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Authors: Mark Allen

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BOOK: The Assassin's Prayer
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He
braced his left knee against the bottom of the steering wheel to keep the Jeep
straight long enough for him to pull the pin on the grenade. The arming spoon
sprang out, triggering the timer. Five seconds to detonation. Kain held it for
three, then thrust his arm out the window and tossed the grenade backwards and
up
.
He doubted the pilot even saw it coming.

It
exploded directly in front of the chopper.

Hot
shrapnel shredded the canopy. Sliced through the console. Tore into the pilot’s
neck and head. In the hands of a dead man, the chopper lurched like a drunken
bird, the rotor blades beating the air like impotent wings as smoke poured from
the crippled cockpit.

Kain
glanced at Larissa. He had seen mimes with better skin color. He reached out
and touched her hand. “It’s over,” he said. “I got ‘em.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

In
the rearview mirror, Kain watched the chopper weaving erratically, spinning
first left, then right, inexorably losing what little altitude it had, dipping
closer and closer to the ground.
C’mon,
Kain thought.
Eat asphalt.
All
he wanted to see was the chopper smash into the ground and erupt into a
fireball that would signal the end of Black Talon. He just hoped Macklin lived
long enough to smell the scent of his own burning flesh.

The
ground rushed up at the big metal bird. The landing skids slammed into the
pavement. The chopper bounced back into the air, then dipped again,
simultaneously rolling to the right like a dying whale. The rotor blades caught
in the thick steel guardrail cables and shattered in a flurry of debris. The
sudden impact drove the tail into the road, snapping the rear rotors. The skids
hit the ground again and buckled like dry twigs; the chopper dropped onto its
belly. Sparks flew where metal met blacktop until the chopper came to a
grinding halt in the middle of Route 4. The next vehicle that came along was in
for quite a surprise.

Kain
turned his attention back to the road. Beside him, Larissa was quiet, lost in
her own thoughts, whatever they might be. He rolled up the window, cutting off
the cold wind rushing through the bullet-strafed Jeep as the headlights peeled
back the layers of the night. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but that
didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Talon was a fading image in his
rearview mirror.

For
now, anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 14

 

Ten
minutes and a dozen miles later, a light ground fog began creeping across the
road, forcing Kain to slow down. They had just passed through the quiet village
of Fort Ann. Off to the right, the harsh white lights of the maximum security
state prison gleamed menacingly on row after row of razor wire. Kain felt
something deep and primal inside him recoil at the sight. By the laws of the
land, he deserved to be inside those walls; he had executed more men than he
cared to count and if he ever found himself before a judge, it would not matter
that all his victims had deserved to die. They would call him a conscienceless
killer and drag him away in chains to spend the rest of his life in a cage. He
would rather eat a bullet.

Larissa
spoke, pulling him back from his morbid thoughts. “I know where we can go.”

Kain
glanced at her. Her face had regained some color; she no longer looked like a
ghost. “Where?” he asked, passing a sign that indicated the town of Whitehall
was only ten miles up the road.

“Grampy
Cobby’s,” she replied. “I told you, he lives in an old hunting cabin way back
in the woods. It’s the perfect place to hole up, at least until we can come up
with long-term plans.”

Kain
remembered her telling him over lunch the other day that Cobb now lived off the
grid in the backwoods of Dresden, which was only about fifteen miles up the
road between Whitehall and Ticonderoga. He didn’t like involving an innocent in
their dangerous situation, but if Cobb was as isolated as Larissa indicated, it
was unlikely Talon would find them any time soon. “All right,” he said, “let’s
do it.”

“Once
you go through Whitehall, look for Pike Brook Road on your left,” she said.

Whitehall
looked deserted when they drove through it. The only spots that appeared to be
open were a convenience store, laundromat, and a rundown motel uncreatively
called Joe’s Motel. The motel boasted a big, illuminated sign out front, but
only half the lights worked, so the sign read Jo Mo. Knowing they needed to
ditch the bullet-riddled Jeep, Kain swung into the motel. There were no cars in
the front parking lot, but out back behind the office they found a well-kept ’89
Dodge Ram pickup truck that probably belonged to the owner of the motel. Kain
wasn’t surprised to find the doors unlocked and the keys tucked above the visor;
it was that kind of town.

The
vehicle exchange successfully completed, he drove through the town’s sole traffic
light, then glanced over at Larissa. Her head was turned toward the window, as
if she was gazing out at the dark scenery rolling by. Part of him wanted to ask
her what she was thinking, but the other part warned him not to do something
that could result in stirring up an emotional hornet’s nest.

Instead,
he turned his thoughts to Silas, wondering if he was dead or alive. Kain had
seen the sliver of wood impale Silas’ eye, but it obviously hadn’t killed him instantly.
Had he succumbed to the wound later? Had the sliver punctured into the brain? Kain
knew he would have to find out eventually. If Silas was dead, he could finally
let go of his hate. How would he feel not carrying that particular cross after
all these years? Something told him he would feel empty.

The
road became a bridge over South Bay, the southern tip of Lake Champlain, and as
Kain looked out across the water he saw moonlight dancing over the glassy surface,
mating with the fog and giving the bay an eerie, spectral glow. Some melancholy
part of him wished he could simply sink into those waters and never surface
again. Just drift down to the bottom and leave behind the pain of this life, the
constant ache in his heart. Not just the ache for everything he had lost, but a
deeper ache, the ache of loneliness, the ache of self-imposed solitude.

On
the other side of the bridge was the sign for Pike Brook Road. Kain took the
left-hand turn and immediately felt the pavement become rough and uneven, the
tires juddering over potholes. The Dodge Ram’s headlights flashed over
fog-laced woods.

“I
take it we’re on Pike Brook Road,” Larissa said.

Kain
felt the shocks being punished by the rough road. “What was your first clue?”

“Hardly
anyone lives back here,” Larissa said, “so the county never bothers to fix the
road. A half mile ahead you’ll see an abandoned house on the left. You can’t
miss it. Place looks like a junkyard. When you see it, let me know.”

“You
sure your grandfather isn’t going to mind us dropping in on him like this in
the middle of the night?”

“Of
course not. He’ll be happy to have some company. You know, he always liked you.
He’ll be glad to have you back for a visit.”

As
long as the visit doesn’t get him killed,
Kain thought grimly.

He
spotted the abandoned house Larissa had told him to look for. She was right;
with the skeletons of ancient automobiles rusting amidst the wild grass and
thorn bushes—not to mention the heaping mounds of garbage—the place did indeed
look like a junkyard. “We just passed that house,” Kain said. “What am I
looking for now?”

“There
should be a clearing just up ahead on the right. The path we want is across
from it on the left.”

Kain
noticed she said “path” and not “road.” A few moments later he realized why. What
had once been a logging road was now little more than a deeply rutted,
rock-strewn path barely wide enough for a single vehicle. Kain engaged the
four-wheel drive and drove slowly. Brush choked both sides of the trail,
branches scraping against the truck like bony fingers.

The
Dodge jerked and jolted over the nasty terrain and tossed Larissa around like a
rag doll. She clung to the armrest like a drowning sailor to a life preserver. “Rougher
than I remember,” she said.

“How
far to the cabin?” Kain asked.

“About
another mile.”

As
the Dodge bucked its way up the trail, Kain thought of Matthew Cobb. He hadn’t
seen the old man since he and Larissa had split up. He wondered if Cobb blamed
him for breaking his granddaughter’s heart. Kain steeled himself for the
possibility of awkward questions and angry accusations.

A
few minutes later Kain saw a “No Trespassing” sign nailed to a tree. He drove
past it, splashed through a small creek that bisected the path, and then Cobb’s
cabin appeared off to the right, set back amid some pine trees. Kain didn’t see
any place to park so he just stopped in the middle of the path and killed the
engine.

“Are
we there?” Larissa asked.

“Yeah.”

Just
then the cabin door opened, spilling a wedge of light out onto the porch. A silhouette
loomed in the doorway, a featureless black shape that Kain recognized as Cobb.
That recognition didn’t keep his hand from dropping to the butt of his Colt .45,
though. An automatic response, as involuntary as breathing, something he did
without even thinking about it. At least, that was part of it. The other part
was the fact that Cobb had a shotgun in his hands. Kain tried not to think
about the irony of escaping from Talon’s clutches only to be killed by friendly
fire from a gun-happy grandpa.

“Don’t
know who you peckerwoods are,” Cobb called out in a voice every bit as gruff as
Kain remembered, “or what you’re doing with Joe’s truck, but I suggest you haul
butt back the way you came or I’ll fill your asses with so much buckshot you’ll
be shitting lead for a week straight.”

Larissa
opened her door. The dome light came on. “Grampy,” she said, “it’s me. Larissa.
Put the gun down before you hurt yourself.”

“Lissy?
That you? By God, girl!” Cobb scampered down the porch steps with an agility that
belied his advanced years. He strode toward the Dodge Ram on a walkway made of
pallets and planks. “Who’s that with you? New beau?”

“More
like an old one.”

Kain
opened his door and climbed out of the Jeep. “Hello, Matt.”

“Travis
Kain. Well, I’ll be.” There was no hostility in Cobb’s voice and Kain realized
he had been worried for nothing. “By God, boy, what brings you way back to
these parts? A pansy like you could get himself killed sneaking ‘round in this
back-country.”

“Long
story,” Kain said.

“And
you’ll tell me every last bit of it, but I reckon it’ll hold until we get you
two love-birds inside.”

“We’re
not—”

Cobb
waved a hand. “Save it, sonny. Get my granddaughter inside first and then you
can tell me what is and what ain’t.”

As
Kain circled around to the passenger side of the truck, he studied the cabin. A
bit rough-looking, but not bad. About forty feet long, fifteen feet wide, constructed
of rough-cut lumber. A chimney sprouted from the back corner of the roof,
probably connected to a wood stove, judging from the firewood stacked along the
east wall next to the porch.

Thick
mud sucked at Kain’s boots as he opened Larissa’s door and took her hand to
help her out. Cobb stayed on the walkway, not saying anything, but Kain knew
his hawk-like eyes watched every move, missing nothing. That’s just the kind of
man Cobb was. Kain had no doubt that he was trying to decipher exactly where
things stood with Kain and Larissa, and if Cobb couldn’t figure it out on his
own, he would just come right out and ask. It wasn’t a question Kain looked
forward to hearing. He looked forward to answering it even less.

Larissa
stepped out of the truck and promptly sank up to her ankles in the thick,
sucking mud. She gasped as the cold muck oozed into her shoes. “I’m sinking!” She
grabbed Kain’s arm and clung to him.

Kain
was acutely aware of the closeness of her body. He swallowed hard and said,
“So?”

“So,”
Larissa said with an impish grin, “you’ll have to carry me to the cabin.”

Kain
knew he shouldn’t, knew it would bring back memories best left buried. Those
memories were already banging on the door of his mind, threatening to break
through and tear open old scars. But he also knew he was going to do it anyway.
Putting thought to action, he reached down and cradled her in his arms.

Instant
flashback and oh God, the pain...

Their
sixth date. Their first time making love. Just him and Larissa in a quiet motel
far off the beaten path. Standing outside the door to their suite, Kain cradled
her in his arms, desire making his heart ache. As he nudged open the door,
Larissa pulled his head down to hers. Their lips fused with wild emotion,
hearts and souls merging as they surrendered to each other, kissing their
breath away, yielding to the magical spell of passion sweeping over them.

Kain
carried her into the suite. Candles had been lit in anticipation of their
arrival. Soft shadows flickered across the bed. Kain laid her down and they
slowly undressed each other. She smiled up at him, and that smile said it all.

And
then they were one, flesh on flesh, heat into heat, a passion so intense he
thought it would reduce him to smoldering ashes. She cried out in ecstasy, her
body shuddering as she gasped into his ear that she would love him forever.

It
was Cobb’s voice that broke through his sweet yet painful memories, jerking him
unceremoniously back to the present. “Well, are you just gonna stand there like
some kind of idiot or are you gonna bring her inside?”

“Travis.”
Larissa kept her voice soft so Cobb couldn’t hear. “Are you all right?”

Kain
fought back the tears that wanted to come. Now was not the time. “I’m fine,” he
said. “Just … thinking.”

She
raised a hand to touch his face, but he pulled away. “Don’t,” he said, his
voice barely a whisper.

“Why
not?” she asked softly.

Kain
felt her warm breath on his face as her question echoed in his mind.

Why
not?

He
would never tell her the truth. Because the truth was that he wanted her touch,
her kiss, wanted to wipe away the dust and scars from his heart and dare to
love again. He had loved Larissa once and if he wasn’t careful, he would fall
in love with her again. And he could not allow that to happen. No matter how
close Cupid’s arrows struck these days, no matter what feelings for Larissa
they stirred up, his love belonged to Karen, wherever she was. Heaven or hell,
it didn’t matter; he had promised to love her forever and it was a promise he
would never break.

He
carried Larissa through the mud and set her down on the walkway. Cobb instantly
scooped her into his arms and squeezed her so tight Kain thought he was going
to crush her. But the beaming smile on Larissa’s face let him know she wasn’t
being hurt. Cobb picked her up and swung her around. “God, it’s good to see
you, Lissy.”

“Grampy,
put me down,” Larissa said, laughing.

“I
notice you didn’t tell Kain to put you down when he was holding you,” Cobb
retorted with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. But he obeyed his
granddaughter’s wishes and set her down on the walkway.

“That’s
because you’re an old man, Grampy,” Larissa said with a grin. “Kain’s arms can
handle my weight. But you have to be careful not to break something.” She
mimicked the sound of snapping bone, then stood on her toes and kissed Cobb’s
grizzled cheek.

BOOK: The Assassin's Prayer
3.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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