushes past her father’s shocked face. He obviously didn’t have a clue, but now he knows.
“Troy Red, I see you’ve been getting a good tan.” Moonlight Rogers smiles as he leads Troy out to the blue mini-cooper and opens up the passenger door. Slipping inside, Troy sees Cassidy standing in the doorway with a few tears trailing down her flushed cheeks, and he sees her bewildered father behind her.
“Yeah, got a good tan.” Troy whispers as he raises a hand in farewell.
He thought the hurt would dissipate as they got further and further away from the Grant residence, but it’s as if his heart is trying to leave his body behind to be where it wants. Moonlight hasn’t said much as they drive through the mountains the same way they came. There’s something playing on the radio about little submarines, but the words don’t mean much to Troy. It’s the melody that has him coughing to hide the tears.
I should have told her I love her.
* * *
“Well, this will be your hotel room until the trial is over. These two are your escorts, or whatever you want to call them. No, you’re not permitted to sleep with them.” Both men who have been stationed to guard Troy look at him with worry and disgust. He can’t bring himself to retaliate. “You are not permitted to leave this room, Troy. I mean it. There will be no phonecalls from this room, no letters, no texts, no nothing from you, not a damned peep! After the trial, well, I’ll tell you when that time comes. If you make it until then.” Moonlight Rogers smiles sickeningly and turns on his heel to leave.
“Wait!” Troy grabs the small man by the shoulder and spins him around before he can leave.
“What?” The poor guy looks as if he just wants to high tail it to his next job, but it’s as if he’s sucked back in again and again with this guy.
“Can you deliver a message?” Shocked, Mr. Rogers crosses his arms over his chest as he puffs it up and looks Troy up and down once.
“What message?” Troy opens his mouth to tell Moonlight to let Cassidy know that he loves her, and then it gets stuck in his throat. Would she appreciate it coming from someone like Moonlight instead of from his own lips? Would she think it cowardly or low that he didn’t say it to her face himself that morning?
“Never mind,” Dejected, Troy lets go of Moonlight Rogers and watches the man take him in one more time before he leaves.
The two thugs in suits standing outside of his suite door are a bit evident, but Troy doesn’t care about that. He sits down on the hotel bed and stares at the blank flat screen on the wall. The one he’s been staring at for the past two weeks is an old fashioned floor model with no HD. It would only hurt more if he flipped on this one to see the clear picture.
The trial is not for another two hours, and it will be packed outside of the courtroom. Troy would feel safe if he was in a jail cell right now, but he doesn’t want to say that out loud. If one of the agents heard him, they might take him seriously. Instead, he lies back on the covers and stares at the ceiling. Perhaps he could grab a few hours of sleep.
But the ceiling is staring at him like some type of
eye, and he cannot close his for fear that something more sinister will play behind his dark lids. Swallowing the urge to scream, Troy sits up and glances at the window. It probably wouldn’t be safe to open up the curtains even though he’s twelve stories in the air. He begins to pace, and by the time one of the agents opens up the door to let him know that his ride has arrived, Troy’s legs are sore.
“Look, I need you to deliver a message if I don’t make it through this.” He sits down on the bed and puts his face in his hands as he tries to psych himself up for what he’s going to say next. “I need you to find Cassidy Grant and tell her that I love her. But only if I’m not alive after this. Not that I don’t trust your guys’ skills, but I know some of the people who are after me. They’re just as good as you.” When he looks up, the agent has a frown on his face, and it’s obvious to Troy that he probably won’t deliver the message no matter what. Irritation scratches at his mind.
“Do you know why there were two male agents assigned to you?” The other agent is leaning against the bedroom door frame with a sneer on his face. He doesn’t wait for Troy to answer him. “Maggie transferred to another state because she couldn’t live with herself after what she did to Nick.” It takes Troy a second to realize they’re talking about the agent he slept with. His own sneer comes over his face. It seems like ages ago that happened.
“Good, she was a bitch and deserved to be embarrassed. She cheated on a good guy.” The agent in front of him rolls his eyes as he turns away from Troy and marches from the room. Realizing that the conversation is over, Troy uncurls his fingers and flattens them on his thigh so that they’re not in a fist anymore. His heart is pounding in his chest with fear as he stands.
The walk down the hall to the elevator is too short and long at the same time. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize everything around him as he follows the agents. The carpet is puke brown while the walls are an off-white. Each door is peach in color with brass numbers on them to let the resident know they’re at the proper room. The elevators are silver, and on the inside they look exactly like the hallway.
Even the music that is playing makes him want to vomit.
The streets outside are bustling with people, but they all stay clear of the two men in suits with their hulking captive. Troy ducks his head as he gets into the black SUV alongside the curb. He runs a hand through his hair and looks down at the crisp jeans he put on that morning. He’s still wearing his clothes from the farm and realizes that he was supposed to change too late.
Fuck them and their fancy clothes; I’d rather look like this. At least I know this is who I was met to be.
Troy stares out the window at the people on the streets going about their daily business. His gut twists as they drive into the legal district of Los Angeles, and then his insides turn to ice when he sees the building they will be entering. It’s tall and too white to his eyes with three statues that look as if they’re hanging from the stone above the door. Troy’s eyes narrow as he sees the glass doors, and his mouth goes dry when he sees the cameras all gathered around the front entrance.
The SUV bypasses the front entrance and pulls around the back. There are fewer reporters out back, but there are a few. As soon as the door opens, they start snapping pictures. No one knows his name, or why he’s here, but they’re hoping to get their career boosting story and begin to shout out questions. The agents make sure that Troy is escorted into the building quickly, and bypass security as they make their way to the courtroom.
Outside of the room, he sits on a bench as he waits for his turn in the room. The trial has already begun, and he tries to tell himself that it will only take a few minutes in there. He’ll say his piece and leave. When he gets out of that room, he’ll demand that they take him back to the Grant farm. If they refuse, he’ll take his identification with him and return himself.
One thing nags at the back of his mind. What if, by going back there, he leads someone back to the farm that might harm Cassidy and her father? Before he can analyze that thought any further, Troy is called into the courtroom. He is escorted to the front by an officer in uniform, and a woman close to the front gives him a wicked glare as he sits down in the seat on the stand. He’s sworn in quickly, and the Judge tells the prosecutor to proceed.
“Please state your name for the record.” Troy clears his throat and almost says the name he’s had for the past fourteen days, and then checks himself.
“Robert Trenton.” He responds in a clear voice. A few people shuffle and cough in the rows behind the prosecution and the defense.
“Mr. Trenton, for the record, please state what it is that you did for a living.” Suddenly it’s as if an alien has taken over his body. His lips twitch up at the corners in his cocky grin that he developed while he was a teenager to defend against judgment, and looks the jury in the eyes.
“I was a hit man, killer for hire, whatever you want to call it. I was paid to kill someone.” A few of the women look startled by his straightforward candor, and the men narrow their eyes. If they could hang him, they would. But he’s protected for the time being.
“Mr. Trenton is it true that on June 13 of this year 2013 you were called by Mr. Yukon?” The prosecutor motions towards the man sitting on the defense’s side and Troy narrows his eyes.
“Yes.” He responds in a deadly calm voice. The man sitting there is a balding, squat man with beady eyes that are the color of charcoal. He has sweat on the bald spot, and he looks everything like a rat should.
“Is it also true that Mr. Yukon asked you to murder his colleague, Gary Ingles, for the sum of thirty five thousand dollars?” The tension in the room is palatable, and Troy cannot look away from the beady eyed little man. This twerp is the man who hired someone to kill his family.
“Yes.” There’s a collective murmuring through the crowd, and the Judge bangs his gavel to get everyone to quiet down. Troy glances around at the sea of faces and grimaces when he sees someone sketching on a notepad. That sketch will show up in tomorrow’s newspaper. He’d bet money on it.
“And did you kill Mr. Ingles for Mr. Yukon, Mr. Trenton?” The air feels heavy, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe, but he tries not to show it by taking in controlled, slow breaths.
“Yes.” Simple, Troy thinks.
“So what you’re telling me, Mr. Trenton is that Mr. Yukon here hired you as a hit man to kill Mr. Ingles.” Troy nods, and then realizes he has to say it aloud, so he responds in kind.
“Yes.” More murmuring, more gavel pounding, and then the defense is standing up to question Troy. The man clears his throat and plasters a false, bright smile on his face. His hazel eyes bore into Troy’s, and they promise to disassemble his story. His dark gray suit is so crisp it barely moves when he does. Immediately, he leans on the railing near the Jury as he faces Troy as if he’s showing them that he’s including them in the conversation.
“Do you have family, Robert?” He pauses for effect. “You don’t mind if I call you Robert, right?” Troy doesn’t respond. His eyes sparkle with his hatred.
“I did.” Apparently he’s said something that amuses the man leaning against the railing, because his smile increases.
“You did? What happened to them, Robert?” The prosecution chooses that moment to intervene.
“Objection, your honor! This has nothing to do with the current case.” The Judge has a brief conference with both lawyers before they return to their positions, and the objection is denied.
“They were murdered.” Troy answers coldly staring at the defense lawyer. The ticking muscle in his jaw is the only giveaway that he’s enraged at this point. He feels as if his entire body is being pulled apart and reassembled as if he’s being made into a killing machine again. He wants to wrap his strong, thick fingers around that scrawny neck and-
Troy immediately stuffs those thoughts down and relaxes. This is business as usual. He can do this without letting it affect him.
“And do you believe that Mr. Yukon here had them m
urdered?”
“Objection, your honor! Speculation!” Troy furrows his brow and wonders if that’s even a reason. There’s another brief meeting held, and Troy can actually hear their heated discussion this time.
“On the grounds of speculation, really Hank?” The defense lawyer asks with mirth in his tone.
“Yes! This has nothing to do with the facts! Mr. Trenton’s opinion on his sister and niece’s murder case has nothing to do with this!” The prosecutor argues heatedly.
“Oh, if has everything to do with this! Do you really believe he’d be here if they were still alive?” The Judge intervenes as soon as he’s had his fill of their arguing for the day.
“Alright, where are you going with this, Jerry?” The blonde with the crisp suit straightens himself and raises his nose in the air.
“He has a motive to lie on the stand, Your Honor. He’s not a credible witness!” There’s a hint of a flush on the back of Jerry’s neck, and Troy leans back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks like a farm boy fresh off the farm, but there’s no denying that he also looks like the grim reaper.
“Do you understand that you are under oath, Mr. Trenton? If you are found guilty of lying under oath, you will be arrested and sentenced for obstruction of justice and much more.” Troy leans forward in his chair and looks straight at Mr. Yukon, who is currently mopping at the sweat with a napkin. He’s nervous because he knows that if Troy could he would ring this man’s neck.
“I understand.” The Judge looks worried, but he tells them all to proceed. Jerry is allowed his question.
“I believe Killian Yukon had my sister and my niece murdered.” Because I threatened to go to the police when he hired someone else to kill me, Troy adds silently.
Assassin Page 11