My Assassin Lover Read online

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  My Assassin Lover

  by C. L. Scholey

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  Erotica/Romance

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  Whispers Publishing

  www.whispershome.com

  Copyright ©C. L. Scholey

  First published in 2010

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  About the author

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  My Assassin Lover

  C. L. Scholey

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!

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  Also by C.L. Scholey

  Love's Dangerous Territory

  Writing as Constantine DeBohon

  Desirous

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  My Assassin Lover

  A Whispers Publishing Publication

  October 2010

  Copyright (C)2010 C. L. Scholey

  Cover illustration copyright (C) 2010 Traci Markou

  ISBN Not Assigned

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

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  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my sister, Wendy, and my sister-in-law, Brigitte. And for Seani.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Prologue

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  The distraught man sat quietly weeping in pitiful anguish, a cascade of tears running from red-rimmed eyes uninhibited down sodden cheeks. He clutched a well-worn picture of himself and his young daughter to his chest. His devastation was apparent. His misery, an open book upon his face, told a detailed story of his heart-wrenching pain.

  “She killed her,” the man whispered on a choked breath. A balled fist rose to swipe at pained eyes; the wetness absorbed into his rumpled clothing, leaving a tiny stain on his dark satin shirt.

  “Do you have a picture?” another man asked. His gaze was expressionless, yet inwardly he was enraged; he had never condoned the murder of children.

  “Yes,” the man breathed out. His hand shaking, he carefully handed over the picture of himself happily clutching a girl of no more than eight to his chest. The two smiling faces looked bright-eyed at the camera as they waded knee-deep in a sea of brilliant, heart-stopping blue. Palm trees dotted the distant white sand against a beautiful, glorious summer's day. “This picture was taken last year while we were on vacation.”

  “Do you have any idea who could have been responsible?” the dark-eyed, dark-haired man asked. He stared intently at the picture of the sweet-faced cherub. Her long, flowing, white-blond hair seemed to caress her father's form as he held her possessively to himself.

  “Yes, I know her,” the agonized man sobbed in pain. His face went from anguish to hateful, seething anger.

  “Do you have anything I can identify her with?” the dark-haired man asked.

  Slowly, the man produced another picture. With a shaky hand, he offered it over.

  “This is her. This is the heartless, soulless bitch that killed my baby girl without mercy. She ended her life before it even began and I don't understand why. My little Abby was helpless. She was so small and defenseless; this killer took her life without any reason. Please, please stop her before she kills again and devastates another father's life. Please make her pay. I will give you anything you ask. I would give you my soul. Abby must not die in vain,” the man begged. He ran his shaking hand over his pale face, wiping the tears away. He looked, red-eyed and haggard, into the dark-haired man's fathomless expression.

  The dark-haired man studied the picture before him. The woman had shoulder-length light brown hair. She was looking at the camera with a searing, angry expression. Her cold brown eyes glared at whomever had snapped the shot. Clearly, she had been enraged.

  The man tucked the pictures into his coat pocket, the face of woman and child already memorized.

  “I will avenge your daughter,” the man swore with strong conviction.

  “I will pay you anything, I will give you anything, I promise,” the man declared, his eyes still flowing freely with his tears, his relief apparent.

  “Do you know where this woman is?” the dark-haired man asked.

  “Yes. She is going on a cruise. She killed my baby girl, then decided she needed a break. I can't believe I lived with her. I can't believe she is taking my money and going on a vacation after what she did. She informed me we needed time away from one another. Can you believe that? She needs time to collect her thoughts,” the man raged. Another mournful sob raked his slumped shoulders, a shaky hand dragged across his tired eyes.

  “I will take care of this,” the dark-haired man promised.

  “Please. She needs to be stopped, she can't be allowed to kill another child again,” the man whimpered imploringly.

  “She won't. I'll make certain,” the large, dark-haired man stated with deep conviction. He arose and placed a quick hand on the grieving man's shoulder. Then, with purpose, he strode off. He had just enough time to sign up for a cruise. This was one boat ride he would not be late for.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter One

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  Casey looked over the railing, watching the large waves bubbling and swirling beneath her. She breathed in deeply the tangy-salt ocean air and tried to still her erratic heartbeat. Her apprehension mounted. She had never before taken a cruise, yet the incessant pleading of her husband had struck a chord within her. It had been a long two months. David was right; they did need a break from one another. After little Abby had been killed, David's anguish almost destroyed him; his anger had driven a thick wedge between them both.

  Casey had known he had blamed her for the accident. She had been the one with Abby when it had happened. It had been so horrible. Casey could still hear the child's cry of terror, feel her own overwhelming horror as a scream ripped from her mouth in
the terrible, empty darkness. Absently, she ran her hand along her shoulder and winced from the pain an angry burn mark still caused her, both physically and mentally. She realized it was not the physical pain, but the emotional one still to heal.

  Sighing softly, refusing to dwell on the agony of the past, Casey watched as a seagull flew and then glided slowly overhead. Its fluttering wings dipped in a downdraft, then sailed silently onward into the clear blue, cloudless sky. She envied its reckless, carefree movement. Oh, to fly and fly without a worry.

  Distracted, she wondered why it was so far out from land. It made no attempt to rest on the great ship, just passed lazily farther out to sea with some unknown destination in mind. Her brows knit together softly against the warmth of the sun. She raised a slender hand to shield her eyes as she watched the bird float with the wind farther, farther, until it finally vanished from her sight, as though it simply disappeared, enveloped in the embrace of the horizon. She gazed, puzzling after it, her brows furrowed in a fine line upon her forehead.

  “They come out here to die.”

  Startled, Casey spun and found herself gazing up into the face of a remarkably tall and handsome man, who towered over her slight form. His thick, midnight dark black hair barely reached his ears, curling softly. His light baby-blue t-shirt stretched across the wide, generous span of his broad chest. Faded blue jeans hugged his narrow hips, defining muscular thighs. She felt a moment's attraction flutter within her breast at his mythical Greek god good looks. Casey shuddered though, when she looked up into his eyes. Hard, ice-cold, deep brown eyes steadily returned her look, until Casey actually felt herself starting to quiver with trepidation.

  “I beg your pardon?” Casey asked, with an air of confusion. She tilted her head to the side, bemused.

  “Seagulls, they come out here to die,” the man replied. His gaze intensified until Casey squirmed under his scrutiny.

  “Really, I never knew that,” she mumbled, unnerved at the man's uncanny intuitiveness for knowing what she had been thinking. She noted with dismay her hand was clutching the railing, turning her fingers white. She loosened her grip and forced herself to relax. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She was on a cruise ship out in the open, nothing could possibly happen to her in public. The man was only engaging in polite conversation. But why did she feel suddenly so uncomfortable? Perhaps it was because he was moving ever so slowly towards her, a clear encumbrance of her private personal space. Casey couldn't shake the thought he was advancing to intimidate her, to frighten her.

  “Your first cruise?” the man asked conversationally. His voice was low pitched, deep and even, with the slightest hint of an accent. He now stood only inches from her. His powerful form was indeed intimidating. If it was his intention to cause her fear, he was succeeding, although Casey was at a loss to imagine why he would want to accomplish such a foul deed. She stood vulnerable before him. He was more than twice her size, powerfully built. She had nothing he could possibly want.

  “Yes,” Casey stammered. She was now beyond uncomfortable with his close proximity. To her dismay, goose bumps adorned her bare arms. “If you will please excuse me, I'm suddenly not feeling very well,” she added hastily. It definitely was not a lie—her stomach, which had before been mildly queasy, was now rolling ominously with each wave as he pressed ever closer.

  Casey moved to step around the man, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her retreat. Hastily, she stepped back against the railing or she would have collided with his large chest. She looked up at him, startled, her panic overpowering her thoughts. The man still wore the same impassive, unnerving look; his eyes bore through hers. Paling, Casey was beyond alarmed. Her eyes took flight around, seeking other people. It was with great relief she spotted another man, though not quite as impressive as the one before her, standing at the railing not too far from herself, seemingly oblivious to them. “You'll have to excuse me,” Casey said, turning towards the other man. “I see my boyfriend over there.”

  Abruptly, she dodged under a well-muscled arm, making a quick escape. Scooting hurriedly away from him, she wasted no time in retreating to the large, blond man. A man who looked at her, very surprised, when Casey suddenly appeared beside him and clutched at his hand almost desperately.

  “Well, hello! Who are you, sweetheart?” the man inquired, smiling down into Casey's eyes.

  “I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a guy who is bothering me. He's making me feel very uncomfortable,” Casey said, not wanting him to get the wrong idea when she saw the obvious interest flicker within his eyes.

  “What guy?” the man asked, casting his curious glance over her shoulder.

  “That man over...” But when Casey looked, the dark-haired man had vanished. She and the blond man were completely alone.

  “You don't have to play the damsel in distress routine, honey. You've got my interest,” the man said to her, placing his own hand over Casey's tightly. His blue eyes looked almost hungrily into hers.

  The woman before him was cute. The sun shone through her blond highlights that wove throughout thick, long, honey-colored hair, tousled from the wind, as if she had just been bedded. Her soft, warm brown eyes were flecked with emerald green and gold.

  Eyes that oozed heated desire and perhaps a sweet touch of vulnerability. Her peaches and cream complexion was just starting to tan, with a hint of sunburn across the top of her pert, gently freckled nose. Her full rosy lips would entice any man to want to trace their outline with the tips of fingers.

  “I'm married,” Casey said firmly.

  “Well that's even better, baby. Why don't we go to my cabin and talk about the pros and cons of monogamy,” the man said, and laughed. He was also uninterested in any meaningful relationship.

  “No thank you,” Casey stated firmly. She removed the man's hand from her own and spun sharply around.

  “Your loss,” the man called after her, chuckling. His head cocked to the side, watching her gently rounded behind move under her tight white shorts.

  Casey sat in a far corner of the large dimly lit dining room. The hour had grown late. Most of the passengers had retired for the evening; only a few lovers or lovers of the evening remained to linger over a late dinner, the children long since tucked into bed. Candles blazed romantically upon each of the ivory white table cloths, and quiet music sounded from a distance, where a few adventurous others danced to a slow beat. A fresh red rose remained unnoticed in the tiny long-stemmed crystal vase before her.

  She had hardly touched the lobster that had long since grown cold as the hour waned. She was working on her third rum and coke. Abby had loved lobster. Abby had loved a great many things. Casey smiled, remembering their trip to the Caribbean together. It had been her and David's honeymoon. David had insisted Abby was to come. Abby had never once been on a vacation, and he had felt it would be cruel to leave her behind with an unknown babysitter while they were off having the time of their lives.

  Casey had not minded; she had been just as excited by the child's presence, her new daughter's presence. She had loved the thought those wonderful, warm words invoked. She was now a mother. She had fallen in love with David's daughter the moment they were introduced. Abby's mother had died when Abby was only two, leaving her and David all alone. They had no other family. From the beginning, the child had accepted her presence unconditionally; and she shared her father willingly, without jealousy, knowing instinctively Casey truthfully wanted her near, as much as she needed Casey near. Casey had wondered for the longest time if she hadn't fallen for Abby first, before David.

  David had been the most loving father; it was amazing to see them together. He gave Abby everything he had of himself, and everything he could afford materialistically. Casey almost winced at the thought. On a deeper level, she had often wondered if David had married her because she was wealthy. With her money, he was able to give Abby anything, everything.

  Surprisingly, the child was not spoiled. She took del
ight in a seashell handed to her. It meant as much to the thoughtful little girl as the pony had. David and Casey had given the child a dapple-grey pony as a wedding present. She had been Casey's maid of honor and had been thrilled. Abby had told Casey secretly she thought the most incredible wedding gift had been a new mother. Finally she would have her own mother to love, like all of her other friends.

  Sadly, Casey recalled Abby telling her one day that any gift should be a treasure. It meant that someone was thinking of just you for a special moment in time. Casey had smiled tenderly at the eight-year-old, and had called her precocious and precious.

  “Does that mean you love me?” the girl had asked her, eyes bright with deep, needy emotion.

  “I can't help but love you, Abby, my little darling, beautiful child,” Casey had replied. The child had moved into her arms and Casey had held her tightly to her breast, stroking her flowing, white-blond, silky hair. She knew in her heart she could not love the child more if she had given birth to her. Abby was the real treasure...or she had been.

  Slowly, a tear trailed its way down Casey's cheek, dripping onto the back of her hand. She looked down as the moisture glistened in the soft candlelight, a gloomy memory of another sodden, shadowed evening laced with heartache and a waterfall of endless tears. Hastily, she wiped at her grief-stricken eyes and rose a bit unsteadily to her feet, her hands bracing themselves upon the table top. She decided it was time for a breath of fresh air.

  Casey walked out onto the deck of the ship, first noticing the brilliant starlight, and then she once more stared over the railing. The black water churned beneath her, swishing and bubbling as the large vessel slid through the ocean with the grace of a seal. She could feel the telltale chugging of the engine through her feet, invading her senses, reminding her she was far from dry land.

  Casey was again wondering if this cruise had been such a good idea. She hated boats. She had fallen from her father's yacht when she was six years old and had almost drowned. David knew that. Casey had confided to him about the fearful memory that still plagued her some nights, during their honeymoon. He had been wonderful, holding her, soothing her as her disclosure brought tears to brighten her eyes. The horrible terror of complete helplessness as it had literally washed over her.