The Assassin

DOUBLE LIVES AREN'T ALL THAT GREAT
Cassie Dreandry knows from personal experience that being an assassin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At sixteen, Cassie lives a double life of days in high school and nights working for the government, killing international criminals under the alias of the Assassin.

TIME DOESN'T HEAL THE NEED FOR REVENGE
After a planned murder goes wrong, Cassie begins to receive strange letters and a blond man starts following her around town. As the letters become more and more threatening, Cassie realizes that the notes are from her biological father, a man who left her life when he went to jail for the death of her mother. Now, he’s back, and he won’t miss his opportunity to kill her like he did sixteen years ago.

IT'S KILLER AGAINST KILLER
Once the she puts the pieces together, Cassie’s adopted father, Joe, has gone missing and all the signs point to her biological father. Cassie must find both of her fathers to save one and stop the other, but that could mea

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2. Chapter Two

 

“Cassie, did you hear what happened last night?” I look over at my best friend, Mia, the gossip girl.

            “No. I wasn’t feeling well, so I went to bed early.” Part lie, part truth. When the reality hit last night that someone had killed him before I had, I had felt like I wanted to die. Stomach ache and nerves and such.  But, I hadn’t gone to bed early enough to miss the breaking news about Jonathan Sharp’s death.

            “Jonathan Sharp, the CEO of Sharp Inc, he died last night! Someone shot him in his own apartment! Isn’t that awful?” Mia cries.

            “Mia, people get killed all the time in New York. It’s the hazard of living in the city,” I tell her.

            “But the CEO of the biggest technology company in the world is dead. Someone had it out for him.”

            “How’d he die?” I ask. Sure, I know exactly how he died, but Mia doesn’t know that. She lives on being the first to tell people the latest scandal so she’s going to tell me anyways.

            “Someone shot him! Three times! Can you believe it?” It’s Mia’s thing to have all the details.

            “Yes, I can. I’m sure he had some big secret he was hiding that someone knew about.”

            “Jeez, Cassie, way to jump to conclusion.”

            She thinks I’m jumping hoops, but I’m not. Last night, Jonathan Sharp was supposed to die to stop the agreement his company had with a new terrorist group in the Middle East.

            “Class, it’s time to begin. Today we’re going to be looking at our essays we wrote and how we can tweak them to use them for college admissions. It may be just the beginning of your junior year, but this time next year, you’ll be looking into starting the application process.”

            Already know where I’m going.

            “When I call your name, please come get your paper,” Ms. Burdette says. “Mia Roslen.”

            Mia stands up and walks to the front of the classroom to grab her paper. She looks at it and smiles. When she sits down, she looks at me. “I got a ninety-five on my paper.”

            “That’s great,” I say. I know she worked her butt off on her paper about how being adopted had affected her aspect on life.

            Being adopted was the biggest thing we’d had in common when we met way back in sixth grade. Five years later, and now we practically live at each other’s apartments.

            “I still feel bad for taking your idea for the paper,” she says. “What did you write about?”

            My mom’s murder, I think. Mia doesn’t know the real reason I was adopted. She, along with everyone else, gets the story about how my mom just dumped me off at a fire station in Texas.

            “Cassie Dreandry.”

            Everyone turns around and stares at the back of the room.

            “Excuse me sir, can I help you?” Ms. Burdette asks.

            “I need to speak to Cassie Dreandry,” he says as he watches me.

            I give him a dirty look, he knows he isn’t supposed to show up at school, but he ignores it. “We need to ask her a few questions about a pending investigation.”

            Oh, a pending investigation? I’m so dead. It was only going to be a matter of time before he came to ask me all the questions, but I didn’t realize he was going to do it this early in the morning.

            “Um, can I ask who you are?”

            He pulls out his badge and walks over to show it to her. “Richard Gilbert.”

            “Oh, um, of course you can.”

            Damn. “Cassie, take your things and follow Mr. Gilbert. Here’s your paper, by the way. “ She hands it to me and continues to pass out the papers.

            Defeated, I have no choice but to pick up my jacket and backpack and follow Gilbert out the door.

            “Right this way, Miss Dreandry.” He opens a door up to an empty office.

            The door closes. “What the hell happened last night?” Gilbert’s never one to dance around the issue at hand, always preferring to cut to the point.

            “What the hell was that?” I counter. “You can’t just barge into the middle of my class and say you need to talk to me about a ‘pending investigation.’ These are high schoolers, Gilbert. They’re going to eat me alive to find out what on earth I got into.”

            “Cassie, you don’t realize how crucial this is. Someone else knew about that deal and what was about to go down. No one was supposed to know about the deal with the Middle Eastern group. Just the agents working it and us.” Gilbert runs his hands through what little hair he has left.

            “That’s not why Sharp died.”

            His hands freeze. “What do you mean?”

            “The guy who killed Sharp killed him for personal reasons, not political, like I was supposed to.” I wait a moment as I watch Gilbert process the information.

            “Were you there?”

            I nod. “I arrived, ready to go in and kill him, but before I could get out of the foyer area, there was an argument between him and the other man. So I hid.”

            Gilbert bites his lips, trying not to laugh. “You hiding?”

            I shrug. “Natural instinct. I had no idea who that guy was. You told me never to take on an opponent I knew nothing about.”

            “Well, what did he look like? This man who killed Sharp? We need to find him. I don’t think the government would like it too much if they’ve got a loose cannon killing their targets.”

            He’s right. The US government has a strict list of people they follow constantly, and most of the time, the people have no idea they’re being followed. But every now and then, someone, like Sharp, does something stupid, like trying to make a deal between his company and a terrorist group, and action needs to be taken. That’s where I come in: to take care of the government’s problems.

            “Look, I know it’s bad. I’m sure your director boss, or whatever his title is, is mad. But, the point is, that’s one less murder that’s being tied to the Assassin, right? You guys don’t have to worry about covering up the tracks and such.”

            “Cassie, it isn’t that easy. If you were there, they can still track you.”

            “Oh, by the heel marks from my boots that I got at a shoe store?” Gilbert always doubts my ability to make a murder and escape, but I’m the best of the best. I’ve been trained by former CIA and FBI agents. I’ve trained for years on how to listen to people and watch their movement.

            He rolls his eyes at my response. “Look, you’re going to need to come in and give a description to our sketch artist later today. After you train.”

            Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It’s Tuesday. I never train on Tuesday. I spent all day training yesterday.”

            “I don’t care. You ruined this. You train tonight. End of discussion. And Cassie, if this happens again, you can consider your career with the United States over.”

            Oh, how could I be so lucky?

            “Yes, sir.”

            Gilbert stands up and looks at me. “Don’t blow this. I almost had them convinced that they need to move you into investigation like you wanted, but now, I may not have that upper edge.”

            Damnit. I’ve been trying for years to convince them to let me stop killing and just do the investigation, and Gilbert finally decided to talk to his bosses about it. We’ve been so close to getting to that point and now we’re not?

            The door closes behind Gilbert and I just sit here, staring at the table. So close and I’ve blown it?

            There’s no way I can keep up the killings. Gilbert thinks I’ve just become bored, but he has no idea the real reason why I want to stop.

            No one will ever know. I refuse to even think about it anymore.

            Frustrated, I realize I need to go back to class, but for some reason the thought just makes me madder. What will they say when I walk back in? What will I tell them?

            I grab my bag and decide that the best thing to do is to just hide in the bathroom until second period math.

            It’s a long forty-five minute wait, but finally, the bell goes off and I can sneak out into the hallway. It’s only going to be a matter of time before the whole school knows that I was questioned by an FBI agent, but I need to not think about that now.

            “Cass!”

            I turn around and give my best friend my best cheesy smile, but she’s too caught up in what’s happened to notice. “What happened?” She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “What did you do?”

            “Nothing,” I say.

            “Nothing?” She’s practically bouncing up and down in her shoes, trying so hard to keep calm.

            “Nothing. There was a murder or something they’re investigating. Someone described a witness who looked like me. It wasn’t me. They’re checking my alibi. End of story.”

            “That’s so not what happened,” Mia says. “I can see it in your face. You’re lying.”

            “No, I’m not. What makes you think that?”

            “I can just tell. It’s like, best friend’s intuition.”

            “Mia, there is no such thing as a best friend’s intuition. You’re being ridiculous. Nothing happened. It was a mix up.”

            “See, I can’t believe that because no one has as pretty hair as yours. It’s like red and blonde at the same time, but the underside is dark brown. You’re like, every hair color there is.”

            “I’m a strawberry blonde, remember?” I ask as I yank the door on my locker. I stick my English binder in and pull out my math book.

            “Exactly! I’ve never seen someone who has hair the same color as yours. There’s no way it could be a mix-up.”

            “Mia, there are almost, what, six billion people in the world? There’s got to be at least one person who has the same hair color as me. I was adopted, for all we know, I could have an identical twin.”

            I shut the locker door, stick my book in my backpack, and swing the bag over my shoulder.

            “Have you ever thought about that?” she asks. “If you have other siblings?”

            “No,” I say. I really haven’t. I know for a fact that I’m an only child. From what I know about my parents’ relationship, there would have never been a chance for any other kids to happen.

            “I always have. I want to know what my family was like. Why my mom decided not to keep me. Like, I’m happy with my family now, but I still always wonder, you know?”

            I nod, just to be sympathetic. One of the first things they taught me in training was little emotions, like wondering, weren’t allowed in the life of a killer. I’ve been training for three years now, and by this point, they’ve drilled that into my head so much, emotions are almost like a light switch: on and off.

            Most of the time, I keep them off, especially when I’m on the job or training. It’s not easy to keep that switch off, but I’ve seen too many times in life where people let emotions get a hold of them and do stupid shit.

            Emotions are just too messy in a job like mine. There’s too much risk involved with them.

            “Cassie, are you okay?” Mia looks at me.

            “I’m fine. I’m just… I’m gonna go to class, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

            She nodes and walks away.

            Maybe I should just skip classes the rest of the day and go train.


 

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