Death of an Assassin (Saint Roch City Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

walkway that’s only faintly dusted with snow that comes down indecisively. A flake lands on my bare shoulder and melts there, signaling its friends to give it up for a short while.
    He never thinks to question why I don’t have any cigarettes for our excursion onto the grounds of the golf course. Instead he just smiles at his company.
    “So, Mr. Donahue―”
    “You can call me Andrew,” he says with a grin. His eyes grow wide, those of a child finally understanding peek-a-boo. “I don’t know your name.” He’s a little drunk, but not nearly enough to justify this behavior. No, this is me. And I’m about to make sure that his criminal record never extends to beating the woman or his unborn child.
    “You can call me…” Oh, what the hell. He’ll never be able to tell anyone. “Layla. My name is Layla.” I smile and lean over to kiss his cheek.
    When the hook is set, you have to give it a stiff jerk to make sure it’s seated well. Otherwise, the catch could still slip off.
    He grabs my shoulders and tries to kiss my lips, but I twist my neck. His affections land on my jaw line, which seems fine for him. He slobbers down my neck with all the grace of an untrained pup, and I glance back to see that we’re far enough from the party.
    “Not here,” I purr in his ear.
    He nods. “Right. Someone might see us.”
    I look about, letting my inner actress take over. Turning back to my doomed lover, I bite my lip. “Where can we go?”
    As though he read my script, Andrew points. “The boathouse?”
    I arch my eyebrow. “I love boats. The way they rock… and sway…”
    I step forward and press myself against him. If his dull-witted smile weren’t enough of an indication, the thrust he gives me would tell me just how well I hunt. I wrap a finger around the knot of his tie and pull. “Let’s go find a boat?” A boat I’ll never set foot on.
    He grabs my hand and we’re walking. Jogging. Running. His shoes are slapping the wet walkway, and my heels―annoying necessities―are clacking the whole way. Had it not been so cold, other people might be out here. But as it is, my heels and his heavy breathing go unheard by the rest of the world. The frigid, uncaring night is ours, and soon, just mine.
    He stumbles into the boathouse door, tugging me after him. As though
he
were leading
me
. He throws the door open, the echoing
splash splosh
of waves filling my ears. After pulling me into the building, he slams the door shut. The moonlight burns through the clouds, which are accidentally dropping bits of snow, and reflects off the water of the cove visible from the opening of each boat slip. The horns of several brave vessels can be heard out on the river, but I’m the only one who notices.
    Andrew’s already slid the straps of my dress down and is exploring me with his mouth. But now that I have him here, there’s no more need for that. I pull him off me, and for a moment he glares like a toddler denied his favorite candy.
    I tap his nose playfully. “I thought you were going to find me a boat to play on?”
    He grins and nods. With some woe, he steps away from me and my slowly falling gown. Every second he wastes, he misses just a little bit more alabaster skin being exposed to the night.
    The water beneath the docks splashes loud enough that I know they are not from the tides. During the day, the Cove is protected territory for humans. During the night, however, it’s anything but. You’re safer punching a grizzly bear in the face while wearing a steak around your neck than you are swimming in the cove at night.
    Andrew shambles down the docks across from me and finds a boat―unlikely to be his―and unzips the canvas. He turns back to me. “Is this one good enough?”
    I smile, and with a slight tug so as to look accidental, let the front of my gown drop just low enough. Andrew gapes at my half-nude form before him and grins, stepping forward, neglecting the boating slip between us. The slip that had