Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page A

guts, that’s obvious, but he still can’t stop
drooling over her like a moron. Confused and angry, Troy lets the shovel fall
to the ground and stomps up onto the loft so that he can push hay down. He
mumbles under his breath as he works, and kicks around a few bales just to get
out his frustration. If he were home, he’d have a few solid rounds with some of
the members in the opposite gang and bash their skulls against the ground. But
the only two people who are here is Cassidy Grant and her father. And neither
one of them would be a fair fight.
    About an hour before noon, Mr. Grant returns to find that
Troy is not as incapable as he previously thought. The stalls are spotless, and
none of the horses are dead. They’re all still grazing happily in their
pasture, and Cassidy is in one of the practice rings with a young mustang. She
still can’t mount the chestnut horse, but she’s getting close.
    “You hungry?” Troy is sitting on one of the benches in the
aisle with his head in his hands. He’s covered from head to toe with a powdery
dust and muck on his boots, and the old man wants to know if he’s hungry. Why
would he want to eat when he smells like he just rolled in manure?
    Because his stomach is going to jump out and start eating
the feed in the troughs waiting for the horses, that’s why.
    “I could eat.” He stands wearily and trudges across the
gravel driveway up to the farmhouse. Mr. Grant takes off his shoes and waits
for Troy to do the same. They’re just going to leave them on the porch?
    “Go shower. There are pants and shirts in the dresser that
should fit you. They gave me your size when they called two days ago, and I
managed to find a few things at the local Wal-Mart.” Grudgingly, Troy heads up
the flight of narrow stairs to the second floor and peels off his clothes as he
goes. He dumps them in a hamper, in the bathroom, and hops into the shower.
    Surprisingly, the chilly water feels right on his skin as he
cleans up. Flashes of Cassidy’s face and her hips intrude upon his thoughts,
and he scrubs at his short hair with frustration as he tries to forget about
their encounter. He feels like a fool for not coming up with something to say
back to her, but it wasn’t fair that she turned around! How is a man
supposed to think with a woman like her walking away? He doesn’t.
    The evidence of how much her backside affected him is obvious
when he gets out of the shower. Troy sits down on the toilet with the seat down,
and a towel wrapped around his waist as he tries to forget about her pretty
lips and her blonde, funky hair. It turns out if he thinks about the words that
actually came out of those pretty lips his erection goes flaccid pretty fast.
    He continues to think about that while he brushes his teeth
and puts on a particular brand of deodorant he’s never heard of. Reluctantly,
he roots through the clothes and finds a pair of black jeans and a white
t-shirt that fit well. He smells like a different person and looks different,
too. It seems that the old him has died on the way here, and now he’s a city
boy who is trying to fit into the country side.
    “This is never going to work,” Troy mutters to himself as he
leans against the bureau with a mirror above it. He doesn’t see Cassidy in his
doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest and a
frown on her face because his eyes are closed.
    “No, it’s not going to work. Lunch is ready.” Troy grips the
sides of the bureau without opening his eyes, and grits his teeth. He has the
perfect comeback, finally, but she’s already gone. Infuriated, he runs a hand
through his quickly drying hair and stomps down the steps. The smell of bacon
reaches his nose, which makes him even angrier.
    “Cassidy, darling, would you please stop stocking my fridge
with yogurt?” Troy stops just outside the doorway and listens. This is what he
was adept at back home, eavesdropping. He used it to learn about his victims so
that