Assassin Treasure (Assassins Book 4) by C.L. Scholey

lips in liquid form. Though fretfully, he noticed she’d lost weight. He bathed her again, as he did every night, taking great pains to keep her from slipping under the water in the tub while he lathered her hair. He washed with tenderness at the generous bruising he’d caused on her arms; thankfully, the small sores were healing without infection. During the day, he talked to her and held her in his arms at night, cuddling her to his warm body. A few times he was certain she’d been listening, or at least searching for his voice.
    “Dirk,” Damien began hesitantly, “I feel as though I should be doing more.”
    “I did this,” Dirk interrupted.
    “I did this,” Damien replied. “I was happy I wouldn’t have to accept the responsibility of her. If I’d taken charge I would’ve kept her from pissing you off. I understand how touchy you are about Carrie. I should’ve stepped in sooner. It was me she saw kill Darren. I wish I’d found her without your help, tried harder to track her down. I’m so used to my big brother riding in on his white charger to save me, to take over. You know I was waiting for you, I knew you’d come. I suspected the tracking device because you’re so damned protective. Even after all this time, you’re still cleaning up my mess for me.”
    “I’m your big brother, Damien. You’re my responsibility. It’s only right you expect my help. I never regret helping; you’re important to me. I love you,” Dirk replied, though even to his own ears his voice seemed devoid of emotion, mechanical. His words weren’t a lie. Damien meant the world to him; Dirk was tired, emotionally, mentally, physically.
    Dirk’s thoughts weighed heavily with him. Not for one second did he blame his brother, the burden of guilt was his alone to bear. Their father hadn’t said anything about Candy, yet Dirk knew he watched occasionally as he took care of her. His father remained quiet with his lips pressed into a grim line, wearing an expression Dirk had never before encountered. He wondered if his father was changing his mind or had regrets about who he was leaving in command. Dirk battled his own regrets. He was supposed to be hard, Iron Hand junior, what a laugh. He couldn’t even quell his compassion for a simple girl. She should have meant nothing to him…why did she mean something to him?
    Fucking compassion can kiss my ass.
    Over the last few days his touches to her body subtly changed to tender caresses. The first time he pressed his mouth to her warm forehead his lips tingled with the attraction he felt. When he undressed her, his gaze didn’t devour her sweet body, but lingered with longing hunger. A hunger that simmered. He wouldn’t shame himself further by taking advantage of her vulnerability. He was no knight, he was her captor. She’d been his prey, his victim. Now she was just his.
    Dirk hardly noticed when Damien left. His thoughts and gaze remained centered on Candy.
    “Daddy?” a soft voice questioned.
    Dirk rose immediately and went to his daughter. “What’re you doing out of bed, baby?” he asked with concern.
    The young woman before him was a petite blonde. Her long blond hair hung down her back. During her pregnancy, the ends of her hair had begun to curl and a ringlet settled over her shoulder. Her blue eyes, like Dirk’s, gazed at him with open admiration and love.
    The doctor had put Carrie on complete bed rest when her blood pressure rose; she should have been lying on her left side. Dirk took her to a large easy chair and assisted her down. His hand stroked her hair. Even in her last month of pregnancy, she still looked so tiny to him, he was awash in protectiveness. He tenderly nestled his hand onto her protruding belly, feeling the comforting kicks beneath. He missed out on so much when Carrie’s mother begged him to leave when he was barely eighteen, thinking his profession and family life too frightening. She felt he and his mafia family were a danger to her and