Hitman's Bride (Bad Boy Empire) Page 3

  The saccharine tone throws me off and I snap out of my lust. Ryan throws a fatherly arm over my shoulders and tries to smile at me. It’s more like a creepy grin. I want to hurl his arm off me and take a shower.

  “Thanks, Mr. Haines.”

  “The next job I have for you is very sensitive. I’m keeping this one close to my chest.”

  He leads me away from his guards, his voice dropping lower in volume with every word.

  “Mr. Haines, I never disclose any information from my clients—”

  “I know.”

  “What’s the name?”

  His clawlike fingers tighten on my shoulder as he quickly looks away from me. “It’s—Nick Barlow.”

  Jesus Christ. Nick Barlow—one of the other members of the Council.

  Is everyone in this goddamn place nuts?

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

  “Forty thousand dollars, Silas. Cash. I’ll have half ready upfront.”

  I slide out from underneath his arm and give him a conciliatory smile that I hope shuts him the fuck up. “It’s not a question about money, sir.”

  The vapid grin rapidly fades. “What is it?”

  “I don’t involve myself in syndicate politics as a rule. I do a couple contracts here and there, but I don’t play politics. I don’t choose sides.”

  “This isn’t about politics. It’s about saving my fucking life.”

  So Viper isn’t the only one out for Ryan’s blood, or it could be a setup to get me killed. Ryan might need an easy way to get rid of a hitman who has seen too much. All I’d have to do is fail. Considering the security in this place, that wouldn’t exactly be hard to do.

  “What you’re asking for is a huge risk for me, and forty thousand dollars just isn’t worth the risk.”

  “Are you fucking retarded? Forty grand isn’t worth it to you?”

  No, but your daughter’s pussy might be.

  “I can’t fucking believe this!”

  Spittle flies from his mouth as he screams in my face. It burns white hot, and I can feel my heart bursting from my chest.

  Kill him. Just do it now.

  That cold voice isn’t mine. It’s Viper’s. Thinking of that pale bastard gets my blood flowing. I turn my back on Ryan. I can’t do him right now, when I’m this upset. I kill with cold hands. Anger, revenge, guilt—there’s no room for any of them in this business. Emotional people make mistakes.

  “Don’t you turn your back on me! Do you know who the hell I am?”

  “Yeah.”

  I reach the door, and the guard nods at me in a tired way as he opens it for me.

  “You walk out of here, and you’re finished!”

  I look back. He’s still standing in the same spot I left him, his face burning with the same reddish tinge as his beard.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Haines.”

  * * *

  Even at this height, the city smells foul. I wrinkle my nose, wondering how the hell I can smell the stench of the streets from this high up. It’s impossible. I must be imagining things.

  A metallic taste coils inside my mouth the moment I feel him emerge from the fire escape to meet me.

  Achilles. Viper. The blond-haired demon.

  He’s like a fucking tumor, isn’t he? With enough time, I can irradiate him almost to nonexistence. It gets smaller. And smaller. Until you think it’s gone. You can hardly feel it.

  Then you go back—maybe because you’re fucking dumb, or maybe because you can’t help it. It all comes back. After all that fucking self-medicating, he’s still there, lodged somewhere in my lungs like a parasitic growth. Impossible to get rid of no matter how much I try.

  His round face beams at me as he steps into the light. This time he left his cronies behind. They’re probably not far away though.

  “You came.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I thought I’d have to intercept you at SFO.”

  I have multiple passports, but even they wouldn’t help me escape the syndicate. By now, people have seen my face. They would know who to look out for. I made it so fucking easy for them.

  “If I ran, that wouldn’t be the way out.”

  “There is no way out.”

  Once again his words sound like a double entendre, like the fucking motto of this syndicate. Se mortem provocatio. Death before defiance. Is that a message to the members or to those who would dare stand up against the might of the syndicate?

  “He wants me to kill Nick Barlow. Wasn’t too happy when I told him no.”

  “He’s an idiot, too.”

  I watch him, waiting for the weakness in his left leg to show itself, but he must have had it fixed. His one fucking weakness—gone.

  We’re high enough. All I have to do is get behind him and shove.

  Viper turns away from the edge and walks a short distance away. “You have a five-hour window to complete this job.”

  “That is not enough time. There are guards posted at every corner. Cameras. I’ll be killed before I step a foot inside his suite.”

  “I think you’ll find it easier than you think.”

  I look at him. “What exactly did you do?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I don’t,” I say flatly.

  There’s a moment where there’s no sound except for the freezing wind playing with our coats.

  “That’s right,” he says, giving me that little smile that makes my stomach turn. “You were always too smart for your own good. Too bad you weren’t smart enough to never come back.”

  I just want to kill him—right here—on this roof. It would be easy to do, but then I’d die. Viper was always surrounded by powerful allies. The boy I knew hasn’t changed. He’s still stepping on other people’s shoulders to rise to the top.

  “If you do this for me, all will be forgiven.”

  Does he think that’s what I want? His forgiveness? I want him dead just as much as I did when I was thirteen.

  “Deal?”

  His hand slides out of his jacket arm like a pale snake and I look at it.

  Appeal to his ego.

  I take it, and the metallic taste in my mouth is overpowering. “Deal.”

  His hand slides from mine a beat later. “Five hours, Silas.”

  * * *

  I figure I can spend a half hour to kill Ryan Haines, and spend the other four and a half hours fucking sweet Fawn.

  The executive quarters where the board members live are located on the fifth floor. You need a visitor’s pass to get through security on the first floor, which can only be granted by the executive in question. That pass will only allow you access to that floor. There are men armed with semiautomatics on every corner and black globes on the ceiling.

  Blazing my way through the building is out of the question. I need permission for the fifth floor. It needs to be real—I don’t have time to get in touch with one of my contacts to make me a fake pass.

  Which means Ryan Haines has to agree to let me back upstairs.

  “You again.” The receptionist, a bald, older man, looks up from his computer screen to glare at me through horn-rimmed glasses.

  What a fucking greeting.

  “Hi, I need a visitor’s pass for Mr. Haines again.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I did, earlier today.”

  “You need an appointment.”

  “I need to clarify something with Mr. Haines.”

  “If you’re not on the list, I can’t send you up.”

  The bastard won’t budge.

  “Fine, I’ll call him.”

  Goddamn it. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’m leaving a trail of breadcrumbs so obvious that I’ll be the first suspect. This is fucking insanity.

  I walk away from the marble counter and slide my phone out of my pocket, dialing his number. He picks up on the first ring.

  Desperate. Good.

  “This is Haines.”

  “It’s me agai
n.”

  “You piece of shit. You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me—”

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m willing to negotiate.”

  Right. It’ll look too suspicious if I’m eager to chat with him.

  “Bullshit.”

  “It doesn’t sit well with me to leave one of my clients unsatisfied. My record is impeccable. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Static burns in my ear.

  “Fine. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “I’m downstairs right now.”

  Another pause.

  “I’ll let Troy know to let you in.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I hang up the phone and clutch it in my hand, the hard pieces of plastic digging into my skin. Troy’s deep voice croaks as he answers the phone and narrowed eyes stare at me from the desk. He slides a visitor’s pass over the table and I grab it, flashing him a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  They scan me through and I check in my weapons. I’ll have to use my hands for the kill. It’s not a huge problem, but the last thing I want is a violent, loud struggle where armed guards can burst in at a moment’s notice.

  The elevator opens.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  I step inside and scan my card. The floor jolts as the elevator rises. My hands feel numb as I watch the red numbers count the floors.

  Five.

  The doors open and I step into the hallway. No guards. Strange. The red lights on the cameras are still blinking, and I walk underneath them, knowing that security will have a perfect view of my face.

  Damn it.

  I knock on Ryan’s door, energy coiling inside me like a taut spring. It swings open for me, exposing the rich decor of his suite.

  Everything about this screams wrong. Not good.

  There are no guards. The door is unlocked. I almost take a step forward until I hear a quavering breath. It’s so faint that I barely catch it. Right around the corner as you step inside.

  My eyes scan the carpet and I see a long shadow, slightly trembling.

  He’s lying in wait, which means he called me up here just to kill me.

  Fucking prick.

  Problem is, he’ll use that gun the moment he sees me. Discharging a firearm in this place will set off all kinds of alarms.

  I flatten myself against the wall, wishing I had a long knife to stab through the plaster, right through his head. He’s just on the other side, and I can hear him trying to be quiet. A smile staggers across my face as I imagine him hunkering behind the wall, clutching a gun to his chest.

  Who the fuck does he think he’s dealing with?

  He’s right-handed. All I have to do is grab the gun.

  I reach into my pocket and scoop the loose change I have, careful not to make it jangle. Taking a deep breath, I lob the handful of coins at the white vase sitting on a polished table in the middle of the foyer. It clangs loudly and I hear a sharp intake of breath. The arm with the gun swings into view.

  I grab his hand, forcing my fingers behind the trigger as I ram the gun into his shocked face. The bridge of his nose cracks. The sound splits the air as I rip the gun from his fat fingers.

  “You cocksucker!”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  I whip the pistol across his face as a fountain of blood streams from his nose. He yells, and I quickly smother his voice with my hand, slipping in his blood. I twist his body around and yank him into my chest as he moans into my hand and elbows my side. Jackass.

  There’s a slick, metallic sound and then I see the reflective surface of a blade before he slashes at my arm. I dodge it and move my hand to his windpipe. My fingers sink into his fat flesh like butter and I squeeze. I squeeze so fucking hard that I feel the bony cartilage, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth. I could kill him just like this, but it’s too good for this asshole. The knife drops to the floor, point first into the rug. I step back and slam my boot into his back, he pitches forward, and I duck down to grab the knife. It’s at least six inches long. Decorative. Flashy. Ryan clutches his neck, where my fingerprints show up white. He inhales, a horrible rattling sound.

  My heart beats quickly, hammering hard behind my ribs. I always get like this right before a kill. It’s the thrill of ending someone’s life. I’m always in a hurry to finish it. Drawing the deaths out does nothing for me. I don’t do torture. I’ve been paid to do it before, and the money wasn’t nearly worth the trouble of cleaning up the mess.

  Everyone gets that hopeless look in their eyes when they know they’re about to go. I grab a fistful of Ryan’s hair and I haul him to his knees. The knife touches his throat, and I can feel his panicked breaths vibrating through the blade.

  “Please—”

  “I just want you to know that as soon as I’ve stepped over your corpse, I’m going to have my way with your daughter’s tight little pussy.”

  “God—”

  I slide the knife across his neck, slicing his throat ear to ear. After I’ve severed his carotid artery, it’ll take seconds for him to go. Blood gushes from his neck, hot and dark. He makes a choking sound and I open up the gash even more, gripping his forehead so that it stays open, vomiting blood all over his black suit. Then he goes limp and I let him drop. He’s dead before he hits the ground.

  And I’m a fucking mess.

  I think of the girl next door and my promise to her daddy, who now lies dead on the floor. I should just get the fuck out of here, but what’s the point? They’ll know exactly who killed him. Viper’s promise to make me a member doesn’t mean jack shit. I might as well give that girl the fucking she deserves before—

  Whatever.

  I grab Ryan Haines’s keycard and shove it in my slacks. Then I wash my hands and face in the sink and tear off my jacket, leaving the bloodstained fabric there. It’s reckless, but I don’t see a way out of this. They know I’m here, for fuck’s sake.

  My veins burn with adrenaline as I walk outside to the still-deserted corridor. Lust hardens in my abdomen as I imagine her skin gliding through my hands.

  I just killed her father.

  I dig the keycard out of my slacks and hold it to her door, hesitating slightly.

  You’re going to die anyway. Do you want to die a gentleman?

  Fuck no.

  I swipe the card, and the light turns green.

  FAWN

  They say cold showers work the best for stripping all desire from your body, but why would anyone want to do that?

  I like it hot.

  The water scalds my face and runs in rivulets down my neck, between my breasts. I imagine they’re his fingers, running down my skin. My chest already burns bright red, but it heats up when I replay that kiss over and over. I masturbated so many times that my fingers are numb, but I can’t stop feeling that thrill when I imagine him touching me. Please, never stop.

  I soap myself, eyes closed as I run my palms over my tits. Steam obscures the glass, but I imagine him standing there in a dark blur, right in front of the sink. A tingle runs through my pussy and I cup myself, already slick with desire. It’s not going to fucking do it. No matter how many times I fuck myself, it’ll never replace the warmth of a real man’s body, thrusting over mine. God, his clothes, the way he smells, his voice—I can’t live without this anymore.

  The spray cuts off as I turn the nozzles, wiping the water from my face. The steam is oppressive and I can’t see a damn thing. I reach up, gathering my hair in a ball, and I wring it out. My palm hits the cool metal of the door handle and I push it open, shivering as the steam pours out of the shower and into the bathroom—

  Where there’s a man sitting on my chair.

  My eyes follow a pair of Italian loafers to his long legs, which are covered with dark slacks. I get a brief image of wide shoulders, and then I duck back into the shower as if the tiles burned my feet. My scream rebounds sharply and my back hits the cold wall, my heart beating wildly.

  “Get the fuck out, pervert!”


  His blue and black figure remains seated, his legs crossed. I can’t make out his face—it’s just a beige blur. Now that I’m looking out the fogged glass, I don’t understand how I didn’t spot him before. Jesus Christ. He was sitting right there. How long was he watching me?

  “I’m just enjoying the view.”

  A very familiar voice echoes in the bathroom, the low timbres sending a hot line of pleasure down my spine. It’s him. I crack open the door, wrapping an arm around my breasts.

  It’s like a dream.

  A man with skin the color of milk sits there with his legs crossed, the sleeves of his robin-egg blue shirt rolled back. His reddish-black wave of hair is slightly damp as though he ran wet fingers through it. A gorgeous dimple curves into his cheek as he spots me, his mouth wide and inviting. My heart flutters when he presses his lips together and swallows slowly as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

  “Damn.”

  His rich voice rolls out, stroking my body. Silas is here. In my bathroom. Like some sort of porn-vision.

  A slow burn rises to my cheeks as his gaze locks in on my breasts pushed up against my arm. He stands up, and then I notice the erection livid against his slacks. He drinks me in with a hungry-looking grin, and I take a step back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Finishing what you started.”

  Oh my God.

  Cool air blows over the foggy glass, eating away the steam as Silas watches. I can feel his eyes trailing over my tits, caressing my naked skin. He takes a step closer, still unabashedly looking up and down my legs, smiling at my hands, which are spilling with my breasts.

  “You look even sexier when you try to cover yourself up.”

  “Hey!”

  He shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic for staring at my tits. “Weren’t you trying to get me to look at them the whole time I was here?”

  All those weeks I played with him, he never showed the slightest inclination that he was attracted to me until that other night. Now he’s here. Actually here. He broke into my room, for fuck’s sake, and I’m naked.

  I reach down and pinch my leg hard. Shit, that hurts.

  “You broke into my room.”

  Well said, genius.

  “Guilty.”