Assassin Territory [Assassins Book 1] Read Free

if mildly turbulent.
    The engine revved and Christy felt the tingle on her ass through the seat. The somewhat uneven, grassy airstrip jolted them as the plane gained momentum; the numerous coniferous trees at the sidelines whisked by. With Howard’s practiced ease they were soon airborne. Christy gave a soft sigh once the aircraft evened out. When she opened her eyes the man—Lando, the officer had called him—was again staring at her. His dark eyes were the most intense she ever encountered. She noticed Sam’s dark glare as he locked his own angry gaze on the man, once again trying to divert his attention from Christy.
    “I said, cool it, ” the officer snapped at his prisoner, and again gave him a good jab.
    Lando offered him a contemptuous look. “What the hell are they gonna do, open the door and ask me to leave?”
    “I got two parachutes,” Howard said with a wide grin.
    Christy watched as Lando narrowed his unnerving eyes, assessing the pilot. She could see his grudging respect for the scrappy little man. It was apparent Howard wouldn’t take any of the man’s nonsense. The feeling was a comfort. She could see Lando’s annoyance as he settled back, and she gave a sigh of relief when he closed his eyes, apparently deciding to drop the issue.
    * * * *
    Christy woke with her head on Sam’s shoulder. She sensed she hadn’t been asleep very long. After Lando decided to leave her alone, she’d thought her situation through. Sam would never hurt her; he wouldn’t allow anyone else to hurt her. There wasn’t a single time in her life a police officer hurt her, and Howard was a sweet man. With Lando settled she relaxed, then gave in to her well-deserved weariness. Now fully awake, she yawned, and then realized she felt a bit of discomfort.
    It had been a busy and exciting week. Neither she nor Sam really had time to stop for a decent meal and her tummy growled, embarrassingly loud. She looked up as Lando shifted in his seat to once again gaze at her. Christy felt the blush creep over her throat and face. Lando lifted an amused eye, determining where the sound originated from, and once more faced front.
    “Hungry?” Sam asked.
    “Starving,” she replied, her head nodding in enthusiastic confirmation. Sam laughed and she could just see his thoughts. Now who was being melodramatic?
    “Once we get to the airport, I know of a little restaurant where we can go. It’s like a bed and breakfast. Mrs. Jones makes the best spaghetti and meatballs you’ve ever tasted. She bakes her own garlic bread from scratch and heaps on gooey, melted mozzarella. That, coupled with her fine handpicked wines made from her vineyard. She grinds the fresh Parmesan onto your food right at the table, and her handmade Caesar salad has garlic-roasted, home-baked croutons, with warm, crisp-cooked, thick slices of maple bacon that just melt in your…”
    “ Sam, ” Christy whined. “You’re not helping.” She was mortified when her tummy once again rumbled out a loud, angry protest.
    Sam chuckled and offered a soft apology. “I’ll feed you when we land,” he modified.
    “Thanks,” Christy mumbled.
    “Sounds good though,” Christy heard Lando mutter.
    “Yeah,” the officer wistfully concurred. “Sorry, Lando, you and I have a date with a vending machine,” he said, abrupt, then added grouchily, “I’ll be happy to deliver you to the proper authorities. I want to go home to my beautiful fiancée, whom I haven’t seen in well over a month.”
    “I should charge you with cruel and unusual punishment,” Lando commented, with obvious annoyance. Christy could see his deep scowl of distaste as the men continued to bicker.
    “Although the vending machine will be a relief from soggy wieners, rock hard beans and burnt macaroni. Christ, does your fiancée realize what a horrible cook you are?”
    “Just be grateful you’re still alive,” the officer replied, his lips settled into a fine, grim line.
    Lando snorted at him and