Microsoft Word - Assassin Master final for conversion Read online

  “Thank you, Tyr. You saved my life,” Carrie whimpered up at him. She was filled with awe and new hope; he said he would help her. She was doubly saved.

  His blue eyes gazed down on her, and she felt her heart leap with immediate attraction when he smiled, revealing white straight teeth. He was so close his warm, sweet breath flowed over her to brighten her flushed face. He’s so beautiful! she thought.

  The powerful arms gripping her would have made

  her weak in the knees if she hadn’t been already; he

  was so tall, so magnificently built. Black jeans hugged his muscular thighs, and his biceps strained under his t-shirt. She held him tightly, not wanting to release him, finally feeling safe in sheltering arms after such a long, terrifying ordeal.

  “Is she all right?” came an anxious voice to her left.

  Horrified, Carrie turned. It can’t be! Her brain and thoughts moved in slow motion. She was stunned to see Roll not two feet from her. “No, please don’t hit me again, Roll! Don’t hurt me anymore,” she cried out, terrified as he came closer.

  Carrie cowered back; she could feel the blood

  draining from her face. She turned, considering jumping back down the incline, her fear and desperation was so great, but Tyr tightened his grip on her as though sensing her intent. She was once again trapped. She splayed her filthy hands, one bloodied, before her in a pleading gesture.

  “Easy, don’t be afraid. I won’t hit you again. I

  won’t hurt you. You’ll be fine,” Roll soothed.

  But Carrie did not feel fine. She felt anything but fine. Her horror was about to begin again, it seemed. Giving in to terrified exhaustion, she fainted into

  Tyr’s arms.

  * * * *

  Roll lifted her eyelids. He ran his hands along the length of the terrible bruising adorning her body, and he studied her dirt-encrusted, bloody hand. “Damn it!

  This will definitely lower her price. If a buyer wanted her hurt this badly he would do it himself. But I’m not about to keep her until she recovers. I’ve learned my lesson with her.”

  “You beat her up? No wonder she ran from you,”

  Tyr howled angrily. He grabbed his weapon from Roll’s hand and strapped it on while still holding Carrie.

  Tyr was also noting the extensive bruising upon

  her tiny body. He looked at Roll with loathing. She must have been terrified out of her mind already; he needn’t have compounded it.

  Roll looked affronted. “I didn’t beat on her. I hit

  her once because she wouldn’t eat and looked like she was dying,” he said. He reached for the girl but Tyr held him off.

  “She looked like she was dying so you naturally

  thought hitting her would help?” Tyr yelled in outrage. “What the hell kind of stupid thinking is that!”

  “I wanted her to eat. I thought if I threatened her, she would,” Roll yelled back, equally outraged. “Give me the girl.”

  “She’s half mine now, you know,” Tyr said,

  suddenly thoughtful.

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “I found her. I saved her,” Tyr replied. He started walking and thinking. He held Carrie against his large chest, taking long strides.

  Roll followed. “But you ain’t never been into my kind of work,” Roll told him. “You don’t know anything about my profession, or my contacts.”

  “So teach me,” Tyr replied, shrugging.

  “Damn it, Tyr! She needs to get to her destination tomorrow before she stops eating again. I’m already going to take a hefty loss with her looking like this,” Roll whined in frustration.

  “Well, you’re the one who hit her,” Tyr reminded

  him.

  “I backhanded her once!” Roll howled. “You know me, I don’t normally beat on women!”

  “Once is all it would take with this tiny little

  thing,” Tyr said, gazing down into her pale complexion. He could just make out the swell of one high creamy breast under her torn shirt. The poor little thing was a mess. She was filthy and cut with long bloody scrapes. Her clothes were ripped to shreds, buttons missing off her shirt. “She won’t bring much looking like this.”

  “We can clean her up. Besides I have a client who will pay decent money for an innocent young virgin,” Roll told him.

  Tyr stopped short. Another reason she was so

  terrified. As though sensing an opportunity, Roll raced in front of him, tugging the girl into his own arms.

  “Just how old is she?” Tyr asked. With her disheveled appearance she looked no more than sixteen.

  “Relax, buddy, she’s old enough. I do my homework. You know I don’t ever dabble in the other. Hell, I got a few of my own kids out there...somewhere,” Roll replied.

  “So now what? Now what do we do with her?” Tyr

  asked.

  At first Tyr had thought to just antagonize Roll. He had been angry at the sweet little thing's pitiful pleas to the man, and the way she had fainted in terror within his arms. Tyr never had any intension of owning the girl, but there was something about her, the way she had clung to him, needing him, which gave him pause. His gut was screaming he should just walk away and keep on walking. Roll was right when he said this wasn’t his line of work.

  Roll was off at a steady pace, obviously wanting to get her back to the cabin. “I want to drug her, since she’s eaten, then put her in a hot bath to wash her. She’ll be easier to work with if sedated. Besides I don’t want to risk her trying to drown herself. This is still very salvageable. If we’re lucky she’ll be gone from our sight by late tomorrow night. Hell, I might even get some fishing in with you for a couple of days before my next assignment.”

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t hurt me,” Carrie cried out. Her frantic voice seemed so minuscule in the quiet room.

  “We’re not going to hurt you. You know we won’t, you just need to be cleaned up some. You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll feel better if you’re more relaxed,” Roll soothed. He was filling a small syringe with clear liquid.

  Tyr was watching the exchange from the doorway, his arms crossed over his powerful chest. He was frowning. Carrie had awoken in Roll’s arms and, upon seeing his face, she struggled to the ground and had again fallen and been injured. She had managed to make it to the cabin on her own feet after refusing aid from either man, though she moved stiffly. She was now stumbling, limping around the cabin living room, away from Roll’s approach. Roll followed her, moving carefully, trying to corner her and bar her escape.

  “Damn you, you vile, evil bastard, leave me

  alone!” Carrie screamed, and again dodged to avoid him. Her momentum haphazard, she banged off one of the hard wooden walls, causing Tyr to flinch. To him she resembled a wild, desperately frightened

  animal.

  “I can see you are in pain, I just want to help. Come on now, you know you’ll wake up again, you have before,” Roll said encouragingly. He moved closer.

  Carrie’s eyes danced around the room, seeking escape. Her desperate look turned to steely resolve, and she raced for the picture window. It was obvious she intended on crashing through it, consequences be damned.

  Tyr, seeing her panicked intent, dashed after her.

  Being the faster of the two, he captured her to his chest, lifting her from her feet, holding her snugly against himself, stilling her flailing arms. Roll moved to the both of them, then stumbled back, surprised as Carrie’s feet came up and slammed into his belly. The syringe fell to the floor. Tyr shifted her body and pinned her to the ground, forcing a great deal of his weight onto her. He held her immobile until Roll once more grabbed up the needle and jabbed it into her arm. Carrie cried out in pain.

  “No! I want a family! Don’t do this to me,

  please!” she cried out.

  Sobbing brokenly, she turned from her belly in Tyr’s embrace, and he allowed her to, removing his weight, sensing her helplessness. She locked terrified, ago
nized eyes on him. “I want a home that is my own. I beg you. You said you would help me. Tyr, I need a family, I need to be loved. I need love. Oh God, Tyr,

  please, help me...” she whimpered up at him before her eyes closed and she slumped beneath him.

  “Damn it, she’s tough for such a little thing,” Roll

  complained, rubbing his stomach.

  “You didn’t have to shove it in so cruelly,” Tyr grumbled. He placed his thumb hard over the hole the needle had caused, stopping the flow of blood oozing from it.

  “She kicked me!” Roll said defensively.

  “You stole her!” Tyr raged.

  Both men were then on their feet, glaring at one another. Roll was the first to relent. “Don’t you think there is a reason why you’re not in this line of work?” Roll asked.

  “I’m an assassin!” Tyr howled in outrage. “Do you

  know how many men I have killed?”

  “No. But I know how many innocents you have not harmed,” Roll replied quietly.

  It was well known in their tight circle Tyr was a killer of the evil, not the innocent. The organization he worked for disposed of evil people who killed for pleasure or sport. Yes, he was big and bad. But this particular line of work angered him to a certain degree. He knew Roll did not kill these women. Most often, he was contracted to take them.

  Roll didn’t like to kill and took painstaking

  precautions to make certain they arrived at their destination alive and unharmed. It was a job he enjoyed. Tyr knew of others who grabbed their

  victims and took great delight in antagonizing them before delivery. If Roll had been one of those men he wouldn’t have bothered with him; in fact, he might have been commissioned to end his escapade.

  Most of these contracted were brought in because

  the buyer was not as wealthy. They couldn’t afford Roll’s prices, which promised a certain amount of compassion and mercy. When using his services, the buyers would not need to spend time dealing with babbling, incoherent, or mindless zombies after delivery. The victims were usually delivered battered and abused by the other more inexpensive dealers. Some were killed when their aggressors became too eager or violent.

  Though his organization frowned on slave trading,

  they seldom interfered. It was a widespread market, a more ambitious concept than the organization could keep up with if they did so choose. They did not choose to with a great many. The slaves were coveted, not brutally murdered, and those in the trade offered his kind an escape from the drudgery of continuous cruelty. Tyr had sought such a refuge upon occasion. Within his circle of these secluded friends, the captured women were seldom abused, and most became eager to please for a trinket or a gentle hand.

  Running frustrated fingers through his hair, Tyr

  calmed his outrage. Roll was right. He held a special spot for innocents. The helpless, frightened, agonized little thing lying before him had unnerved him.

  Tyr also understood her want and need for family. He had been so alone, without any family, until his brother had found a woman to help him feel again after years of hardening his heart to ice. Only then had he been able to reunite with Wolf. His sister-in- law, Casey, and their child, his beautiful, adorable niece, Rhea, gave so much to him. He was saddened he was unable to go with them. But because he had frightened the woman they were visiting at one time so badly, he remained behind, an unwelcome third wheel when one wasn’t wanted.

  “Get the bath started,” Tyr said quietly. Roll nodded in affirmation and moved off.

  * * * *

  Tyr dripped a cupped handful of water to trail over Carrie’s nude body; the tiny droplets danced over her porcelain flesh. They had thoroughly washed her cuts and numerous scrapes, giving generous attention to her injured hand. Though nasty, the wound was not deep and would not require the aid of stitches.

  Roll had soaped her greasy, tangled hair, careful

  to keep her head from slipping under the water. Tyr washed leisurely at her high, full, firm breasts, soaping first one then the other, his thumb running across her nipple, hardening it to a fine pebble.

  Working together, Roll and Tyr turned her over into the water to wash her back and bottom, while Tyr supported her chest and head across his large

  forearm. Roll was dismayed as Carrie coughed again; the intensity shook her tiny body. Her chest wheezed with the effort and she gasped for air; her chest gurgled.

  “She’s sick,” Roll stated. "She must have caught

  cold while outside last night. She was still wet when we found her, and her skin was so cold, I should have seen it, but was so happy just to have found her, I wasn’t really paying careful attention.”

  Tyr concurred. After each cough, both could hear the wheeze gaining in intensity from her lungs as she struggled for each breath.

  “I’m no expert like you, Roll, but I wouldn’t buy a

  sick woman, virgin or no, beautiful or not. She could infect my others...if I had any.”

  Dismayed, Roll realized he was right. The only buyers he would find now would be ones who would not care if she was ill. They would play with her viciously, antagonizing her until she died. Roll didn’t like the idea. He would rather watch her perish in front of him.

  At least she would not be tormented until her

  end. After trailing her for nine months he still felt a certain possessive connection.

  “I can’t keep her much longer. I have a job I’m contracted to do in the next week that can’t be postponed and she can’t stay here all alone. I’ll be gone at least a week, maybe more. I can’t keep her tied for that long, she’d be dead by the time I got

  back. And since she’s sick she’ll need someone to watch her. I don’t know what to do with her. I don’t want her to die and I don’t want to sell her to those damn hard asses in the underground,” Roll mused.

  He gently lifted her body from the tub while Tyr

  covered her over with a large towel. Roll placed her on the couch and rubbed at her hair, thinking she felt so frail, like her life was hanging by a fine thread.

  “You have anything she can wear?” Tyr asked. He

  was looking towards the sorry mess left of her filthy, ripped clothing. “If she wakes up nude she will no doubt be even more frightened. With this cold she has developed she’ll need to be kept warm.”

  “Why on earth would I have women’s clothes lying around? Most of these women leave here nude! I burn the clothes to dispose of any evidence, as well as any blanket they used, or mattress they soil. DNA is a bitch, you know that!” Roll snapped, annoyed, although he realized Tyr was once again right, she did need to be kept warm.

  Tyr went to his duffel bag. Rifling through it, he removed a pair of thick wool socks and a long- sleeved, flannel shirt. Once clothed and clean, Roll placed her into the small bed. He felt her forehead, glancing at Tyr. "She's hot, and her cheeks are flushed. No doubt it will get worse." He tucked a thick blanket around her, keeping her unbound and turning her onto her side. He then ventured into the kitchen, saying something about cooking dinner. Outside the

  sky had darkened.

  “She’ll need medicine, antibiotics, cough meds. Maybe some vitamins and lots of fluids,” Tyr said. He sat himself down at the kitchen table.

  “I can get medicine and juice,” Roll replied

  tiredly. “But I doubt she’ll take it.” “She’ll take it,” Tyr said.

  “I couldn’t get her to take a sip of water,” Roll informed him.

  “She doesn’t like you,” Tyr said, chuckling.

  “What makes you think she’ll like you?” Roll asked.

  “I saved her.”

  “You brought her back here,” Roll reminded him. “True. But when I rappelled down after her I told

  her I would help her. She doesn’t know I just meant up the hill. If I could convince her I’m a friend and can save her from this situation, she might relent,” Tyr said.

  “That could work,” Roll sai
d, feeling renewed

  excitement. “I could fly out and get the medicine, bring it back and head out for my targeted contract while you get her well again. We would both profit from it. When cleaned up and whole she looks dynamite. Any of the men I have lined up for her will be hot and panting to train her.”

  Roll placed two plates containing hot dogs and beans on the table. He enthusiastically bit into a large amount of food. His mind was working at a furious

  rate. He knew women found Tyr disarming and devilishly handsome. He was charismatic and charming when he chose to be, with just an edge of dangerous intensity to make a woman weak at the knees.

  Yes, indeed, this could really work. Smiling happily now, Roll drank down his beer. Tyr could get her cleaned up and feeling better in two weeks for sure. He could get in touch with his contacts and then after delivery, could take a much needed vacation.

  “You really think you can do it?” Roll asked.

  “Sure,” Tyr replied, though he looked less than happy. His own food remained hardly touched before him.

  “Shelve your compassion and mercy, my friend, or