Not Done Living

By Suzanne D. Williams

All was in place for the kill shot.

Casey Hearn was told to kill Mason Thornhill, and that would be simple enough except what begins as another assassination, ends with an attraction she can't deny and her heart placed in his hands. He's not who she expected at all. He's stronger and smarter and one step ahead of her at all times. But there's a world of secrets between them, and now, someone is out to silence everyone involved. Unless, of course, she gets to them first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: Jun 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223518464

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Central Florida, 1888

A slight breeze furled the flags strung across the tents below, bringing with it the sweet smell of baked goods, wood smoke, and a vivid protest from the girl’s stomach. She ignored it and concentrated instead on the location sighted at the end of her rifle. Second tent, eastern view. High noon. All was in place for the kill shot.

Flattening herself further against the sun-warmed earth, she lay stone-still, biding her time. Any minute now he’d appear. Yet he didn’t, and a certain amount of anxiousness built.

All right now, come out, she mumbled to herself. Where was he hiding?

The collection of tents snapped and popped in the breeze, a noisy backdrop to the distant crowd of fairgoers, all oblivious to the drama unfolding above. She held her breath. Hopefully, it’d stay that way, and she’d be miles away before anyone knew what happened.

Another minute crawled past, then the flap of the tent she’d been watching swept back and a male figure emerged. She smiled broad. "There you are Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

Too bad a pretty one had to die, because he was an eyeful.

He stepped right, and she pressed her finger to the trigger, inhaling to steady herself. This was the moment. One, two, she counted, tightening her grip. Three. No.

Not kids. She would not shoot a man in front of children.

He wasn’t supposed to work today. She’d planned this angle and location for that very reason. But he’d circled around and entered one of the carnival games. Young faces, brimming with eagerness, stepped up to counter, pennies clutched in their hands.

She reversed from the gun and sat up on her knees. She couldn’t do it this way. She’d have to go in close. Not what she wanted, but there was too much at stake. They expected word of his death tomorrow, and she either provided it or her life was at risk and lifetime of cash went down the drain.

She buried her rifle beneath the leaves and reached to the side for a handgun. Burying it in her skirt, she dashed off the slight rise to level ground, then across the packed clay into the mesh of tents.

More stomach-churning odors assaulted her. Greasy fried sausage mixed with sautéed onions, horse manure, and sweaty vendors. Merchants hawked their wares, selling everything from iron pots to horse shoes. Over top, the raucous noise of a fiddle fought against an out-of-tune hand organ, the bleating of sheep, and steady chug of a steam engine.

She wandered down the narrow, cacophonous passageways, halting outside his tent, then, two fingers on the canvas, pulled it back and peered inside. He bent forward, his back to her, and dropped three white balls into the hand of a preteen youth. The boy, his face flushed, puckered his lips and, one eye squinched, took aim.

She released the canvas.

She needed to draw him away from this area to somewhere quieter, and for that she needed a disturbance. She glanced left and right then wended her way back the direction she’d come.

She turned a corner and discovered a young woman bent over a bucket. Her skirt hiked to reveal slender ankles, she dabbed a cloth in the milky water.

Raising her gun, the girl brought the barrel in contact with the back of the woman’s head. Don’t move and don’t scream, she said.

The woman drew in a shuddering breath.

Keep your hands where I can see them and walk backwards.

Hands trembling, legs shaking, the woman did as she was told. At the edge of the passageway, the girl bumped her in the shoulder. Turn left, but don’t look at me.

They revolved in tandem until both faced outward. She shoved the woman forward.

Returning to the carnival game, she came to a halt, the gun pressed hard to the woman’s spine. Here’s how this is going to work. When I say so, you’ll scream, and make it good. I want you to sound like you’re dying. Got it?

The woman jerked her head up and down. Anything you want. Just don’t hurt me.

One, the girl counted, tension building in her arms.

Two, she continued, releasing it. Three.

She jabbed her in the shoulder, and the woman let out a terrified scream.

Chaos ensued, fairgoers shrieking alongside the heavy stomp of running feet. The sides of the tent flexed and shivered, and the canvas flap shot back.

She smashed the woman in the head with the butt of her gun, sending her crumpling to the ground, and raised the barrel to his face. His eyes widened.

Up with the hands, turn around, and march.

He obeyed, and she steered him away from the scene, her senses keen to any approaching feet and the bedlam created in her wake.

It quieted the deeper she pushed, the tents giving way to a large, wooden barn and beyond it, the sprawling workers camp. Leftover campfires, carnival gear, and other debris speckled the ground. Laundry hung limp in the lifeless air.

What’s this about? he asked.

She thumped him with the gun. Silence.

Rounding the barn, she forced him into a cavity out of sight of the fair. Here, the wind died down, and the odor of animals hung thick.

Face the wall.

He complied, and she brought the gun, once more, to his head. No hard feelings.

A laugh shook him, and her anger flared. Don’t know what you find humorous about this.

‘No hard feelings,’ he quoted. Like I’m going to feel anything once you shoot me. He paused. Answer me this. Why here?

The gun warmed in her hand, the feel of it comfortable in her grip, and she relaxed. I do what I’m told, she said.

And what were you told?

To kill Mason Thornhill at the fair before it leaves town.

He leaned his hands on the barn wall, an almost casual stance. It doesn’t bother you to take someone’s life like this?

She tossed her head, sending her dark brown locks swirling around her head. You mean, because I’m a woman? Obviously not. I’m here, aren’t I? They wanted the best, so they hired the best.

You’re the best? he asked.

She snorted. I’m done talking. He was in no position to judge her. Readying her hand, she made to squeeze the trigger.

But in one swift motion, he spun around, twisting her wrist, and wrenched the gun away. He smashed her backwards toward the barn wall, and she flew sideways, smacking the building with a thump.

He aimed the gun at her heart. I’m not done living.

The lines of his face were hard, his eyes black as midnight, but somehow that enhanced his appeal. She stared into their depths, an itch coming over her, a flash of heat and desire.

She moistened her lips. You going to kill me now?

He tilted his head. I’m not the murderer, you are.

So what? We stand here like this? You turn me in? They’ll only come after you again.

We should talk then, he replied.

Talk? You want to talk? She laughed. The only talking I’ll ever do with you is flat on my back.

A smile crooked his lips. That can be arranged.

Her senses heightened again, the slight pressure of his fingers, the muscular planes of his chest, his heady, masculine scent rushing in. Overcome, she placed one hand behind his head and dragged his mouth to hers.

A fire lit between them, uncontrollable, and it burnt a path through her mind, claiming her next few breaths. She pulled back with a gasp