My Assassin Lover

By C.L. Scholey

"Who are you?" "Wolf." There was no doubt in Casey's mind this Wolf had sharp teeth and if left alone with her she'd be eaten alive. Aboard a cruise ship and terrified of the water was bad enough but Casey was certain the man who stalked her every move was an assassin. Becoming ship wrecked, alone, with a man who wants her dead is beyond terrifying. Wolf is certain the woman he prowls is a killer, that's fine, so is he. He is positive he hunts a child murderer. What he learns when his mark captures him makes Wolf question his mission. Either way the island is about to get hotter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: May 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633555877

C.L. Scholey

Guardian [New World Book 6] Wandering a shattered, dying Earth, Roam despises the loneliness. Alien vessels he must avoid circle overhead. When he collides with a Tonan deep in the heart of a jungle, Roam engages in a brutal battle. To his surprise, a human female comes to the Tonan’s aid. The Tonan, Taz, has six females under his protection, including his mate and child. Jinx hates Castians and Tonans alike. The handsome man Taz brings home is breathtaking. He’s also the only male besides Taz she has seen in four years. Jinx falls for Roam immediately. Her world is shattered when she discovers her new lover is masquerading as human. How can she not hate him when a thieving Castian stole her sister? What’s worse is discovering Taz is a Tonan. Evil creatures who murdered her father. How can she forgive either of them?   Defender [New World Book 7] Endless destruction defines human life in a world run amok. There are those who will pick the uncertainty of the alien sky, are the Tonans life or are they death? Macey learns first hand a Tonan warrior doesn’t apologize for who or what he is or will do. In an unforgiving new world there is one who battles his heritage. Can Taz be the defender Macey needs, or are his four hundred year old decimating roots buried too deep to refuse? Taz needs to make the decision fast. His mentor slash tormenter will come looking for him. Krish will kill Macey. Indecision rules Taz’s life until in a heartbeat he decides his fate, Macey’s fate and Earths fate. Either way—death will follow.   Mine! [New World Book 8] "Mine!" One of the most powerful words in the human language, possession. Desperate need to hold onto what you love with every fiber of your being. Until Huck realizes in order to hold onto what he loves most he will have to let not only Becky go but a part of who he is, what he is, perhaps the best part. For Becky no matter where she has gone in the universe, no matter how many planets she set her wandering feet on, home wasn't a place, it was a who. Until her father and lifeline died. When a half evil alien presents himself demanding love and acceptance, Becky is determined to fight the hardest battle in her life. Home will become one powerful male, if Huck can be saved. There is no greater war at times, than the fight fought from within.  

Book preview

Prologue

The distraught man across from Wolf sat weeping on a hard backed chair in the corner of a loud video game establishment. A cascade of tears ran from red-rimmed eyes uninhibited down sodden cheeks. Dark circles so apparent under his eyes, they weren’t bags but suitcases. The man’s name was David. Wolf had been keeping close tabs on the man to make certain his interest in Wolf’s special abilities was real. An assassin could never be too careful. David checked out, and half of Wolf’s money as guarantee sat in a bank account under a different name.

The arcade was filled with screaming children; no one would overhear their conversation. The lights were dim, the floor sticky. The place had the ambiance of the Mad Hatter. Wolf told David to dress as though he had a kid running wild; under the circumstances, Wolf’s words could be construed as cruel. Both men had untouched cups of Coke in front of them. A nasty bag of cold, stale semi-burnt popcorn added to the charade.

David clutched a well-worn picture of him and his young daughter to his chest. His devastation was apparent. His misery, an open book on his troubled face, told a detailed story of his heart-wrenching pain.

She killed her, the man whispered on a choked breath then repeated his words a little louder. He cast his gaze around the room and took a deep breath. A balled fist rose to swipe at pained eyes, the wetness absorbed into his rumpled clothing leaving a tiny stain on his dark long sleeved shirt.

Can I see the picture? Wolf asked. His gaze, he knew, was expressionless from years of practice. Inwardly he was enraged; he never condoned the murder of children. A seething anger was building; it had since he was first approached.

Yes. The man’s breath was shallow.

His hand shaking with slow deliberation, David handed over the picture of him happily clutching a girl of no more than eight, to his chest. The two smiling faces looked bright-eyed at the camera as they waded knee-deep in a sea of brilliant, heart-stopping blue. Palm trees dotted the distant white sand against a beautiful, summer’s day. Wolf could almost smell the atmosphere.

The picture was taken the year previously while we were on vacation. The Caribbean was remarkable. It had been our first father and daughter trip away from our country. My daughter loved everything, new smells, new tastes to discover. She was so animated and wanted to go back. Now she’ll never go anywhere, she’s gone. My innocent little angel was so full of life.

Do you have any idea who could’ve been responsible? Wolf asked. He stared intently at the picture of the sweet-faced cherub. Her long, flowing, white-blond hair seemed to caress her father’s form as he held her possessively.

Yes, I know her. I married the bitch. The agonized man sobbed in pain. His face went from anguish to hateful, seething anger.

Do you have anything I can identify her with? Wolf asked.

David’s shaky hand disappeared into another pocket to produce another picture. He offered it over to Wolf.

"This is her. I couldn’t bear to have the witch’s face anywhere near my baby; I couldn’t have their faces in the same pocket. This is the heartless, soulless bitch that killed my baby girl. She ended her life before it even began, and I don’t understand why. My little Abby was helpless. She was so small and defenseless; this killer took her life without any reason. Please, please stop her before she kills again and devastates another father’s life. Please make her pay. I’ll give you anything you ask. I would give you my soul. Abby must not have died in vain." David ran his trembling hand over his pale face, wiping the tears away. He gazed at Wolf, red-eyed and haggard.

Wolf studied the picture. The noise of the arcade faded as he concentrated. The flashing lights and blips and bells became nonexistent. The woman had shoulder-length light brown hair. She was glaring at the camera with a searing, angry expression. Her cold brown eyes centered dangerously at whoever snapped the shot. Clearly, she had been enraged. Wolf tucked the pictures into his coat pocket, the face of the woman and child already memorized.

I’ll avenge your daughter, Wolf said.

I’ll more than avenge your daughter.

I’ll pay you anything, I’ll give you anything, I promise. You have no idea what she’s capable of; her lies are so believable. She had me fooled for a year, she had everyone fooled until I opened their eyes and made them see the killer she was. After she killed Abby, she said we could always have another—as though my daughter was no more than a goldfish, David declared, his eyes still flowing freely with his tears, his relief apparent.

Do you know where your wife is? Wolf asked, leaning forward, anxious to find his mark.

Yes. She’s going on a cruise. She killed my baby girl then decided she needed a break. I can’t believe I lived with her. I can’t believe she’s taking my money and going on a vacation after what she did. She informed me we needed time away from one another. Can you believe that? She needs time to collect her thoughts; what she’s really doing is celebrating. She couldn’t wait to get rid of Abby. I should have seen it coming when she nagged for her to go to boarding school, David raged with agonized heartbreak. Another mournful sob raked his slumped shoulders, a trembling hand dragged across his tired eyes.

I’ll take care of this, Wolf promised.

She needs to be stopped; she can’t be allowed to kill another child again.

She won’t. I’ll make certain.

Wolf stood and placed a quick hand on the grieving man’s shoulder. Then, with purpose, he strode off. He had just enough time to sign up for a cruise. This was one boat ride he wouldn’t be late for.

Chapter 1

Casey looked over the railing, watching the large waves bubbling and swirling beneath her. She breathed in the tangy-salt ocean air and tried to still her erratic heartbeat. Her apprehension mounted. She’d never taken a cruise, yet the incessant pleading of her husband struck a chord in her. It had been a long two months of grieving. David was right; he and Casey did need a break from one another. After little Abby had been killed, David’s anguish almost destroyed him; his anger drove a thick wedge between them.

David blamed Casey for Abby’s death. She’d been the one with Abby when the accident happened. It was so horrible. The second the memory flashed, the horrified scream ripped through Casey’s mind; it took everything in her power not to slam her hands over her ears. The overwhelming horror as Casey’s returned scream ripped from her mouth in the terrible, enveloping, cold, empty darkness of that awful night.

Shut it off, shut it off.

She squeezed her eyes closed tight and balled her fists. Her fingernails dug into her skin. Casey battled to clear her mind of the images; she drowned out the screams, the tastes, the smells. She un-balled her fists and relaxed. She inhaled and released. Absently, she ran her hand along her shoulder and winced from the pain an angry burn mark caused her, both physically and mentally. It wasn’t the physical pain, but the emotional one yet to heal. The scar would be forever burned into her soul.

Refusing to dwell on the agony of the past, Casey cast a glance to the sky and watched absently as a seagull flew and then glided amidst the current overhead. Its fluttering wings dipped in a downdraft, then sailed silently onward into the clear blue, cloudless sky. She envied its carefree movement. Oh, to fly and fly without a worry. Distracted, she wondered why it was so far from land. The gull made no attempt to rest on the great ship, just passed lazily farther out to sea with some unknown destination in mind.

Her brows knit together against the warmth of the sun. She raised a hand to shield her eyes as she watched the bird float with the wind farther, farther, until it finally vanished from her sight, simply disappearing, enveloped in the embrace of the horizon. She gazed, puzzling after it.

They come out here to die.

Startled, Casey spun and found herself gazing up into the face of a remarkably tall and handsome man, who towered over her making her feel insignificant. Even if I was six-two he would make me feel small. His thick, midnight dark black hair barely reached his ears, curling in a teasing fashion. His light baby-blue t-shirt stretched across the wide, generous span of his broad chest. Faded blue jeans hugged his narrow hips, defining muscular thighs. She felt a moment’s attraction flutter in her breast at his mythical Greek god good looks. Casey shuddered though, when she gazed into his eyes. Hard, ice-cold, deep brown eyes returned her look, until Casey started to quiver with trepidation.

I beg your pardon? Casey asked, with an air of confusion. Her head tilted to the side, her bemused expression was windowed back at her the man’s eyes were so dark.

Seagulls, they come out here to die, the man replied. His gaze intensified until Casey squirmed under his scrutiny.

Really, I never knew that, she mumbled, unnerved at his uncanny intuitiveness for knowing what she was thinking.

With dismay she noted her hand was clutching the railing, turning her fingers white. She loosened her grip and forced herself to relax. You’re being ridiculous. She was on a cruise ship out in the open, nothing could possibly happen to her in public. The man was only engaging in polite conversation. But why did she feel so uncomfortable? Perhaps it was because he was inching his way nearer, a clear encumbrance of her personal space. His jean clad thigh pressed against the bare skin of her leg as her short skirt fluttered in the breeze. Casey couldn’t shake the thought he was advancing to intimidate her, to frighten her. His gaze wasn’t a seducing interest.

Your first cruise? the man asked conversationally.

His voice was low-pitched, deep and even, with the slightest hint of an accent. The warmth of his thigh rubbed with the barest of friction back and forth against her, his chest was inches from her. His powerful form was increasing her intake of breath. If it was his intention to scare, he was succeeding, although Casey was at a loss to imagine why he would want to accomplish such a thing. She stood vulnerable before him. He was more than twice her size, powerfully built. She had nothing he could possibly want.

Yes, Casey stammered. And my last. She was beyond uncomfortable with his close proximity. To her dismay, goose bumps adorned her bare arms. If you’ll please excuse me, I’m suddenly not feeling very well, she added hastily. It definitely wasn’t a lie—her stomach, which had before been mildly queasy, was now rolling ominously with each wave as he pressed closer.

Casey moved to step around the man, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her retreat. Hastily, she stepped back against the railing or she would have collided with his chest. She looked up at him, startled, her panic overpowering her thoughts. The man wore the same impassive, unnerving look; his gaze bore through hers. Casey was alarmed; she felt the blood drain from her face. Her gaze took flight around, desperately seeking other people. With relief she spotted another man, though not quite as impressive as the one before her, standing at the railing not too far from her seemingly oblivious to them.

You’ll have to excuse me, Casey said, turning toward the other man. Never good at lies she took a breath and tried to steady her nerves. I see my husband over there.

She tried to escape around him but he gripped her hand and studied her fingers. No wedding ring?

Angry, Casey scowled. In the two short months her agony over her loss had taken a toll. Her wedding ring no longer fit and had fallen off two days prior. Casey placed it in her jewelry box intending to have it sized when she returned.

Not your business.

Abruptly, she yanked her hand from his and dodged under a well-muscled arm, making a quick escape. Scooting away from him, she wasted no time in retreating to the large, blond man. A man who looked at her, very surprised, when Casey suddenly appeared beside him and clutched at his hand.

Well, hello. Who are you, sweetheart? the man said gazing at her, with open curiosity.

I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s this weird guy bothering me. He’s making me feel uncomfortable, Casey said hurriedly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea when she saw the obvious interest flicker in his eyes.

What guy? the man asked, casting his curious glance over her shoulder.

That man over... But when Casey looked, the dark-haired man had vanished. She and the blond man were alone.

You don’t have to play the damsel in distress routine, honey. You’ve got my attention, the man said to her, placing his hand over Casey’s. His blue eyes gazed into hers. Hot damn you’re cute, the way the sun shines through your blond highlights and thick, long, honey-colored hair, tousled from the wind. As if you’ve just been bedded and are lookin’ for more. I could drown in those warm brown eyes flecked with emerald green and gold. I’m interested all right, baby.

Excuse me? Casey blinked. He was actually coming onto her; he actually thought she was flirting with him. Holy hell, what kind of a line was that?

Seriously, dude?

Mmm, baby, those eyes of yours ooze heated desire and an innocent sweet touch of vulnerability. Peaches and cream complexion starting to tan, that hint of a sunburn across the top of your pert, light freckled nose makes me want to take a taste of brown sugar. Rosy lips to entice any man to want to trace their outline with the tips of fingers. I’m game.

He mustn’t get out much. Or get much.

I’m married.

Well, that’s even better, baby. Why don’t we go to my cabin and talk about the pros and cons of monogamy, the man said, and laughed delightedly. I’m not interested in any meaningful relationship. If you get me.

No, thank you, Casey stated. She removed the man’s hand from her own.

I guess I’m too much man for you to handle. Your loss, the man said, chuckling. His head cocked to the side. Staring openly at her tits under her light pink t-shirt and a peek of her midriff before trailing his gaze to her white skirt. All the while licking his lips.

My loss? I doubt it.

She walked away with quick determination.

* * * *

Casey sat in a far corner of the large dimly lit dining room, away from the rectangle windows’ views of the choppy ocean. Snow-colored cloth linens adorned table tops set with fine silver nestled in burgundy napkins. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The tone of the room was set for lovers. Casey was the wilted daffodil amidst the single red roses set as the centerpiece for ambiance. If David were with her, she might have appreciated the beauty. If Abby were there, Casey would have been in love with the room even if cockroaches crawled wayside of the lush carpet.

The hour had grown late. Most of the passengers were retired for the evening; only a few lovers or lovers of the evening remained to linger over a late dinner, the children long since tucked into bed. Candles blazed, romantically flickering with the occasional breeze, and quiet music sounded from a distance where a few adventurous others danced, bodies swaying in an unhurried gesture.

A fresh red rose was settled in the tiny long-stemmed crystal vase before her, a petal fell, blood red against the ivory, an omen. Casey had hardly touched the lobster, long since grown cold. She was working on her third rum and coke, reminiscing. Abby had loved lobster. Abby loved a great many things. The edges of Casey’s lips curled, remembering their trip to the Caribbean together. It was her and David’s honeymoon. David insisted Abby was to come. Abby had never been on a vacation, and he felt it would be cruel to leave her behind with an unknown babysitter while they were off having the time of their lives.

Casey hadn’t minded, their first family vacation, she was as excited by the child’s presence, her new daughter’s presence. She loved the thought those wonderful, warm words invoked. She was a mother. Casey fell in love with David’s daughter the moment they were introduced. Abby’s biological mother had died when Abby was only two, leaving her and David alone. They had no other family. From the beginning, the child accepted Casey unconditionally, and she shared her father without jealousy, knowing instinctively Casey wanted her near, as much as she needed Casey near. Casey wondered for the longest time if she hadn’t fallen for Abby first, before David.

David was the most loving father; it was amazing to see them together. He gave Abby everything he had of himself, and everything he could afford materialistically. Casey winced at the thought. On a deeper level, she often wondered if David married her because she was wealthy. With her money, he was able to give Abby anything, everything.

The child wasn’t spoiled. Abby took delight in a seashell handed to her. It meant as much to the thoughtful little girl as the pony David and Casey had given the child. The mare was a dapple-grey mount and a wedding present. Abby was Casey’s maid of honor and had been thrilled. Abby told Casey in secret she thought the coolest wedding gift had been a new mother. Finally, she would have her own mother to love, and show off like all of her other friends.

Casey recalled Abby telling her one day that any gift should be a treasure. It meant that someone was thinking of just you for a special moment in time. Casey had smiled tenderly at the eight-year-old, and called her precocious and precious.

Does that mean you love me? Abby asked her hopefully, eyes bright with deep, needy emotion.

I can’t help but love you, Abby, my little darling, beautiful child, Casey replied. The child moved into her arms and Casey held her tightly to her breast, stroking her flowing, white-blond, silky hair. She knew in her heart she couldn’t love Abby more if she had given birth to her. Abby was the real treasure...she had been.

A tear trailed its way down Casey’s cheek, dripping onto the back of her hand. She looked down as the moisture glistened in the soft candlelight, a gloomy memory of another sodden, shadowed evening laced with heartache and a waterfall of endless tears. Hastily, she wiped at her eyes and rose a bit unsteadily to her feet, her hands bracing themselves on the table top. She decided it was time for a breath of fresh air.

Casey walked out onto the deck of the ship, first noticing the brilliant starlight, and then stared over the railing. The black water churned beneath her, swishing and bubbling as the large vessel slid through the ocean with the grace of a seal. She could feel the telltale chugging of the engine through her feet, invading her senses, reminding her she was far from dry land. Her belly lurched and Casey wondered if it was fear or the alcohol.

She was again wondering if this cruise had been a good idea. Casey hated boats. She had fallen from her father’s yacht when she was six years old and almost drowned. David knew that. The fearful memory plagued her some nights, during their honeymoon. He had been wonderful, holding her, soothing her as her disclosure brought tears to brighten her eyes. The horrible terror of complete helplessness as it literally washed over her. David understood her fears and never suggested anything