May is swinging by to the end and I am delighted to discuss one of Sui’s upcoming e-books. The Assassin is not yet available as an e-book, although if you search it out, you can find it to read on GA. I’ve had the privilege of reading this story, so here is a list of my favorites about The Assassin.
Sui is at hard work editing The Assassin. It should be available to download on Smashwords in June. Meanwhile, enjoy this cover, and a great Daven and Kian scene.
excerpt from The Assassin
Daven cleaned Kian’s wound, concentrating on removing dirt from the raw skin to prevent infection. He used warm cotton balls, at times forced to scrub at stubborn bits. Kian made no sound through the process: no groan, no wince, and no sense of discomfort. Daven stared at the pile of dirty cotton balls on the napkin on the sink. By now, any patient would have cursed him out, or cried out for him to end the torture.
That level of control should have disturbed him. Instead, it reminded him of Musimbi. The young man he met in Dadaab. Musimbi was fearless, immune to pain, his heart hardened by a lifetime of hardship and political wars. Daven first met Musimbi on a field trip on the outskirts of the camp. The first vehicle in the security convoy went up in a bomb explosion and despite protests from the security officers in his vehicle, Daven jumped out and rushed to help any survivors.
Musimbi appeared out of nowhere, clutching a young woman with blood trailing down her face. ‘Help her’, Musimbi told him, his voice bereft of emotion. Daven remembered wondering who the woman was to Musimbi. He should have seen through Musimbi in that moment. Seen the cruelty behind those eyes, instead, Daven only saw the wounded woman.
Daven sighed and applied ointment on Kian’s bruised skin. Placing clean pads over the wound, he taped them into place with care.
“We’ll need to keep checking on it,” Daven said. “Taking a shower will sting, but you don’t have to worry about that for the next few hours.”
Daven smoothed his palm over Kian’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” Kian said, bending to pick up his t-shirt. He wore it in one swift shrug and remained seated on the toilet seat.
Daven washed his hands and disposed off the dirty cotton balls, wrapping them with napkins and throwing them in the trash. He closed the first aid box, and stared at Kian’s bent head. Kian’s silky straight black hair called to his fingers.
Daven frowned.
“I want to trust you,” Daven stated.
Kian remained silent.
“You confuse me,” Daven continued, leaning on the little sink. “One minute you’re pointing guns at me, pulling the trigger, the next you save me. You get hurt in the name of protecting my profession. I can’t read you, Kian.”
“You’re not meant to. I’m well trained, that’s all you should care about. Keeping you functional is a plus for me. Any minute wasted worrying about your health, be they your hands or other injuries, delays us. It makes handling you difficult.”
“Handling me?” Daven frowned at the sting growing in his heart. “I’m not a sack of potatoes—
“You are a target, one I need to keep moving.”
Kian got up from the toilet seat.
The space between them disappeared, and Daven met startling brown eyes.
“Trust is not easy,” Kian said. “Still, I only tell you the truth. There is nothing to read with me, Daven. It will benefit you to think of me as walking armor to get you to your destination.”
Kian opened the bathroom door.
“Try and sleep,” Kian advised. “Who knows what we’ll meet in Europe.”
Daven stared at the open door. Kian’s little tirade stinging more than he dared confess. Here he was, trying to connect.
What the hell?
Handling, Daven scoffed. As if!
as he does not believe he deserves anything good that happens to him. He loves strawberry milkshake, coffee and a certain man with locks. He is breathtaking.
Sui Writes 