Taken: A Dark Hitman Romance

by Sophia Hampton

  My brother mumbles, as he walks past my dad and out towards the door, “You’d better be.”

  “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Tory.” My dad points another finger at me before he grabs the rest of his gear hanging on a peg near the door. In a whoosh of cool air, he’s gone, and I’m left with my zombie mom to think about what’s happened. Yet, neither of us says a word. We both go on with our lives as if nothing happened. Her to her shows, and me to my book.

  The next two hours pass like an eternity, as I wait for my mom to fall asleep at her usual time of nine thirty. Just around nine fifteen, she saunters into the kitchen and smokes her last cigarette with the yellowish-white coffee mug she uses for ashes. At nine twenty, she heads towards the bathroom where she strips her face of the outdated, heavy makeup and brushes out the hair spray curls. She slips into the same cotton nightdress and shouts from her bedroom doorway, “Goodnight, Tor, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I grumble a reply, as I rush upstairs towards my bedroom. The black leather jacket with the gray hood is already waiting for me, as I toss it over my black t-shirt. I then change my blue polka dot pajama pants for a pair of jeans I haven’t worn in ages because I knew my dad would disapprove. Within minutes of finishing my makeup and running a comb through my wild, long brown hair, I see my phone light up with April’s texts.

  I slip past my mom’s room, where I hear her already snoring over the sound of her television, and head downstairs through the living room. I then dart out the front and around towards the back where I hop over the low fence towards April’s beat up Cadillac waiting for me with its lights off.

  “Tory! You look smoking! Your daddy certainly won’t recognize you in that outfit.”

  “Oh come on,” I reply demurely, as she begins to drive through the relatively empty streets.

  “No! I’m serious. I didn’t even think you’d show, let alone come out looking like that.”

  “Just drive, April,” I answer, as I stare out the window. A wide, content smile eclipses my face, as I finally get my first taste of freedom in my adult life.

  Chapter 3: Bad Decisions

  You’d think after what happened to me out on the road, I’d be exhausted or even burnt out. But I’m the opposite. I’m a candle burning at both ends as I fly through the party on a high like none other. The room flashes by in a sea of familiar faces congratulating and celebrating with me. I’m finally feeling like a God coming home.

  “Anton! My man!” A large bear of man I vaguely know from around the meetings grabs me by the crook of my arm and drags me to the bar. “Tonight’s the big night I hear! The old man’s gonna make you the head runner. That’s some heavy shit!”

  I mutter, “Yeah, it is,” as he reaches over the creaky old wooden bar and grabs two shot glasses and a golden bottle of whiskey. As much as I’m feeling like the invisible man, I’m also not going to get shit-faced drunk before the big announcement. I want to savor those words for an eternity. So I push the drink back to him and pat him heartily on the back, “Nah man, not just yet. Save it until after Clay makes the news official.”

  He stares at me roughly, almost hurt, but takes his shot and mine in seconds of one another. He lets out a long wail as the alcohol seeps down his throat and into his blood system. He even pours himself a third, sinking it down without a pause. I watch him in awe. As much as I do love drinking and the occasional snort, I’m not one to just blow through that shit. I practice control so that I don’t make the same mistake my mom and dad supposedly made when I was conceived.

  Still, I do let myself go in one particular way…women. This room is full of gorgeous, ready-to-go women just staring me down. There’s a good few of them I’ve already had, to be entirely honest. Hell, if I go far enough down that memory lane, I can still taste juices and sweat mixing in my mouth, that sweet tang that makes it even better.

  Eve is just one of the few I could take over and over again without hesitation. She’s wearing that skimpy black dress that practically falls off her body if she moves too quickly. Her jet-black hair cascades over her full breasts. I can’t help but lick my lips when I see her slowly walk my way, her cigarette billowing a smoky haze around her dark face.

  “You look like you could use some company, Anton.” Her voice is dark and raspy, and everything she says is so matter-of-fact. There’s no question that this woman gets what she wants. And tonight, she’s eyeing me.

  “I could, I suppose. What do you suggest?” I turn my body into her, as I place a few fingers around a thick strand of her hair. The fibers twist and curl as I gently pull them to me. She follows as our bodies press up against one another.

  “How about I stand beside you when President Clay makes his announcement.” She smiles, her red lips stretching across her tan skin. “I want all these women to know that the only one you’re going home with tonight is me.” Her hand reaches up towards my t-shirt and presses down upon my chest. I can feel her nails push into my skin, as her smile grows darker, richer. She’s an animal claiming its prey, and I’m happy to be marked.

  Suddenly, the room instantly quiets. A sea of men part towards the walls, leaving a large space in the front near a makeshift podium we usually use for meetings. Two men walk down the steps of the HQ basement, as everyone whispers excitedly. I turn back to Eve and add, “You won’t have to wait long. Walsh and his, eh, boy are here.”

  Clay Walsh owns the room. He’s the politician of the family, though he certainly doesn’t look it. Faded tattoos line his arms and neck, trophies from adventures and conquests within the club. There’s marks for kills and injuries and scenes of famous rides through California and out to Sturgis. His own skin basically tells the story of the club from start to present.

  His own father was the founder of the Desert Knights after he got back from Vietnam. And by all accounts, his son Brandon is going to take over the family business when the old man retires. Not that I support it. Brandon Walsh is a sadistic little hellfire with no head on his shoulders. He’s a yes-man to his daddy, a nark who can’t deal with bad behavior the right way, and something about him tells me he’s only concerned with looking out for himself. That’s not exactly what being head of a club with over three hundred working members across the state is about.

  Still, I’m loyal to them, and they are to me. I’ve put in the time and hard work, and I am going to finally get my just reward. Feeling Eve cling even tighter to me, her lips just inches from my neck and her hand drifting down towards the buckle of my pants, just seals the deal. I’m ready for this. I’m ready to be the leader I’ve been primed and trained to be.

  Clay Walsh clears his throat and slaps his hands together, signaling it’s time to get business taken care. The room goes deathly silent at his command, as his team of leaders gather near the front to hear him better. I, too, step forward, as I feel hands slap my back in a pre-congratulations for what’s to come. That pit in my stomach swells.

  “Knights!” He shouts, making sure that every person in the room can clearly hear him. “Tonight we celebrate! First, it’s with heavy hearts that we say goodbye to our brother, a faithful servant to our cause, a man who has been there for us for nearly forty years now, Jackson Lauder. He will always ride with us as a brother, an equal, even if he’s stepping down from his post.”

  A woman dressed in all black comes through the room carrying a large tray full of clear shots. I grab one and raise mine to the sky as the members drink to the man standing to the right of Clay. He bows, as we all shout as one, “To Jackson!” I chug back the vodka and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Clay goes back to business. “That brings me to this happy announcement. As many of you know, Jackson was also the head of our road team. We’ve been in need of a good man to take his place for months now, and one person in particular has risen to the occasion.” My hands begin to shake as I hear him speak. I’m usually calm, cool, collected. Right now, though, everything in me turns to globs of mess as I wait for him to call my n
ame.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Tonight,” he says, his voice bursting with pride, “I’m proud to announce that my boy, Brandon, will be taking over for Jackson, as both the vice president and the captain of the road runners. It’s a tough two jobs, but if there’s anyone I trust the most with making sure our business gets done, it’s my own flesh and blood.”

  I can feel the entire room’s eyes drift my way in shock. I stiffen myself like a statue, my face unmoving and blank. My entire mind shuts off, as the girl with the shots comes back around, skipping over me when I don’t move for a drink. The men around me slowly raise their glasses with a huge hesitation. They mumble an off-sync, “To Brandon…” before whispering to their neighbors and pointing in my direction.

  And in seconds, it’s over. My big moment is gone. Eve’s warm, soft body isn’t even near me anymore; she’s already across the bar talking happily with one of the other men. The only one who dares to stand next to me in the center of the room as I stare at the spot where Clay Walsh just betrayed me is my man, Leo.

  He leans across to me, as he whispers into my ear, “That was your role, Captain.”

  I grit my teeth, as I reply back, “I know. I know.”

  “Go get some air, brother. You look like you’re about to lose it.” He gestures upstairs, as he places a hand at the small of my back and guides me up the crowd all lined up at the bar for more drinks and the men gathered around the Walsh boys. I can’t help but look back at Clay Walsh, as he smiles heartily and pats his son’s wide, chunky shoulders. That was supposed to be me.

  By the time we’ve made it outside to the patio area, I’m incensed. All the anger I thought I’d be able to push down and ignore has bubbled to the surface. My mind goes red, as I spot a small glass bistro table just to the side of me. Before I know it, my curled fist shatters through the glass, the noise catching me first, and then the blood.

  I’m in shock, totally out there and away. It’s only when I pull my hand away that I notice the actual damage: the shards of glass clinging to my tattooed hands, the red streaks trickling down my wrist and onto the cement, the stunned looks of the smokers and partiers lingering near me.

  I don’t look up though. I keep my eyes on my hand unsure of what I should do next. It’s a small voice, a soft voice that brings me back. “Oh my gosh. What did you do?” Two small hands grab around my shoulders. She can barely reach up towards me, but she still manages to hold on to me and pull me out past the crowd to a darker spot near the side of the house.

  “I need you to sit, but keep your arm out. I’ve got a tweezer in my purse here to pull out the glass.” I watch, as two golden-brown curls fall out from under the black hood she’s wearing and down towards her eyes. She puffs loudly, blowing them to the side. After a few seconds of hunting through a large handbag, she pulls out a pair of silver tweezers.

  The girl holds them up proudly and then trips over backwards as she exclaims, “Here they are! I found them!”

  I watch her, as she tries to pull herself up to kneeling in front of me. Her hands grab onto the legs of my jeans, her hands moving up and down the fabric. She looks up at me with large doe eyes. “I’m sorry. I…I…I don’t drink that often…or ever.”

  “Should you be doing this then? I can get it myself.” I try to yank the tweezers out of her hand, but she sloppily pulls the tweezers away before I can get to them.

  “I can do this. I do it to dogs all the time!” She pulls my cut-up hand towards her, as I let out a yelp. “Sorry. I’ll be gentler. I promise.”

  Her tweezers start pulling at the little bits of glass. She works quickly, moving from side to side to ensure she gets every bit. As she pulls it further into the fluorescent light above us, I ask curiously, “Dogs?”

  “Yeah, I’m training to be a vet. At least this is giving me practice.” She sits up a bit taller, giving me an opportunity to study my vet doctor. Her black jeans show off her curvy, full figure and her apple-shaped ass. She’s got a thicker waist, but it’s still that hourglass shape you have to love in women. And while she is wearing a bulky jacket, I can tell her tits are just as nice as the rest of her.

  “I haven’t seen you around here. How did you get in?”

  “Oh,” she stumbles suspiciously, “I came with a friend. I haven’t been to a party here before.”

  I look at her face as it hits the light. Her thick lips and large eyes remind me of someone, but I can’t place it, “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

  “No, you don’t.” She slurs, as she says, “I would have remembered if I’d met you. I’m Tory.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Tory. I’m Anton.” I wink at her, as I lean down over my knees. My free hand pushes down her hood, revealing her wavy mess of hair and the plump, pink skin of her cheeks.

  “You can flirt with me all you want, but it’s not going to make this any better for you” She looks out towards the crowd, which has all but ignored us in our private corner. “Hey! April! Can you grab me some moonshine and someone’s handkerchief?”

  She goes back to her purse, pulling out a little travel-sized sewing kit, and it hits me what she’s about to do. With her tongue slightly sticking out, she holds up a small needle to the light and threads a pink thread through the loop after a few misses. I notice I’m starting to sweat. “Are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, I don’t doubt your abilities with dogs, but aren’t you usually sober?”

  April Lauder appears behind her, holding a clear bottle of moonshine and someone’s dank bandana. “It’s all I can find.” She kneels down and whispers to her friend, “Tory, I think we need to get going though. Your brother’s looking for you.”

  “Shhh.” She waves a finger towards April’s face. “I got a patient, and Anton needs me. Right?”

  She looks longingly towards me for an answer. I swallow hard and nod my head “yes.” April glances at me with strained eyes before leaving us alone again.

  “Can I have a drink of that?”

  “Only if you let me have a swig first.” She doesn’t wait for my reply. The bottle hits her lip, and I watch in awe as she swallows the almost pure alcohol with no hesitation. And before I can grab it away, she pours the entire bottle on my hand. The alcohol stings at my flesh, as I try to pull it out of her grip.

  “Jesus, girl! What the fuck?! Did you not hear me?”

  And again, she doesn’t wait. As I’m screaming at her, she has managed to get the needle in my skin and her first stitch in. I grab the neck of my shirt and bite down, letting the pain flow through my teeth. She finishes quickly, admiring her handiwork by wrapping her fingers into mine and turning the hand over in the light. Her delicate skin feels warm in mine, as if she fits like a pillow.

  “Not bad for a girl who’s had four shots and a quarter of a bottle.” With a devilish glance, she begins wrapping my hand in the bandana. To tie it, she lowers her head to my hand and uses her teeth to pull the last strand through the knot. I feel her creamy lips press against my skin as she finishes, and every part of my body becomes goosebumps.

  Without another word, she stands and turns, walking back towards her friend who has been eyeing us from across the patio as if she is her keeper. When Tory makes it back to her, she pulls her hood up over her head again and turns her back towards the large, brown fence, her back facing the crowd.

  A loud bang causes her to jump, as I hear the screen door slam. Everyone goes silent, as they look at one another, trying to figure out just whom Brandon is screaming at. And inside, my heart sinks, as I watch him grab the girl who just bandaged my hand and push her up against the wall. His arm pins her in place, as her feet and arms flail.

  As her hood falls to the side, I start to realize why exactly I thought she looked familiar. She is the spitting image of her brother, the Desert Knight’s new vice president and road captain.

  Chapter 4: In the Daylight

  The scene spins and twists as I try to keep my focus on my brother and his grip around my
neck. This is not what I had expected. Sure, I thought that I might get caught and kicked out, but I didn’t think it would go down like this…with my brother nearly taking my life as a crowd of strangers watch helplessly.

  “Brandon, please...” I plead, my voice barely squeaking out, as he presses harder down on my windpipe. “Please, let me explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain, Tory! Dad told you not to go this party, and you disobeyed him. I bet you want to be a skank just like your friend. Looking at how you’re dressed, you’re just asking for it, aren’t you?” Spit dribbles out of his mouth, as he growls like the vicious animal he is.

  He’s always been this way, ever since he realized who he was—the Walsh prince…groomed to be large and in charge, and it didn’t matter whom he had to take down or bully to get to what he wanted. And that included me. When he got to high school, it was as if I was just another one of his objects to boss around. Tonight was no different—though it felt like when he was around his minions, it only made his hate towards me grow worse.