Assassin Treasure (Assassins Book 4) (2 page)

Candy was gripped roughly within his arms. He propelled her backward, almost lifting her from the ground, eager for her. Her backside bashed against the desk painfully and with an evil glint in his eye she was abruptly turned and found herself thrown face down on the desk as he ripped at her pants.

“How do you want it first? You’re getting it all three ways, but I’m a generous man. Your ass, your mouth or your pussy? Pick now or I will.” His hand squeezed at the flesh he exposed, hurting her.

Candy’s hands roamed the desk frantically; she grabbed at a large stapler and swung backward as hard as she could. With a great deal of satisfaction she heard a sickening thud as it connected with his head, then clattered to the ground.

“
Bitch,
” Darren howled in outrage, grabbing his head in his hands, stumbling back.

Candy fled from the office, yanking up her pants. She ducked behind one of the many cubicles in the outer area and huddled under a desk. But not before arming herself with another stapler.

“That wasn’t smart, Candy,” Darren yelled loudly into the large empty room.

Candy pulled herself into a tight ball. She was unable to stop the terrible tremors that ran through her. She willed herself not to cry. Her hand hurt from the death grip she maintained on her weapon.

“If you show yourself, I might allow you to beg my forgiveness,” Darren said lightly.

Candy peeked through a crack between the desk and the cubical wall divider. She could see his fists balled in anger. She wondered fearfully if he planned on doing more than raping her; by the evil grin on his face she could tell he was contemplating something violent. She swallowed hard when he reached up and, removing his tie, he wrapped an end around each fist and pulled it taught with an audible snap.

“Candy?” he called softly, chuckling, closing in on her huddled form.
“I see you.”

Candy saw his dark expensive shoes move closer. She was trapped and guessed he was about to kill her; she’d enraged him by fighting back. No one was allowed to fight back against Tyler Darren. The stapler hurt from her death grip. There was no escape. Candy was no commando; she’d fight but there wouldn’t be much of a battle. She swore if she was going down, she’d take a chunk out of him.

“Darren,” came a loud sudden voice.

Darren’s head snapped in the direction of the angry commanding tone, so did Candy’s. She saw the man’s legs to his waist; she was positive he couldn’t see her. For a second, she thought to run to him for help; she changed her positon slightly and remained immobile. Things went from horrible to insane bad. A huge, powerfully built, blond man was walking toward Tyler, a gun in plain view. Darren took a step back and visibly paled, Candy all but forgotten.

“Who the hell are you?” Darren snapped.

“Damien.”

“What the hell do you want?” he demanded with false bravado.

“Mr. Marcus wanted me to relay a message,” Damien answered with a wicked grin.

Darren swallowed hard. Candy squeezed her eyes shut for a second. The rumors must be true. It was only last month Brent Marcus had raged at Darren he would pay for the rape of his daughter. Darren simply laughed into the enraged, frustrated man’s face. No one could touch him, he was too wealthy. His family was too powerful; he could do as he pleased, to anyone. Candy was privy to offhand comments. She had no doubt they were true accusations.

“You tell that old bastard his daughter begged for it,” he sneered with unveiled contempt. “Go fuck yourself and take your hoax threats, asshole. Marcus and his simpering bitch daughter will pay for this, too.”

“I don’t give return messages, Tyler.” He raised his weapon.

“Wait.
Don’t you know who I am?
” Darren shrieked, incredulous. He dropped his tie onto the ground and splayed his hands before him.

“You’re history,” Damien declared. He discharged his revolver right between the man’s eyes.

Candy heard a soft puff of air and suddenly Tyler Darren lay on the ground not two feet from her huddled form, his sightless, glassy eyes gazing through her. A small trail of blood oozed from a neat hole in his forehead. The blood drained from her face. Candy shoved her fist into her mouth, but it was too late. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

Damien, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly, he turned slowly in Candy’s direction. Candy, who had been shaking before, shuddered uncontrollably. No doubt the man who advanced on her was a paid assassin. He would need to silence her; she’d seen his weapon, heard its almost silent discharge. She could remain immobile no longer while awaiting yet another attacker.

With a sudden burst of terrified desperation, Candy bolted from her hiding place and fled toward the hallway. She didn’t get far. The powerful man lunged for her and grabbed her up off her feet easily, pinning her to the ground beneath him, his weight capturing her, pressing her into the carpet.

“
Get off me,”
Candy screamed in terror.

She looked desperately into cold, ice blue eyes, devoid of compassion. The man held the gun to her. Candy struck out wildly, connecting with the stapler she still clutched. The man howled in surprised pain when it was cracked into the side of his head. Candy slipped between his legs. She was up and running, slamming into the door that led to the stairwell.

Candy raced down two flights before entering another floor, almost falling in her hurried haste, hearing the thundering of feet a floor above gaining quickly. The hallway was dark and she fumbled along, banging into walls, her breathing erratic. She slipped inside a dark office and locked the door, shoving a chair beneath the door handle. She huddled behind a huge plant in a far corner, stuffing both fists against her mouth.

Before long she heard the ominous rattle of each doorknob as the man made his way down the corridor toward her room. Her heart pounding, Candy winced when she saw his huge silhouette just beyond her door. She willed herself to remain still. The door handle jiggled. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as a cold chill passed through her. One eye peeked open. She stifled a gasp, stuffing her fists so tightly against her mouth she thought she tasted her own blood. The man was pressing his face against the door window, searching to see beyond. His large, gloved hands looked sinister splayed. She forgot to breathe as he spent just a moment more before moving off.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Candy settled back against the wall, remaining hidden. Her shaky hand rose to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her tense body rocked back and forth. She stayed there for hours, rocking, until she heard the banging of the cleaning crew down the corridor.

Peering in each direction, she left the room. No one else was about. Hesitantly, Candy moved off, feeling somewhat safer in the early morning sunlight that filtered in the windows, she went undetected by anyone. Her thoughts were in turmoil, her body exhausted. She’d witnessed the murder of a man. A man she had been alone with.

Candy knew Tyler’s family. She’d heard terrible rumors which she now believed wholeheartedly. The entire family was said to be sick and twisted, evil, perhaps even had connections to the mafia. The claims appeared outrageous, and she needed the money her job offered to survive. The Darren family was a suspicious lot, and she was uncertain they would believe her about the assassin.

She needed to hide until she could calm down, until she could face the police and Tyler’s family. Tyler, after all, attempted to assault her. She was positive Tyler’s father wouldn’t allow that type of scandal to surface. He would silence her after first acquiring a vivid description of the killer and why he came. Candy remembered Lisa Marcus; she was a tiny, sweet young woman, with beautiful blue liquid eyes. Though shy, Candy had grown fond of Lisa and her gentle, caring ways.

Lisa had stopped coming to work almost a month ago. Tyler said he fired her because she wasn’t catching on to what he wanted quickly enough. He lewdly hinted she couldn’t keep pace with him. Of course he would’ve found her innocence irresistible. She would’ve been unable to fight off his advances. Lisa mentioned to Candy how grateful she was Tyler had given her this job, even though she lacked experience. Feeling sick, Candy realized that was exactly why Lisa got the job, her inexperience. Poor Lisa, if Tyler’s father was to learn it was Brent Marcus who hired the assassin, neither he nor Lisa would ever be heard from again, their lives rested in Candy’s hands. The responsibility weighed heavy.

Stumbling into the dim parking lot, her low heels clattered and echoed in her ears in her haste to be away. Candy fumbled with her keys, hands shaking. Entering her car, she slammed the door, locking it. For a brief moment, she allowed herself the luxury of huddling behind the steering wheel. She rubbed at her tired eyes, and then turned the ignition. Candy pulled away; with slow deliberation she exited the underground parking lot from the massive building into the heavy rush of traffic. The sharp morning sunlight blinded her momentarily.

Candy returned home long enough to throw some clothing into a single suitcase. She grabbed what she could from the refrigerator and cupboards, tossing the items haphazard into a duffel bag. She raced from her tiny rented home, threw her belongings into the back of her beat up old car and sped off. Her next stop was to a drive through banking machine, where she cleaned out her account, although there wasn’t much to be had. It wouldn’t take her far, but it would get her to where she needed to be. She guessed cash would be harder to track than plastic.

She headed for the solitude of Bancroft. The growing northern town was no longer the sleepy little village it had once been when she was a child. Yet, its beautiful high hills and deep, quiet valleys would offer her ample protection until she could figure out her next course of action. She owned a tiny, though quaint, wooden cabin on a secluded lake. Her parents had left her the cottage after their deaths, it was all they had, and though she struggled with the financial upkeep, it was worth the trouble. She would die before giving it up. If she could afford to winterize the place, she would never leave.

Candy was positive Tyler’s family would look for her. All she needed was time to think about her next course of action. The cottage was remote; she never talked about it to anyone. Three or four days would offer her a chance to take a breath. She gave a thought to the large blond assassin, but shoved him from her mind. He couldn’t possibly have gotten a good look at her; the whole thing happened so quickly, she wasn’t certain she would recognize him. He didn’t have a clue as to who she was, just another ordinary face in the crowd. Hopefully, she’d distorted his image of her when she cracked him over the head with the stapler.

Damn, I bet he’s pissed.

The idea caused a moment’s concern. As Candy thought about it, she decided it was more than likely he’d left the country, and would never be heard from again. Little comfort. The Darrens would be staying right where they were and tracking her. Even if she described him as best as she could to the police, there were so many men out there that were huge with blond hair and blue eyes, they’d never find him. Tyler’s family would want immediate revenge. They would center their attention on Candy. When they found her, and she had no doubt they would unless she moved fast, she would disappear mysteriously. The police would assume she was guilty and slipped into hiding. Eventually some unsuspecting person would venture across her decomposing body. She shuddered.

The long day slipped into the evening. With relief, Candy stopped her car at the top of the hill that would take her into the heart of Bancroft. Instead, she drove to the left, following a hilly road deeper within the solitude of the countryside. The old road twisted and turned, dipped and rose. There were no street lights to guide her way as the sky darkened; she could’ve followed the path with her eyes closed. Before long, the pavement turned to gravel and she slowed, breathing a soft sigh of relief. Within half an hour, she was turning onto a tiny patch of road that would take her to her special lake.

She loved the little overgrown road she followed. The tree tops closed over and around in most places. Only allowing sun to filter through when it was feeling generous. Protecting any who walked along from the heat of the sometimes overbearing sun. It seemed nature allowed and welcomed this mystical entry into its surreal, endearing surroundings. If ever a magical place were protected by gnomes and wood nymphs, this would be it.

Candy pulled onto a horseshoe shaped, grassy driveway, covered over with a small spattering of dirt and stones. She smiled a bit tiredly, realizing the first order of tomorrow would be to mow the overgrown lawn. Work of late had been hectic, her vacationing time sporadic. With sad dismay, she realized her small piece of heaven was suffering in her absence. She turned off her car and rested her weary head on the steering wheel. She would be safe here.

The cottage was dark, as it should be. A few adventuresome bullfrogs could be heard in the distance, calling out a welcome in the cold night air. It was late in the season, not many lights could be seen around the small lake. From her vantage point, Candy could see the lake shining under the moonlit sparkle. Not one ripple marred the calm serenity of the sleepy dark water.

Candy stepped from the car as weariness settled over her. She grabbed at her meager possessions and climbed the five sturdy steps to the back door. She took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold, from darkened outside to equally darkened inside. The stillness of safety washed over her, enveloping her in an embrace of familiarity. The smell of the cottage was uniquely hers, an enticing aroma of pine, fresh air and life—family. She breathed deeply. It was the sweet scent of home. Candy had been coming here with her parents ever since sequestered within her mother’s womb. Every remembrance was endearing, each room filled with laughter and her fondest memories, a tribute to her early family life, each moment an extraordinary gift. Nothing could ever harm her within the beauty of these hills and valleys.

Moving to the smallest of the tiny four bedrooms with ease and without the need of any light, she opened the gray electrical panel. She felt around gingerly and threw the switch, immediately rewarded by being bathed in soft light. After plugging the refrigerator in, she loaded in all of her groceries from the duffle bag, including tin cans. The mice would be very active this time of year preparing for winter. She wasn’t in the mood to have to wipe down mouse shit before enjoying a simple can of beans. The somewhat tricky pump under the cottage could wait until morning. She was too tired to bathe and loathed the idea of finding a flashlight and hauling water from the lake to prime the pump.