Read Online Assassin Treasure (Assassins Book 4) by C.L. Scholey - Free Book Online
Authors: C.L. Scholey
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her body moved with weary steps forward.
Candy slumped at the side of the gravel road like a rag doll, her arms hanging limp at her sides, her chin resting on her bent knees. Damien crouched beside her. The girl had spirit, Dirk admitted with mounting respect. She never once complained. He collapsed to his knees beside them.
“Now what?” Damien demanded to his brother.
“Are there any homes in this area?” Dirk asked Candy.
“Not many. Mostly old farmhouses with really old people who won’t take shit, the winter is brutal, they’d laugh at you and call you pup.”
Dirk scowled and gripped her arm. “Is that a pot shot?”
“No, it’s the truth. Seasoned people have no fear. There are bears and wolves out here. Flash your gun, and they’ll laugh. They can party in a blizzard, outside, naked. You think I’m kidding? Please, by all means, invade a home. You’ll be the one dialing 911. Tourists, mostly the young are another story, except the revisits. If we continue down this road we’ll eventually run into someone,” Candy replied. She remained seated with her knees tucked up under her chin, breathing heavily, eyes closed. She looked drained of the energy to even look at him.
Candy gave him insight; she was young but a revisit, someone who belonged. No wonder she had balls.
Dirk stood and commanded the two to follow. He gripped Candy’s arm, dragging her with him. Though she complied immediately, she stumbled and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t steadied her. Dirk knew she would soon reach the point of such exhaustion the threat of personal safety would be meaningless to her. Relieved, he spotted a car in the distance, dust spiraling behind it as it maneuvered at a fast pace over the hilly road. It dropped from their sight. He turned Candy in his arms, assessing her with a critical eye.
“What’re you wearing under your sweatshirt?”
Looking confused, she mumbled, “My camisole.”
Dirk pulled Candy’s shirt over her head. She grabbed a desperate hand up to snatch her clear white, flimsy camisole back down last minute covering her, as it was almost removed with her outer clothes. Dirk noted it was now Damien who assessed her critically and with a great deal of interest. Her small, silky shoulders were a creamy white, her belly was flat and her waist tiny, only a tightly secured drawstring was holding her baggy sweats in place, they slipped low on her gently rounded hips. Damien’s eyes settled onto the high swelling, very visible shape of her breasts and darkened nipples that were well defined by the clinging small spaghetti strap lingerie.
Candy blushed a deep red at his brother’s open scrutiny. She reached for her sweatshirt, but Dirk kept it away from her. He then smoothed down her wild locks and ran a finger over a smudge on her cheek.
“Stand here with your thumb out and look helpless,” Dirk demanded.
After taking a good look at her, he decided she did look helpless and innocent and if he had to admit it she looked down right damned irresistible. No doubt whoever was coming would stop; he knew he would. He then pulled his gun. Damien followed suit.
“Please don’t hurt anyone.” Candy grabbed a fistful of Dirk’s shirt.
“No one will be. As long as you do what I tell you. You fuck up or try and fuck me over, you’ll be sorry.” Dirk disengaged her hands from him. She went pale, her eyes widened, her hands dropped from shirt and she nodded.
* * * *
Candy watched as both men disappeared into the dense bush, wrapping bandanas around their noses and mouths to shield their appearance. She stood silently gazing in their direction, not daring to flee from fear and too tired to do so. Dirk’s threat kept her frozen regardless. Who in their right mind would fuck him over? She was scared shitless, not a fool. Not long after, the car slowed to a stop beside her in a cloud of dust.
“Well, hey, sweet thing, need a lift?” the young man driving asked.
“We got lots of room,
Candy slumped at the side of the gravel road like a rag doll, her arms hanging limp at her sides, her chin resting on her bent knees. Damien crouched beside her. The girl had spirit, Dirk admitted with mounting respect. She never once complained. He collapsed to his knees beside them.
“Now what?” Damien demanded to his brother.
“Are there any homes in this area?” Dirk asked Candy.
“Not many. Mostly old farmhouses with really old people who won’t take shit, the winter is brutal, they’d laugh at you and call you pup.”
Dirk scowled and gripped her arm. “Is that a pot shot?”
“No, it’s the truth. Seasoned people have no fear. There are bears and wolves out here. Flash your gun, and they’ll laugh. They can party in a blizzard, outside, naked. You think I’m kidding? Please, by all means, invade a home. You’ll be the one dialing 911. Tourists, mostly the young are another story, except the revisits. If we continue down this road we’ll eventually run into someone,” Candy replied. She remained seated with her knees tucked up under her chin, breathing heavily, eyes closed. She looked drained of the energy to even look at him.
Candy gave him insight; she was young but a revisit, someone who belonged. No wonder she had balls.
Dirk stood and commanded the two to follow. He gripped Candy’s arm, dragging her with him. Though she complied immediately, she stumbled and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t steadied her. Dirk knew she would soon reach the point of such exhaustion the threat of personal safety would be meaningless to her. Relieved, he spotted a car in the distance, dust spiraling behind it as it maneuvered at a fast pace over the hilly road. It dropped from their sight. He turned Candy in his arms, assessing her with a critical eye.
“What’re you wearing under your sweatshirt?”
Looking confused, she mumbled, “My camisole.”
Dirk pulled Candy’s shirt over her head. She grabbed a desperate hand up to snatch her clear white, flimsy camisole back down last minute covering her, as it was almost removed with her outer clothes. Dirk noted it was now Damien who assessed her critically and with a great deal of interest. Her small, silky shoulders were a creamy white, her belly was flat and her waist tiny, only a tightly secured drawstring was holding her baggy sweats in place, they slipped low on her gently rounded hips. Damien’s eyes settled onto the high swelling, very visible shape of her breasts and darkened nipples that were well defined by the clinging small spaghetti strap lingerie.
Candy blushed a deep red at his brother’s open scrutiny. She reached for her sweatshirt, but Dirk kept it away from her. He then smoothed down her wild locks and ran a finger over a smudge on her cheek.
“Stand here with your thumb out and look helpless,” Dirk demanded.
After taking a good look at her, he decided she did look helpless and innocent and if he had to admit it she looked down right damned irresistible. No doubt whoever was coming would stop; he knew he would. He then pulled his gun. Damien followed suit.
“Please don’t hurt anyone.” Candy grabbed a fistful of Dirk’s shirt.
“No one will be. As long as you do what I tell you. You fuck up or try and fuck me over, you’ll be sorry.” Dirk disengaged her hands from him. She went pale, her eyes widened, her hands dropped from shirt and she nodded.
* * * *
Candy watched as both men disappeared into the dense bush, wrapping bandanas around their noses and mouths to shield their appearance. She stood silently gazing in their direction, not daring to flee from fear and too tired to do so. Dirk’s threat kept her frozen regardless. Who in their right mind would fuck him over? She was scared shitless, not a fool. Not long after, the car slowed to a stop beside her in a cloud of dust.
“Well, hey, sweet thing, need a lift?” the young man driving asked.
“We got lots of room,
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