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

by Kelly Moore

  Down to his boxers, he slowly begins to crawl up the bed, planting kisses up my legs, stomach, breasts, and finally on my lips. I wrap my legs around his hips and feel him grow hard against me.

  “God, I’ve missed your touch,” I say against his lips.

  He tangles his fingers into my hair and yanks my head back so my throat is exposed. He scrapes his teeth along the sensitive skin and my body breaks out with goosebumps. “You don’t even know how fucking bad I missed you.” His hands travel to my hips while he sits back on his knees, between my legs. His eyes slowly and deliberately take in every inch of me before he pulls the thin material down my thighs. “Not one minute went by that I wasn’t thinking about you, hoping you were happy and safe. I would have gladly died to keep you out of harm’s way.” His finger finds my entrance and he dips inside, spreading my wetness.

  “I’ve longed for the taste of you.” His hands move to my ass, squeezing as he lowers his mouth to me. The slow circular motions of his tongue send me spiraling, I grasp the bedsheet and ride out my release on his tongue.

  He pulls away and his eyes have only gotten darker. “It was like I could still feel the soft skin of your thighs on my face.” He pushes his boxers down. “I could still feel how hot and wet you were when I’d slide into you.” He takes himself in his hand and pumps once before positioning himself at my entrance. “I could hear that sound you make when I’m completely filling you with every inch.” He pushes forward, holding me by the hips. I gasp as I fist the sheets again.

  He finally leans over me while keeping pace. “Shhh, we don’t want our guests to hear you screaming my name too many times,” he teases.

  I dig my nails into his back and roll us over. I look down at him with a smirk. “The only thing they’re going to hear is you begging me to stop,” I say before lifting myself up and sliding back down his length.

  His eyes roll back and close before his hands squeeze my hips. His lips part as a soft moan leaves them. I continue with the motion until he sits up, sucking my hard nipple into his hot mouth. His tongue flicks against it over and over until I’m panting and shattering into a million pieces.

  He lifts me off of him, and positions me on my knees. He takes his place behind me and pushes forward. With the position change, he feels even bigger, like he’s going even deeper. His hands travel from my breasts to my ass where he squeezes harder with each thrust. Our heavy breathing fills the room as sweat beads up on my skin and rolls off. Just as I shatter again, he lets out a loud moan and fills me with a jerk.

  When he collapses at my side, I roll into him, resting my head on his scarred chest. I can hear his heart pounding for me.

  I look up at him, placing my hand on his cheek. “I love you, John.”

  “I love you, Brook,” he whispers before pulling me flush against him.

  I let my eyes drift closed and feel him press a kiss to my forehead. I drift off to sleep listening to his heart pound, something I thought I’d never experience again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  John

  I open my eyes to find myself secluded in darkness. I try to stand, but my wrists are tied to a chair. I pull hard against my restraints. It doesn’t break. It only digs the rope tighter into my skin. It makes popping and cracking noises from the force, but it doesn’t give.

  The sound of the heavy metal door scraping across the concrete floor breaks the silence, flooding my cell with a low light.

  “Time to play, John. Aren’t you excited to see what games we play this time?” the guard asks.

  I pull against the ropes again, not bothering to give him any of my attention.

  I smell smoke and look up to see the bright orange glow of the end of the cigar he’s smoking. I know what game we’re playing. I pull harder, I need to get free.

  He rushes over to me and sticks the hot end of the cigar to my chest. “Stop fighting and just give in already!” he screams as the cigar scorches my flesh. The smell is harsh and overbearing as it makes it way up my nose. The pain is excruciating. I squeeze my hands into tight fists while grinding my teeth together, trying to hold back the scream that desperately wants to escape me.

  He tosses the cigar onto the dirty concrete floor as he takes a step away from me. A wicked smile covers his face as he reaches into his back pocket. My heart pounds as my breathing picks up. What is he going to do this time? There was a time when I thought these sessions couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. They are getting tired of not being able to break me lately and they are done playing. Each time I’m brought down here, it only gets worse.

  He pulls out a pair of plyers as he walks closer. He kneels at my side and grabs my hand. I try keeping my hands balled up, but he pries the left one open, taking my middle finger in between his. He raises the plyers to my finger and pinches the nail.

  “One more chance, John. What’s is going to be?”

  “Fuck you,” leaves my lips before I force my eyes closed and wait for the pain to hit me.

  I wake with a jerk and check my surroundings. I’m in Brooklyn’s apartment. I rub my eyes, hoping to shake off the remnants of the dream. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.

  I laid quietly beside Brooklyn most of the night while she slept. My mind had been racing with potential ways to stop Miles once and for all, not allowing me any rest. I have a feeling he’ll be close by. Knox is paying him highly for this job, and he doesn’t want it fucked up. He lost his ace when I turned on him. He thought for sure that threatening my family would be the ticket he needed, but he forgot one thing: I consider President Warren my family too. There was no way in Hell I would have killed him. I would have turned the gun on myself first.

  The sun is barely starting to peek through the bottom slat in the blinds. I smell coffee and hear soft, deep voices coming from the living room. I gently slide my arm from under Brook’s head, shifting until I’m free of her gorgeous body. I’m tempted to curl back into her and slide my hands between her legs, but she needs the rest. Instead, I pull on my jeans and t-shirt.

  Her father is sitting on the lounge chair sipping coffee with his legs outstretched on the table. Jake is still sound asleep on the couch. One agent is standing by the window looking out and another stands stoically by the front door. He hears me and turns in my direction. “Good morning. Coffee’s made.” He lifts his mug in the air.

  “Thank you. I could smell it in the bedroom. Did you sleep, sir?” I open up several cabinets looking for a mug. I pour a cup, and join him on the couch.

  “Do you play golf?” he asks, blowing on his hot coffee.

  “Um, no, I’ve never really had time for that.” What I actually mean is that I’ve been too busy playing other games with people’s lives and that I’ve screwed mine up, but I don’t think that’s what he wants to hear.

  “I play every Friday morning at an exclusive club.”

  What’s he getting at? I’ve lost track of my days. Today is… Friday. I put my mug down and turn in his direction. “Today is Friday, sir. I’m sure you already knew that, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll be perfectly safe with all these men around me. I think better, clearer when I’m playing. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “We’ve already established the fact that I don’t play golf, but besides that, we really need to come up with a plan to keep Miles’ men from killing you.”

  He puts his coffee down. “You and I have had no real time to bond. You’ve been on the run since the day I met you. I know my daughter loves you, but I’d really like to get the chance to know the father of my grandson. I’ve always trusted her judgement, but she’s either been hunted or hurting from the first day you walked into her life.”

  I start to say something, but he shuts me down.

  “I know that Brooklyn being hunted was not your fault, nor her thinking you were dead.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I want to know, after all this is said and done, what are you going to do to make my daughter and grandson h
appy and safe from here on out?”

  “I…”

  “Don’t tell me now.” He stands. “Tell me on the golf course.”

  “Sir, Brooklyn will have my balls if I let you out of her sight.”

  “Then I suggest we go before she wakes up.” He heads for the door and the agent follows him.

  “My shoes are in the bedroom.” I start in that direction.

  “We’ll get you some shoes at the club. I don’t want to risk your balls.” He laughs, opening the door.

  His agents surround us as we walk to his black limo. As I stare at my bare feet, the absurdity of the situation hits me: I am sitting here in a classy limo next to the President of the United States and I have no shoes on.

  He chuckles beside me. “Feeling a little underdressed?” he says, pointing at my feet.

  “Something like that. Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Getting to know you a little better? Yes. Us leaving without telling Brooky? No way.” He pushes number two on his phone. It strikes me as funny that of all the people in the world the President knows and has to deal with, Brooklyn is his first person on speed dial.

  Her voice screeches through the phone the moment she answers. He holds the phone at arm’s length until he can get a word in edgewise. “If you will stop yelling, I’ll explain.” More screaming vibrates the phone. “I know, we should have woken you up, but the agents knew where we were going. I left a few there with you and we have an entourage of agents with us. John’s never played golf and I want to teach him.”

  More screaming.

  “Yes, I know we should be making a plan. We’ll do that when we get back from playing golf. We’re going through a tunnel and I’m going to lose you,” he says, disconnecting.

  I look at the window in front of us and see nothing but traffic. “Sir, there is no tunnel.”

  “I know that, but she doesn’t.” He smiles.

  The club is secluded from the city. The valet attendant opens our door. They obviously know the vehicle and look completely confused when I climb out of the back seat with my bare feet.

  “Sir, this is a private club,” he says with a deep crease in his brow.

  “He’s with me,” the President says, stepping out of the limo.

  “Sorry, sir,” he says, ushering us and the agents to the revolving glass doors.

  The front desk clerk smiles and nods when she sees him. We bypass the formal entrance and are directed into a private locker room. “He’ll need some clothes and shoes,” he tells the attendant.” He looks me up and down, sizing me up, and disappears.

  Matthew punches numbers into a box on his locker and the door pops open. He starts undressing as the attendant comes back in with a light blue pair of cotton pants, a white pullover, and golf shoes that have some sort of tassel on them.

  “I think I’ll just take the shoes, if that’s okay with you?” The attendant looks at me and then at Matthew for approval.

  He laughs. “Suit yourself.” He throws me a pair of socks from his locker.

  I sit down on the bench and put them on along with the stuffy shoes. I stand and rock back and forth, trying to make them more comfortable.

  “They take some getting used to,” he says while he finishes lacing his well-worn shoes. “Let’s go get you some clubs.” One of the agents grabs his clubs from another locker and we head out the back door into a lush, green course. A golf cart is already waiting on us. Three, in fact - one for us, and two for the many agents that will be following us.

  As we drive down to the first hole, I scan the area. There is no fence surrounding the property. On the south side, lakes cover almost every inch of the perimeter. To the north are lines of trees. I can’t help but wonder how secure the property is, but I decide to try and relax a little and learn something new. Who knows - when I get to Maui, maybe I’ll take up golfing. For the first time in years, I won’t have anyone chasing me and I sure as Hell won’t be taking any more contracts. That part of my life is behind me now. I’ll make Brooklyn my wife and I’ll finally get to meet my son. For the first time ever, my life is looking pretty damn good.

  Matthew talks me through everything, including how to swing a club. Every now and then he asks me something personal, but nothing too tough. By the eighth hole, I’m finally relaxed and enjoying myself. It seems that I have a natural ability for golf. I’ve done pretty well for a first-timer.

  The agents are huddled together, kicked back watching us play. Matthew tees up the ball. I shield my eyes from the sun and look down the fairway at the greens.

  “I’m really glad we did this,” he says, taking a practice swing. “What are you going to do with yourself when this is all over?” He leans on his driver.

  “Retire,” I chuckle.

  “What I really want to know is what are you going to do with my daughter?” He takes a few steps toward me. “She’s been through a hell of a lot, you know.”

  “I plan on spending the rest of my life making her happy. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to make her my wife?” I watch his facial expressions for any indication of what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t show any. I swallow hard and walk closer to him. “I love her, sir, more than the air I breathe. I think I’ve proven that I will do anything to keep her and our son safe. Things that you may have to pardon me for later. She is the only woman that I have ever loved or will love. I’m nothing without her.”

  He stares at me for a moment, then sticks out his hand. I place mine in his. “Then you have my blessing. But know this: if anything happens to her or my grandson because of you, there will be no place you can hide that I won’t find you.”

  “I promise to take care of both of them, sir,” I say wholeheartedly.

  “Then we’re good here.” He picks up his driver and walks back over to the tee, taking a few more practice swings. A flash from the line of trees reflects off the tip of his club. Instinctively, I dive forward, knocking him to the ground and shielding him with my body. I am too late though, the bullet has already made contact with him. The agents already have their guns drawn, scrambling to provide cover for the president. Blood stains his left shoulder. I pull back his shirt to see how bad it is.

  “It’s a flesh wound, sir.” I stand, taking his hand, helping him up as the agents cluster inches away from us. “Get him inside. I’m going after the shooter.” He grabs my arm to stop as I turn in the direction of the shooter.

  “Let my men handle it.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I know these men and I know how they operate. I will handle this, but I need a gun.” He instructs one of his agents to give me their gun. I take it and run in a zigzag pattern in the direction that I saw the flash of light. When I make it to the tree line, I look back to see that Matthew and the agents are safely inside.

  I aim my gun into the trees. “I know you’re up there!” I yell. A bullet sends bark flying from the tree next to me, giving me a direction to go on. I move behind the cover of the tall trees in the direction the bullet came from. Looking through the scope of my rifle, I can distinguish a boot sticking out from a hunting stand. He must have known the president golfs here every Friday and hid here last night. I move directly under the stand, where he can’t see me, then take aim at the back of it and pull the trigger. A scream rings from the tree stand, scattering birds from nearby trees. The shooter falls from the stand with a hard thud several feet in front of me, clutching his leg in pain. I dart over to him, driving my knee into his chest and pressing the barrel of my gun to his temple.

  “Don’t kill me!” he cries.

  Two agents rush over, pointing their guns at him. “Tell me the name of the person that hired you!” I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

  “It was Miles!” He sings like a canary.

  “Who hired Miles?”

  “I don’t know!” He puts his hands in the air.

  I press the gun harder into his forehead. “Not the right answer.”

  �
�Okay, okay. It was a man named Knox. That’s all I know, please don’t kill me.”

  “Do you have what you need?” I ask the agents.

  They both nod and pull the guy up by his shoulders. He lets out a scream when his leg hits the ground. I walk over and stand in front of him. “One more question. Where is Miles now?”

  His demeanor changes and a satisfied look covers his face. He pulls his chin up and looks directly at me. “He’s on his way to Maui.”

  Fear chills me to my bones. I swing my gun in his direction and pull the trigger, but one of the agents grabs my arm and throws off my aim. The bullet kicks up a harmless cloud of dust from the ground next to me. “You sorry son of a bitch!” I lunge toward him and the agent has to hold me back to keep me from ripping him apart limb by limb.

  “Sir, we need him alive to testify against Knox and Miles.” He takes the gun out of my hand and shoves me off him.

  I take off in a sprint to the clubhouse. The agents let me into the locker room, where Matthew is cleaning his wound. “Sir, I have to get to Maui. Miles is headed there after my son. Give me your phone, I need to call Brooklyn.”

  He hands it to me as fear fills his eyes. “I’ll get one of the agents to get Air Force One on standby. It will be the quickest way for us to get there.”

  As I phone Brooklyn, I hear him order one of the agents to get the helicopter to land here and pick us up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  John

  “What happened? I knew you shouldn’t have gone there!” Brooklyn says as soon as she picks up the phone.

  “Well, it’s a good thing we did because someone just tried taking out your dad.”

  “What? How is that good?” Her voice has become a loud screech of anger.

  “Because I tracked down the shooter and got a few answers out of him. I found out where Miles is and we have to go after him. I need you to call the nanny and tell her to lock everything down, get the supplies she needs, and take cover in the panic room.”