Read Hitman's Captive: A Bad Boy Romance Online
Authors: Lara Swann
We
came down in starts and shudders and when I finally managed to release my legs’
death-grip on his hips, he worked his way out of me and lay me down gently on
the bed, leaving me feeling thoroughly used and aching. I wondered idly whether
I’d be able to walk straight tomorrow, and found part of me hoping I’d feel the
reminder of this for a while to come.
He
settled behind me with his arms wrapped around me protectively, his warm chest
heating my back and letting me feel his skin while I still breathed heavily,
hazy from the pleasure shuddering through my body. We stayed like that for a
long time, content to drift in the warmth of what we’d just done, and I found
myself falling asleep to soft-spoken words brushing my ear.
“I’m
never going to let you go, Belle…”
Bella
Engaged?!
I
stared, eyes wide as shock plastered my face.
My
father was looking straight back at me, calm and controlled in that unflappable
way he had while I struggled to reign in my wild reaction. I knew he was
waiting for a response. A sensible, equally calm response. Something about as
far out of my reach as the moon right now.
My
eyes flickered around the familiar study, seeking some comfort as I tried to
control my reeling emotions. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases and warm leather
sofas were as comfortable as I’d always remembered them, adding some color and
life to a room that was otherwise too functional.
My
father stood before his dark mahogany desk, perching lightly on the edge of it
as he waited for me. His salt-and-pepper hair had a little more salt in it but
was otherwise unchanged from a few months ago, when he’d last visited me at
university. With the strong face and slightly weathered complexion it framed,
he had an appealing mixture of roguish good looks and old wisdom that I
imagined made it fairly easy for women to consider him attractive. If, of
course, the temptation of his wealth and position at one of the most prominent
technology giants wasn’t enough.
A moment
to let my mind run through this set of detached, logical thoughts and I could
finally ask the first question in my mind - without the bite that was so
tempting to put in there. I cleared my throat and let just a little of my
consternation show as I faced the solid, respectable wall my father always
presented.
“Why…how
didn’t I know about this sooner?”
“I
wanted to tell you in person, Annabelle.”
His
expression didn’t flicker, no indication that he felt the slightest bit awkward
telling his daughter that while she’d been away at university, he’d somehow
gotten
engaged
to a woman she’d never even met. But then, he probably
hadn’t even considered that I might have a problem with it - clearly, the
decision made sense for him, and therefore it must be immediately obvious to
everyone else. At least, anyone who shared his belief in pure, rational
thinking.
And in
truth, the idea of him getting married - while potentially a little disturbing
and disruptive -
wasn’t
a problem for me. If he’d found someone to make
him happy after all these years, I could support that. But having no chance to
get used to the idea, no way to share that journey with him or the opportunity
to adjust gradually to the concept,
that
was hard to deal with.
I was
still trying to process it when he continued, not quite showing his impatience
at my lack of calm acceptance of his life-changing news.
“I
think this will be good for us, Annabelle - you should have a maternal
influence in your life, and I…well, I’m sure you can understand it’s been
lonely for me, all these years.”
Maternal
influence?! Sure, maybe if I was a child…
My
attempt to hold onto a measured response was lost in disbelief, and I was too
taken aback to even notice whatever else he’d said.
I was
21, damn it - just graduated from university and come home to this craziness,
not some child looking for a lost mother!
I
yanked my temper back sharply, trying to calm my nerves. Getting angry wouldn’t
help - I’d been raised better than that, and if I wanted to make the slightest
impression on my father I’d have to take the time to process it and give a
sensible, reasoned response.
In
fairness, he’d always been right about that - the one and only time I’d done
something reckless and emotional, it had ended in disaster. Maybe it was
difficult, but his approach had always worked out best for me. It was just so
damn hard to live up to.
You
need to think things through, Annabelle. We can’t have these teenage tantrums;
you’re better than that. I don’t know what your mother would have thought…
I took
a few deep breaths and calmed myself again. It was alright. This didn’t have to
be a disaster.
It was
unexpected, sure. I would have liked to have been involved before this. And his
approach to this conversation sucked balls - but that wasn’t a reason to rule
it out already. My father had a point, and he’d raised me alone for the last 21
years - if he’d found something that would make him happy now, then I could
hardly blame him for pursuing it.
He certainly
didn’t need my permission. Sure, seeking my opinion would have been nice, but
this wasn’t the first time he’d made decisions without consulting me, and it
was hardly right for me to object on those grounds. My blood was slowly
returning to normal and I managed to get enough breath under me to give him a
small nod and listen to the rest of what he was saying.
“I’d
like you to meet them—”
“Them?”
My
voice came out a little sharper than I’d intended and he frowned briefly at the
interruption, but continued with a nod.
“Yes,
Cora and her son - they’ll be coming for dinner tomorrow evening. I’d like you
to meet them, make them both feel welcome.”
Son?
A new stepbrother too?!
This
time my instinctive reaction was harder to get over, and an uncomfortable
weight settled in the pit of my stomach. I could come around to a new woman in
my father’s life, but somehow the idea of a stepbrother sounded far too
invasive. I didn’t want some stranger suddenly interfering with my life. Not
when I was finally starting to feel ready to give it some direction and make my
own decisions for once.
It was
a struggle to squash the sudden flare of resentment at that thought, but I
could already tell I was over-reacting.
The idea
of this threatening the independence I’d wanted from this conversation was
making me defensive, but it didn’t have to be a bad thing.
So
what if the last thing I wanted to do was invite a couple of strangers into my
home? I owed it to my father to try and make this work. And that started with
not deciding it was going to be horrific before I’d even met them both.
What
he’d said hit home - he
had
been alone all these years, and I’d never
even considered that he might want something else. He’d always seemed so
certain that Mom was the only one for him, so stoic in his lost love. He never
talked about her, but the way her loss obviously still hurt him - even after
all this time - had almost made me believe in the idea of soul-mates when I was
a teenager.
That
thought was enough to take the last remnants of anger out of me. Thinking about
Mom - about what had been lost before I’d even had the chance to know her -
always did that.
I
looked up to find my father watching me carefully, that strange mixture of curious
and baffled spread across his face. The same look I’d seen every time he
couldn’t work out what was going through my mind or how I was going to react.
It had always made me think that he was mentally preparing for a crazed teenage
outburst - not that I’d had one of those for a good long time. My lip curved up
at the thought of that, and all the other times I’d seen that expression.
And
then it wasn’t so hard to step forward, rest my hand lightly against his arm
and nod, my own wild swirl of emotions settling for a moment as this became
more important.
“Okay,
Dad.”
I gave
him a brief hug and felt one arm wrap around to squeeze my shoulder before he
stepped back.
“I’m
sure we’ll all get along great - and I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes
you happy.”
He
smiled back at me for a moment and nodded, his demeanor as calm as ever while
the slight tension that had grown between us slipped away. He stepped back
behind his desk before turning to look at me.
“I knew
you’d understand. Now, didn’t you come in here to talk about something else?”
I took
a deep breath at the question, my mind returning momentarily to all the
thoughts and plans I’d wanted to discuss with him - the well-rehearsed
arguments and mental conversations I’d already had about potential career paths
and options, discussions that in reality never quite went how I’d planned. But
I wasn’t sure I could face that now - not another potential conflict, even one
I was well prepared for, when my emotions were already stirred up and confused.
There would be another time to think about all that.
With a
small shake of my head, I just shrugged.
“It
wasn’t important. I think I’m going to get an early night.”
That
was enough for him to murmur a goodnight and return to the stacks of paper I’d
originally interrupted. I turned without another word, wanting some time and
space to adjust to the landslide I’d just heard.
I
tried to convince myself I meant what I’d told him - that it would all be fine.
I knew
my immediate reaction hadn’t been fair, even if it was perhaps understandable.
Having a new step-mother and stepbrother would be…different. But who was to say
that wouldn’t be a good thing? My relationship with my father hadn’t changed
since before I could remember and while I loved him dearly, shaking things up
and having something to distract his intense scrutiny of
my
life might
be good for us.
I just
wished I could squash the butterflies that kept skipping through my stomach at
the thought of my new
stepbrother.
Seth
My
arms started shaking with the tension and my breath exploded out as hands
closed around the bar from above, guiding it safely back into the rack. My
focus broken, I snapped at the spotter.
“You
didn’t need to do that, Mike.”
I sat
up with a frustrated growl, leaning one arm on the bench and breathing hard
while sweat streamed under the hard glare of my eyes.
“Easy,
bro.”
Mike
met my irritation with a calm glance that scraped at my loose control but had
me looking away - we both knew he was in the right. I’d been driving past
failure and it would have been dangerous to continue. The high of pushing
myself to my physical limits was still flooding my body - nothing compared to
some of the adrenaline I was itching for, but enough to lift me out of my mixed
mood.
At
least for a bit.
Taking
a deep breath, I settled back onto the bench for the next set, prepping my worn
muscles and clutching the bar as Mike idly scratched the scar running down his
left cheek.
“Seth—”
I
ignored the warning note in Mike’s voice, pouring my energy into the pure
physical activity and letting the supremacy of my military-fit body fill my
awareness. I knew I was pushing it, but I could take a few more…just a few…
“Hey
man, aren’t you late? Thought you were on the way to some fancy-ass dinner.”
The
words from the entrance of the room had my lips peeling back in a snarl, only
driving me harder into the workout as my mood soured further. For a glorious
minute, I could ignore the comment and get lost in the pulse beating hard in my
ears, before I finally had to acknowledge the edge of my limits.
I sat up
with a grunt, wiping myself down with a towel as I flicked a glance to where
Dale was leaning against another machine, watching me casually with eyes that
never stayed in one place for more than a moment. My breath returning, I forced
myself to stop snapping at the guys who knew me better than my own flesh and
blood and shrugged off the comment with a grimace.
“Yeah,
‘cos I can hardly wait to see my washed-up mother and whatever asshole she’s
shacked up with this time.”
I managed
to keep most of the bite out of my tone and Mike slapped my shoulder while I
stretched my aching body.
“Can’t
choose your family, mate.”
Ain’t
that the truth.
I
sighed and shook my head, glancing towards the clock.
“Shit.
I
really am late.”
I
stood and shook my muscles out, reluctantly grabbing up my towel and turning
for the showers when Dale cocked his head in my direction.
“Hey,
while we’re talking of family - you gonna make the barbecue at Becky’s in a
couple of days?”
The
question took me by surprise, but the smile that spread across my face was
immediate. It had been a while since I’d been back at base and while I couldn’t
help my reaction to whatever extravagant dinner was planned for tonight, I’d
always had time for Ryan’s wife.
“Barbecue
huh? You promise Ryan you’d bring a bunch of gullible bastards again?”
“Ryan?
Shit, no. I promised Becky - so you’d better show, or I’ll make sure you’re on
the end of
that
ball busting.”
My
smile turned into an all-out grin at the memory of how easily that warm, hearty
woman had taken command of the SEAL squadron that had landed on her doorstep to
‘help’ with a few odds and ends, the promise of a barbecue dangling a day’s
worth of hard work away. Of course, anyone who could survive life with Ryan for
so long
would
know how to deal with the rest of us.
“Who’s
going?”
Our
platoon had only landed a couple of days before and I hadn’t had a chance to
catch up, but as far as I knew most of the guys from my first squadron were
still deployed.
“Just
us this time round, and Ace - saw him last night. Screwed his leg a month ago
and been sitting pretty back here waiting on the physio’s word.”
“Bad?”
Dale
only grinned at my grimace.
“Nah,
just enough to keep him here for a new girl he’s sweet on - lucky bastard to
the end. He might be bringing her along, too.”
“Trying
to scare her off already, huh? Well, looks like I’ll have to tag along - can’t
leave Becky and a nice new girl alone with your ugly mugs.”
I
turned toward the door, sending a grin back over my shoulder.
“Be
sure to tell Ryan not to worry - we’ll make sure his wife’s fully satisfied
while he’s gone.”
I
didn’t wait to hear the reply, aware that every moment I lingered was making me
later, but I struggled to care too much as Dale’s subtle attempt to shift my mood
worked.
Sure,
it was a casual invitation he would have given me anyway, but the grizzled
veteran saw too much and knew me well enough to pick his moment. Being back in
this town always got under my skin, threatening everything I’d become with the
insidious reminder of my teenage years - but he’d brought back front-and-center
the fact that I had a place now, brothers in arms I would kill or die for
without a moment’s hesitation. Life and loyalty, with a code that had finally
set me on a path that meant something. I could go and deal with whatever this
evening held, and the people I actually wanted to be around would be waiting
here when I was done.
The
Navy had taken me in, chewed me up and spat me back out - honed the wild edge
that had been the bane of everyone I’d grown up with, disciplined it and turned
it into a laser-sharp weapon. And even if I couldn’t quite leave my bad boy
nature behind, at least they’d given me something worth respecting.
I
turned into the showers, stripped and stepped inside for a 30-second blast of
hot water before rubbing myself dry and changing into a fresh set of clothes -
civilian, this time. Decorum might dictate a little more preparation for a
‘meeting-your-new-step-father’ dinner, but fuck decorum. He might as well get to
know who I actually was. Besides, I was late, so first impressions were already
shot.
Dropping
my workout gear in my dorm and pocketing my phone, keys and wallet was all that
I needed before heading out to the old pickup truck and swinging myself up and
in. It’s familiar gleam always gave me a sweet satisfaction - the thing had
been banged up and barely usable when I’d bought it near-scrap, but putting
something back together had been a nice antidote to the unexpected darkness I’d
struggled with after my first tour. Turns out there was a difference between
growing up sure you were a badass motherfucker and actually living with the
knowledge that if it came to it, you could be a relentless killing machine.
I’d
seen guys deal with it in different ways - for me, knowing I could fix
something up instead of just destroy, that had been enough. And the prize had
been an old 2002 model that gave me pride to keep functioning and pretty as a
babe.
I started
the engine and felt it hum to life underneath me, punching in the post code my
mother had sent and hearing the slight roar as I put my foot on the gas. It was
hot even with the sun starting to disappear and the open window was a relief to
the heat that was still emanating from my workout.
Turning
out of the complex and heading onto the wide roads leading into the town, I
felt the same flicker of guilt my infrequent visits home always brought. My
mother deserved better than these half-hearted efforts to see her and the
callous way I talked, but it had been hard to come home a different person and
see nothing else had changed since I’d left.
I
don’t hate her for that - she can’t help being who she is and I’ve given up
wanting and expecting more than she can give. It’s just hard to be around her -
that crappy childhood may have made me the guy I am today, but that doesn’t
mean I want to be faced with it every time I come back here. Her and her fucked
up choices, and the inevitable clashes when I don’t agree with them and can’t
keep my mouth shut.
So
these visits had become infrequent and perfunctory, even if she didn’t
understand why. Still, I couldn’t exactly say no to meeting the man she was
going to marry - but when tonight was done, I’d try to eject myself from the
situation again. These things never ended well.
As the
buildings reared up around me, cutting off the starlight in favor of the
glaring street lights that had come on, my mind turned to the other reason that
coming home always spawned mixed emotions. I’d lived in this place all my life,
on a ghetto the other side of town, but when I came back here the only thing I
replayed over and over was a posh hotel room I’d seen the inside of once. A
feisty back-and-forth with the only girl who’d been able to match my fire. And
gleaming red-gold locks that framed a sweet, heart-shaped face with a passion
behind it that had lit my blood and left me longing for the touch and taste of
it ever since.
Even
after all this time.
Fuck.
I
cursed as it hit me yet again; the lingering depths of regret that I’d
sworn
would be gone by the time I got back. Three damn years. Thousands of miles.
Hundreds of irresistible, insatiable chicks.
One
passionate night.
It
should have been enough.
The
sinking feeling in my stomach told me it wasn’t. It hadn’t been enough sixteen
months ago, when I was last here. It wasn’t now.
The
phone cheerily announced I needed to take the next left and broke my train of
thought. As if the fake voice had a clue about what I needed.
I
stared at the brightly colored map without seeing it, my eyes focusing instead
on the number waiting a few taps behind that. It was the one I always came back
to when I was in this neck of the woods again. You’d think I would’ve just
deleted it by now.
I even
did, once. But then I undeleted it just as fast, something inside me panicking
that I might have lost it for good. It was a nonsense, because after three
years there was no way it would be the same anyway. That didn’t stop whatever
perverted part of me that liked the idea that it could be.
I
broke out of the city center and the traffic got lighter as I hit a road that
looked to take me along the coast. I hadn’t been this way much when I was
younger - it was upmarket, up here. If I’d wanted a romp in the sand, I stuck
to the other side of the bay where there was a large enough stretch of public
beach that you could find a little privacy. This place was dotted with private
beaches for rich kids’ parties. Fun to crash occasionally, but too filled with
pretentious snobs to stick around long.
I had
no idea what my mother was doing up here - as far as I could recall, she’d
never had reason to come to this part of town. But my thoughts weren’t really
with her and I just shrugged as I enjoyed the taste of salt on the wind. This
far up, it wasn’t tinged with sewage at least.
My
eyes drifted back to the phone. I wasn’t sure just when over the last three
years I’d gone from curious to obsessive. If you asked me on a good day, I’d claim
I hadn’t at all - but out here in the dark, with the lonely lights of my
childhood on either side of the darkened coastal road, the argument seemed
unconvincing.
This
is pathetic.
Annoyed
at myself, I yanked the car over to the side of the road, snatching the phone
from its cradle and navigating the familiar pathway to that number.
B.
I
pulled up the menu and let my thumb hover over ‘delete contact’. My stomach had
that annoying heavy feeling again.
This
is it, chickenshit. You either delete this number or you’re calling it before
the night’s out.
It had
been three years. If I was lucky, she might have hated me for a time. If not, I
would have gone straight to the
forgotten
stage. Regardless, the last
thing she’d want would be to hear from me.
And hell
- it wasn’t like I had anything to say. I didn’t even like the damn girl!
I
hadn’t liked her razor-sharp tongue. Her prissy attitude. Her red-hot passion.
Her fuck-me lips. Her sweet curves.
Goddamn
it.
I
hovered there, one second…two…
And
slammed the phone back in the cradle. The hesitation answered my question - I
was trained for making fast decisions under pressure, so that indecision was a
choice in itself. After I’d sat through the snooze-fest this was sure to be, I
was going to finally call the damned number.
I
chalked this whole thing up to unfinished business - to the fact that my new
code of honor couldn’t stand that I’d broken my word. It had been a stupid,
lust-filled promise, but it still reverberated through me.