Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] (9 page)

* * * *

Lando entered the cave. He felt frozen. He’d wandered only a short distance away. It would’ve been foolish to venture further; the snow fell in heavy sheets like dancing death. Nature was a formidable assassin.

Lando was annoyed with himself. He never had conversations with other women the way he did with Christy. No one cared what he did, unless it was them he was after, and those never lived long enough to chat with. He let her get under his skin. The result scared the shit out of her. Damn.

Go slowly,
the loud voice resounded in his head.

“Oh, will you just shut up,” Lando snapped angrily to himself.

Christy was sleeping on her jacket. He could see in her great fear of him leaving, she just had to nap. Muttering under his breath, Lando resisted the urge to shake her awake. While he had been out trying to control his temper, she took advantage of the silence.

“No, please.”

Lando heard Christy whimper. Again, as always, she dreamt. Lando sat on the coat he shrugged off.
Well, let her suffer this time
, the mean, more rational voice in his head challenged.

“Damn straight,” Lando muttered.

“Don’t go,” Christy cried.

Lando wondered what this Chad had done to her. Why would she cry for him to stay when he had obviously hurt her? Lando knew there were women who liked rough relationships, though he doubted Christy was one of them. Her fear of him was less than exciting. She was almost dumbstruck with terror at their encounter.

“Please come back, don’t leave me…Lando,” Christy sobbed. She thrashed about as if trying to get to him.

Lando sat wide-eyed, mystified. She was begging for his return?
His?
Most people begged him to leave.

Lando reflected, confused. He provided her with food, shelter, and companionship. Of course she would need his return. Without him she’d die. He knew she held certain fear of him. Most normal people did. Moving closer to her, Lando noted her tear-streaked, pale face. She hadn’t been napping, he realized, she cried herself to sleep. For whatever reason, food or companionship, she wanted him there.

“Lando,” she cried.

This time the louder, softer voice was again advising him. He moved to her. He reached a tentative hand and brushed her hair from her face. Christy woke. Her eyes fluttered as he gazed down on her, wondering what her reaction would be. She threw herself into his surprised embrace.

“I’m sorry, Lando, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I was just curious, please forgive me. Don’t go away again. I ask too many questions. I’m too demanding. You’ve taken care of me, and I have been so ungrateful.”

Lando sensed on a certain level she was confusing him with someone else. Her speech held a practiced quality that derived from another’s harsh words. A defense mechanism, no doubt. Something in her placating tone gave him pause. Lando shifted to look at her frightened features. Her gaze was filled with hope, trepidation, and wariness.

“You pissed me off,” Lando said in a menacing tone. He narrowed his gaze on her.

Christy’s expression widened in fear, her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered quickly, her tremors increasing.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Lando declared, and his grip on her tightened. He scowled. Lando sensed her sudden, overwhelming terror. No, she wasn’t after cheap thrills. She was reliving a painful memory.

“I won’t do it again.” Her frantic gaze skipped to each side of the cave, as though seeking to escape him. Her body tried to evade him.

“You need to be taught a lesson.” His hand wrapped around a generous amount of Christy’s hair, capturing her.

“Oh no, don’t,” Christy begged, looking trapped. Her eyes clouded and her body shook with horrific, violent spasms. She clutched at him.

“I won’t ask. You can have the money. Don’t beat me anymore, Chad.”

Lando loosened his painful grip on her. Though she remained wrapped in his embrace, he loosened his grip and stroked her hair. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her horrific trembling.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, I would never hit you,” Lando promised.

He was thinking maybe his past wasn’t finished; he was contemplating ordering a hit of his own. This disgusting, filthy creep, Chad, was in definite need of an attitude adjustment.

* * * *

Christy continued to sob; she tucked her face into the crook of her arm wanting to hide. When Chad hurt her, she’d had no one to talk to. There was no one, not even a girlfriend she could talk out her feelings with. As a result, she suppressed them. Only in her nightmares were her fears confronted. Chad promised he would love her forever. The pain of his betrayal ate at her. Instead, he fractured her jaw, broke her arm, two ribs and yanked a clump of hair from her head. She cowered from men for a long time after. The police personnel she spoke to had to be female. She didn’t know where to turn. The police recommended a therapist, but she was too embarrassed. She didn’t want to go to group sessions and hear about other people who suffered; it was too much pain. Too much betrayal.

A raised voice was enough to send her scurrying for a corner. The lonely nights she faced confused and bewildered left her vulnerable. Sam had been kind to her. He never once lifted his voice with her, always remaining calm and rational, as if sensing her inner turmoil and distress. Christy hated being alone. In her heart she craved intimacy, a gentle loving embrace, a kind word, praise. Yet, she was too fearful to seek it out. Chad had taken everything away from her. She feared the very closeness she coveted.

Christy heard the rough voice penetrate the cement wall she once again reconstructed. She didn’t want to listen. Lando made her remember her terrible fear, her heartbreaking loneliness, and the horrendous pain. He forced her to relive that horrible night in her mind. Worse, he made her share her embarrassment, her uselessness. He remained persistent, calling her from the depths of her despair.

“Please…” She once more pleaded, only this time it stemmed from emotional needs. “No more.”

“I’m not Chad. I swear you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. I’ve never hurt you. I could have killed you, but I didn’t. I’ve always sworn I will cause you no pain. We need each other now,” he reasoned.

Christy looked up into his dark eyes. They didn’t appear as soulless as before. His earnest expression gazed back at her. She was unsure if she could allow him in. She wanted to. She needed to. They did need one another. Or perhaps it was just she who needed him. What if he left her again? What would she do?

“If I make you angry, please tell me. Don’t leave me. I can’t take the aloneness anymore.”

“I won’t leave you alone like that again, I promise.”

To her relief, he continued to rock her in his arms, though she wondered at his confused, thoughtful expression.

Christy hung her pair of clean socks, then underwear, over rope from the parachute after squeezing them dry over the bowl filled with warmed water. Lando had stuck two sticks into the ground, forcefully embedding them near the fire close enough to dry a few items without the risk of the flames touching them. In exchange, Christy offered to rinse out any items he wanted washed. Lando gazed at her, feeling odd.

“You want to wash my underwear?” he questioned a bit embarrassedly. Lando always took care of his own personal needs and her request seemed somehow foreign.

Christy giggled at his expression which further widened his eyes, he really must look surprised, he’d never seen her giggle.

“I don’t mind, Lando. Really, it’s no big deal. You’re feeding me after all, and you did technically save my life.”

Lando was thinking. If he hadn’t brought her in from the storm, she would have died of exposure. He was feeding her. After the blizzard ceased its relentless assault a few days prior, he caught and cooked more fish, and she eagerly ate. He gathered wood for their never-ending need for warmth, and he brought water to be boiled and consumed.

Seeing her face alight with such a positive attitude toward him, he could see Christy seemed earnest and somewhat eager at wanting to return the favor. But, perhaps not his underwear—too personal.

“Maybe you could just rinse out my shirt. It’s starting to smell like fish,” Lando offered, wanting to give her at least a small acknowledgment of her attempt.

“Sure. By the way, I’m happy to hear you haven’t been coughing anymore,” Christy said, then went to dump the dirty water out of the bowl and retrieve more.

Lando snorted. He was also grateful he didn’t have to cough anymore. Acting wasn’t for him after all. He’d been feeling the need for a stunt throat double.

* * * *

Lando watched Christy leave and resisted the urge to trail after her. He remembered that when he’d woken that morning, he was panic-stricken to find her missing. He had been furious with himself; he never missed anything. He should have been aware the moment she arose, the moment her breathing shifted; the absence of her presence should have alerted him. He raced frantically from the cave and, finding her footprints in the snow, he followed them, scanning the area as a stalker, a predator. She shouldn’t have left without informing him of her intention.

She couldn’t possibly have been contemplating escape. Christy must know he’d find her. She had to know she would die without him. He wouldn’t hurt her. Lando should have explained this again while he held her in his arms last night, as he had every night since the night of the blizzard and she expressed need for his presence. He thought she was
accustomed to him.

Lando had crashed through the somewhat densely forested bush when her footprints suddenly vanished. In an upheaval, Lando stopped short and spun about as Christy bellowed out a horrified protest, rising quickly from behind the shielding foliage.

“You don’t have to watch absolutely
everything
I do, do you?” Christy had grouched as she marched past him, still struggling with the zipper on her pants, looking mortified.

Lando had followed her back to the cave feeling a bit sheepish. He’d then watched curiously as she rifled through her duffle bag.

“What’re you looking for?” he’d finally asked after a moment as she looked thoroughly, to no avail.

“Clean panties,” she’d said, sitting back on her heels.

“I’m not a pervert, Christy. Why would I pack your underwear? What would be the use?”

Christy had blushed crimson. “But my socks are here.” Then after a brief hesitation, she also mumbled he had packed her pads.

“Mittens,” he replied shortly. Then, a bit embarrassed, he muttered back about pads being absorbent, and if he were to cut himself… “They are, after all, made to absorb blood. Doesn’t really matter from where. Or as added insulator to my boots; they’re thin enough to stick down the sides…”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“You could always rinse out the panties you’re wearing.”

“Yes, I guess I could take them off then go down to the stream,” she’d replied.

Lando hadn’t liked the idea of her going to the stream. Her hands would get too cold. Frostbite could set in, or hypothermia. He’d noted she still moved stiffly, as if in pain. That morning he’d handed her two more Tylenol. Bending over in a crouched position wouldn’t benefit her ribs; he had cautiously checked them out as she slept and noticed the bruising.

“I’ll bring you some water,” Lando had informed her instead. “I can set up a clothesline over the fire for you and fill the bowl with water. It’s empty now anyway since we finished the broth. That way you can heat the water and use it when it’s warmed.”

“Why don’t I get the water from the stream while you set up the clothesline? Let me do something so you’re not doing everything,” Christy had suggested. “I don’t want you thinking I’m too much of a burden.”

Lando didn’t think he liked that suggestion either. Though the snow had been melting, the rocks were ice-covered and slippery. If she fell in she could hurt herself, or drown, or be swept away in the fast-flowing current.

So what.
The mean voice in his head was at it again.
Then you won’t be responsible for her anymore, you won’t need to share your food or protection anymore and she said it herself, she’s a burden.

The louder, kinder voice reasoned in a gentle and coaxing tone,
yet you’ll be all alone.
You
won’t have her warm, accepting body pressed up against you anymore
.

Lando didn’t like that thought one bit. She had given up struggling against him their first night together when he’d slept beside her. She now turned within his embrace, her warm chest pressed next to his, her heart-shaped face curled in the crook of his neck or shoulder, as though she liked the security he offered.

He enjoyed the warmth she emitted, the way her hair haloed around her, its softness. She had stopped crying out from her aloneness, giving him a sense of triumph and arrogance because he felt he was responsible for helping her feel safe. He enjoyed pressing his large body against her small one; he liked the feel of her softness against his hardness. He wanted to continue to drink in the sight of her warm, doe brown eyes, eyes that didn’t seem as fearful of him anymore, and he would like to run his hands through her light brown and sunset-colored, flowing hair. He wanted to touch her naked flesh passionately, he wanted…

Damn.
Maybe I’m a pervert, after all.
Giving his head a sound shake, Lando compromised.

“I’ll come with you so I can find two good sticks,” he’d finally told her, rising.

Christy agreed; however, she’d tossed a fast glance to the back of the cave that still held a great deal of wood. Lando watched her as she shrugged curiously at his apparent absentmindedness, and she followed him out.

When Christy left a second time to fill the bowl, Lando couldn’t think up a single excuse to follow her. He didn’t like the anxious feeling engulfing him. He’d never worried over another human being in his entire life. He hadn’t liked the fact he was concerned. It made no sense. She was a grown woman and more than capable of taking care of herself. Wasn’t she? Yet, when the voice inside his head screamed the command,
Go!
Lando didn’t hesitate. He went racing from the cave without further thought.