Assassin Deception (12 page)

Chloe felt something placed into her lap. She glided her fingers over the hard features of the doll, recognizing it instantly. “Salvare!” she cried excitedly. “But I saw her smashed to pieces.”

“I took her to a doll doctor. Really, they have them. He was able to piece her together with what I could find. I’m afraid she looks a little rougher, but whole once more. I even found her eye,” Damien said, his voice filled with pride.

Chloe reached to hug him enthusiastically. By the close proximity of his voice she knew he was crouched before her. Damien laughed at her exuberance.

“Thank you Salvator, you really are one who saves,” Chloe said, brought to happy tears by his thoughtfulness.

“I’m glad I made you happy. Do you want to take her up to your room to put her in a safe place? You wouldn’t want Rhea or the twins getting a hold of her.”

Chloe pulled from his embrace and wiped at moist eyes; she had promised herself no more tears. “Only if you help me maneuver the stairs instead of carrying me. I need to learn to use them on my own eventually. I can’t rely on someone to carry me all the time. I need to be independent.”

* * * *

“Can I still carry the doll for you?” Damien asked. Seeing her questioning look, Damien continued hurriedly. “I mean I’m not into dolls anymore, I’m too old, I mean not like I ever have been into dolls. It’s just she’s very fragile and I would hate to see her break again.”

Damien stood before her feeling very foolish and was grateful she couldn’t see his expression. It had been with deep sadness and determination he had painstakingly collected the pieces of the doll, knowing how important the doll was, not only to Chloe, but himself.

It wasn’t the toy, but its deeper meaning and profound significance. When they had played house Chloe had been convinced he was her knight, that he could protect her, her special ‘Salvator’.

He had felt so inadequate when she claimed he was not only her protector, but the dolls'. With its fading, fragile looks it seemed as vulnerable as Chloe had been so long ago and again was once more. He needed to fix her, as he wished he could fix Chloe. Chloe was his Salvare. They both needed rescuing. This time he would not fail.

Using the armrest, Chloe rose and handed the doll into his embrace. “I never once told anyone you used to play with her, pretending she was our baby. You were the most caring boy I had ever met. Always so gentle with the both of us.

“You never teased me; never once had you been cruel or used your strength against me to harm me or intimidate me or bully me. You never pulled my hair or spit, or called me names. I have loved you forever. You are my best friend, Salvator. You have been ever since I can remember. You have always been my hero.”

“I thought maybe Dirk was,” Damien grumbled, though he felt choked with emotion at her kind words.

“Dirk is too much the authority voice. I grew up obeying him. I admit I was in awe of him, perhaps still am. But you’re different; our relationship was so much more. You and I grew up together, we did everything together.

“You slew fire-breathing dragons for me; you fought off the vicious trolls with your wooden sword. You were always behind me, watching closely, when I needed to go my own way, beside me when I needed a friend to listen to, and in front of me when I was afraid. We did a lot of firsts together. Very special firsts. You helped me climb my first tree.”

“Yeah, and you got stuck, skinned an elbow and your knee, cried your heart out and Dirk had to get you down, and I got a mouthful from both him and Dad,” Damien grouched.

“You braved the wild for me. Remember my first camping experience? Dirk took us both. I begged and pleaded to be included, not wanting to be left behind. Dirk had been worried that a nine-year-old girl would be too frightened to be out in the woods away from her mother. But I surprised him. I always feel safe around Dirk and you. I knew you would protect me. I loved it!”

Damien had hated it, declaring it to be the worst and most horrifying experience of his life. He hated the bugs and the sticky bug spray, the wildlife smelled funny and defecated wherever they pleased and not in designated areas humans could avoid.

Sleeping on the ground was pure torture; it was damp and lumpy. He hated placing worms on hooks, as the muck oozed out and the hook eased in. Damien had been astounded when Dirk cooked the fish over the fire, head and all, without white wine sauce or seasonings, and then expected him to try it.

He had gone home with poison ivy, itching everywhere, grumbling the dirt would never come out from underneath his fingernails. He felt certain his hair was infested with termites.

“Oh God,” Damien groaned. “Not that, Chloe, please don’t go there.”

“You saved me from the killer bear,” Chloe reminded him.

“It was a squirrel, and he screamed like a little girl, almost running you over to hide from it,” Dirk said dryly from the doorway.

“I thought it was a bear,” Chloe muttered. “You always said it was a bear. I thought I saw it.”

“Sweetheart, how could you have seen it?” Dirk said, chuckling. “You flung yourself into my arms. Your head was buried so far into my shoulder I’m surprised you didn’t suffocate yourself. I don’t know how I ever managed to pry your hands loose from my clothing, you were clinging so tight. Damien was running in circles around us, hair standing on end, howling,
Bear, bear!
I don’t know who Damien scared worse, you, the squirrel, or himself!”

“It was a really,
really
big squirrel. Like a small bear, maybe a crossbreed,” Damien grumbled, embarrassed.

“You told me it was a bear!” Chloe accused.

“It came out of nowhere, bloody fangs as long as my fingers! It almost attacked you! It could have been rabid, you know,” Damien said defensively.

* * * *

Dirk howled with laughter. Chloe giggled at the petulant little boy tone he had used. “Of course it could have been rabid,” she soothed. “And all that night you slept with me in my sleeping bag, arms tightly wrapped around me, to keep me safe. You were so brave.”

Dirk snorted. “Who was protecting whom? And what is that you’re holding? Playing with dolls now, Damien?”

“Damien had her fixed for me. Isn’t he wonderful?” Chloe now gushed, remembering her beloved doll. “I thought she was gone forever but Damien surprised me. He even found her eye. I can’t believe he went searching in the dirt for a glass eye! I bet while still wearing his Armani pants, and three hundred dollar shoes. That he would be so loving, crawling around to find all the pieces, that he…he…”

Chloe was suddenly sobbing, though she had been trying so hard to control her overwhelmed emotions. Her face bowed into her hands as the sweet image came to her mind, how much he loved her, the trouble he would go through for an old doll, just for her. Chloe was crushed to Damien’s chest.

“You are worth the effort. Only for you would I risk ruining an expensive suit.”

“Are you the one who bought the doll new clothes?” Dirk said with a smirk. “You have such good taste in dresses. I can see she is wearing a stunning floral pattern of satin pink.”

“If you like it so much maybe I can find it in your extra jumbo size,” Damien snorted.

Chloe disengaged herself from Damien, now smiling at their banter, knowing it was for her benefit until she could compose herself. She loved them both so much. She wondered again how she had gotten so lucky with such a wonderful family.

“Dirk!” Came a sudden frightened cry.

Dirk spun sharply about as Candy threw herself into his arms hard enough for him to take a step backwards to steady them both.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Dirk demanded.

“Dirk, it’s James, a call just came in,” Tyr said, barreling into the study, a heartbeat behind Candy. “The brakes on the limo failed. They crashed, someone’s dead. Wolf’s already in motion and is organizing the men on home base for you. You need to come,
now!”

Terrified, Chloe stood in the middle of the study as everyone raced from the room in a mad dash, forgetting about her in their frenzy. She refused to call for anyone, knowing how distressed they were. She rubbed at sorrow-filled eyes, worried for James. He couldn’t die! She needed him, she loved him too much.

Chloe felt for the chair and, using her memory of the room, she slowly made it to the doorway. With her hands before her, she pawed the air, searching for more furniture, knowing she had now entered the living room. Her memory deceived her; she misjudged distance.

A table lamp crashed to the ground when her waving hand connected with it. Dismayed, Chloe slumped down, searching to right it. She cut her hand on the broken glass and pulled her bloody palm to her chest with concern. She was unable to tell the extent of the injury or if it would require stitches, but could feel the wetness seep from the painful spot.

She rose once more and, on wobbly baby steps, she ventured forth, searching for something to give her an indication as to where she was in the large room. She felt the air with one hand, not wanting to soil the furniture with the bloodied one.

“Someone?” she finally called, realizing she needed help.

Chloe shuffled ahead until she collided with the couch. With renewed excitement, she trailed her hand along the top of the couch until it came to an end. Once more her hand found empty air.

She groaned when her ribs made sudden contact with a high-backed chair. She realized she was at the tiny walnut desk holding a phone and writing paper. Chloe knew the three stairs to the front door would be near her soon.

She resisted the urge to crawl, fearful of falling. She felt along the wall. It was with relief she felt the banister beneath her fingers. Chloe didn’t want to go outside alone, but knew if she made it to the front door she would have her bearings and would be able to find the massive staircase that would take her to her room, where she could feel safe on her familiar bed while waiting word from Damien on James’ condition.

Chloe felt the cold metal handles to the double solid doors. She turned around, pressing her back to the carved wood for only a moment, and then, moving off to her right, she once more maneuvered up the next three stairs in the opposite direction. She stopped abruptly once she reached the top. A strange scent wafted to her nose; it was close. She cocked her head to the side curiously, wondering what it was. It seemed somehow familiar.

“Hello?” Chloe called. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. “Please?”

No one answered. Chloe could sense another presence close and wondered why they didn’t answer. She could hear whomever it was breathing. None of Dirk’s men would be so cruel to her; she was certain whomever it was could see her fear. Chloe began to shake. The frightening letter came to mind. The explosion stormed into her thoughts. Chloe whimpered, splaying both hands before her in a pleading gesture, unable to retreat.

“Please, I hurt already,” she begged, at once realizing the scent she detected was a man’s cologne.

“Not enough,” Came a harsh, deep voice. Chloe had never heard the voice before, but she thought it sounded distorted somehow. That he was in James’ house had her mind screaming in terror. The babies were inside. The men were busy, the women in turmoil over James. Oh God, who was with the children? How could she ever hope to protect them?

“Please don’t hurt anyone,” Chloe begged. Her body trembled harder. She prayed she wouldn’t faint.

A vicious hand grabbed her by her shirt collar, pulling her to a hard chest. Chloe felt the bulge of a holster strapped to his side; he was armed. The man was large. Powerful arms held her against hardened muscles. His breathing had increased as though agitated. A fist grasped, entwining in her long hair. Chloe felt the cold harsh steel of a knife at her vulnerable, exposed throat.

“Please don’t.” Chloe panicked with her overwhelming thoughts. She was about to die. Her darkened sight took her to a darker place within. “Did I make you angry somehow? I’m sorry. I won’t anymore. Don’t hurt me again, I’m frightened.”