by April Lust
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
HIS BABY: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance copyright 2017 by April Lust. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
HIS BABY: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
DEFILED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (Wicked Bones MC)
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
CORRUPTED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Angel’s Keepers MC)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
WRECKED: The Beasts MC
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
More by April Lust
DEFILED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (Wicked Bones MC)
CORRUPTED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Angel’s Keepers MC)
WRECKED: The Beasts MC
His Broken Angel: Inferno Hunters MC
His Perfect Angel: Shadow Reapers MC
His Precious Angel: Steel Gods MC
His Little Angel: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
SINNER’S PASSION: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
SINNER’S TOUCH: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
SINNER’S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
SINNER’S LUST: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
HIS BABY: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
By April Lust
HE CAME TO KILL ME. HE STAYED TO SCREW ME. HE LEFT TO SAVE ME.
Death is supposed to be a hooded figure with a scythe, not a sexy hitman with abs of steel.
And don’t even get me started on his massive, rock-hard… equipment.
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my infant son from this killer.
Even if it means letting him own me completely.
In any other circumstance, he would have been something out of my dreams.
Tall, ripped, tattooed, with eyes like diamonds and arms like pythons…
He was sex appeal personified.
And the ragged growl rumbling in his chest made me want to do things I’d never done before.
But this wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare.
Because he wasn’t there to sweep me off my feet…
He was there to put me in my grave.
I’ve gone through too much to let this be the end of me, though.
I’ve faced hell to protect my son.
And if this devil thinks he’s gonna be the one to take my baby from me…
Well, he better think twice.
Because I’ll fight.
I’ll f*ck.
I’ll do anything and everything.
The hitman wants my body?
Fine.
He can have my hands, my lips, everything between my legs.
He takes all of that, along with something I never thought he’d touch:
My heart.
Oh, God…
Am I falling for my killer?
Chapter One
Evan
Twenty miles to go. Twenty miles and then Evan Weaver was done with this shit. That was his mantra as he sailed down the road to the target’s hiding place. Last one, last one, last one, I promise it’s the last one, just do this last thing and you’re free. This was the last godawful piece of shit gig he would ever have to take, and then it was just golden beaches until the end of his days.
He gripped the steering wheel harder, flexing his fingers. His hands felt tired these days, worn-out, like they’d seen and done too much for one lifetime. Sometimes he felt like an old man even though he was still in his thirties. He was tired of running. He was tired of fighting. He just wanted to rest.
Ten miles to go, he thought as he passed another exit on the highway. A little spark of heat ran up his spine, and he pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. For some reason a little knot of anxiety had formed at the bottom of his stomach. It was like it was his first time all over again, even though it was his last. In the past, whenever Salvatore or any other mob boss had given him an assignment, he’d haggle with him until he hiked the price up. Evan was a businessman that way. But this time Sal had told him, “Name your price. Anything.” So Evan named enough to finally get out of the business and head down to South America. He had a boat ticket already, just waiting for him inside his pants pocket.
Evan took the exit to the motel, feeling his abdominal muscles tighten in anticipation. He parked across the street, in a dark corner where nobody would notice him right away.
That was the first rule of killing: do not be seen. Ever. Don’t screw yourself out of the element of surprise.
Most of Evan’s targets were dead before they’d even realized what was happening. Not this time, though, Evan thought to himself. This time, it would take several long minutes to do the job. He didn’t have to strangle her. He cou
ld have just decided on a gun or even a knife, but when the idea had struck him earlier it was too sweet to let go of. As Evan shut off his engine, he looked to the backseat, where the Christmas lights were waiting for him. That’s how he’d do it, with the pretty lights around the woman’s neck.
Okay, he knew it was sick, probably sicker than any other hit he’d ever carried out. But it was too perfect. Christmas was the reason he was in this business in the first place, right? That one Christmas long ago, when his dad walked out, had set everything in motion.
Evan locked his car, carrying the Christmas lights under his arm, before crossing the parking lot to the girl’s motel room. The contents of his stomach squirmed like worms trapped under a boot. Why am I so fucking nervous? Evan wondered. He’d done this hundreds of times. Usually he did it with a cool head, hands steady and focused on the mission. But right now, he couldn’t seem to calm down. His blood rushed inside his veins, faster and faster with each step he took toward the girl’s room. Kill the girl, get the boy. Kill the girl, get the boy. Kill the girl, get the boy, get out, get free.
Evan sighed deeply as he finally approached the door of the motel room. In his mind, he was already a thousand miles away, on a beach somewhere where the sun blazed down hard on his body, where there was always an ice-cold drink in his hand and a scantily clad woman by his side. That’s what he’d do after this. He’d get a drink at a bar somewhere and find a girl for the night. It’d been so long since he’d spent the night in a woman’s arms. His body ached for it.
He pulled out his lock-pick, ready to go. All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his hands. He clutched the Christmas lights harder with his free hand, wrapping the cord around his wrist. Evan was ready. His life was about to begin.
***
Hannah
Hannah was about to die. She was certain of it. Her hand paused in midair, just about to put the crowning touch on the Christmas tree, when she heard it. A scratching noise from outside. Her eyes darted over to Alex, but he was still asleep, looking as peaceful as ever. Oh, baby, if you only knew, she thought. All of this: getting away from Salvatore, going on the run, staying in shitty motels in the middle of nowhere—all of it was for Alex. If she hadn’t had him she would probably still be under Salvatore’s thumb, doing whatever he wanted.
For a second she was unsure if she’d imagined the noise out of paranoia. But then she heard it again. A slight little jingle, right outside her door.
Fuck. “How the hell did they find me?” she whispered to herself, slowly walking forward to the front of the motel room, trying hard to avoid making any noise. She’d been smart. She’d paid only in cash, for everything, terrified of leaving a paper trail for Salvatore to trace. She knew he had cops in his pocket, so there was no limit to what he could do if he put his mind to it. She’d even broken into different, anonymous-looking cars every other day to keep Salvatore’s goons from tracking her physically. When she first moved in with Salvatore years ago, she thought her days of crime were far behind her. She never thought she’d be in this situation ever again. But things changed.
There was another scratching sound at the door. Jesus, fuck, no, please, no, Hannah silently begged God or whoever else could possibly be listening. What could she do? Dash through the window and scream for help in the parking lot? There was no guarantee that anyone in the area was even awake, let alone willing to help her. And besides, how could she get through the back window quickly enough with Alex in her arms? He was still a baby. He couldn’t even walk on his own yet.
So she’d have to pick fight over flight. But how could she fend off the intruder? She didn’t have a gun. She didn’t even have a very sharp knife in this motel room. All she had was a couple sentimental objects. She hadn’t had time to pack very much when she ran off. Hannah quickly surveyed the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon, when her eyes landed on it.
Her dead grandmother’s frying pan.
That would have to do. Hannah grabbed it and walked over to the door, trying to control her breathing. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears she wondered if the intruder could hear it through the door. The doorknob rattled again, louder this time, and then there was a clicking noise. Shit. The door was unlocked. Any second now. Hannah’s palms were sweating, threatening to make her drop the frying pan. She breathed as deeply as she could and screwed her eyes shut. I can do this. I can do this. For Alex.
The door swung open, and Hannah brought her arms down, crashing the frying pan down on the intruder’s head as hard as she could.
***
Evan
Evan’s mind emerged from the fog, a huge throbbing pain attacking the back of his skull. Where am I? All he could tell was that his arms were bound behind his back, probably with duct tape, and there was something else tying his legs together.
“Waaaaaaaaaah!” A high, shrill cry pierced Evan’s ears. He fought the urge to cringe. For now, whoever had captured him thought he was still knocked out. He had to gather as much information as possible without opening his eyes or revealing that he was awake. Then, he’d find a way out of his restraints and attack at the right moment.
So, clearly a baby was crying. Very fucking loudly. “Waaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” a woman’s voice whispered. The woman, Evan realized. The target. He’d seen a picture of her before. There was no way she could overpower him on her own. Was there a man hiding in here with her?
But no matter how hard Evan strained his ears, he couldn’t make anything else out. Goddammit. He opened his eyes a little bit, just to stare through his eyelashes. He could see a figure walking back and forth, back and forth in front of him. Evan quickly shut his eyes all the way again, since he was clearly being closely monitored. Okay, so he’d just have to break out of the tape holding him before opening his eyes.
Evan flexed as hard as he could, digging his nails into the edge of the duct tape, trying to pry it off his skin. But it barely budged. He pulled harder, but then the tape made a loud scratching sound. Evan heard the pitter-patter of footsteps in front of him come to a halt. Dammit. There goes the element of surprise. Oh, well. He’d have to handle it another way.
Rule two of killing: be adaptable. Each target was different. Each one demanded a different approach. This one would need to be head-on.
Evan blinked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. The woman had resumed pacing back and forth around the small motel room, the baby in her arms. “Shh, shh, little one, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured into the kid’s head. Evan took the opportunity to look down at his own body and see what was restraining him. His arms were wrapped around the back of a wooden chair, bound in the back with tape, but his feet were restrained with something else. He pulled his head forward as far as it could go to stare down at his feet and what was binding him. It was the Christmas lights, wrapped around his legs so tightly he could barely move. Trapped by Christmas. How poetic, he thought.
For a minute Evan thought the woman still hadn’t noticed he’d opened his eyes, and he immediately flexed every muscle in his body to attempt standing up, but it was no use. Fuck.
“Salvatore send you?” the woman asked without looking up from her child.
Evan didn’t answer, instead he just stared at the woman as she walked back and forth across the room. Hannah, that was her name. Was she really alone here? How the hell had she overpowered him? That had never happened to Evan in almost twenty years of killing.
“Did Salvatore send you or not?” Hannah asked, her voice higher and louder this time. She was pissed. And scared, Evan realized. The terror was coming off of her in waves. Good. Evan could work with that.
“You already know the answer,” Evan said, using his voice as a cover so he could mess around with the duct tape some more. Even as he pulled at it harder, straining all of his muscles and tendons, it didn’t budge. How the fuck did this random woman tie him up so well?
“Fu
ck, shit, fuck,” the woman muttered under her breath, hiking the baby up higher in her arms. “Did you track me or does Salvatore know where I am?”
“Listen,” Evan said, speaking as softly as possible. He wanted to seem likable now, trustworthy. “You need to think here. You’re in a rough spot right now. You need to be smart.”
Hannah clicked her teeth. “No shit,” she huffed under her breath. She began to walk faster, clearly getting more and more nervous as the seconds ticked by.
“I was sent here to kill you,” Evan said. “And I can still do the job. But if you let me go now, I won’t.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy, original,” Hannah said. “How’d you come up with that one?”
“I mean it,” Evan argued. “Believe me, it’s the smartest decision you’ve got right now. Untie me and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t—I don’t have time for that,” Hannah said, pausing to fake a smile at her son as he cooed softly in her arms. “I gotta think, I gotta get out of this…” She was muttering more to herself than to anyone else in the room, and Evan could see the panic on her face plain as day. It was weird, sitting here like this, watching her. He’d never spent this much time around a target in his entire career. Fitting that the last one would be such a pain in the ass to deal with. The life couldn’t just let him leave in peace, could it?
***
Hannah
Salvatore couldn’t just let her go in peace, could he? He had to hunt her down like an animal, send hitmen after her until he got what he wanted. Now she had to be responsible for this idiot who was clearly still trying to murder her. There was no way she was letting him out of his restraints. She could tell he was trying to get out of them on his own, and if she weren’t freaking the fuck out right now she would have laughed at him. At least her Girl Scout training was good for one thing. That and growing up in a family of criminals definitely came in handy.