Maid for the Hitman: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “You can still use your skills for good,” I tell him. “If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you.”

  “I could start a security firm,” he says, nodding slowly as the idea ramps up in his mind. “I’ve spent my life analyzing risks, but from the other side. I’d be a valuable asset.”

  “Of course you would,” I say fiercely.

  “Maybe,” he says, leaning down and kissing my forehead softly. “Trust my little skeptic to come up with the perfect suggestion.”

  I smile, sinking into the flirtatiousness despite the threat looming over us.

  “I don’t hear you complaining.”

  “About you?” he says, shaking his head. “Never, Rosie.”

  “What if I decide to nag you to death one day, hmm? I’d wag my finger in your face and tell you to go and fix something around the house. You might have a few complaints then.”

  He laughs, holding his face close to mine, his warm exhalations whispering tantalizingly over my skin.

  “I’d just spank you for talking to me like that, and tell you to make me a—”

  “Don’t you dare,” I laugh, slapping his firm chest playfully. “You weren’t about to say make you a sandwich, were you?”

  “Don’t make me lie to you, Rosie,” he says, claiming my lips.

  I smile through the kiss, sliding my hands up his shoulders to his hair, running my hands through it as I moan and he growls in the frenzy of the kiss. He presses on my lower back, grinding us close together.

  “Fuck,” he growls, stepping away. “I can’t kiss you. It makes me too damn wild.”

  “What should we do, then?” I ask. “Maybe we shouldn’t look at each other all night.”

  “Impossible,” he smirks. “Sit down, Rosie. I’ll get us a drink.”

  “Oh, what a gentleman,” I smile.

  He brings his hand down on my ass in a kissing spank, a tempting sting moving over my skin.

  “Don’t push your luck,” he growls, leaving the room.

  “Your daddy is crazy, boy,” I tell Chopper, pacing up and down in front of the TV.

  The forest surrounding us is quiet, the only life a few darting birds and the occasional rabbit.

  Chopper grins up at me, as though he’s agreeing with me.

  “This is such a crazy situation,” I say, gripping my hands together, as Chopper’s cute face encourages me to keep talking. “But I wouldn’t change it, boy. Because it brought me to your…”

  I trail off when something shifts on the security feed. Little flashes of body heat flash across the trees, flitting here and there, and then they get closer and become the shapes of people.

  There are five, six, seven—eight of them, or nine if I count the man one of them is dragging behind him.

  “Ryland,” I yell. “They’re here. And they’ve got a prisoner.”

  Who the heck is it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ryland

  I stride into the room, glancing at the screen and then at my woman.

  I’m cold now, ready for whatever I have to do, ready for whatever is required of me to keep my family safe. I must seem like one grim bastard to my Rosie, as I walk across the room and glare at the screen like I’m going to crush it with my fist.

  “Who the fuck is it?” I growl.

  “I don’t know,” Rosie murmurs.

  “Family—friends?” I bark.

  “Um… No, not really. I don’t have anybody I’m really close to, apart from Mom.”

  “I don’t, either, but…”

  I trail off, curling my hands into tight fists.

  “Fuck,” I snap, when it hits me right in the chest, this cold fact. “Harold has a boyfriend. We left in such a goddamn hurry. I forgot to arrange security… Fuck. Harold.”

  I turn and roar down toward the basement.

  “Yes?”

  “We need you up here,” I call down.

  I turn back to the screen, assessing the distance.

  They’ve cleared the trees and now they’re stalking toward the house like a pack of hungry wolves.

  Harold walks in behind us, hands behind his back, striding across the room like a Victorian gentleman.

  “Something to drink?” he asks.

  I shake my head in disbelief, my lips creasing, at my old friend. I remember conversations where I tried to persuade him to relax around me. He’d been with my family for so long by that point, Dad’s illness getting worse and worse. It didn’t make sense for him to behave so formally toward me. But he wouldn’t change.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  “For what?” he asks.

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and then nod at the screen.

  “They have a hostage,” I tell him, “and I think it might be Thomas.”

  “What? Why?” Harold cries, letting out more emotion than I’ve ever seen him display.

  “We didn’t arrange protection,” I say matter of fact. “We fucked up.”

  “I didn’t think,” Harold mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “We were focused on other things,” I tell him.

  “But how?” he says, his voice cracking, his eyes rising to meet mine.

  Tears shimmer in them, half of me wants to roar at him to pull himself together and the other half wants to throw an arm over his shoulder.

  “I love him, Ryland. How did that just slip my mind?”

  “You were focused on Jackie,” I snarl. “You were doing your job.”

  He frowns, averting his gaze. I don’t think he values that excuse. But it’s the best I can do right now.

  We fucked up.

  I turn to my smartwatch and press a few buttons.

  Suddenly, the infrared changes to a regular camera, and floodlights flash on, illuming the faces of the men creeping closer to the house.

  “Oh,” Harold gasps, as his eyes come to rest on Thomas’s face.

  Vito stands over him, bloated in his suit, with a pistol in one hand and a fistful of Thomas’s long red hair in the other.

  Vito strides closer to the house, dragging his prisoner behind him.

  “Can you hear me, Ryland?” he yells.

  His men move up behind him, the same bland suits I recognize from all our meetings. They’re all holding weapons and wearing cold looks on their faces.

  They’re here to do blood work. I know that expression well.

  I tap a button on my watch and hold it close to my face.

  “I can hear you,” I say.

  “You know who this is?” Vito yells, yanking on Thomas’s hair.

  The short, thin man whines and twists beneath Vito’s grasp.

  “Make him stop, Ryland,” Harold whispers.

  Rosie walks up next to me with Chopper cradled in her arms, stroking a hand up and down his fur. She glances at me, fear shivering in her eyes, and a question…

  What are you going to do, Ryland? What can you do?

  “I know who it is, Vito,” I sigh. “Stop pulling his fucking hair.”

  “Why? I like the way this bitch cries.”

  I sigh again, my fists aching, I’m clenching them so hard.

  Rosie reaches over, gripping my hand softly.

  A wave of calm washes over me, moving through my body and soothing every part of it.

  I open my hand and look at her, into the warm support in her eyes.

  She trusts me to protect our family.

  But she also trusts me to be a good man.

  Only a monster would leave Thomas out there to die.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  Finally, Vito stops yanking on Thomas’s hair. He nudges him forward with his gun, aiming it at his stomach as Thomas stands there, shivering with his arms crossed over himself.

  “Where are the police?” Rosie says.

  “They’re on their way,” I tell her. “I triggered them the moment I saw Vito’s face. But they’ll take some time. I anticipated a siege, not a goddamn hostage situation.”


  “I want you to come out here so I can put a bullet in your head.”

  “No,” Rosie whimpers. “Oh, God…”

  “Ryland, will that man kill Thomas?” Harold asks, anguish in his voice.

  “Harold, I—”

  “Please, just please tell me the truth.”

  “Yes,” I say flatly. “He will.”

  Harold nods, forcing back a tear, and turns to the screen.

  What the fuck are you going to do? I feel Rosie screaming silently next to me.

  “Vito, think of what your father would say,” I say into my watch. “Your family is in a delicate state of peace at the moment. If you make a move on me, you’ll be blacklisted in the family… and so will every man who’s on this job with you.”

  I note hesitation in the men’s faces. One of them takes a step back, a younger man with a what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-here look on his face.

  “Shut up,” Vito snaps.

  “Leave Thomas with us and leave,” I tell him. “That’s the only way you get out of here safely. I’m telling you the truth, Vito. If you stay here, if you fucking challenge me, you’ll be leaving in shackles or in a box.”

  “Maybe I should kill this man right here,” Vito yells.

  “You know what happens if you do that.”

  “Yeah, you’ll rat.”

  “Ratting is selling your friends out for some leeway with the police,” I snarl. “You signed a contract. You agreed never to overstep. And yet here you are.”

  “Why didn’t you kill the girl?” Vito hisses, taking a few steps forward and waving his gun around. “I told you to.”

  “And I told you I don’t kill women.”

  “So she’s alive?” Vito yells.

  “Yes,” I growl. “I’ve taken her as my woman, Vito. You’re a mob man. You ought to know not to ask about a man’s woman.”

  A few of his older men nod, knowing the truth of these words. My father taught me a lot about the history of criminal organizations when I was younger, so I know how much they value a man’s privacy and respect.

  “Did you marry her?” Vito cackles.

  Not yet.

  “No?” Vito says into the silence. “Then I’ve got every right to finish the job.”

  I clench my fists even harder, taking steady breaths.

  Rosie claws onto my hand, digging her fingernails into my skin.

  “He’s fucking deranged,” I snarl, taking in the sight of my woman cradling Chopper to her chest with one arm and holding onto me with the another.

  Everything I ever wanted, ever needed, is standing right next to me.

  And this motherfucker is threatening that.

  He’s threatening her.

  “He’s got a death wish. Threatening you, Rosie, that’s a dangerous game,” I say.

  “Ryland, what are you going to do? What if he hurts him before the police get here?” Rosie asks.

  I run a hand through my hair, smirking slightly.

  “You’re calm in a crisis, Rosie,” I say. “That’s a good quality in a mother.”

  “With all due respect, Ryland,” Harold says, “you didn’t answer her question.”

  That’s right.

  What the fuck am I going to do?

  I turn away from Rosie, holding my shoulders square, standing up straight. I slow my breathing, welcoming the iron-veined calm my father taught me when I was a boy.

  He taught me how to fight through hell and not even feel the flames.

  “What do you think?” I growl, pressing the hidden button on the wall, inside the wall paneling.

  The mechanism hums and then the wall folds inward, revealing a long table with guns set into gun-shaped holes… and all kinds of grenades, a knuckle-duster, a bow and arrows, and a couple of knives.

  “I’m going to save him,” I say, leaning forward for a flash bang grenade.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Rosie

  I sit in the sealed bunker, crossed-legged on the bed, my heart hammering into my throat as I stare down at the security tablet. It shows four security feeds, one of them inside the house, showing Ryland stalking up to the doorway and lay his back flat against it.

  We’re in the dormitory-style bedroom, with Mom asleep on the other side, snoring softly, with no idea of the craziness going on around her.

  Harold sits on the edge of another bed, his hands maniacally moving over Chopper’s fur. The little Chihuahua grins, purring contentedly, as though he knows how badly Harold needs hope right now.

  When I asked Harold if he wanted to look at the screen, he shook his head and strode away from me. His eyes were cold, hard. He’s waiting now.

  I stare down, double-checking that the sound is off.

  The last thing I need is for Harold to hear this, even if I desperately want to hear it, to be as close to Ryland as I can get right now.

  Vito is shouting something.

  I lean down, turning the volume up a little.

  “It’s okay,” Harold says. “I can listen. I just don’t want to see.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I say, selfish gratitude moving through me.

  “You can’t hide forever,” Vito yells.

  Ryland’s face is completely calm as he pulls the metal cylinders from his pocket, fiddling with them and then sliding closer to the door. He moves with the grace of a jungle cat, every movement coming effortlessly, with the implication of massive power underneath it all.

  “You motherfucker. I’ll kill you and then I’ll rape that fucking slut of yours.”

  Ryland’s face changes, his jaw tightening.

  No, I scream in my mind. You have to be calm. He wants you angry.

  Moving in a blur of motion, Ryland opens the door just enough to throw the grenades.

  He tosses three, all with perfect accuracy, the grenades landing between the men in a staggered pattern.

  Bang-bang-bang.

  The men all stagger backward, roaring, some of them bringing their hands to their faces.

  Ryland is already moving, sprinting across the short field. He moves like a professional football player, like a man half his age. He moves better than any high schooler I ever saw in track.

  He ducks his head and sprints.

  Vito is spinning in circles, blinded, and just as he turns to face Ryland, Ryland ducks and lays him off his feet.

  Vito lets out a cry and Ryland drags him to his feet in a deft roll, slipping his massive arm around his neck.

  Ryland puts his other hand behind his head, trapping him there, standing with his back to Thomas to partially shield him.

  He moved so fast.

  That whole thing took less than two seconds if that.

  He’s the most athletic man I’ve ever seen.

  Maybe age really is just a number.

  By the time Vito’s men have recovered their vision, Ryland already has him in a stranglehold, lifting him almost off the ground. Vito is as big as Ryland, but Ryland makes him look tiny as he handles him with ease.

  “Is anyone willing to risk shooting their boss’s son?” Ryland growls.

  The men exchange looks, shrugging, completely at a loss.

  “Tell them to drop their fucking guns, you snake fuck.”

  Vito cries out as Ryland presses his arm down even harder on Vito’s neck.

  He didn’t just beat them with brawn, with his animal strength. He used his predator-sharp wits to outsmart them, and his lion focus to execute his plan.

  “Drop them,” Vito gasps. “It’s over.”

  “Thomas, go inside,” Ryland snaps.

  The red haired man walks toward the house, moving as though dazed. At the same time, the men start dropping their weapons, a couple of them laying their guns down at first. The rest soon follow, standing in an uncertain semicircle around Ryland and his hostage.

  “How fucking dumb are you?” Ryland snarls. “You thought you could threaten my woman, my family. Look at the house and apologize, before I snap your goddamn neck.”
/>   “I’m sorry,” he whines, his eyes bulging as Ryland squeezes onto him. “Please, please, I’m sorry…”

  “Rosie,” Ryland barks.

  “Rosie,” he cries. “I’m sorry for being so disrespectful, for being such an asshole. Okay? I’m sorry.”

  Ryland spins around, dragging Vito with him. Vito moans as his legs fly, kicking like a child in Ryland’s iron grip.

  “The Feds are on their way,” Ryland snarls. “Unless you want to spend the rest of your worthless lives locked up with this piece of shit, I suggest you run. Now.”

  The men exchange another look, shrug, and then turn and walk into the growing darkness of the forest.

  “Motherfuckers,” Vito cries. “Come back here. I’m in charge. I’m in—”

  He cuts off when Ryland squeezes his massive arm with even more force.

  “Do you feel in charge?” Ryland growls.

  I look up to find that Harold is gone. I glance back down at the tablet and see that he’s in the hallway, with Thomas in his arms.

  “No,” Vito gasps. “I’m sorry. Ryland, I’m sorry, to you, to Rosie, to her mom, to everyone. Please.”

  Ryland pulls him toward the house, moving backward so that he can keep Vito in front of him, maybe just in case one of his men decides to come back. But it’s just Ryland and Vito, and soon he drags Vito into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

  I leap up and rush through the house, Chopper rumbling from beside me as he pads along.

  I run into the hallway to find Ryland pushing Vito up against the wall, patting him down for guns. He takes a handgun from his pocket and slips it into the back of his pants, and then reaches into his cargos and takes out a pair of handcuffs.

  He slaps them on Vito and then marches him across the room, shoving him onto the bottom step.

  I walk by the step, meeting eyes with Vito, my heartbeat picking up speed when I think about the last time I saw him.

  “What happened to that man?” I ask. I can’t stop myself. “In the dumpster? The one you locked in there.”

  Vito stares at the floor stubbornly, like a little kid who’s been told no and doesn’t like it. He even looks like a petulant child on the naughty step.

  “My woman asked you a question,” Ryland growls.