Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies)

by Laura Pauling

  Malcolm leaned against the wall, his hand over his wound. “Come here.”

  I leaned closer, his breath tickling my face. “What?”

  His words were weak, his ragged breaths noticeable between every sentence. “It’s okay. I saw everything. Will lost control. You were defending yourself. I know that.”

  My heart squeezed. I wanted to believe that his brother would never come between us.

  “I’m serious,” he whispered.

  Love surged and broke through the confines of my heart. I thought back to our first date in Paris and the roller coaster my life had been since. I wanted new memories. My life, our future life together may not ever be normal, but we could be together.

  Not caring that Mom stood right next to me, I leaned forward and grabbed his bottom lip with mine and kissed him. He reached his arms around me and crushed me against his chest, deepening the kiss. The smell of smoke and blood faded and hope drifted through in its place. My heart beat faster and the chords of love strengthened. The guilt flaked off in layers and the horror of the past few hours diminished, even though it had changed me for good and for bad, and I would never forget.

  “Hate to break it to you two, but…” Mom’s voice brought me back to reality.

  Laughter bubbled in my chest and I couldn’t help but giggle at the sweet hope of our future. But I had one more question. “Can we get my dad?”

  “You bet. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Mom?” I asked, reaching for her hand, asking her with just her name if she approved.

  She hugged me and whispered in my ear. “I trust you. Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  Tears burned, fresh doubt rolling through my head. “What about your family?” I didn’t have to mention my true fear, that their son’s death would forever leave me the guilty party.

  “They’ll understand. He broke the code. Acted out of vengeance. They’ll be devastated but they won’t hold it against you, and if they do, then we’ll break contact and disappear. I’m with you.” The last part he spoke with great effort. He kissed the tip of my nose, his lips barely brushing my skin. “Forever.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s do this,” I said.

  Malcolm got serious. He adjusted the light to focus on the black box and the red switch. “On my word. Run like hell. Don’t stop. Got it?”

  I stared into the inky blackness and the possible potholes, twists and turns that lay ahead of us, that could trip us up and foil our plans. “Where does it lead?”

  He winked and kissed my head. “The future.” He handed me his headlamp and nodded toward the blackness of the tunnel. “You take off. I’ll be right behind.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, not wanting to leave him behind.

  “I’m sure. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  I gave him a quick hug and Mom and I started down the tunnel. The dull light from the lamp flickered and wavered up and down as we ran. Seconds later, Malcolm yelled at us to run faster. He caught up and urged us on to our future, which lay just ahead.

  We rounded a corner and an explosion deafened our ears as the past month or so and all the memories it held blew to smithereens. We slowed down and paused, panting, looking back at our past.

  Malcolm leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Love you forever.”

  I kissed him, then whispered back, “Forever.”

  THE END

  Thanks for taking this journey with me. I’m so grateful for all my readers. I appreciate you! If you enjoyed this book, I’d be so thankful if you posted a review on the retail sites. I also love to hear from readers. You can use the contact form at the top of my blog.

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  Keep reading for chapter one of my middle grade time travel adventure: HOW TO SURVIVE ANCIENT SPELLS AND CRAZY KINGS.

  Keep reading for an exciting excerpt from another great teen spy series. PROTECTED by Cindy M. Hogan.

  HOW TO SURVIVE ANCIENT SPELLS AND CRAZY KINGS

  Never doubt the power of pumpkin pie.

  Evening shadows darkened my mood as I eyed the kitchen doorway. Dishes rattled in the sink. My parents were talking about the latest advancements of elephant poop, or worse, they were whispering top-secret information about my grandfather, Zeb.

  I tiptoed to Dad’s study and slipped inside enemy territory. Ever since Thanksgiving and my last piece of pumpkin pie smothered under whipped cream, just like Zeb loves it, I’d gotten the feeling he was in trouble. Dad blamed the growth hormones in the turkey. Mom blamed holiday nostalgia. But the feeling never left. Pumpkin pie is not that dependable, but in this case, it was right on.

  I ran my fingers along the edge of my dad’s desk but didn’t feel any secret compartments. There were no locked boxes and no suspicious envelopes. I thought back on the spy movies I’d watched with my cousin, Melvin, after family dinners. Sometimes the answer was simple and more obvious. Maybe. Just maybe. I slipped open the bottom desk drawer.

  Bills, legal documents, and old scientific journals were crammed into a drawer, some dating back to 1970. I dug around and then lifted the massive pile so I could peek underneath. My arm muscles burned and I was about to drop the entire stack when I saw a worn manila envelope at the bottom. My heart thrilled at the name scrawled across the front in black marker.

  Zebulon Stone.

  I pulled the bulky envelope out, which was surprisingly heavy, and the journals flopped back into place. The doorknob rattled.

  “Verla, I’ll be in my study. Why don’t you get Bianca?”

  Heat warmed my neck. Forget about rubbing the ache from my arm, I had to hide the evidence. Fast. Dad would kill me if he caught me nosing around in his stuff. In a flash, I stuck the envelope down the back of my pants and tugged my shirt down. I sprinted to the bookshelves and ran my fingers along the spines, pretending to search for a book.

  The light flickered on.

  “Never mind! She’s already here,” he called.

  I turned to hide my back and the suspicious bulge. “Hi, Dad. Just looking for a book.”

  “In the dark?”

  He leaned his arm against the door with a why-am-I-not-surprised look on his face.

  “Oh, well, you know, it’s almost a full moon and you always talk about saving electricity.” I pulled out a book about dinosaur fossils and flipped to the middle.

  Dad crumpled newspaper into balls and put them in the fireplace. He added kindling and a couple small pieces of wood.

  “What kind of book were you looking for?” he asked.

  I shifted my back so the corner of the envelope wasn’t jabbing into my skin and crossed my fingers. “Something really boring to put me to sleep, so I don’t spend the night worrying endlessly about Zeb.”

  “I have some excellent reading material on the economy in China and how it is affecting farmers.”

  “Oh, thanks. I might have to try that.” I stuck my shaky fingers into my pocket.

  He lit the newspapers, and bright flames shot up. “You might as well take a seat.”

  I sat in a straight-backed leather chair, coughing, so he wouldn’t hear the crinkle of the envelope. Mom entered with a tray of hot cocoa, placed it on the coffee table, and sat next to Dad on the matching love seat. Gripping the armrests, I braced myself for the worst. Maybe they knew about my long-distance phone calls to Greece where Zeb had last been or my letters to the CIA.

  Dad poked at the fire, staring into the flames. “I know you miss the gifts your grandfather usually sends, but that doesn’t mean he’s in trouble.”

  I did miss the gifts. Zeb had sent me Spanish doubloons and pieces of silk from China, but it was more than that. Zeb listened to me, really listened. When I had a problem he always made me feel better, even if it meant hearing about his safari in Africa for the umpteenth time. I tried to keep my voice from cracking.

  “He hasn’t called.
He hasn’t dropped by. There’s been nada! Nothing! Zippo!”

  Dad’s face softened. He ran his finger around the rim of his mug. “Your grandfather has been disappearing then reappearing in my life since I could walk. Trust me. He’s playing in the dirt somewhere and lost track of the years.”

  “Do you know where he is?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  He took a sip of cocoa. “Off in Central America somewhere. Guatemala, I think.”

  I dug my fingers into the arm of the chair. Guatemala? Zeb had to be in major trouble to not send me some sort of coded message hinting to his latest location. I doubt my dad would consider that evidence. “You can tell me the truth.”

  Dad leaned back and took a sip, stretching the moment out forever. “We really don’t know much. But,” he glanced at Mom, “we’ve had our concerns.”

  Mom reached across the coffee table to squeeze my hand. “We didn’t want to chase him halfway across the earth to find out he was in the middle of a dig.”

  I picked up my mug and took a sip. Cocoa scalded my throat and tears burned. I didn’t like where this was heading—another let’s-talk-Bianca-down-from-her-irrational-fears talk. They had no faith in the facts.

  “We’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” Mom nodded at Dad.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but paused. Something in Mom’s voice told me things were about to change. She was on my side.

  Dad rolled the ends of his moustache between his fingers. “After much consideration, we both feel it’s time—”

  I slammed my mug down, spilling cocoa over the tray. “I knew it! When do we leave?”

  Dad looked at me, his jaw firm. “Tomorrow.”

  A tingle ran down my spine and my mouth went dry.

  Mom gave me her best strict-mom look. “Melvin, Aunt June, and you and I will hang out and sightsee. We’ll be doing completely boring stuff like guided tours and bird watching.”

  I should have recruited Mom months ago.

  “It was your mom’s idea for all of you to tag along.” Dad sighed. “But, it will be a great educational opportunity for both you and Melvin to visit the ancient cities.”

  I perked up. “Ancient cities?”

  Dad smiled. “Of the Maya.”

  “Cool.” Maybe my History-channel-watching days would come in handy. I could already taste the tortillas.

  “Time to get packing.” Dad cracked his knuckles. “We leave for the city of Tikal, land of the Maya, tomorrow morning before the toucans will have started singing in the jungle.”

  I stood and the top of the envelope jabbed into my back. “I’ll get on that right away.” I hurried out of the study and ran up the stairs. I couldn’t believe it. After months of hard work wearing my parents down, I’d convinced them of the truth. Good thing I didn’t quit after I’d alphabetized Dad’s books.

  My bedroom door slammed behind me. “Sorry!” I yelled. Hey, I was excited and I’d found a connection to Zeb. With one swipe, my collections of plastic bottles and pinecones fell to the floor. I blew at the layer of dust covering my desk and then dumped out the contents of the envelope. A worn note and bunch of green rocks fell out. Only five words were scrawled on the note.

  Keep stones a secret. Zeb.

  They weren’t just green rocks. They were stones of jade, connected in a large necklace that stretched across both my hands. Chunky, different-sized beads sat on either side of a larger jade pendant inscribed with a weird-looking face. It was a necklace, but it sure didn’t look like one you could find at your local department store.

  I traced the stones, my fingers tingling as they ran over the worn surface. Hopefully Dad had forgotten about them. Zeb must’ve had a good reason for wanting to keep the stones a secret. I pulled a black velvet bag from my drawer and dumped out my rock collection. The large necklace fit perfectly inside the bag. What secrets did the stones hold? Should I bring them?

  Definitely. I stuffed the empty envelope between my mattress and the box spring.

  No one would ever know.

  End of Chapter One

  To read more about HOW TO SURVIVE ANCIENT SPELLS AND CRAZY KINGS visit laurapauling.com. You’ll find purchase links on the sidebar of her blog. Thanks for reading.

  PROTECTED excerpt

  by

  Cindy M. Hogan

  They found her.

  Now she must run

  and leave behind

  everything she knows,

  including herself.

  Also by Cindy M. Hogan

  Watched

  Created

  Chapter One

  Over the last three weeks, I’d moved like a ninja through the halls of Helena High—invisible, stealthy—going from class to class, taking the least traveled paths. At least that’s what I’d convinced myself. It took the horrible, sing-song voice of Katie Lee for me to realize I was no ninja master. More like a giant target with a bull’s-eye painted on my forehead.

  “Christy Hadden. Oh, Christy Hadden.”

  My heart froze. Katie Lee had bullied me since the first day of my sophomore year, nine long months ago.

  “Hey, look,” she had said that first day. “It’s that homeless girl we saw eating out of the garbage at the mall last week.” The three girls with her had laughed liked hyenas.

  There was a hint of truth in what she’d said. They had seen me, but I hadn’t been scrounging for food. I’d accidentally dropped my retainer in the trash can with the garbage from my meal only a few seconds before they’d walked up. My parents would have killed me if I didn’t get it out. “Money doesn’t grow on trees,” they would have said. Since then, I’d only worn it at night.

  I heard steps getting closer, and wished I could make my feet run. But, I couldn’t. Like a statue, I stood; I couldn’t even breathe. Why did I let her have this effect on me? I thought my experience with terrorists in DC had made me stronger than this.

  The bell rang and the off-the-beaten-path-hallway in front of me was nearly deserted. I was late. One more thing to add to the suckiness of the moment. Katie Lee bumped me hard into the wall, her face only inches from mine.

  “You’ve been hard to find lately,” she said, sneering. “Where’ve you been?”

  I just stared. My mouth refused to move.

  “Speak!” she growled, her round face knotted with mean delight.

  “Arf! Arf!” came from behind me. I didn’t have to look to know it was Katie Lee’s sidekicks. They always barked at me whenever they saw me.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” Katie Lee grabbed my arm, turning me around and leading me back to the bathroom I had just passed. A bathroom no one ever went into because it always smelled like a sewer. Her cronies stood as sentinels in the doorway and I bumped into one of them.

  “Down boy, down,” she said, her tiny, pug nose lifted toward the ceiling.

  “You silly,” the other said. “Can’t you see it’s a girl?”

  They laughed maniacally while stepping further into the bathroom. Katie Lee dragged me inside, pushing me up against a wall near the back corner of the room. All three stood between me and the exit.

  “You know, Christy, English final papers are due Monday.” She paced in front of me. “We would’ve given you more notice, but, it’s like, we haven’t been able to find you. We figured you would be thinking of us and know we needed to get the papers in. So, where are they?”

  All three held out their hands.

  My jaw dropped. What? They’d never asked me to do their work before. Only kids in my old junior high had tried that. These girls had always just teased and taunted me until now. Taunting that often led to bruising me in some way or humiliating me beyond hope, but what could I do?

  “Oh. Did you eat them?” Katie Lee asked, looking at my gaping mouth, her sharp, cruel face sneering.

  I closed my mouth. She moved in.

  I will not scream. I will not give her the satisfaction.

  “Open wide!” She wrenched my mouth open and looked inside. I felt m
y lips crack. Immediately, my mind raced to the time she kicked me so hard in the shin I could hardly walk for two days. All I’d done was smile at her the second week of school, hoping to win her over.

  “Nope,” she said, letting go and taking a step back. “Well, we need ‘em Sunday night. Have ‘em ready for us. Oh, and we don’t want any of that AP crap you do. We only want “B” papers. Can’t have ‘em thinking we didn’t do the work. Got it?”

  I just continued to stare, wishing my hand would jump up and clock her square in the jaw. Did they really think I would write their papers? I couldn’t write a “B” paper even if I wanted to. Nothing came out of me except “A” work.

  “Got it, Hadden?” She came at me again.

  “Got it,” I croaked, not wanting her to get any closer but knowing I’d never write those papers. Why hadn’t I told the principal the first time they’d harassed me? There were only five days left of school anyway. What could they do to me? Uh, maybe make my life more than miserable for two more long years. I had to overcome this, but how?

  I stayed rigid against the wall until they disappeared around the corner. I sighed, let my shoulders slump, and slid down the wall to the floor, my thighs coming up tight against my chest as I sat. I wrapped my arms around my legs and pulled my chin to my chest, resting my forehead on my knees.

  Determined not to feel sorry for myself, I thought of the letters I’d received from Jeremy, my real-life FBI Special Agent. Paralyzed from a bullet that was meant for me, he’d never once felt sorry for himself that I knew of and neither should I.

  I pushed the screaming “poor me” thoughts to the back of my mind and searched for good memories. It didn’t take much effort to find some: Alex’s touch, Rick’s kiss, and Marybeth’s friendship. Those two weeks in DC had been the scariest, hardest, and most painful of my life and yet they had also been the most wonderful. Too bad I couldn’t forget the bad that had happened there and only hold onto the good. Instead, I remembered it all with nightmare clarity—with the bad always finding its way into my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to block it.