“He did, but I didn’t go.”
“Why the hell not! We need to find out who is causing the attacks on the family. The one who wrote that letter to her might have trailed her, giving us an important clue to work with.”
“Funny thing that is, James, but I needed to have a word with you first.”
For some reason James felt his skin crawl; he couldn’t understand the feeling. The young man before him had been in his employ for over five years; he was loyal and exceptionally good at what he did. James realized it was the man’s voice, its unrecognizable dull monotone that had made him feel uncomfortable.
“What word?” James said, and swallowed heavily.
Deegan sauntered over to the small bar. The small amount of light from the living room peeked into the room from the doorway. Deegan made both James and himself a drink, moving casually. “Here, have this, you’re going to need it,” Deegan declared, handing him a glass full of whiskey. He replaced the top on the decanter, then turned and faced James.
James took the drink, but stood studying Deegan’s face in the shadows. His body language, though subtle, hinted he was agitated, worried. “Deegan, I can see you’re upset. Are you all right?”
“No.” Deegan downed his drink, then exhaled loudly. He placed his glass on the bar, then ran a quick hand through his hair.
“Can I help in some way? You know you can come to me with anything,” James now replied with concern for the young man. Perhaps that was why he sounded so different, his distress was prominent.
“I’m almost sorry, James.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For killing you.” Deegan suddenly had his hand on James’ shoulder, stilling any movement the older man might have made, the barrel of his silencer pressed into James’ belly.
James could feel the burning tear rip threw his guts and exit his back. His mouth made the shape of an O in his surprised agony. The glass in his hand slipped from his fingers to land quietly onto the carpet, spilling its contents. His wide, surprised eyes settled onto the man as Deegan clasped James to his chest and lowered him gently to the ground in his powerful arms.
James could see the tears in the young man’s eyes, his remorse and despair as their stares locked, and strangely James felt saddened for him.
“Just tell me, Deegan, was it your organization that killed Drake and his son so long ago?” James asked. He wanted to die knowing his best friend's killer, it was important. He needed to know. Perhaps his old assumptions had been wrong; he had always hoped he was wrong.
“I’ve only ever worked for you, James. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deegan said. He reached out to pull a blanket from a chair and draped it over James.
“Then why?” James choked out, confused. He could feel the blood oozing threw his fingers, absorbing into his shirt. He couldn’t believe how painful it was. He lay there wondering why Deegan had not just ended his life, why he wanted to talk to him. Deegan was not a talker, he was quick and precise. He loathed making anyone suffer needlessly; it made no sense.
“It was your fault my father was killed. Your man murdered him, an innocent, James. A good man who never hurt anyone. A man who had a wife and child, a decent occupation. A man who loved life…loved me! You swooped down and took us away, stole us in the night. Then, as if we hadn’t suffered enough, you stuck us where we couldn’t tell. My mother died of a broken heart. It wasn’t fair that you stole my father and my mother and my childhood.”
James looked at him in utter confusion. “Who…who…?” he struggled to say, his concern escalating.
“You don’t even know who I am, do you?” Deegan said with almost sad contempt; for himself or James, neither man was certain.
“Chloe’s father murdered mine. I was barely eight years old. I saw it all, again and again for years after in my dreams, nightmares, thoughts. It played over and over like a sick and twisted horror movie, one that I couldn’t shut off.
“My mother and I would have been next if my father hadn’t yelled for her to grab me and run. He lay on the floor gasping for breath, blood dripping from his mouth and nose telling her, Run, run. But he was coming for us already, a huge walking nightmare of a man. My mother was frozen in absolute terror. His dark, evil glare had settled onto her, stilling her, bending her to his will by thoughts alone.
“Dad reached out and grabbed his leg to stop him, his last act as the protective father and loving husband he always was, even at his brutal end. That’s when Mom finally ran, when the eye contact ceased. She picked me up, fleeing from the room, but I saw what came next over her shoulder. My father’s brains were spattered across the living room wall before he could even beg for his life. I screamed for my daddy, but no words would come out.”
“My God, you’re Trevor. But how can that be? I was told you never spoke again, I was told you died,” James said, horrified. He had felt awful for the child who had lost his voice, his sanity perhaps. The last time James had seen him, the tow-headed boy sat drooling in a far corner, rocking mindlessly. He had found a psychiatrist to work with him, wanting to un-trap his mind, needing to at least try and right the awful wrong committed against him.
“The psychiatrist saved me, but he couldn’t save my mother. I’m sorry, James, but the story is long and complicated and you’re bleeding like a sieve. You haven’t much time. I’m sorry I did you slow but I wanted to tell you why. You deserved to know. I didn’t do it to be overly cruel, you know what I’m like.”
“Trevor,” James whispered.
“It’s Deegan. Trevor died with his daddy that day. That was the only way I, he, could cope.”
Deegan stood to leave, but James had him held by his pant cuff. “End it here Deegan, please…not Chloe’s fault…not my son’s…fault.”
Deegan paused and took a breath. “Chloe was his daughter. A spawn of the devil.”
James eyes alighted with horror at the obvious indication. Oh God, not his Chloe! She wouldn’t be able to defend herself against a man such as Deegan, his skill, his determination.
“Chloe’s innocent,” James implored. His hands reaching, begging for her life.
“So was my family.” Deegan turned and left.
It had been a long time since James had wept. His sobs grew louder with each agonized breath. Tears streamed down his pale face.
Image after image bombarded his mind. The first time he had ever held Chloe in his arms, her unique baby smell as he kissed the top of her sweet, downy soft head. Chloe growing from a darling tiny cherub he loved to cuddle next to his heart, into a toddler who clung to his legs, begging him to stay, to play with her, love her. Her adorable face would gaze up into his own, melting his heart. Her eyes, so like Drake’s.
It had been James who taught her to ride her first bike, a bike they had picked out together for her fifth birthday. James had chaperoned her first dance, keeping a wary eye on all the interested boys. It should be James who would walk her down the aisle for her wedding with his son…
Damien would try and protect her! They might both be killed! No! He couldn’t lose one, never mind both.
With sudden determination, James dragged himself across the study floor, leaving a trail of blood. There wasn’t much time; his sight was blurring. He must protect Chloe. He couldn’t fail his best friend, again. His hands dug into the carpeting, pulling, tugging. Sweat dripped from his face, rolling down into his eyes to mix with his tears.
He made his way painstakingly into the living room. Must protect Chloe.
His toes ground into the floor behind him, his breath came in choking gasps, he could taste blood in his mouth. Still he determined he would not give up…Must protect Chloe.
“Dad!”
James shuddered with relief. Dirk had James turned over and in his arms, yelling loudly for help. He pulled his own shirt over his head, pressing it to James’ belly, trying to staunch the flow of his father’s blood. James lifted his hands to clasp at his son, his fingers failing to hang on,
his strength all but gone. He hadn’t much time, he knew he was dying. At least he wouldn’t die in vain, Dirk would take care of her… Must protect, Chloe.
“Dad, Dad who did this to you?” Dirk cried.
Must protect… “Chloe.”
* * * *
Dirk paced the room back and forth; his anger was overwhelming. James was in ICU, hanging by a thread. Damien and another man were at the hospital, guarding him. Dirk had told his brother he needed to be at the hospital, he trusted no one else with their father while he lay so vulnerable. He also needed him to be away from home. Dirk had told no one what James had revealed about Chloe.
For the time being, until he could sort out his feelings, he needed the girl somewhere he could keep an eye on her. She could not be allowed to leave on her own.
Dirk knew his brother was going to howl the house down when he found Chloe missing. Dirk planned on telling him she left on her own to find herself once more. She would return when she was ready. It would be easier this way, though Dirk shuddered with his thoughts. For the time being Dirk would keep Damien at the hospital as long as possible.
Grimly, Dirk left his room and headed for Chloe’s. When he entered, he found her sobbing on her bed. Her red-rimmed eyes gazed up at him brokenly, and for a moment Dirk felt his resolve slip. He had loved the woman before him from the moment she had been born.
As it had been instilled in Chloe to always listen to Dirk, it had been instilled in Dirk to always protect Chloe. No matter what, he loved her, but for her own safety she needed to be away from him, his wrath, right now.
“You’re leaving,” Dirk declared. He grabbed a suitcase from her closet and began throwing items haphazardly into it.
Chloe jumped up, stilling his frantic packing. “But Dirk…James.”
“James is why you’re leaving,” Dirk informed her gruffly. He pulled his arms from her hands roughly and snapped the suitcase closed.
“I don’t understand,” Chloe whimpered.
Dirk’s angry eyes bore into her, causing her to shrink back. “Dirk?” she whispered, taking a step back. “Dirk, what’s wrong?”
“Get what you need from the washroom,” Dirk demanded harshly. “You won’t have a chance to buy anything for a while.”
“Where are you taking me?” Chloe asked, her voice filled with dread. She reached for him again but his hands shook her away.
“Far.”
“But Dirk, Damien…”
“Damien knows.” Dirk looked her directly in the eyes. His hard stare bore into hers in a challenging way.
“I want to speak to him.” Chloe straightened her shoulders and faced him determinedly.”I won’t be cowed into compliance! I’m Damien’s fiancée, after all. You needed to stop running my life.”
“He’s busy with our dying father!” Dirk snapped.
Chloe recoiled, her anger evaporating. “I want to be here for him, for you and James as well. I love you, Dirk. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
Dirk took a deep breath. He could tell she wasn’t going to make things easy on him. His anger was growing with every passing moment; he loved her as well. This was killing him. He didn’t want to suddenly strike out at her, she had been struck too many times by an angry man’s hand. He determined never to be one of them.
“I know, Chloe. James told me.”
* * * *
“Know what?” Chloe cried fearfully. She could see Dirk shaking. Never before had she seen him lose his temper. Instinctively she knew his outrage was directed at her. The thought was beyond terrifying, beyond imaginable. Dirk had never been angry with her.
“I know who shot my father.”
“Who?” Chloe asked, astounded.
Before Chloe could react Dirk lunged and had her flipped onto the bed, face down. He covered her mouth, silencing her muffled cries. She struggled wildly, terrified. She was no match for his strength. She was subdued easily while Dirk’s large frame pinned her to the mattress. Her tears fell steadily from her eyes.
To her horror she felt a needle inserted into the vein in her arm none too gently. Her struggles ceased abruptly, her ragged breathing slowed. A calmness settled over her entire body. Dirk flipped her over. Releasing her, he removed his weight from her small form. She lay vulnerable before him, entirely at his mercy. He looked as though he possessed none.
Chloe’s eyes bore into his angrily. Her hurt radiated from deeply within. Her jaw clenched as a furious tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She felt beyond shattered and betrayed.
“You promised you wouldn’t ever do that to me again,” Chloe accused, her hurt-filled voice no more than a whisper. Her eyes drooped, she was going under. His face was clouding before her, but Chloe heard his agonized words, his betrayal settled like a stone.
“I lied.”
Chapter Fourteen
Chloe woke slowly. Her eyes fluttered. She gazed about the large room with curious trepidation, wondering where she was. Realization crashed over her. Dirk’s betrayal slammed into her belly as reality returned. How could he? How could he frighten her like that? They were the ones who had lied to her, she had done nothing wrong. She had said she would leave, yet he stole her and sent her away to an unknown location. Why?
Chloe rose from the bed, still feeling a touch groggy. She made her way to a solid wooden door. The silver handle wouldn’t turn when she had it clutched in her hand. It was locked.
“Dirk? Damn you!” Chloe yelled. Her fist bashed at the door. “Dirk, you let me out this instant!” She pressed her ear to the door, listening for any footsteps, but could hear none. “Dirk, I mean it. I will never forgive you for this, never!”
Chloe kicked the door and winced as her socked foot connected to the hard wood. She yanked on the handle. Again, she slammed her fist against the hard wood. “Damn you to hell! I hate you! I hate all of you!” Chloe sobbed, slipping to the floor. Her forehead pressed against the door while her body curled around itself.
How could they? They were supposed to be her family; they were supposed to love her. Where was Damien? How could he let this happen? He knew what his family was like. Had he changed his mind about her, stopped loving her?
Chloe sniffled. She ground her fists over her eyes. She turned and let the back of her head rest against the door. Her tears stopped flowing. Now was not the time for theatrics. She looked about the room. It was large; a door off to the side could only lead to a washroom. The bed was king sized, yet she had lots of space to wander.
Chloe realized she must be at one of Dirk’s safe houses. Only she wondered if he was protecting her, or felt he was protecting the family from her.
Chloe rose to her feet. A large window showed only trees, rocks, and a small lake in the vicinity. No other housing was visible; she guessed there would be none. When she struggled to lift the large glass pane, she was able to open it only a few inches for fresh air; the backing was screened with metal mesh. On further inspection she could see it was nailed. It wouldn’t go high enough for her to squeeze out.
With a heavy heart Chloe went to the bed and perched on the end, staring at the door. She knew Dirk had been upset. From his look she had seen he had unbelievably thought she had hurt James.
But why? He had known Damien had been with her almost all evening. He had only stepped out for a moment, she wouldn’t have had time. Dirk would have passed her in the hallway, he must realize this. She knew she had been angry and said some things she shouldn’t have, but to actually think she would shoot James, it was insane.
This entire happenstance had become so unbelievable. Her granny was her father’s mother? How could she have allowed James to murder her own child? A strange feeling settled within Chloe’s belly. Was her father even dead or were there more lies they hadn’t shared?
As the thought crashed into Chloe’s mind another, more terrifying memory gripped her. A cold steel knife had been pressed to her throat, a man had her pulled to his powerful chest. She remembered the aroma of his cologne,
she remembered her terror of him. It had been real, it wasn’t a dream, an illusion.
The man had somehow seemed familiar, his voice, his size, she remembered confusing him with her father. That was why Dirk had not taken her seriously—he thought her to be delusional. If Dirk thought she was responsible for hurting James he was still in danger, terrible danger. No matter what he had lied about she still loved him, nothing would ever change that.
She remembered her and James’ discussion after she had lost her sight, she remembered everything, all of it. James loved her, James had always loved her, she should have let him explain everything to her.
Chloe flew at the hard wooden door once more. She pummeled it, screaming. James was defenseless. There was no way he could possibly defend himself against anyone at this time.
She must go to him, she must tell Dirk. Somehow she had to get out of here. There must be someone with her; Dirk wouldn’t have left her all alone. Her fists battered against the door until they ached.
But it was useless. The door wouldn’t budge. After glancing about the room, Chloe raced to a chair in the far corner. With every ounce of strength she possessed she flung the chair at the window, expecting it to shatter. The chair bounced off the glass without so much as putting a crack in it, and Chloe’s arms ached with the force of the blow, sending her flying backwards, the chair clattering to the ground.
Chloe slumped to the floor, feeling defeated. She was trapped. Refusing to give in to tears once more, she tried to calm her racing heart. She was the child of a vicious, relentless killer, the granddaughter of a feared assassin. She must have inherited something from either man. Something of their relentless nature. She must not give up. There must be some way to get out of the room…
Chloe lunged to her feet as the door creaked open. With relief, she watched Mitch stroll in, balancing a tray, and raced to him.
Assassin Deception Page 14
