Taken: A Dark Hitman Romance

by Sophia Hampton

  As I study the marks around his neck, I feel him stiffen underneath my soft touch. He pulls me up so that I am sitting up on his lap, still perched tightly on my knees. He lowers his mouth to my own neck, causing me to lose all control. My head tilts backwards, sending my hair cascading down my bare back. His warm mouth moves down over my shoulders and to my chest. They linger along the top of my cleavage, dipping in the curve of my breasts until finally landing on my nipple.

  His tongue surprises me first. It’s as if I can feel every bump and ridge as it curls around the tip of my nipple. The sensation sends me flying back down to the pillow, him catching me mid-fall with his mouth still teasing and lapping at me. My legs hitch around his hips pulling him in for a better taste.

  His teeth come next. They’re neither too sharp nor too quick, and they nibble at me as the tongue runs over the same spot. The other breast feels the weight of his hand, as he begins to gently warm up the skin. As his mouth sucks tenderly, his hand kneads deeply, massaging into me and then pulling right alongside his teeth.

  My hips can’t resist this. They raise slightly, meeting his growing bulge against the thin layer of my jeans. I press even tighter up against him, loving the pressure of him rubbing on the tip of my clit. He notices it too, as the hand around my breast makes its way down to the waistband of my jeans. With his thumb wrapped in the hook of the belt straps, they slip lower and lower and lower, taking my panties with them.

  “Anton,” I whisper breathlessly, unsure of what I really need to say.

  He places a finger to my lips as he says self-assured, “I know.”

  The finger rests on my lips as I part them slightly. He pushes in so that I smell and taste his flesh in my mouth. His dry skin presses slightly at the roof of my mouth as it slowly pulls out and then hustles back in. On the second entry, I purse my lips together, keeping him in place. My tongue wrap around the tip of his finger just as he had done to my nipple while my teeth just gently touch down on the pad.

  Anton pulls his finger out altogether and then scoots himself up to me while a hand continues to hold me down at the hip. Our foreheads touch before our lips do, and I’m back to feeling the wave of wanting him to take hold of me as our mouths connect with a roar. I hold him to me, begging him to give me more, forcing him to kiss me deeply.

  The hand that rests on my hips lifts, as I am too transfixed to notice. I feel the brush of his fingertips against my skin, but it isn’t until I feel two fingers directly on the top of my folds that I get what is about to happen. One of the two is the same finger that I just wet in my own mouth, and I’m thankful for the moisture.

  The fingers circle slowly, putting pressure on my sex. The longer, middle finger hooks under to gently push away the folds of my pussy and then dips down inside. My clit practically opens itself to him like a flower primed and ready to bloom. His fingers explore the area first, gently touching at skin that’s never felt anyone’s touch before. And then, like an expert, he moves to the nub. His pressing causes me to jerk, as my own hand instantly reaches down to push him away. But he doesn’t move and instead kisses me even more intensely.

  Anton speeds up his massage while his large thumb digs into the top of my pussy just above the clit like an anchor. A third finger enters, behind the other two. I brace myself as I feel it coming. He slips himself inside me in a rush I’ve never experienced before. It sends shockwaves down my spine, causing me to curl into him, begging him for me. His finger hooks even higher into my now wet pussy.

  The pit in my stomach that first opened when we kissed seems to be chiseling away with each of his movements. For every touch to my clit, it tears open, giving me an emptiness that cannot be filled. My mouth goes dry, as I find myself needing to moan, to cry, to scream. The hand that had swatted at him finds the blankets of the bed and holds on tighter while my other hand grabs around his shoulders, forcing him to look at me.

  I know what is coming. I’ve heard about it before but have never felt it for myself. I want to ask him to stop. I want to beg him to keep going. And he just looks down at me with his wild, untamed face. And those eyes, those eyes that never seem to miss a thing…they hold me in place as I give myself to him.

  My mind closes as everything fades to black. Everything disappears. The dream that I have created disappears around me. Anton’s hands, his mouth, his body. Even the bed we are in melts away in a white and gray cloud, and I awaken. I’m covered in sweat, and tears that I had no idea I was crying seeping down my flushed cheeks.

  The house is silent again. The silver moon pours through my open window which faces our front yard. I stare off out over the city lights and through the tree branches in search of something that tells me everything is going to be okay. And as I come to, I let myself listen in on the master bedroom next door. Thankfully, there’s nothing but the sound of my mother and father both snoring away.

  After that dream, I can’t let myself go back to bed. Any other dream wouldn’t be enough for me. But as the quiet hours pass, it comes to me. I grab the phone charging on the charger, and I text the one person I know who’s going to be up at four in the morning: April! I need you to do me a favor.

  A few agonizing minutes pass before she replies: Girl, it’s four in the morning. You can’t possibly need me to do something for you right now. Plus, I’m not exactly free, if you know what I mean.

  I need you to get a hold of Anton Murdoch. He’s the guy that I met at the party with the busted hand. I need him to meet me tonight. Can you do that?

  There’s an even longer pause this time, as I wonder frantically if I have asked too much from her. This was my one true friend, the only person in my life I could really trust to be there for me. But she was also a Desert Knight loyalist with a lot to lose. Going against the club president could get her and her father in a ton of trouble. And if she let it slip to anyone that I was stepping out with Anton, there could be even more at stake here.

  Tory, I love you. I really do. But is he really worth this?

  I write back without a second thought: Yeah. He is. And I have to see him. Can you do this for me?

  She replies: I’ll arrange it. Midnight at the Sunset Bar. Derek told me that Anton drinks with his runner friends there every Sunday night. There’s a back room there. We’ll get you in. You got a message you want me to send to him?

  I go through three or four drafts before I finally send her: Tell Anton that I want to make good on the promise to pay him back. He’ll know what that means.

  She texted: Oh, I am sure we all get the gist of what you promised. There was a little mischievous winky face attached to her message.

  I texted: I love you, April. I really do.

  She responded: I love you too, but I hope you know what you’re doing.

  For the first time in my life, I am certain that I do.

  Chapter 9: The Sun Sets

  “Man, I can’t believe you fucking did that. Have you gone nuts or something? Did that Walsh pussy get you sprung?”

  “I wish.” I sigh heavily, as Leo places a bandage over the cut on my eyebrow. “I didn’t even get past first base with her last night.”

  “Damn.” He sounds even more disappointed than I feel. “So all of this for a girl you didn’t even get to screw? That’s a crying shame. All the boys that saw her say there’s a reason why her dad keeps her under lock and key.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give ‘em that. She is fine as hell…thick in all the right places. But besides seeing her in her panties, she was passed out drunk before we could get to the tasty part.” My mind drifts back to the sweet, summertime smell of her hair and the round line of her ass as she bent over to pull up those tight jeans of hers.

  I add as an explanation, “But I don’t give a shit who Brandon Walsh is. You don’t ever sucker punch me, especially at a dinner table when I’m just trying to get through my day.” I lower my voice, as I look around the empty meeting hall, and continue, “And you certainly don’t do it in front of my boys. If he thinks he
can turn those guys against me over something as small as bringing his sister home after a night of drinking, he’s got another thing coming for him.”

  “I don’t think it’s just that, Anton. I think the boy has a legitimate beef with you. You’re a threat. You know the routes better than any man here, and you’ve got the respect of all the runners from newbies to retirees. That’s pretty powerful, especially when you’re a sniveling little road dick who rides limp every time he gets out there.”

  As Leo finishes his work, I stand and brush off my pant legs. Turning back to him as I place the jacket over my arms, I say, “That’s why tonight’s so important. I’m inviting the entire road crew out to the Sunset, including Walsh’s new butt boys. Brandon Walsh would never do that, let alone buy ‘em a couple rounds. I’ll get them good and sloshed and then convert them over to the Anton side. That little bitch won’t know what hit him when they stop following his orders.”

  My plan isn’t exactly foolproof. To make it work, I need to have Brandon go along as well. Not inviting him now that he was the new, official captain would be akin to mutiny. I wasn’t about to get even more retribution over this. Instead, I had to do this slyly and under his very own nose. Revenge done in broad daylight is always that much sweeter.

  “Well, I just hope I’m still invited now that they are making me corporate.” Going ‘corporate’ was the label we gave to the guys who worked background, inside jobs for the club. They were the guys answering media calls, or coordinating with our inside men in the police force. And, for Leo, they were accountants.

  “Dude, just because they benched you doesn’t mean you’re not still part of the team. Hell, you’re even more valuable now that you are on the inside. You’re going to see the inner workings of the club.” I pat him on the back heartily, as I walk out back towards the empty parking lot.

  After the big drama between Brandon and me, he announced that Leo’s former background as a math wiz meant he would be replacing our old man Bernie, who just retired out. He’d be handling the incoming cash flow and our paychecks. While I didn’t pity him, I was a bit excited to see if he could find anything suspicious in the Walsh family business. That’s why they always say to never mess with the moneymen.

  Leo calls after me a bit disappointed, “Eleven then? The Sunset?”

  I look back to him and nod. It’s my way of avoiding the glare of the man riding with me now. I think Brandon said his name was Haunch or something ridiculous like that. He’s been waiting on me for some time now, and I can tell his patience is growing thin by how he’s checking the clock on his phone like a teacher with a truant student.

  Still, there’s no need to be rude to him. I need all the friends I can get, and this man would have to be my new partner for the foreseeable future. The last thing you want is to ride with a guy who doesn’t have your back. “You ready to ride, brother? You know the routes?”

  “I’ve been ready to ride for fifteen minutes now.” He jumps on his bike, an old beat up, firetruck-red Harley with not much life left in her.

  “My apologies. When I get jumped, I try my best not to ride with blood coming down my face.”

  It’s the last words I say to him the entire night. I take the lead riding from pick-up to drop-off points like the professional I am. I handle everything from talking to the suppliers and dealers to placing the deposit envelope in the lock box at the train station. Haunch, or whatever his name is, just sits back, observing, waiting.

  At the end of the night, we head back to the headquarters and clock out by signing on a piece of paper with the time. It’s a new measure under the regime of Brandon Walsh, but I don’t mind. It gives me enough time to round up the newbies to let them know about my get-together over at the Sunset. Most are game while Brandon’s enforcers seem more suspicious than anything.

  When I get to the final guy, the man who held my arms behind my back as Brandon took his swing at me, I add a twist, “Hey man, can you send a message to the captain. I want to make sure he gets my invitation to join us. His old man too, if he’s with him.” The man peers at me for a long moment in an awkward silence he doesn’t break. But as I’m about to give up and leave, he takes out his phone and pulls up his messages.

  “Hey! Anton!” Someone pulls on my jacket, as I spin defensively. I was just about out of the door and on the way to the bar when I’m pulled back in. He blindsides me enough to manage to drag me into the coatroom near the front of the building. The door slams before he turns to face me, but I’m already on him, pinning him to the door. His body slams against the sturdy wood.

  “Woah! Woah! It’s me. It’s Derek… Derek Zelinski. We’ve met before when I was training to be a runner. I work with the armory guys now.”

  I know Derek. I know just about every Desert Knight in this chapter. But his name rings even more bells when I remember him from Tory’s lie to her father about her friend April and him. I put him down slowly, but I don’t back away. I am not about to get jumped again.

  “What do you want?” My voice crackles, as it goes low.

  “I…I…shit, man. I have a message for you from April. She told me to not get caught giving it to you, so I thought I’d pull you in here.”

  “April? April Lauder? What the hell does she want?” My blood races through me, as I feel a strange sense of dread and excitement wash over me.

  “It’s not really from April. It’s from Tory Walsh. I was to tell you that she wanted to see you tonight at the Sunset. She’s going to be there in the backroom. There was something else… ugh. I can’t remember. April told me it in a hurry.” He reaches down quickly to his pocket and pulls out his phone. I watch him scroll through the lit up screen before adding nervously, “Oh yeah. Tory said that she wanted to ‘make good on her promise.’ I don’t know what that means. That’s all she said.”

  I go blank. Every part of me just stops operating like a machine on the fritz. I’m unsure what to say or do. So, with a dry mouth, I ask the kid, “When?”

  “When, what?”

  “When is she going to be at the Sunset? Did she say?”

  “Oh yeah, at midnight.”

  The plan that I had—to destroy Brandon Walsh with drinks—was slowly falling to pieces before my very eyes. If Tory was going to be there, I couldn’t have Brandon there. And if Brandon wasn’t there, I’d be called out worse for just messing with his sister or being a smart ass. I had to manage this, but I had no idea where to begin. All I knew was that I needed to be at that bar to beat her there before anyone spotted her.

  Without another word, I push past Derek and open the door to the empty headquarters. The only people left were few runners who worked the graveyard shift.

  But before I go, I remember one important part. I head back into the room and shut the door slowly behind me. In one grand motion, I grab Derek by his collar and lift him off the ground so his feet dangle. His face meets mine, as I growl, “I don’t know you, Derek, but I do know this…you’re one of my boys now. You’re not in Brandon or Clay Walsh’s pockets. And if you tell either of them or any of their men about what April, Tory, or I had to say, I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands. Are we clear about that?”

  Derek’s eyes bulge out like an insect, as he squirms in my hands. Breathlessly he replies, “Yeah, man. I get it. I’m no snitch, okay?”

  I toss him down, and he lands on his hands and knees. I reach my hand out as a peace offering. Our eyes meet, as I study them one last time. This snot-nosed kid could be the difference between life and death for both Tory and I, but he seemed harmless to me. He didn’t even seem to know the importance of the message he gave to me. To him, it was just a favor for the girl he was doing. But to me, it was much, much more.

  The ride to the Sunset Bar isn’t a long one, but to me, it’s a race against the clock. I knew that I didn’t have any time to stop back home to change, let alone slow at lights. Back alleyways are the fastest way, as I ignore pretty much every car, truck, and pedestrian in my pat
h. All I can focus on is getting to that backroom before she does.

  Just as I suspected, the parking lot for the Sunset is already packed with bikes with our patches along with a few stragglers and riders from other clubs. The noise of the jukebox playing old Johnny Cash songs, along with the voices of men shouting wildly, fills the late night air. The bar seems to be electric tonight, as if it knows it’s about to be the center of my universe.

  I walk in quickly, taking the backdoor and doing my best not to be spotted. I head straight toward the end room where the door is closed tight. We used to use that room for meetings years ago when the club was just about thirty or forty of us. It wasn’t until after the recession hit, when men started to get desperate enough to ride with patch holders, that the Desert Knights burst at its seams. The room back at the Sunset was still Knight property; it was to be used for smaller meetings or retirement parties. But tonight, the doors are locked up tight, and from the crack in the door, it looked like there wasn’t even a light on inside.