Read Online Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men) by Donya Lynne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donya Lynne
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loved to read. Not many could in those days, but she could. She had been his breathtaking, educated beauty. He often found her sitting in the rocking chair on the porch of their cottage, her nose buried in one of her leather bound books. She read and reread each one over and over and never grew tired of them. What would she think of his gift to her now?
For an instant, he thought he saw Carmen out of the corner of his eye, but as soon as he glanced up, she was gone.
Malek…
Was that her voice or just the wind rustling the branches against the window? He closed his eyes and heard his name again.
Malek…
"Carmen?" He opened his eyes and stepped toward the opposite corner of the table, where he thought he had seen her a moment ago. "Are you here?"
Malek…
He turned, and through watery, bloodshot eyes that hadn't seen sleep in days, he saw a filmy image of Carmen shimmer and disappear just as he reached for her hand. His hand closed over empty air.
He stared at his loose fist, suspended in front of him as if he grasped her fingers, but there was nothing there. Just emptiness, a void of sorrow, his limbs robbed of movement and his soul ripped of the momentary joy he had felt by her brief presence.
Carmen had been nothing more than a sleep-deprived hallucination. A waking dream sent to torture him.
Every muscle in Malek's body tightened, and his fist clenched so forcefully that his arm shook.
"No!" Agony rent his heart, which shuddered then raced as he lunged forward in the space where Carmen had just stood and drove his fist through the drywall. If only he could die.
Images of Carmen's death threatened to overtake his mind, but he pushed them away as he pounded against the wall again, showering the floor with plaster and chips of paint.
"Stop it! STOP IT!" He turned, slammed his back against the wall, and covered his face with his hands before sliding to the floor. "Carmen, oh God, Carmen!" With his eyes squeezed shut, he sobbed into his hands. His chest pumped with each hiccup of breath, and his torso contracted with every strangled wail of despair until he threw his hands to the sides and screamed up at the ceiling, "WHY?"
Silence was his only reply.
He drew his head down and blinked. Tears splashed to his cheeks. "Why?" He withered into a fetal ball on the floor, curled into himself, and covered his face once more. Hopeless despondency overwhelmed every base need and instinct. If the blinds and drapes had been open, and the sun rose, he wouldn't have been able to move to save himself.
CHAPTER 5
Gina poured another shot of Jose Cuervo and her body relaxed into her seat on Trevor's private jet.
Trevor walked back from the galley holding two bottles of Corona with lime wedges sticking out the tops.
"For me?" she said, taking a bottle.
"Yep."
"But what about Jose?" She lifted her glass.
Trevor took the glass from her and placed it on the table. "I think you've had enough of him." He sat down across from her, so that he faced her, and leaned back in his seat.
Trevor was one of those strikingly handsome males, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a smoothly shaved, square jaw. Clean-cut and refined, he oozed sex appeal and success, and drew a person in the same way a perfect sunset made you stop and stare in awe. You just simply couldn't look away and had to admire God's exquisite craftsmanship. And Trevor was a damn fine work of art.
Too bad he and Gabe had never been able to make their relationship work. They had looked good together. But sometimes things just weren't meant to be. And if Trevor had mated her brother, he might not have survived Gabe's death. And then she would have lost two brothers that night instead of one.
The two sat in silence for a few seconds, then Trevor said, "You know Searcy and Vaydon are going to come after us." Their targets had graduated from being Mark One and Mark Two.
Talk about a buzzkill. The temporary light mood the tequila had created whooshed out of the cabin. "Yeah, I
For an instant, he thought he saw Carmen out of the corner of his eye, but as soon as he glanced up, she was gone.
Malek…
Was that her voice or just the wind rustling the branches against the window? He closed his eyes and heard his name again.
Malek…
"Carmen?" He opened his eyes and stepped toward the opposite corner of the table, where he thought he had seen her a moment ago. "Are you here?"
Malek…
He turned, and through watery, bloodshot eyes that hadn't seen sleep in days, he saw a filmy image of Carmen shimmer and disappear just as he reached for her hand. His hand closed over empty air.
He stared at his loose fist, suspended in front of him as if he grasped her fingers, but there was nothing there. Just emptiness, a void of sorrow, his limbs robbed of movement and his soul ripped of the momentary joy he had felt by her brief presence.
Carmen had been nothing more than a sleep-deprived hallucination. A waking dream sent to torture him.
Every muscle in Malek's body tightened, and his fist clenched so forcefully that his arm shook.
"No!" Agony rent his heart, which shuddered then raced as he lunged forward in the space where Carmen had just stood and drove his fist through the drywall. If only he could die.
Images of Carmen's death threatened to overtake his mind, but he pushed them away as he pounded against the wall again, showering the floor with plaster and chips of paint.
"Stop it! STOP IT!" He turned, slammed his back against the wall, and covered his face with his hands before sliding to the floor. "Carmen, oh God, Carmen!" With his eyes squeezed shut, he sobbed into his hands. His chest pumped with each hiccup of breath, and his torso contracted with every strangled wail of despair until he threw his hands to the sides and screamed up at the ceiling, "WHY?"
Silence was his only reply.
He drew his head down and blinked. Tears splashed to his cheeks. "Why?" He withered into a fetal ball on the floor, curled into himself, and covered his face once more. Hopeless despondency overwhelmed every base need and instinct. If the blinds and drapes had been open, and the sun rose, he wouldn't have been able to move to save himself.
CHAPTER 5
Gina poured another shot of Jose Cuervo and her body relaxed into her seat on Trevor's private jet.
Trevor walked back from the galley holding two bottles of Corona with lime wedges sticking out the tops.
"For me?" she said, taking a bottle.
"Yep."
"But what about Jose?" She lifted her glass.
Trevor took the glass from her and placed it on the table. "I think you've had enough of him." He sat down across from her, so that he faced her, and leaned back in his seat.
Trevor was one of those strikingly handsome males, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a smoothly shaved, square jaw. Clean-cut and refined, he oozed sex appeal and success, and drew a person in the same way a perfect sunset made you stop and stare in awe. You just simply couldn't look away and had to admire God's exquisite craftsmanship. And Trevor was a damn fine work of art.
Too bad he and Gabe had never been able to make their relationship work. They had looked good together. But sometimes things just weren't meant to be. And if Trevor had mated her brother, he might not have survived Gabe's death. And then she would have lost two brothers that night instead of one.
The two sat in silence for a few seconds, then Trevor said, "You know Searcy and Vaydon are going to come after us." Their targets had graduated from being Mark One and Mark Two.
Talk about a buzzkill. The temporary light mood the tequila had created whooshed out of the cabin. "Yeah, I
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