Stay With Me: A Romance Thriller Series (The Hitman Series Book 2)

by Kelly Moore

  There is a long, awkward silence as he sips his drink and takes a couple puffs off his cigar. Finally, he looks at me. “I have a few jobs that I’m entrusting you with before I give you the motherload. If you can handle these smaller jobs and restore the faith I’ve lost in you, when you complete the big job, you’re free to go. Your debt will be paid.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I throw back the liquid and swallow it. It burns its way down my parched throat and warms my stomach. Deciding to see how far I can push my luck, I stand with my empty glass in hand. I slowly take the few steps to the drink cart and pour another. I drink it while still holding the bottle. When the second drink is gone, I pour another, all while feeling Miles watching me.

  I take the third glass and sit back down. “So, let me make sure I have this right. You’ve been torturing me until I agreed to work for you again, and now you’re just going to let me go when I finish this job?”

  He looks me square in the eye “If you don’t end up dead. This job, it’s not like the little shit you did in the past.” He takes a draw off his cigar, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I’m afraid that even you can’t pull this one off,” he says with a grin.

  I scoff. “What’s the job?”

  He seems taken back. “You think I’m going to fall for that shit again?” He shakes his head. “Not this time, John. This time,” he says as he leans forward in his leather desk chair which creaks with his movements, “this time, we play by my rules. You will not go rogue.” He points at his chest with his cigar.

  I stub out my cigar and lean back in my chair. “How’s this going to play out, huh? You keep me locked up in your dungeon, only letting me out to do your bidding like I’m your little minion?”

  He lets out a laugh. “You are my little minion, John. The sooner you learn that, the better.” As if on key, a guard grabs me by my arm while the other pulls the black bag over my head.

  When the sun rises, I’m dragged out of bed and up to the kitchen area they have made on the office floor. Next to my plate of scrambled eggs and sausage is a file.

  A file that seals someone’s fate.

  I take my seat and flip through it while I’m eating. The hit is on a man named Clay Charleston. I study his pictures, memorizing the details of my target. He looks like your typical rich prick to me: slicked-back blond hair, dark eyes, and weak facial features.

  I move on to read the papers enclosed. Mr. Charleston was the primary account holder for one Mrs. Betty Charleston. It appears that the day Mrs. Charleston died, the money mysteriously came up missing. The family hired a private investigator and all signs point to her nephew, Clay.

  This I can handle. A thief? I’ve taken out many. Something tells me that Miles is breaking me in slowly.

  I’m up on the roof dressed in my black gear. The wind is cold and frigid as it nips at my nose and dries my eyes. It’s nearing 11 P.M., the time Mr. Clay usually strolls in from his bar crawl.

  I adjust my position and peer through my scope just as a nicely-dressed man rounds the corner. I study his face: same preppy haircut as the guy in the picture, same beady little eyes, and pointy nose. Same class ring on his right ring finger. This is my guy.

  I aim for his head and take a deep breath to steady myself. As I exhale, I squeeze the trigger and the gun fires quietly through the silencer.

  He drops dead on the sidewalk. Nobody is even around to scream.

  I pack up quickly and head back down the fire escape. I walk down the alley at a normal pace, not wanting to draw attention to myself in case someone happens to see me. My ride waits for me around the corner: both guards in the black Hummer.

  The guard in the driver’s seat shifts into drive immediately after I land in the seat, screeching the tires off the pavement.

  When we come to a stop sign, they look down the road and see the man lying still on the sidewalk. They slowly drive past him, turning their heads as they go to make sure he is dead. By the way the blood is pooling around his head, there’s no way he can’t be.

  “Good job, John,” one of them says before pulling out a cell phone and reporting the accident. I hear the operator ask for his name, but he closes the phone and throws it out the window.

  I sit back and wait to be thrown back in my cell. Job one: completed.

  Chapter Five

  Brooklyn

  I haven’t slept a wink since Jake read the message on the burner phone. It can’t be him. He died in my arms. I know Jake says no one else has that number, but Miles’ men are capable of anything. The little Napoleon got away. I knew at some point the slimy bastard would resurface. He took my heart from me, what more could he want? But why now? It’s been two years, surely he’s found someone else’s life to ruin.

  But, what if?

  What if…he’s still alive? He wouldn’t have stayed away from me. He couldn’t. His fierce love for me wouldn’t allow it. He was my hero in the shadows, my lover, and my life.

  I throw the sheets back, giving up on any thought of sleep. I pull on my silk robe, tying it tightly around my waist. My reflection in the Queen Ann-style floor mirror stops me. I stare at the woman staring back at me. My red locks are longer than the last time I laid eyes on John. My hips and breasts are curvier, thanks to motherhood. I pull back the front of my robe, exposing my thighs. These are the same. The same long thighs that I wrapped around him, holding him close to me, drawing him in as he thrust inside me.

  I watch as my fingers impulsively brush the inside of my thigh. I used to love when his teeth nipped me here. I cock my head to the side, eyes fixated on the point of contact between my fingers and skin. My gaze lifts higher as I visualize him on his knees in front of me. His head tilts upward, reading my dark eyes, watching them fill with lust. A sexy smile crosses his face as he leans forward. His smile ceases as his lips touch me and his tongue darts inside. My breathing speeds up as my fingers skim over the junction between my legs through my silk panties. It’s not my touch I’m feeling. It’s his.

  I let my eyes close, picturing him kneeling before me. His back muscles flex while he brings me to the brink of shattering. I can smell him like he’s really here. I can feel his heat, an overpowering mixture of love and wanting. It washes over me as I slide my fingers beneath the thin material.

  My lips part and a soft moan escapes my lips. I note his cocky grin when he feels how wet I am for him. His eyes darken before his Adam’s apple bobs and his jaw flexes. I can see how turned on he is just from pleasuring me.

  My fingers work quicker, needing to find my release. My head falls back as my breathing amplifies further and every muscle in my body hardens, preparing for my orgasm. I look at John one last time as my climax washes over me.

  “Brook! Are you up?” I jump as Jake’s voice brings me back to the here and now, shattering my vision. I scan the mirror for John again, but he’s gone. For one blessed moment he was here with me. I fix my robe, drawing it in even tighter this time.

  “Brook! Are you in there?” His knock sounds like thunder.

  I almost crash into him when I open the door. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  He rushes past me and starts rifling through drawers, throwing clothes on the bed. “Call the Nanny for J-Man. Get your things packed,” he barks at me.

  I grab his arm to stop him. “Slow down. What are you ranting about?” His eyes are grave, filled with a seriousness I have never before seen in him.

  “We’re going to Chicago,” he says flatly.

  “What? Why? I don’t want to go back there.” I plop down on the end of my bed, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Jake pulls the burner phone out of his pocket and squats down in front of me. “I got another text.” He tries to hand me the phone, and I push it away.

  “It’s Miles playing mind games with us. We talked about this yesterday.” I try to stand but he places his hands on my knees, keeping me in place.

  “I know we did, but I’ve thought about nothing else all night long. There is no wa
y Miles has this number. Think about it. He is more than capable of getting my cell phone number if he wanted it. Only John knew I had this phone. I didn’t tell another soul. So, if Miles wanted me or you, the text would not come to this phone.” He holds it in front of me again. “Look at the text.”

  My hand trembles as I take it from him. There, in big bold letters, it says “Stand By Me in Chicago, do not reply.” I stand and throw the phone, shattering the mirror that I just saw him in. Jake stands and his hands firmly grasp my shoulders.

  “Listen to me. This is John, I know it. We have to go to Chicago and find him.” His voice is full of conviction.

  “I saw him die! You saw him die!” My eyes plead with him to not dredge this up again. I try to walk away but his grip tightens.

  “Maybe we saw what Miles wanted us to see. You know what he’s capable of, you said it yourself. I know this is John sending these messages. I can feel it, right here.” His hand lands over his heart.

  I pull out of his reach. “Then where the hell has he been the last two years?” I scream as the floodgates of tears open up. I turn my back to him.

  He moves closer to me. “Maybe he’s been keeping us safe,” he whispers.

  I turn to face him. My lip begins to quiver. “Do you honestly think there is a chance that he is alive?”

  “I do. I didn’t, but now,” he picks the phone up off the floor, “I do. And, if there is the slightest possibility that he is alive, I’m going after him. He would do the same for us.”

  I wipe my tears with both hands, then take the phone out of his hand. I stare at the message again like it’s going to start talking to me in John’s voice. “I trust you with my life, even with J-Man’s life, and if you really think that John is in Chicago, then that’s where we will go.”

  “I do.” His eyes scan back and forth over mine, trying to decide if I honestly believe him.

  “Then what are we waiting for? I’ll clean up this mess, then call the nanny and start packing. You make the arrangements. I’ll make a few quick phone calls…”

  His hands go to either side of my face. “Thank you, Brook, for trusting me.” He kisses my forehead.

  The next two hours are a whirlwind. I’ve not had time to catch my breath, to digest what we are doing. The nanny, Grace, is staying at our house with John. He will be safe there. Jake installed security cameras and silent alarms when I bought the place. There is a hidden safe room tucked away in John’s room. Grace is the only other person besides us that has access to it.

  I shove my overstuffed luggage into the overhead bin on the plane. “Jake, I need to call my dad before the plane takes off.”

  “Don’t call him yet, not until we know anything for certain.”

  “I won’t mention John, but I want him to know we are traveling in case something happens.” He nods in understanding and I dial his number while I buckle into my seat.

  “Hey, Brooky.” His voice is always so comforting to me.

  “Hi, Dad. I wanted you to know that Jake and I are taking a little trip to Chicago. Little John is with Grace.”

  “What’s in Chicago?” Concern radiates through his voice. He knows I haven’t been back there since John died.

  “I…” I cover the phone with my hand, “I hate lying to him,” I say to Jake.

  “I still have my apartment there. I’m going to finish cleaning it out and then Jake and I are going to a baseball game while we are there.” I close my eyes tight, waiting for his response.

  “I think it’s about time that you got rid of that place. You’ve been holding onto it for far too long. You need the last bit of closure. Tell Jake I said hello and to take care of my little girl.”

  “I will. I’ll call you when we’re on our way home. Bye, Daddy.”

  “I’ll come see you soon, Brooky.”

  “You didn’t really lie to him. We are going to your apartment while we are there,” Jake says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “It was still a lie. If he thought John was still alive, he’d have the FBI looking for him.” I turn in his direction in the tight confines of my seat. “Why aren’t we getting his help? And why aren’t we flying first class?” I yank at my seatbelt.

  “This was the only flight out on such short notice and there were no other seats available. We got the last two. To answer your other question, we don’t know what kind of trouble we’re walking into. I don’t want your dad involved.”

  “Exactly. If we are walking into trouble, then the FBI should be involved.” My voice starts to rise.

  “Lower your voice. People are starting to stare.”

  He’s right. All eyes are on me as I look around the plane. A few people recognize me and start whispering and pointing at me. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why we need to do this alone,” I whisper.

  “My gut tells me not to get other people involved yet,” he says, peering out the small oval window.

  “Your gut. That’s all you got?” I turn his chin toward me.

  “I promise we’ll ask for help when and if we need it. In the meantime, it’s you and me. Okay?”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Okay. Where do we start?”

  “We’ll start at your apartment. We need to go to places that are familiar to him. We may not have to find him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He may find us. Where are some other places he knows?”

  The plane starts making its decent down the runaway and I grip the armrest anxiously. “John knows the entire city like the back of his hand.”

  “I want to know where he has been with you.”

  “There is the bar where we first met.” I smile at the memory of that night. “There is the hangar where we spent the night.” My smile fades thinking back to where I first realized how much danger I was in and the fact that John became my hero that day. He saved me every day from that point on.

  His hand covers mine. “That’s good, Brook. Those are places to start. If he’s alive, we’ll find him."

  “I hope to God you are right. The thought of getting my hopes up… I don’t know if I can do it again,” I say softly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to get your hopes up. I really believe it was him that sent the text.” His brows furrow together as he looks away.

  “What is it?” I squeeze his hand to get him to look at me.

  “I’m his twin. Shouldn’t I have known if he was still alive?”

  I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think it really works that way.”

  Chapter Six

  John

  The sound of the heavy door scraping against the floor as it’s pushed open wakes me, the same annoying sound that woke me yesterday. Even the dim lights filtering in from the hallway are enough to make me squint.

  “Good job, John. I knew you still had it in you,” Miles says as he walks deeper into my cell. He reaches above his head and turns on the light, something I don’t even bother with anymore. “Get up and shower off. I have a little surprise for you.”

  I sit up and my overgrown hair falls in my eyes. I push it back as I stand. “What surprise?”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

  He turns sideways so I can pass by him to go shower. “When you finish, get your ass upstairs. Don’t make me regret this small freedom I’m offering you.”

  I grunt in response. Walking out of my cell without a guard on my arm brings about a small sense of freedom. I open the door on my right and step into the tiny, dingy bathroom. Clean clothes are set out on the back of the toilet for me, shampoo/body wash is already in the shower, and a towel is hanging on the wall. Shaving cream, a razor, and scissors are waiting for me on the sink. I’d love to pick them up and jab them into his stomach, gutting him like a pig. I snicker to myself at the thought. It’s not my style though, I’d much prefer to have a bullet slice through him.

  Something feels weird here. Miles is being too nice. But maybe this is another one
of his tests. I have to earn his trust back if I’m ever going to get away from him. He may say that if I can pull off this big job that I will be set free, but I don’t believe him. If I get away, it’s going to be because I got myself out, not because he let me go.

  I strip off my clothes and step into the shower. The water takes forever to get warm, but it finally heats up and soothes the sore muscles of my back. I’ve been using every last minute I have in my cell to exercise. I need to be in shape if I’m going to be out there doing this job again. Between the sit ups, pushups, lunges, and squats, every one of my muscles are sore and tense, but I feel good, stronger.

  When I step out of the shower, I take my sweet time shaving and cutting my hair. With the scruff on my face gone and my hair trimmed back into its normal style, I finally look like myself again. All but the ugly scar that mars my cheek. It’s jagged and raised, and two inches long.

  I pull on the black clothes that were set out for me and slip the bullet I stole from Miles into my boot before making my way up the stairs, surprised still that I don’t have a guard watching my every move. I know they are going to pat me down to be sure I don’t have anything on me that could be used as a weapon. As I walk toward the stairs, the bullet digs into my calf from my boot being tied so tight, but I ignore the slight irritation.

  Miles is waiting for me behind the door to the kitchen area, sitting down at the table while the two guards stand, pacing the floor.

  They watch me as I walk across the floor and take a seat, looking at Miles.

  “See, everything is fine,” he says to his guards. He looks at me. “They were sure you managed to break free while you were down there alone.” One of them pats me down to make sure I didn’t keep any of the sharp objects they left out for me.

  I eye the guards before turning back to Miles. “Why would I do that? You know where to find me. Not to mention the threat you put against my family.” Anger washes over me again. It rises in my chest, bringing up bile, but I push it down.