Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense

by Imani King

  I walked into the old mansion, the floors creaking underneath me. A few of the actresses and actors had begun to file in as the evening cooled off. There was still a spring chill in the air. If you could call spring a season here... which in my opinion you couldn't. It wasn't like New York, where the seasons followed a predictable pattern. Here, there were just times of year when everything was either slightly cooler or really fucking hot.

  Gabi wasn't inside, and she wasn't at the bar on the poor excuse for a porch, either. I felt an edge of panic creeping into my consciousness, but this was probably nothing. There wasn't a reason for me to worry about someone like Gabi. She was used to this kind of shit, but still. There were bad people in the world. People worse than I was.

  I walked outside and scanned the palatial back yard, noting that many of the guests seemed to have departed. Or maybe they'd gone somewhere else. That tiny bit of panic began to expand.

  She could be in trouble. Not that I would care. But her dad would fire me. Or worse.

  I moved back into the house. Few people noticed me. Even though I was tall and considered myself menacing, I had a way of becoming invisible in a crowd. I’d perfected it years ago. In my line of business, it was essential not to make eye contact. Not to make an impression. I flicked my eyes over the living room again, noting the worn down antique couches and the animal print rugs. Probably from real endangered species. This guy was really out to make an impression.

  Still, no Gabi.

  I walked back over to the stairs, noticing a sign I hadn’t seen before.

  “No guests allowed upstairs.” I must have been off my game if I hadn’t seen it. And perhaps it had been because Gabi had made my emotions flare, when I normally kept myself so tightly controlled. The sign was laminated, making it look like a prop for a third grade classroom. This fucking guy. I knew I didn’t like him.

  I crouched, steadying my breathing, listening for signs of movement upstairs. There was a faint moan, almost beyond the reach of my hearing. I stood still, my stomach twisting in knots. Slowly, I put my hand on the railing and put my foot on the first stair. There was nothing to indicate that something untoward was going on. I could leave now and make it back home in no time. Or better yet, to the bars, where I was an anonymous rich guy in search of tail. That seemed far more comfortable right now than figuring out what was going on.

  I listened again. Silence, and then a small thud. My muscles tensed, and I clutched the railing. I had an image of Gabi alone with that sleazy man she’d been talking to before. The fucking director. I leapt up the stairs without another thought, taking in the strange environment with my senses. I scanned the dark hallway, looking for a door that was cracked open, or one that had light coming from beneath the frame. Nothing. Fuck.

  I stood still, tuning my ears for the cadence of the moan I’d heard before. I couldn’t go around opening doors, not in an old-ass place like this. If Gabi was in danger, and that was a big if, I couldn’t risk making noise. I knew this type of Hollywood scum. And they weren’t necessarily kind to young women. I closed my eyes, listening in the still darkness. There was another moan, followed by laughter. A male voice. And it was coming from the doorway right at the end of the hall.

  Carefully, I stepped to the back of the hallway, thinking of that fucking dick bag’s face. I paused right at the door and saw a dim trace of light flickering under it. It didn’t sound like there was a big party up here. Maybe whatever was happening was something Gabi wanted, but there was something in me that didn’t want to chance that. I opened the door and saw something very fucking displeasing.

  The slimy director was sitting in one of his tattered Victorian armchairs, and Gabriella was straddling him as he kissed her neck and ran his fingers over the line of her collarbone. Her perfect collarbone, its lines smooth and inviting. I stayed quiet. The director turned to me, his eyes bright and vacant, and he barely seemed to notice me. He sloppily held his phone up with one hand, trying to record their little tryst. A little tryst that Gabi might not have wanted any part of if she were sober. Her head fell to the side as the bastard tried to move his hand up to her strap to pull it down and away from her body.

  “Red,” she sighed, tracking her gaze over to my face. There was a smile plastered on her face. She was completely out of it and was probably about two inches away from passing out on the director’s lap.

  The rage rose in an unstoppable wave. Stepping over to the slick little fucker, I plucked his phone from his hands, just as Gabi had done with my cigarette. I dropped the phone and stomped on it, crushing it beneath my feet until the glass crackled and crunched under my shoe. Regaining my cool, I grabbed his scrawny throat, pressing against his windpipe just hard enough so that he would feel it.

  “You piece of shit,” I growled. “What did you give her?” The director just groaned in response.

  “Molly,” he groaned, his voice rasping. I clutched his throat tighter, and watched with satisfaction as his face began to turn red. “And GHB,” he added. I raised my free hand and made a fist.

  “This girl is barely twenty,” I snarled. “So this is how you get girls, huh? Dope them up so they have no idea what’s going on?” Gabi snickered, moving off of the director’s lap and trying to stand. She crashed to the side, sliding down to the floor and hitting her head in the process. There was blood on her face when I looked at her. My stomach twisted. Art had told this piece of shit that Gabi was “up for anything.” I was going to assume that he didn’t mean this.

  “Please … please don’t hit me,” the man rasped, gasping for air. I tensed my muscles and crushed my fist against his face. The man tried to cry out, but I gripped his throat harder, pressing my fingers into his soft flesh.

  “Fuck … you … you goddamn piece of shit.” I punched him again, this time aiming for his eyes, smashing my hand again and again against his face. I felt the sick crush of cartilage and paused, watching as the man suffocated under my grasp. I didn’t know I could effectively choke a person with one hand, but the dude was for sure gasping for air and grabbing at my hand with his limp, useless fingers. I laughed and gripped him harder, watching him slide off of the bed, held up only by my hand.

  “Red… stop.” Gabriella’s sleepy voice came to me as if from a long distance. I was already savoring the high of watching the guy choke under my grip. My body released, and I let go of the poor bastard, letting him fall to the floor. “Red… just take me home.”

  The director lay on the floor, sputtering and grasping at his deeply bruised throat. He’d live, but he wouldn’t look the same for quite some time. I kicked him hard in the back, aiming for his kidney. He cried out in pain.

  “Don’t worry, Gabi. He’s still breathing.” I sat down and took her in my arms, gently pulling the straps of the dress back up. I picked her up, carrying her beautiful, fragile body. Her head tilted backwards as I walked out of the room and hurried down the stairs, and a rush of anger seared through me. I lifted her and held her against me, pushing my way out of the door and back to my Aston.

  I laid Gabriella in the back seat and jumped in the driver’s side, starting up and pulling out of the driveway in one fluid motion.

  I hoped to God we weren’t seen. It was my job to be invisible, and beating down a director for being a dick certainly didn’t fit into that description.

  We drove through the Hollywood streets, passing right by Art’s estate. As cold as he was, he wouldn’t be happy to see his daughter in a state like this. We could head to my place.

  And I hoped like hell I could get her well by morning. Or Art would be one step closer to revealing everything about my past.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Red

  “I told him I was a virgin. I told him to take things slow,” she slurred, leaning against me as I carried her into the apartment. No matter what she had told him, he certainly wasn’t going to take things slow. It was good that I’d gotten to her when I did.

  Her eyes were bright and her pupils huge.
She had alternately slept and babbled for the entire ride home. Of course, she had to be a virgin. Her strap fell again, revealing the curve of her perfect, smooth shoulder. I glanced at her body, trying to will my eyes to stay in appropriate areas. Her breasts were perfectly round and pert. Her skin was unblemished… pure and perfect. There wasn’t a trace of the surgeries that girls around here relied on. No, she was her mother’s daughter. She had inherited that curvaceous body, the body that had made movie producers go crazy. As voluptuous and alluring as any man could hope for.

  I hadn’t seen a body like hers in what felt like years. Maybe it had been years.

  “I wanted you. I was looking for you. I just wanted to talk to you, not him,” she rambled, falling against me. She peeled the dress away from her body and pressed into me, moaning. “Maybe not just to talk to you.” She moved her hands over my body and down to my ass, squeezing it lightly as she wiggled out of the dress, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Hold on there, tiger…” I said, my throat dry. She was absolutely out of her mind and high as a goddamn kite. I pulled away from her, still holding up her arms so that she didn’t fall and crack open her skull. I pressed down a wave of desire, more powerful and present than anything I’d felt since I left New York at eighteen.

  Gabriella

  “You’re what I want, Red,” I said to him. “I didn’t know it at first, but I think you’re what I want.” He smiled at me, those blue eyes almost glowing. He had taken me out on his balcony.

  He took me in his arms, pressing his lips gently against mine, running his long fingers over my neck and tracing the sharp line of my collarbone. I had plenty in the way of curves, but I always liked how my collarbones showed when I wore a low neck like this. Just like my mother. I looked just like her.

  “Gabi,” he said, bringing his lips to my cheek and back to my lips again. The world twisted and started to go in slow motion.

  Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Where the fuck am I?

  Suddenly, everything snapped back into focus. I wasn’t on Red’s balcony. And he wasn’t holding me in his arms, not in the way I wanted anyway. A sick twisting feeling hit my gut, and I clutched at my stomach. Something sharp hit my face, and pain shot through my cheek and into my pulsing lip.

  “Come on, Gabi. Wake up,” said Red, his voice echoing in my head. There was a metallic taste in my mouth, and my tongue and teeth had never felt so dry. I clicked my teeth together, looking out over the Los Angeles skyline. The stars were pulsing, and the yellow moon hung low over Red’s penthouse.

  “But Red, it’s such a nice night. Why don’t we stay out on the balcony?” My stomach heaved.

  “I hat to break it to you, Gabi. But we’re not out on the balcony.” He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “You got yourself into a pickle, woman. And I have no fucking clue why. Drink a little bit of this,” his voice continued, bouncing around in my head like the clank of metal on metal.

  “Shhh. Shhhh. Not so loud,” I said, my voice coming out in a croak. Everything around me was dark, and my eyes were full of grit.

  “Gabi, come on, wake up… Gabi, are you trying to say something?” I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like cinder blocks were weighing down my eyelids. Red’s arms circled around me, his hands brushing against my breasts. A bolt of desire hit my body, and I moaned softly, pitching forward like I was in a boat at sea. “That’s it. We’re safe.”

  His fingers brushed through my hair, sending chills down my spine. I pitched forward again, nausea rising in my gut. Opening my eyes was even difficult, like struggling against a great, gritty weight. But when I did, I started to realize the mess I’d gotten myself into. Red’s arms were around my naked body, holding me up over an immaculate marble sink. The hairs on his arms were just like the red-blond stubble of his beard, except softer. I looked down at the muscles and wondered exactly how cut his body was. My guess was very cut and extremely fine.

  But fuck. I was naked.

  Why was I naked? Had we…?

  No. I’d remember that. A brief flash of memory came to me. I had discarded the dress … and my panties when we came back to the penthouse. My mind reeled backwards, to the party we’d just come from. The producer, his hands on my body. And then there was Red, beating him bloody. My stomach heaved, seeming to almost come up into my chest.

  I pitched forward again and threw up in the sink.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, moving me over to a shower with clear glass doors. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Still holding me, Red reached over to the shower and turned it on, letting the water run until the steam poured out. He held a glass of water to my lips and waited until I drank one sip, the cool liquid flowing over my tongue and providing sweet relief to my aching throat. He moved me into the shower, still holding me up. I put one hand out to catch myself against the wall, balking at the heat of the water running over my legs. Red stepped into the shower behind me, the water now pouring over both of us.

  “No, no… Red, no. You’ll ruin your suit.” I tried to pluck at his shirt, but my fingers felt numb and lifeless.

  He chuckled. “This suit is already a goner. Doesn’t matter to me a damn bit.” I leaned back against him, the world spinning around me. He guided my head under the water, gently running his fingers through my hair, pulling out the snarls. Blood ran from my face to the white floor of the shower, mixing in with the water. My body was pressed back against his, and I could feel him getting hard. A rush of panic hit me, just as it had when the producer had ripped my dress. But Red just held me as I came to consciousness in the shower. I opened my mouth and let it fill with water, rinsing away the evening and the horrible man with his hands on my body. I swished the water in my mouth and spat it out, melting into Red’s body.

  “How fucking romantic,” I mumbled. Red laughed, his voice warm and comforting against my ear.

  “Definitely my most exciting first date,” he said. I laughed and let him hold me until the water ran cold.

  Red

  I walked back to the bedroom again, hovering over Gabriella and checking her breathing. I didn’t think the nasty little prick had gotten a chance to give Gabi enough GHB to knock her into a coma, but I couldn’t keep the worry from twisting in my gut. She turned in her sleep and sighed, the covers shifting to reveal the curves of her body.

  I’d thought many women were beautiful. But in Los Angeles, there weren’t many pictures like this. A beautiful woman, naked in your bed, the arch of her back outlined under a cotton sheet, the curves of her breasts barely peeking over the edge of the coverlet. Long twisting curls still wet from the shower, spread out over my pillow, leaving winding trails of water on the white fabric. I sighed, glancing over at the pile of wet clothes on the bathroom floor. Her ripped green dress was draped over a chair, and her gold heels sat under it. I wasn’t exactly sure where her panties had gone, but I was sure I’d come across them at an inopportune moment.

  The L.A. blondes didn’t leave so much of themselves after staying for a weekend. They were careful to leave a tip for the maid and sneak out before the sun had risen. But this girl. She left traces of herself wherever she went.

  I walked out to my balcony and fumbled for my pack of cigarettes. They were mostly crushed and damp from being in my suit when I’d followed Gabriella into the shower. I laughed, pulling out the driest and stuck it between my teeth. I lit it and let the smoke blow over the city, adding to its strange and heavy air. The sun was rising over the hills in the distance, casting light over the shadowy buildings as they woke up. I hadn’t been up to see the sun rise in a long time. Normally I slept through it.

  I thought of the girl in my bed and how much I wanted her. Irrationally. Wholly. I took another drag of my cigarette, and that addictive ease came over me. I knew Art said he was Gabriella’s father, and he had been married to the Rose, but the pieces didn’t quite seem to fit. Maybe it was because she’d grown up with her mother. She’d taken on some of that same sensuality her mother was known for, and may
be she’d picked up a moral code along with it. A pang of longing hit me, and I looked back inside at the beautiful girl.

  The morning sun was just hitting her body, and the cover had slipped to reveal more of her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and she shielded herself from the growing light. I stubbed out the cigarette and left it in an ashtray, striding back inside. Gabriella sat up slowly, holding the sheet to cover her naked body.