The Puppet Assassin - Ch 13 [a friend of his is a friend of mine | dizelde]

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"Life is like a blanket too short. You pull it up and your toes rebel, you yank it down and shivers meander about your shoulder; but cheerful folks manage to draw their knees up and pass a very comfortable night"

- Marion Howard

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Chapter Thirteen

A Friend Of His Is A Friend Of Mine | Dizelde

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I was bloated. I shouldn't have eaten so much but it had been so good. And I remembered too late that it was unlikely that I would have the chance to work the meal off. There'd be no dawn training, or at mid-morning. No lessons. No Morse. No Kieran. No fitness. No Scythe.

No need to fear that the next day would bring the order to kill. I shivered. That was pure relief.

I looked to the door as I heard Garth approaching. As soon as Luke and the others had gone, he'd raced upstairs to get dressed. If I wasn't wary of his scathing glare I would've said it was cute that he was so eager. He entered the kitchen and I approved of his attire. Dark, seamless jeans nearly blended in with his long sleeve black top but the navy cardigan he had over it stopped him from looking like a cat burglar and gave him an overall look that seemed neat and tidy but also casual.

"I'm sorry to leave you with this git but I haven't had much spare time lately and I'm not letting this opportunity pass." He grinned and straightened his cardigan. I had to admit he looked good, there was something about him, something magnetic. It made him stunningly handsome, even now when I had no interest in being distracted by guys.

"Oh, so it's a HOT date then," Larking mused as he placed the dishes into the washer. Another guy I couldn't let distract me.

"I'll be back... late. Larkin, stay sober and don't do anything to make me regret leaving you here. You'll be fine, right Diz?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to agree, truthfully, aloud. Garth gave me a short nod and then looked at Larkin who raised his hands innocently.

"A. I can't drink during the week before competition. And B, she's probably tired. She'll be in bed before Fiachra even gets here."

Garth's expression hardened. "No. Fiachra can't just drop by anymore. We need to keep her hidden, not flaunt her in front of your friends."

Larkin shrugged. "I tell Mac to keep it a secret, he'll keep it a secret. We can say she's your cousin from the country, hiding from your strict aunt and uncle and you didn't think it'd be a good idea to tell people in case it got back to your relatives."

"Make him swear in blood that he won't tell anyone, idiot, or I swear to the goddess..."

Larkin snorted. "'Swear to the goddess' that you'll what? Look, Mac is trustworthy, you know that. It'll be fine."

"Make sure of it, Lark, because if it gets out, Fiachra McLaughlin won't be the only one in deep shit."

Garth stalked out the room and slammed the front door on the way out of the house. He didn't even say good bye. This sure was different to my previous living conditions. I heard the rev of a powerful engine and Larkin turned to me, his lips slowly spreading into a lazy grin.

"Just you and me then, puppet," he drawled, snapping the dishwasher shut.

I sat up straighter, now full of nerves. Was he going to attack me again, as payback for earlier? The grin widened, showing he was obviously amused by my increasing uneasiness.

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