Assassin Read Online Free Page B

the job for
him.
    “Now, each morning I let them out before I clean. Sometimes
Cassidy does it for me, but I gave her the morning off. By the way, Cassidy is
my daughter. And my daughter is off-limits !” He makes a scissors motion
in front of him with both his hands to reiterate his point while he talks. Troy
nods in understanding because Cassidy is probably as ugly as the piles of shit
in the horse stalls.
    “Right, now if you’re not comfortable letting them out into
the pastures, I will do it. While some of them are old and wise, there are
three young ones here that may test your limits. They’re just curious and
ornery, don’t forget that. This is the door that leads to the pastures, please
don’t let them out the one we just came in.” He opens up the barn door to the
outside and Lightning trots out with renewed vigor, if only for a few seconds.
Then he slows and begins to graze out of the path of the other horses.
    Mr. Grant goes through each horse and tells Troy all about
them, things he doesn’t actually need to know. Then he points at a small room
that he calls the tack room and Troy opens up the door. It’s not that he’s
afraid of hard work. He’s had to do some hard work in his lifetime, but none of
it involved shoveling up shit and throwing it onto a conveyor belt where it
just piled up outside to be used for manure.
    After a few minutes, Troy is left to his own devices with a pitchfork
in hand, a shovel leaning against one wall, and instructions to put new straw
in the bottom of each stall after he’s done cleaning. Oh and the worst part, he
has to use a hose to run the rest of the shit he can’t scrape off down drains
in each stall. He’s going to stink afterwards, and this is just his first chore.
    “Please, God, strike me down now.” He looks up at the
ceiling of the barn and waits, but nothing happens. Instead, he starts scraping
and shoveling. It takes him forty five minutes to scrape and shovel the waste
out, and then he has to hose down. After hosing down the stalls, he has to wait
for the floor to dry before he can put fresh hay in.
    This means he has to find something else to do while he’s
waiting, and that’s when she walks in. It’s well past nine in the morning when
Cassidy Grant walks through the barn doors with her sneakers on, a pair of
hip-hugger jeans, and a shirt that shows a thin ribbon of skin when she lifts
up her arms. She has her hair cropped in a fancy bob that goes higher as it
travels back with a pink streak running down the front right. She’s blonde, and
she’s a bombshell.
    As soon as she sees Troy, her complacent faces turns to
disgusted as she looks him from head to toe.
    “You wreak,” she says with a strong voice, but it’s still
feminine. That voice could do wonders in the bedroom.
    “I’m shoveling horse shit, what do you expect?” Troy leans
on the shovel and tries not to look her up and down a second time. He’s already
made it clear he’s interested by lingering his sight over her hips and her rack.
    “No, you stink like a city boy. You smell like that cheap
cologne they all wear. I wouldn’t be surprised if the horses trampled you so
they could smell the stench of rotting flesh and not that crap.” She has one
hell of a mouth on her. Her statement seems to have knocked him right out
of his admiration stage to pissed off.
    “Is that so?” He asks with his deadly calm voice, but she
doesn’t know him. Cassidy plants one hand on her hip and cocks it as she
studies him further.
    “That’s so. Now, when you’re finished here, please haul your
ass back to whatever hellhole you came from and leave my father alone. He
doesn’t need pigs like you hanging around. We prefer the kind that we can butcher
and turn into bacon.” There’s a first time for everything. Troy’s mouth hangs
agape far enough that flies could fly in as she turns on her pretty sneaker
heel and marches from the barn with her ass swaying back and forth.
    She hates his