“Not necessarily. We do have a Wolf at our house,” Damien said cheekily. He snapped his teeth together, then growled at her.
Chloe punched him in the gut. Damien groaned and laughed heartily, then pulled her into his arms, snuggling her. “Humor me, please? Just until Dirk’s satisfied it was a one time deal, please, please, please.”
“Fine,” Chloe said on an expelled breath, annoyed, though somewhat mollified. “But can I make tacos? Your dad’s idea of lunch and mine differ substantially.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Damien replied on an air of excitement, rubbing his hands together. “I love your cooking. Pheasant under glass is fine once in a while…but tacos are decidedly better!”
* * * *
Chloe had been staring at the cover of the black book for over an hour while in her room. She paced back and forth, agitated, across her spacious bedroom. The hour had grown late and she had retired for the night. Dirk was still away and Chloe had grumbled once more at not being allowed to wander the town. She was, after all, a grown woman. She wished Dirk would hurry up. Sighing, she realized Damien was right. Dirk wouldn’t be satisfied until every stone had been overturned and examined beyond critically.
Finally, and with some misgiving, Chloe picked up the black book and settled into bed with it. She gathered the covers around her, huddling under for the protection they seemed to give. She pulled a velvety, old floppy-eared dog under her arm, a long ago birthday gift from Dirk. Taking a deep breath, she opened the book and began to read.
January, what a roller coaster of a month. Five hits already. Every mark worse than the last. Some so damned young. Iron Hand is merciless. He nags about my drinking, but man oh man, with what I’ve seen and done, he’s lucky I’m not in the nuthouse.
That last chick was a real shame, pretty little thing too. I hated to see her cry. She was so scared and helpless, begging me not to hurt her, but hell, he wanted her done. I felt for her and did her quick after shooting her up so she would be asleep and not feel anything. I wonder if she told him no and he got pissed. Oh well, it pays the bills and I ain’t the kinda person stupid enough to ask dangerous questions.
Chloe bowed her head into her hands. Her father had murdered women. What was next, cripples, children, babies? She knew she should throw the book out. Give it to Dirk or Damien, flush it down the toilet, burn it. Why was she tormenting herself with it?
Suddenly she had a terrible insight. She wondered if her mother had read it. Thinking hard, she had a vague recollection of the book being held in shaky, slender hands. Her mother had read it. No wonder she went crazy. Chloe was ready to bolt from her fear of him, even though he was dead. James had been right; knowing what they did was not a preparation for knowing what they did.
Chloe took a deep breath in and exhaled it. She rationally collected her thoughts. James took evil lives, not innocents. Either the story was a complete fabrication or the woman must have done something horrible. Whether she cried or not didn't matter. Of course she would cry, beg for her life, evil or not, right? Maybe if she read more she could discover her crime. She flipped a few pages ahead.
My wife is livid. Chloe is playing with James’ son, Damien, she seems smitten with the boy. The two are inseparable. The girl spends way too much time at the big house. My wife knows I’m afraid for the little darlin’. Butwhat do I do? The only way to protect her is to play dumb. Like I don’t know what James is thinking. I wish he would let me walk, this whole set up stinks.
My poor little girl. She’s too young to understand the terrible danger she’s in. Maybe if I hurt her a bit. Get her sent to a hospital. I’ll be able to say she died and then bundle her up and get her the hell away from this madness.
James never lets my wife into a hospital, no matter how bad I beat her hoping to saveher. I’m afraid to hurt her worse, break a bone or two, even though she begs me to. I tell her he won’t ever let her go to the hospital, too many questions. Maybe he’ll have more pity for the girl, he seems to like her. I hate to do it, I love her so much, but it’s worth a try…
Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. No! It couldn’t be. A man wouldn’t beat his child to protect her…would he? Chloe’s thoughts became frantic. Her tears fell in a steady stream in her outraged anger.
She remembered the last time her father beat her, how horrible it was, the excruciating agony. Granny stopping him. Samantha had taken care of her and brought a doctor to the house. Chloe loved James.
Her mother went insane; it was all her father’s fault. He was manipulating Chloe from the grave, just like her mother had been manipulated. This was all wrong! He must have planted this book of deceptions for her mother to find and now Chloe had found it. Her mother must have hidden it in her desperation. Her irrational mind would have been terrified for James to find the book. No doubt she would have thought there would be horrible consequences.
Chloe shoved a fist to her mouth to stop the terrible sobbing. Her poor mother. To have been treated so inhumanly by her own husband, a man she had trusted. He had betrayed her. Having the life of her daughter hung over her head so evilly and for so long. How could he?
Why would he?
She gave her head a shake. How could she be the child of such a monster? The thought sickened her. She must give the book to James tomorrow. He would be so angry with her father, again.
Now he would understand why her mother had been so terrified, why she went crazy. If she had been reading it like a bible, hanging onto her father’s memory, of course she would have succumbed to the terror of her thoughts. The poor woman, to be trapped forever with lies. How awful for her, for Chloe. Thank heaven she was finally at peace.
With that line of reasoning, Chloe calmed. She had a better understanding of her mother’s fears. She didn’t feel as abandoned by her. She really had loved Chloe and felt she was protecting her, even though her thoughts had been manipulated and misguided.
Chloe felt sorry for her. She felt saddened for all of the time she had spent so angry with her for trying to keep her away from James and the others. She wondered if James was right; perhaps her mother would have done something to her in an attempt to ‘save’ her. She needed to speak to James. James would take care of it, like Dirk had said so long ago after her father had died; James would take care of everything.
* * * *
Chloe looked around the empty house. There hadn’t been much in there belonging to them. Everything they owned had come from James. When she had awoken that morning James and the other men had been gone on business, she had been informed. Candy told her they had gone to meet Dirk.
Chloe had tucked the book into her back pocket and walked the long driveway to her old home, wanting the fresh air to clear her head. She refused to read more filthy lies. She was too smart for her father to manipulate; she had grown up with these men. Never once had they harmed her like he had. James loved her, as did Dirk and Damien. She was safe with them. She hoped her father was rotting in hell.
With a small sigh, Chloe picked up her last box, intending to head home…her true home. She would give the book to James. He would hold her and declare it all horrible lies. He would confirm what she knew to be the truth. She would then ask him to drive her to her mother’s grave. She would ask James if they could stop for carnations, her mother’s favorite flower.
The least she could do was say she was sorry, she had never realized how manipulative her father had been. She would stay with James now without the threat of her mother’s insanity hanging over her and finally be able to get on with her life. It was like a black cloud had lifted from her spirit.
Chloe walked from the house, smiling. It would be nice to hear what James would say about the book. He would take her into his arms, comfort her. He would tell her about how he always took care of her, loved her, protected her. He kept her safe; she was wanted, one of his own, she belonged. There would be no reason for him to want to kill a child back then, no matter what she had overheard. He knew
she would never talk. She was family.
Her mother should have listened to James. Maybe then she wouldn’t have gone crazy. Perhaps she would still be alive and not wanting to overdose when the nurse fell asleep. Perhaps they would have had a better relationship. Chloe determined again it was all her father’s fault; he had killed her mother from his grave.
Chloe closed the door behind her with a feeling of finality. Her past now in the past, her future ahead. She walked down the cement walkway, humming. She noted all the cracks had been fixed in anticipation of the new occupants.
James was so efficient. Her and Damien’s names, which had been written in the cement years ago, were gone. She stepped onto the paved driveway and stopped halfway down to look back at the tiny yellow house with blue shuttered windows. The landscaping was, as always, meticulous.
She wondered if she would miss the willow tree. Perhaps she could visit it; her doll was safely sequestered within the box she held. Everything about the house held bittersweet memories. The house that had known her first steps, her first smile, her first tears, her parents. She supposed she should miss it, but she knew she wouldn’t.
Chloe turned once more to begin her journey home. A new destiny awaited her, no more secrets or worries. A clean slate.
She watched as James’ limousine entered his own driveway and pulled to a slow stop to wait for her. Chloe waved happily as James exited the car, followed by Dirk and Damien and a few bodyguards.
Her step quickened in anticipation. The book in her back pocket didn’t feel as overwhelmingly heavy anymore. Her dread had dissipated, now that she knew what she was going to do with the book. She could see James smiling at her. She chuckled, noting the drink in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, even this early.
A thunderous noise imploded into her head, deafening her. The box she held against her chest went sailing into the air, ripped from her surprised hands as she was sent flying from the blast that erupted from behind her.
The entire house exploded, propelling her forwards. The heat of the flames reached her, overwhelmed her, singeing her hair and clothing. She could hear glass shatter behind her, the popping sounds of the potted plants when they erupted one by one as the heat surrounded them. Her own scream rasped her throat as she flailed wildly for solid ground.
The box she had been holding crashed onto the side of the lawn ahead of her, spilling its contents. The ancient doll's face shattered and scattered in pieces like a jigsaw puzzle, its one cloudy blue eye rolled, then rested amidst the dirt, rocking once, twice, settling like a finely cast marble.
Chloe hit the driveway hard. Her breath was knocked from her and she was unable to gasp in more when her slight body bounced, then landed once more, scraping along the pavement, tearing and ripping at her clothing.
Off to the side she could see Damien running for her in slow motion, she could even make out her name on his lips in his fear. He was followed just as slowly by the others from the car. She mentally begged Damien to hurry, she was terrified, she needed him. Salvator, please come, help me.
Chloe’s head slammed down against the blackened pavement on her second impact, all went an eerie darkness, sending her into oblivion.
Chapter Four
“Daddy!” Chloe screamed. The car was on fire, an inferno on the road a short distance from her home. She could feel the heat licking her flesh and clothing. Billowing flames and blackened clouds pooled around the driver's side window where her daddy should be sitting.
Chloe was running, but her bones hurt too much. She slowed until her pain forced her to a complete stop, her little chest heaving. She remembered her daddy had hurt her the night before in her ribs and she was unable to run any farther.
She sobbed in confusion, a tiny fist pressed to her mouth. Cars weren’t supposed to explode, and yet flowing vibrant colors of death danced before her terrified eyes. A sickening stench of burning meat rent the air.
Chloe could hear her mommy screaming, her granny yelling, the sound frightening her further. She stood motionless, trapped in fear. Where should she go? What should she do? There was no place to hide out in the open.
Mommy? Daddy?
Her tiny chest heaved in and out frantically, hurting her. Her fear was overpowering, the pressure to breathe became almost unbearable; her tiny ribs ached. Her thoughts jumbled, her head ached, she became irrational.
She hurt, she hurt so much. Suddenly, Dirk was before her, his powerful frame shielding her line of vision from the horror she was witness to, blocking the overwhelming heat of the flames. His gentle hand rested reassuringly on her quaking shoulder. A soft finger trailed along her wet cheek.
“You’re fine, sweetheart. Chloe, baby, you’re fine. I’m here. Dirk is here for you, honey.” Chloe heard his familiar voice from a distance. She felt so strange, as he suddenly seemed to disappear as fast as he had appeared. In fact all light vanished with him.
“Dirk, please help me, I need you!” Chloe cried, searching for his voice amidst the overpowering darkness. Where had he gone? Why had he left her?
“Chloe, I’m here!” Dirk thundered, jarring her from her frightened hell. A large hand clasped her jaw, forcing her to focus.
Startled into reality, Chloe opened her eyes at the deep command in his voice. Chloe always listened to Dirk, it was important. All her life it had been stressed it was important to obey this man without question. “Dirk?” she whimpered, sensing he was close.
“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here for you.”
“Where, Dirk?” Chloe asked, frightened. Everything was so dark; she couldn’t make out his form. She could scarcely make out the noise of a breath of another from a short distance. She cocked her head, listening to the strange sounds: shuffling noises, a slight cough.
“I’m here, Chloe,” Dirk replied, and pulled her into his arms.
“Please, put the light on. I need to see you,” Chloe whimpered. She buried her face in his warm neck, smelling the rugged cologne that was uniquely his. His voice was comforting, his large hands rubbed at her back, but she needed to look into his eyes, eyes that had, in the past, soothed her with their gentleness and quiet strength.
She felt Dirk stroke a thumb over her cheek; he settled her face between the palms of his hands.
“Chloe, I want you to close your eyes,” Dirk commanded. Chloe complied. “Now, honey, open them slowly and look at me.”
She fluttered her eyes open, batting her lashes as she tried to focus. She gazed about searchingly. “Dirk, it’s too dark, I can’t see you,” she whimpered once more, feeling dazed and confused.
“Chloe,” she heard James say. He sounded agonized.
“James, where are you? Please turn the light on, I’m scared,” Chloe sobbed, reaching through the air for him, needing him, his comfort.
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart, you’re safe.” She felt her flailing hand captured.
“James, I can’t see you, why can’t I see you? What’s happened to me?” Chloe asked. She ground her fist at her eyes in frustration; once more she blinked hard.
“You’ll be fine, Chloe. You received a horrific bang to your head. It appears to be affecting your sight. The doctor says you’ll be fine. Just rest. We’ll take care of you, I promise.” Chloe could hear the tremor in James' voice.
“Am I at the hospital?”
“No, sweetheart. You’re home, here in your own bed,” Dirk replied.
He never allowed them a trip to the hospital. The thought crashed into Chloe’s head like a tsunami. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?” Chloe asked in a small, tight voice. This was the worst she had ever been injured in her life. She should have been taken to the hospital.
“Chloe, it was no accident the house exploded. There was a bomb. A deliberate attempt on someone’s life. The police are asking too many questions as it is. It’s safer for you here, with us; we can protect you better. A hospital is too open, too easy to access. I want to keep everyone as close as possible for the time being,” Di
rk explained.
Chloe swallowed heavily. She doubted the police even knew she had been injured in the blast, or that she even existed. James would have covered it up. What if she had died?
A horrible image of being placed into a glass case and covered over with cement came to mind. The many fountains James had in the backyard were all situated over cement.
Chloe sobbed at her terrifying thoughts. No one in the outside world would ever miss her; she had no other family and very few friends James deemed good enough for her. They were her family, they loved her, they must love her. It was a coincidence her father had been killed by a bomb, only a horrible coincidence. Dirk must be right, they could protect her better here…and yet she had been injured under their protection.
“It’s all right, Chloe. Don’t cry. You’ll get your sight back. Please don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Damien pulled her from Dirk’s arms to cuddle her into his own. She felt his chin settle onto the top of her head.
“Don’t leave me,” Chloe whimpered, clutching at him. Hearing his soothing voice settled her thoughts. Of course she was safe. Damien would never allow anyone to hurt her on purpose. He was a grown man, a very powerful man. Built as powerfully as Dirk now. She wouldn’t let her mother’s suspicions and insanity get to her.
The book was full of lies. These men were her family, they loved her. Damien had always loved her. It was just shock that was disrupting her thoughts. She remembered he had raced to her after the explosion, without thought or fear to himself. They all had.
“I won’t ever leave you, babe, you’re stuck with me,” Damien replied.
Chloe could envision the soft smile on his full lips. She pictured his handsome face while her head lay against his warm chest. The subtle scent of his cologne drifted from his neck to tickle her nose.
She breathed him in, calming within his arms, her hands trailing along the familiar contours of his back and hips. She pulled his arms more snugly to herself. Damien lowered her back down and settled her head onto her pillow. He caressed a few tendrils of hair away from her cheek. He pulled her covers up, enveloping her in a dark world of seeming safety, but she remained unsure.
Assassin Deception Page 5