The Assassin's Prayer (17 page)

Macklin
gagged him, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and went to work with methodical,
surgical precision, submerging Cobb in a hell of agony beyond anything he could
have fathomed. Still, it took nearly an hour to break him and before the
information was pulled from his bleeding body and spilled from his mashed lips,
thirty-eight percent of his skin, nine teeth, seven fingers, four toes, and one
testicle lay in a messy pile next to him.

Macklin
removed his dripping gloves. “There was no need for all this pain. All you had
to do was tell me what I wanted to know. But unreasonable men like you always
want to play hard. Well, was that hard enough for you, old man?”

Cobb
laid there in a dark world of blood and agony. He could feel death creeping
closer and welcomed its arrival. His swollen lips moved, pleading for an end to
the pain. But Macklin just stared at him with dead eyes like a slab of meat. He
seemed to be drinking in Cobb’s agony as if it was the elixir on which his soul
thrived. When he finally moved, it was not to deliver the mercy blow, but to go
into the bathroom. Cobb heard the sound of water running and the tink of metal
against porcelain as Macklin washed the blood from his knife.

Even
through the agony afflicting every atom of his being, Cobb felt an acute sense
of failure. He had broken, had told Macklin where to find Larissa and Kain; the
betrayal burned like bitter bile deep down inside him. He not only
wanted
to
die, he
deserved
to die for what he had done.

Macklin
returned from the bathroom and Cobb nearly sobbed in desperate relief when he
saw the pistol in his hand. Here, at last, was the end. “You’ve been very
helpful, old man,” Macklin said, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. “Must
sting a bit, knowing you helped kill your own granddaughter, but I want you to
know I appreciate it.”

The
pistol rose, slowly, and Cobb followed its rising trajectory until it came to a
stop. The black hole at the end of the suppressor stared at him with hypnotic,
unwavering intensity, and then Macklin pulled the trigger. There was no pain,
just the heavy impact of the bullet hitting him between the eyes. In his last
slivered nanosecond of life, he had only one final thought. 

Forgive
me, Larissa.

And
then he was gone.

CHAPTER 16

When
Kain awoke shortly after dawn, he didn’t move; just laid very still, listening
to the sounds of the cabin and the surrounding woods, using his finely-honed
instincts to probe for any hint of threat. He did it automatically, no thought,
the process as natural to him as breathing. He doubted he would ever be able to
wake without instantly going on full-alert. Life in the shadows had embedded
such actions deep in his psyche like DNA.

Rain
no longer rapped on the roof, but Kain saw droplets on the window, so the
showers had stopped shortly before he woke up. Outside, raindrops would be
clinging to the leaves and the woods would be hushed, the kind of quiet found only
in nature.

Beside
him, Larissa stirred, caught in that neutral zone between sleep and
wakefulness. Her body pressed against him and Kain could feel the warmth of her
naked skin. One of her arms was draped across his chest with an intimate
familiarity that Kain found soothing. Sometime in the night, the covers had
slipped down and he could see the smooth curve and swell of her breast. He
remembered touching her last night, the feelings that had flamed through him
with fierce ferocity and shattered his self-control. Even now, looking at her
as she lay peacefully beside him, he felt the desire to surrender once again to
what lay between them.

Larissa’s
eyes flickered open. For just a moment, Kain imagined she was looking at him.
But of course, that was impossible. She would never look at him or anyone else
ever again, thanks to Macklin. She made a soft murmuring noise and stretch
languidly, reminding Kain of a cat. “What time is it?”

“Not
sure,” Kain said. He had taken off his watch during their hours of passion last
night and had no idea where it was now. Probably lying on the floor with the
rest of his clothes. “Judging from the light coming through yonder window, I’d
say it’s about an hour past dawn.”

She
smiled at him. “Did you just say ‘yonder’?” Her hand rested on his chest, her
fingers gently caressing. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Yeah,
so?” He felt her touch and had no desire to move away. It just felt so right
and so wrong, all at the same time.

“Seems
like a pretty poetic word for a guy like you.”

“I
have my moments.”

“Yes,
you do.” She pressed even closer to him, her breath warm on his neck. “And I
wish this moment could last forever.”

“Larissa...”

She
reached up and touched a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh. Don’t say it. I know,
okay? I know. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“That
doesn’t change anything either.”

Kain
made no effort to pull away, knowing it would hurt her if he did. He had hurt
her in the past by walking away from her love and he was hurting her in the
present by refusing her love. Would there ever come a time when he didn’t hurt
her?
Sure,
a voice in his head answered.
When you’re dead.

Kain
didn’t like to admit it, but that inner voice was probably right. He’d be doing
Larissa a big favor by sticking his .45 in his mouth and blowing his brains out.
Pretty morbid thoughts for first thing in the morning. Here they were, embroiled
in a war, the past and present on a collision course that could only end in
blood and carnage, and they had been given a moment’s respite, a break from the
battle. So what did he do with those precious moments of peace? Think about having
a hollow-point with his morning cup of coffee. Clearly he had some issues.

Larissa’s
finger traced the ridge of his collarbone. “You got quiet all of a sudden,” she
said. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re
not worth that much.”

“Tell
me anyway.”

“Some
other time.”

“Do
you promise me there will be some other time?” she asked softly.

Kain
recognized that this was a pivotal moment, an opportunity to open his heart,
share the emotions bottled up inside him and maybe change the course of his
life. All he had to do was tell her what she wanted to hear. But instead he
heard himself say, “I can’t make a promise I don’t know if I can keep.”

The
moment withered away and crawled back into its dark hole. Would it ever surface
again? He had no way of knowing. How many times can you crush hope before it
finally dies? Kain suspected he would find out before his life was over. Which
would be sooner rather than later if Macklin or Silas had their way.

Kain
felt anger doing a slow-burn inside him, simmering like hot coals. He was sick
of walking around with a target on his back, wondering when the bullet with his
name would strike, if the next moment would be his last. He possessed plenty of
wealth but it was all blood money and thus unable to buy him any peace. Beggars
on the street slept better than him because their consciences were clean. They
also possessed another thing Kain did not—the ability to reciprocate love, and
right now Kain was well aware of how much that was worth. His twisted emotions
howled inside him, cold with despair and hot with rage all at the same time.

Larissa
moved beside him. “Hey, are you sure you’re all right?”

He
heard the concern in her voice, the love she felt for him, and rage stirred
anew. He wanted to lash out at the futility of his life, a life so dark and
violent he could never share it with a woman for fear it would get her killed, just
like it had killed Karen. As much as he wanted to be with Larissa, he couldn’t
bear the thought of another innocent dying because of him.

An
image of a desolate, wind-swept grave with his wife’s name etched in the stone
appeared in his mind and his lips tightened in a grim line.

“Travis?”
Larissa reached up and touched his face.

“I’m
fine,” he said. “Just thinking about Karen.”

He
saw pain on her face, there one moment, gone the next. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why?”
he said, more harshly than he intended. “You didn’t kill her.” He wanted a drink.
Not a good sign, especially this early in the morning.

“Neither
did you.”

“In
a way, yes, I did.”

“I
don’t think you really believe that.”

Kain
said nothing and the silence stretched between them, broken only by the beating
of their hearts. It was a silence made for grim thoughts and Kain obliged by
thinking of his murdered wife, of Macklin’s blade carving open her wrists, her
blood staining the water. He then thought of Larissa’s slain husband, of
Macklin’s bullets tearing him apart, spraying his blood all over Larissa’s
screaming face. Eyes soft with pain, Kain looked down at Larissa. They shared
the same wounds.

But
she had survived, refusing to let life twist her into a bitter, hate-filled
shell. Instead, she had rolled with the punches, accepted her pain, and moved
on. Ripped by grief and tried by fire, she had emerged from the flames stronger
than before, a beautiful blend of silk and steel. Kain knew he paled in comparison,
choosing to live his life haunted by the past rather than embracing the future.
Anger was his shield; bitterness, his armor. That was the harsh truth and oh
God did it sting like hell.

He
slid out of bed and padded naked to the window. He turned the crank to open it
and felt the brisk morning air on his skin. Outside, ground fog clung to the
earth in an unbroken marsh of mist as far as the eye could see. It would burn
away soon enough, melted by the rising sun, but for now it smothered everything
in a gray shroud. Here and there bare branches protruded through the fog’s
surface like the fleshless fingers of long-dead corpses struggling to rise from
their soupy graves.

The
cool air caused gooseflesh to crawl across Kain’s body. Rubbing his arms for warmth,
he looked up at the sky. It was clear and growing lighter by the minute. Soon
the sun would show its face, the fog would disappear, Cobb would return, and
hopefully they could spend the day in relative peace, safe from their hunters,
at least for now.

Leaving
the window open, Kain walked back across the room and got dressed, listening to
the birdsong coming through the window. Now that dawn was here, the woods were
coming alive.

Larissa
smiled from the bed. “You always were an early riser.”

Kain
slipped on his shoulder rig, checked the .45 to ensure there was a bullet in
the pipe, then slid the gun into its holster. “Some things never change.”

“You
don’t have to remind me of that,” she said.

Kain
glanced at her and the love in her eyes was unmistakable. Uncomfortable, he
turned away. A moment later he heard the sound of an approaching engine. It was
still some distance down the road, but getting closer.

“Sounds
like Grampy’s back,” Larissa said.

Kain
almost agreed, but then the sound separated into plural components. It wasn’t
one engine he was hearing, it was two. Coldness crept through his veins.
“That’s not Grampy.”

Larissa
sat up in bed, spurred by his sudden tension. “Talon?”

“Either
that or some very determined Jehovah’s Witnesses.” He picked her clothes up off
the floor and handed them to her. “Get dressed. We have to get out of here.”

Larissa
began pulling on her clothes as fast as she could. Meanwhile, Kain rigged the
cabin door with enough C-4 to reduce the place to toothpicks. The first unlucky
Talon operative to breach the cabin was going to be in for one nasty surprise.
Knock-knock. Bang-bang. Bye-bye.

By
the time he finished, the rumble of engines was very close. Moving quickly, he
helped Larissa out the open window in the back room, then grabbed the duffel
bag and crawled out after her. Grabbing her hand, he led her into the evergreen
thicket on the other side of the road. Their breath plumed in the cold morning
air. Frost-coated leaves, hidden by the ground fog, crunched under their feet. Once
in the thicket, they hugged the earth, using the soupy mist for concealment,
and waited for Talon to arrive. Kain checked the shotgun, making sure it was
loaded to capacity. If Macklin gave him an opportunity, Kain was determined to
take the bastard out.

The
rumble of the engines evolved into a full-throated roar. Two Hummers lumbered
into sight, dirt spewing from their knobby, oversized tires. Kain saw Macklin riding
shotgun in the lead vehicle and felt a rush of rage hot enough to turn bone to
ash. His finger curled around the SPAS-12’s trigger, but he knew he couldn’t
take the shot. The Hummers appeared to be military-grade and that meant heavy
armoring and bulletproof glass. If he fired at Macklin now, the shot would just
bounce harmlessly off the Hummer and leave their position exposed, which would
be a pointless waste and tactical mistake. So he put a leash on his rage and
took his finger off the trigger.

Above,
the sky lightened, dawn yielding to day. The fog felt cold and clammy on his
skin. Larissa knelt beside him, hugging herself for warmth. Kain’s eyes
softened when he looked at her. Then, as if someone had flicked a switch, they
hardened again as he turned back toward Black Talon. They were the eyes of vengeance
and had Larissa been able to see into their depths, she would have felt a
moment of breathless fear at the primal forces contained in the heart of the
man she had never stopped loving.

The
Hummers halted almost directly in front of Kain, the roar of their monstrous
6.5 liter V-8 engines deafening in their proximity. A moment later, the engines
were killed and Macklin and the five remaining members of Black Talon exited
the vehicles. Kain fixed his gaze on the man who had murdered his wife for no
other reason than sheer amusement and felt his pulse quicken, throbbing with
fury.

Using
the Hummers as shields between themselves and the cabin, Macklin and his
operatives braced their Heckler & Koch MP5/10 submachine guns across the
hoods, roofs, and bumpers. The woods seemed to have gone absurdly quiet. The
fog slithered like a living entity, suffusing the scene with surrealistic
stillness. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath. A dead leaf fell
from a nearby oak and Kain imagined he could actually hear the sound of the
stem breaking away from the branch. His eyes followed the leaf as it floated
toward the ground.

And
then the silence was shattered.

“
FIRE!”
Macklin roared with his mangled voice, slamming back his trigger.

Nine
H&Ks blazed in unison, singing a hi-powered hell-song.

Crouched
in the fog, Kain watched the 10mm bullets pound the cabin. The wave of lead
tore hundreds of holes in the walls and exploded the windows as Talon raked the
place from floor to rafters. Kain smiled coldly. It was overkill, and that let
Kain know just how dangerous Macklin considered him to be. It was flattery by
firepower.

The
magazines in the MP5/10s emptied in a matter of seconds. Silence returned and
burnt cordite left a bite in the air. Spent brass littered the vehicles. More
brass would be rolling around under the operatives’ feet, hidden by the fog. Beside
him, Larissa remained as still as humanly possible. Macklin motioned for one of
his Talon soldiers to check the cabin.