Bound

by Leah Holt

  BOUND

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2020 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. BOUND is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Bound was previously published as Alpha On Top. This edition is reedited and contains bonus content.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Bound

  Connect with Leah!

  Also from Leah Holt:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  About Leah Holt

  Connect with Leah!

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  Facebook- www.facebook.com/LeahHoltAuthor

  Also from Leah Holt:

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance (Behavior Series Book One)

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance (Behavior Series Book Two)

  BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance

  PUSHED: A Dark Romance (Dark Flower Series Book One)

  LOVE IN THE DARK: A Dark Romance (Dark Flower Series Book Two)

  REDD: A Dark Romance

  MAN SEEKING WOMAN

  ALMOST GLASS

  Prologue

  “Can you handle this?” he asked me, sipping his glass of scotch as he fiddled with the pen at his desk. “I want no witnesses, understood?”

  “Yeah, I got it. It's not like I haven't done this before.” Smirking, I check the mag in my gun to make sure it's full.

  “I'm serious, Porter, this man screwed me and he needs to pay. I don't want anything getting in the way of what he has coming to him.”

  “No witnesses, got it.”

  “Good, now get the fuck out and don't come back til it's done.”

  Leaving my boss's home, I drove the twenty minutes to the address he had given me. The lights were out, the house dark and quiet, exactly what I needed to see.

  This was going to be easy as fuck, there was no doubt in my mind. Taking a life doesn't have to be hard if you the person deserved it. And the people we dealt with weren't good men. They deserved more than the gift I was giving when I came for them at night. A simple bullet was a blessing in my eyes.

  Tucking the gun into my waist, I gently close the car door, and look around. The street lights are casting shadows into the road. Long, sweeping shadows from the trees giving me cover.

  With soft feet, I cut through the woods and come out in the backyard. I had to make this quick, in and out, get the job done and disappear before anyone even knew I was there. I wasn't worried, I've done this a dozen times, and each time I get better.

  It's a craft I've been perfecting, and it's led me to the top. He didn't ask anyone else anymore, he came to me. Because he knew I was going to do it right.

  My first hit didn't go exactly as I planned. The guy was fighter, and he gave me a run for my money. He fought me hard, and I ended up with a black eye and a concussion before I left.

  But I walked out, he didn't.

  Slinking through the grass low, I used the shadows to my advantage, allowing them to hide me easily. In all black, I could vanish, no one could see me if they looked out a window.

  A light pops on in a window on the second floor. I can see the shape of a person behind the blind. A dog barked in the distance, causing the figure to stand still, and lean closer to the window.

  Ducking back into the bushes, I watched as two fingers split the blinds open and a set of eyes looked out into the yard. The eyes moved back and forth, searching nervously.

  He shouldn't know I'm coming, but when you fuck up in this business, you know what waited for you at the end. This was his end.

  The blinds popped closed and I watched as he fixed the curtain, and the light went out.

  Darting across the yard, I reached the rear sliding glass doors. With a few quick slips of a knife down the seam, the door broke free. Pushing it open slowly, I stayed outside and waited.

  I had to be cautious, I didn't know if someone would hear the crack of the metal frame. After a few seconds of silence, I stepped into the house. Placing my feet down one foot at a time, I side stepped through the kitchen.

  There was a long wooden table in the center of the room, and a shiny island made white granite to my right. The table had a bowl of fruit in the center, so I picked up an apple.

  Plastic. . . Figures.

  Colton Diamonte was fucking cheap, he always had been. But he'd loved to borrow money for his gambling habit. After a few months of fast talking, and no money back in my bosses hand, the time to pay was over.

  There was only one thing he could pay with now—his life.

  Dropping the fruit back into the bowl, I creep around the corner and explore the house. It looked like any other mafia style home. Fancy furniture, expensive rugs and paintings, ornate glass decorations.

  Letting out a quiet laugh, I shook my head to myself. These fucking people don't know how good they had it. And this douche bag decided to fuck it all up.

  Climbing the stairs, I see four doors, and only one is open. Moving to the open door, I find an empty bathroom. I had a choice to make at that point, which door should I try first?

  This was my first home hit. All the others were either done at one of the clubs or set up in a parking lot. This felt different. I felt imposing, knowing I didn't belong there.

  Fuck it, time to just fucking end this.

  In and out, that's the plan.

  Pulling my gun from my waist, I checked the silencer to make sure it was on tight. Cocking the hammer, I held the gun by my head, and went right. The rug under my feet helped cushion the sound of my shoes. I was invisible.

  It's crazy how powerful you feel when you take someone's life. It's in your hands, you get to see the look on their faces and the fear in their eyes.

  That did something to me. It filled this void in my chest I was never able to get rid of.

  And I fucking liked it.

  Reaching the first door, I grab the handle with a gloved hand, and turn it slowly. Giving it a slight push, it swayed inward, and the glow from outside lit up the room.

  A woman in the bed began to stir, lifting her head and rubbing her eyes. It took her a second to register what was happening and that what she was seeing was real.

  That there was a man in her doorway. That he was holding a gun. That everything was about to change.

  “Colt,” she said as she pushed up in bed and grabbed her husbands shoulder to shake him. “Colt.” Her voice came out soft, but terrified. “Colt, get up.” Shaking him harder, he twisted his head to look back at her.

  “Wha—” he started to say, his tone annoyed that she was waking him. And then he spotted me, and his voice quickly cut out as he launched out of his bed and made a mad dash for his closet.

  “Stay right where you are,” I barked, pointing my gun right at him. “How's it going, Colt?” I asked. I'm an asshole, I know. I get high off
fucking with these guys before I fucking kill them.

  “Wh. . . what do you want? Why are you here?” His hands were up high as his wife started to cry.

  “You know why I'm here. Did you think he wouldn't come for you? Did you honestly think you could steal his money and wouldn't have to pay the consequences?”

  “I. . . I have his money. I have all of it, just let—”

  “It's late for that, you should have paid while you had the chance.” Taking long sweeping steps into the room, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him to his knees.

  “Please, you don't have to do this. I can pay him, I'll go with you now to do it, just don't kill me.”

  “I wish it was that simple, Colt, I really do. But you're out of chances, and I have a job to do.” Pressing the cold steel to the back of his head, my finger hovered over the trigger.

  “Mommy,” a small voice said as she stepped into the doorway. “Mommy, what's going on?” The little girl looked between her mother and me, her eyes dropping to her dad.

  “Mom, what's happening?” Another voice echoed the first girl's thoughts as two children now filled the threshold.

  The woman gestured for her children to come to her and she cradled them in her arms. She was crying hysterically, but doing her best to reign it in for her children.

  They couldn't have been more than five and six years old. So innocent, and unaware of the world their father was living in.

  Everyone was staring at me. Waiting.

  The room feel silent. There were voices, but I couldn't hear them. Words were being cast, their faces begging me to stop.

  Forcing the blackness around me to consume my thoughts, I ignored their pleas.

  Clenching my jaw, I wrapped my finger tighter around the trigger. My hand began to shake, the tremble traveling down to the gun, making it shift against his head.

  Do it. Do your job!

  'And leave no witnesses. . .' Marcos voice rang through my head, reminding me of what I had to do.

  I never asked to become this monster, I was gifted it. And you can't waste a gift.

  I had a purpose. I had a mission. I couldn't just walk away.

  It has to be done. . .

  Chapter One

  Emery

  Sitting at the bar, I swirled the straw around, forcing the ice cubes to twirl and dance in the liquid. Resting my head on my hand, I watched the vortex as it dissolved the ice layer by layer.

  Why the hell did I agree to this?

  Passing by me for a third time, the bartender stopped to ask me if I needed anything, but I brushed him off, shaking my head no with a partial frown.

  “You sure?” he asked, leaning in closer so he could hear me speak over the music, music that was only there to make bodies grind together, and no real conversation.

  “Yeah, I'm sure.” Looking over my shoulder, I glanced around, searching the crowd for my so called date. “I'm waiting on someone.”

  Smiling, the man placed a shot glass on the bar. “This one's on the house.” Grabbing a bottle of vodka, he filled it to the rim. “Tastes like raspberries, and hopefully it'll help you feel a little better. If it doesn't, at least it'll make waiting less boring.” Winking, he nodded his head for me to take it.

  Eyeing the small glass, there was a moment of hesitation. I wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing I needed was to get drunk while I did something that pushed me completely out of my comfort zone. I was already on drink two, that was more than I usually had in a month.

  I had already started to get the signature warm and fuzzies in my belly, and my muscles felt loose and tingly as the buzz traveled my body like hot water.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  You promised Della you'd give it a shot, that's what you're doing.

  My best friend Della had basically talked me into this, using her famous puppy dog eyes and pouty lips to push my decision. Add in her little bit of begging, and I reluctantly agreed against my better judgment.

  So, here I was, waiting on a guy—who in her words—was God's gift to mankind. His name was Simon, a local guy who came into her coffee shop every Thursday for years now.

  Supposedly, he was six feet tall, with dark red hair and a killer smile. She said he was built like a house, with thick muscular arms and a tattoo on the side of his neck.

  That last detail made me second guess her choice, but I was going to keep an open mind, and I hold my promise to see this date through to the end. My only problem now was there weren't any men around that resembled her description at all. Tapping my nails against the cold glass, I watched the alcohol as it sloshed from side to side.

  Pursing my lips, I took in a deep breath, exhaling it hard and fast.

  Fuck it.

  Raising the glass to the bartender, I rested it against my lips, and threw my head back to drink it quickly. There was a slight burn as it skated down my throat and warmed my belly. My mouth tingled, sizzling like I had just sucked on a ghost pepper.

  Coughing slightly, my voice came out scratchy and harsh. “Thank you,” I said with a cringe, as I wiped my lips with the pads of my fingers, and took a long sip of my drink to ease the fire in my mouth.

  “Hope your night gets better.” Clearing the shot glass off the bar top, he walked off to tend to the other patrons, and I couldn't help but feel more alone than I had the entire time I had been sitting there.

  At first I was nervous, even a little excited for this date. There was something sensual and dangerous about meeting a mysterious man. But that feeling had faded, creating doubt and uncertainty, leaving me bitter and cold to everyone else there having a good time.

  The people around me were talking and laughing, men and women were dancing and having a fucking ball. And here I was, alone, frowning, and talking to myself inside my head.

  A part of me wanted what everyone else had; I wanted to smile. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to leave reality behind, and forget the shit that made me ponder how my life ended up the way it did.

  I suppose my reality was the same as everyone else. I worried about money, debt, the need to feed myself in this economy where prices went up and wages seemed to stay the same. From the looks on everyone around me, no one else seemed to have a care in the fucking world.

  Jealousy was a fucking bitch, regardless of whether it was justified or not.

  I knew it wasn't rational for me to feel that way, I didn't know any of the people there. I knew a hell of a lot more people were worse off than I was. I wasn't the only one dealt a shitty hand in life.

  But I was jealous of the fun they were having while I fell deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. There was anger for being stood up, there was hurt and pain for feeling unimportant; like Simon had found something better to do than follow through on his word to be there.

  Why am I surprised?

  Men suck.

  Sitting solo and deflated, I began to feel really dumb for agreeing to a blind date with a man I knew nothing about and never met even once before.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I had convinced myself that maybe Della was right. Maybe I did spend way too much time alone. Maybe I was avoiding the intimate needs I craved just to escape the fear of being hurt.

  Was it wrong to find more comfort curling up with a good book on a Friday night than going out to get shit-faced? Was it wrong to not put myself through the pain relationships caused?

  Because that was every relationship I've ever had. No one ever stayed, no man had ever really given me butterflies or made my toes curl. All I ever found was one let down after another. So, why should I put myself through that again?

  I wasn't this person; the girl sitting in a slinky black dress, that showed too much cleavage, and flaunting my assets like some cheap perfume commercial. Della had dolled up my face, thrown me into one of her fuck me dresses with pumps that made my calves hurt and the arches of my feet cramp, and released me like a trophy.

  This is fucking stupid.


  He's not coming.

  I had been waiting for over an hour already for this guy, and so far, he was a no show. How much longer was I supposed to sit and wait?

  He's definitely not coming.

  It's been long enough, I'm out.

  Grabbing my phone, I shot Della a quick text. 'Your pick is a no-show, I'm leaving.'

  Dropping my phone into my purse, I chugged the rest of my drink, pulling the clutch up my arm, and onto my shoulder. Throwing down some money, I thanked the bartender with a smile and a nod.

  My phone buzzed against my hip, and I knew instantly it was Della. She had probably been holding her phone by her side all night, just waiting for some sort of update about how it was going, and what I thought.

  Digging it out, I read her message. 'I'm texting Simon now, don't leave yet.'

  Rolling my eyes to myself, I huffed under my breath.

  Seriously? Ten, even twenty minutes is one thing; an hour, there's no excuse for that.

  Tapping the buttons, I told her he obviously didn't want to do this, and I wasn't going to sit around and wait for him any longer.

  'This was a bad idea. I'm going home, I'll call you tomorrow.'

  The whole blind date thing just wasn't for me. I gave it an honest try, it didn't work out, there had to be some credit thrown my way for that. I knew she would end up giving me the third degree tomorrow for not sticking it out, and giving him a chance.

  I just didn't care.

  I loved my best friend, and I knew her intentions were good. She had a boyfriend, she had a life outside her home and work. Della was happy. That's all she wanted for me. She just had a hard time seeing that we weren't the same person, and I was completely fine with the life I lived.

  I didn't need a man to be complete or whole, or to pamper me with compliments so I felt good. I liked who I was. I enjoyed being home, I enjoyed wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and sitting down to eat an entire container of ice cream, without worrying about what my thighs might look like after.

  I don't need to do this.

  Facing the crowd, the music blared overhead, pounding and thumping with so much bass, I could feel my ribs vibrate. Attempting to work my way through the mass of people, I was elbowed and shoved, ping ponged between strangers. It was impossible for me to get to the front door.