by Stella Noir
“No!” I repeat. I don’t believe him. “That can’t be true! Why would you say that? Why would you do this to me?”
“It’s true!” he insists. “I couldn’t believe it at first either, Meadow. I spent all night doing research on him and studying the cases he was connected to. My buddy, the one who helped off him, he told me that the guy was responsible for a case in Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh. Drunk college girl, all by herself at night, on her way home from a party. I saw the police reports about your sister. Sonya matches his pattern — and the asshole was in Pittsburgh at that same time. It was him. The more I looked into it, the more I became sure of it.”
I stare at him through the blur of my watery eyes.
“They never got the guy,” I whisper, my voice breaking after every word. “They never got him, Kade. No one knows who he was. The police had no clues whatsoever.”
“Yes, but we do,” he says, placing his hand on the side of my face again. “We do, Meadow. I can show you. It was him. Trust me, I wouldn’t tell you this if I wasn’t absolutely sure of it. I’d never do that to you.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, my lower lip shivering. “It can’t be… this is so fucked up!”
Kade nods, casting an affirmative smile my way.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he says. “That’s why I looked into it all night. That’s why I’m here right now.”
He looks at me and our eyes lock onto each other as we try to process what this means. I’ve never considered myself a religious person in any way, but this is beyond me. Too many variables were put in place to make it possible for us to meet the way we did.
“I don’t… believe,” I utter, unsure what else to say. “I mean. It was Pittsburgh. Not here. You said you only kill the bad guys from your neighborhood. Why would he—”
“He was from here,” Kade interrupts. “We took notice of him while he was causing trouble here. He was convicted before, but they never got him for the really bad shit. The kind of shit he did to your sister. There were others before her. We know that he took an extended trip to Pittsburgh because we have tipsters over there, too. Well, my buddy does. He told me about her case, but he doesn’t know anything about you. Nothing.”
He considers me with a dead serious expression, as if he was making sure that I’m paying full attention to what he’s saying.
“I told no one about you, no one knows you’re here, no one knows about your connection to the Pittsburgh case—”
“The Pittsburgh case,” I repeat, interrupting, casting a disgusted face at him.
He lowers his eyes in a somber gesture. “I’m sorry. Sonya. Your sister. That was insensitive of me.”
“It was,” I agree. “She’s not just a case. She was… everything to me.”
Sorrow claims me with its cold embrace. Every time I think of her or mention her name, I can feel it closing around my heart like a steel clamp. This pain will never go away, I know that. It will always be there, but I hope to be able to live with it at some point. One day, I hope to be able to fend off the ache with my accomplishments, with a life that would make Sonya proud.
But should I really believe Kade when he says that he was the one who unknowingly laid the foundation for me to move on? Thinking that the guy who took Sonya from me was still running around out there has been a huge part of the hopelessness that caused me to see no way out. If what Kade says is true, he’s my savior in more ways than one.
It seems too good to be true, too much of a fairy tale. A fairy tale with a dark and haunting twist.
Kade looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You don’t believe me?”
“No,” I whisper. “All of this. It… I just don’t have an explanation, no belief system that would help me understand.”
“How about fate?” he asks, leaning down to place a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll admit, it’s fucking creepy, but what else could it be?”
“Fate,” I repeat, taking in his smell as he hovers over me, his face so close that I can feel his warm breath on my skin.
Words fail me. Instead, I start bawling once again. I can’t believe this. I want to believe it, but can fate be real? What are the odds of me running into the man who took out Sonya’s murderer on the day I wanted to end my life?
Kade is holding me in a protective embrace, gently rocking me back and forth as I try to process the reality of what he just told me. I need proof, I want to see the evidence he’s speaking of. But for now, I really want to believe him. I want to believe that what he’s saying is true. I want to believe that Sonya’s murderer did find his demise at the hands of a man like Kade because I know that this means his death was not a pleasant one.
“How?” I want to know, my voice choked under another wave of tears. “How did you kill him?”
Kade hushes me.
“It wasn’t pretty,” he says. “I can tell you that much. We didn’t let him get away that easily.”
Kade pauses as his body tenses up and his eyes turn into narrow slits.
“He suffered.”
His voice is hoarse and deep, with a dark sense of threat. I’d be scared if I didn’t know that his fury is not directed at me but at the dead man. The rotting asshole who’s responsible for Sonya’s death.
Another realization overcomes me. What if I had jumped? Next to never meeting Kade, I’d also share a watery grave with the last person on Earth I’d want to share eternity with. A cold shiver travels down my spine at the thought of it.
“It’s all good,” Kade whispers closely to my ear. “You’re safe. You’ll always be safe with me.”
His eyes search mine and we look at each other in silence, trying to make sense of this inexplicable situation. Right now, there’s nothing left to be said. No explanations, no revelations. It’s just the two of us, realizing that we were meant to meet the way we did. Whatever power brought us together is bigger than either of us, and I vow not to fight against it any longer.
EPILOG
Kade
Three years later
“Kaden, no, I can’t….”
Yes, she can. I know she can. Meadow is squirming under my touch, as beautiful as ever when she loses control over her body and commits all of herself to me. Her eyes are rolled back into her head, her legs spread wide in front of me, refuting her earlier assertion that she was done for the evening. She’ll be done when I say she is, and as long as her body is calling out to me as it is now, I won’t stop bringing her to that ultimate level of pleasure that both of us can’t get enough of.
Her dainty hands claw into the sheets beneath her and she arches her back with appreciation when I slowly shove my length inside of her. Her warm and throbbing center is begging for more, begging for me. Two orgasms are not enough to bring this girl to her limits. I’ve known from the very first time we touched each other. She needs more. She craves more than most and she’s been subject to a lot of disappointments because of it.
Her muscles clench around me as I push myself inside of her warm entrance, relishing every inch. This will be her last one for tonight, and I’m going to make sure that it counts. I’m going to bring her to the heights of pleasure with slow and purposeful thrusts instead of the rushed fervor that defined the beginning of our play tonight.
We have hardly seen each other all week, and while I’m happy to see Meadow as busy and happy as she is, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her body, her smile that always has that last hint of sadness that will never fade completely. She will always be haunted by what’s been done to her and it drives me mad that there’s nothing I can do about it. I could’ve tortured and killed the guy a hundred times, and it wouldn’t make things better for her. I could kill another hundred assholes and it wouldn’t change a thing for her. My usual resorts are useless in relieving her pain.
But I can do this. I can make her feel the way she does right now. Dizzy and drunk with pleasure, squirming on our bed, calling out to me as her body takes over and sends her cautious mind to rest. Her loss of
control is always audited — by me. There’s nothing that makes me feel as powerful as her surrendering to me. The trust she puts in me despite the horrible secrets she’s uncovered is enough for me.
I hold her in place as I’m buried deeply inside of her, filling her with my entire length while she arches her back and takes me in. A desperate yelp escapes her beautiful lips when I reach down to her center, brushing along her swollen nub. She’s super sensitive right now, in a state where most would think they don’t want to be touched like this any longer. But I know how to make her get over that point and reach that place very few know exists.
My touch is as gentle as it needs to be, but still rigid enough to have an impact on her fragile body. She flinches at first, even at the slightest touch. But I’m not blown off that easily. Instead of letting go, I intensify my pressure on her clit, but not with the swift caressing that would have worked in the beginning. I don’t fondle her, but push my thumb on her throbbing center, applying heavy pressure but only moving my finger ever so slightly.
It drives her insane. She groans deeply, her hands forming desperate little white-knuckled fists once again as she squirms with relish, bathing in the mind-robbing bliss I provide for her.
I couldn’t think of a more enticing view. My cock pulsates inside of her, begging for release and the motions needed to reach it. Slowly, very slowly I begin to move back and forth, watching her reaction.
She accompanies every thrust with a deep moan, moving her hips forward as she yearns for me. She’s ready.
My pushes increase in intensity and pace and I begin properly massaging her hot clit while riding both of us to joint climax. Soon, I can feel her muscles tensing up around me, bringing me over the edge with her.
We explode in harmonious ecstasy, rocking back and forth in unity while the carnal pleasure robs our minds. After the last thrill is over, there’s nothing left but heated air and the two of us breathing heavily.
She looks up at me through fogged eyes, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty face.
“You’re insane,” she whispers.
I smirk at her and collapse onto the bed next to her.
“You’re insanely beautiful.”
She rolls her eyes. “Charmer.”
Brat. I force her into my arms, which she lets happen without protest.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “This week has been crazy.”
“Ditto,” I reply. “I hate sharing you this much. Here I was, thinking I could see as much of you as I want after putting that ring on your finger.”
She beams up at me and instinctively reaches for the diamond ring on her left hand. Two weeks have passed since I asked the question I never thought I’d pose to anyone. Joseph thought I was joking when I told him that I’ll make this girl my wife. She’s too young, too naive, too innocent, he said. Just a pretty little girl I picked up, like many others before her.
But what does he know? Nothing, that’s what. There are a lot of lies surrounding our relationship. Meadow can’t be the suicidal girl I picked up while finishing a dirty job. I didn’t want anyone knowing about that part. We both agreed on that. It shouldn’t matter what others think about us, but it does matter when it could harm her.
Meadow wanted to go as far as to give herself a new identity. She had left her old life behind, that decision didn’t change even when she no longer wanted to die. She knew I had the resources to help her arrange the necessary papers to take that step, but I never felt completely comfortable with it. Marrying will make things legitimate. She will have a name that’s truly hers — our name. She will have a home, and a family. I feel like the strongest man on Earth to be able to provide that for her. It’s even better than making her orgasm like a bitch in heat over and over, again and again.
Despite Joseph’s mocking, I have absolutely no doubt that this is the right thing to do. She belongs to me, next to me, forever. Meadow was meant to become mine, and I was meant to become hers. Horrible things have happened to lead us to each other, but something great came out of it.
“I would tell my clients that my future husband can’t do without me,” she whispers. “But that wouldn’t change the fact that they need me.”
Despite the lasting sorrow that has claimed her, Meadow is smiling. She’s needed, not only by me, but by the women she works with.
“I know,” I say, kissing her at the temple. “I won’t be so cruel as to rob you from them. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
“I hope so.”
She sighs and cuddles up to me. “It’s grueling, but so fulfilling at the same time.”
“I know,” I say.
Meadow has become the biggest asset in my newest endeavor. Together, we found a way to do our bit in the war against the kind of evil I used to eradicate by other means before. The blood on my hands had not yet dried when I met Meadow for the first time, and I felt that all I could do to improve some people’s lives was to take the life of others. Killing fire with fire. Sometimes, it still burns inside of me, this rage to kill, to take revenge for all those who can’t do it on their own.
When Meadow learned about my financial means and the desire to start something new, it didn’t take long for her to come up with the idea for a foundation.
“A foundation to help,” she said. “A place where women who have become victims can go.”
I have to admit, I was skeptical at first. After all, I was looking to invest my assets into something promising, and I couldn’t see how Meadow’s idea of a private foundation could be monetized. I liked the idea of building something useful, something that would help both of us help others, something that would approach the problems I’ve been dealing with from a different angle. The solution revealed itself to us when a for-profit organization showed interest in working with us, and I saw a way of not only helping in a charitable way, but also providing profits and a sustainable income.
I’m proud of our work, and especially of Meadow. She busted her ass to give meaning to her life in a way that satisfies her. She received the necessary training to become a counselor, and she’s still taking some extra courses even now that she’s allowed to work with clients. It’s been the reason why we have had to spend so much time apart these past few weeks.
I wish I could claim this girl all to myself, but I know I can’t. It would be selfish to deprive the world of her. She almost made that mistake but I showed up just in time to keep her from going through with it.
Our eyes meet and I see nothing but contentment and exhaustion in hers.
“I’m going to fall asleep,” she breathes.
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”
“Good.”
She sighs and a mellow smile graces her face as she dozes off in my arms.
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CAUGHT
A Hitman Romance
CHAPTER ONE
Mars
One last hit. It needs to be perfect.
Clean, quick and no witnesses—like every hit before.
I squint through the night vision scope, constantly keeping an eye on that one door in the middle of the narrow alley. I know that’s where he will be coming through, just him. No companion, no bodyguards. He will be alone.
I pull up my scarf unt
il it covers most of my face, all except the eyes. A simple precaution. The scarf, in combination with a simple black skullcap hides my face well enough to make it close to impossible to identify me, in case I get seen.
Of course, that never happens. I am careful and thorough in what I do.
Weeks of research and stalking lie behind me. I’ve studied this guy inside out, his habits, his everyday life, his usual hangouts. Wherever he was, I was, too, constantly on his tail. Sometimes he was aware, because we know each other and it’s not uncommon for us to be in the same place at the same time. But most of the time he had no idea, and he certainly had no clue that I was following and watching him.
There is not much consistency in his life. He’s a mobster, just like all of my targets. A guy like him doesn’t follow a normal routine, a simple life with a job, a wife, some friends, maybe even kids. Luckily, he doesn’t have any of that. It makes eradicating him a lot easier, at least in that regard.
However, it’s not like he’s an easy target in general. He’s smart, experienced and usually well guarded. This douche has been in the business for long enough to know his way around. Even when there is no imminent threat to his life, he is always prepared. He even hired a bodyguard, but only has him around when he’s close to the club for some reason. The mob’s hangout spot. At least it used to be, before everything went to shit.
There are just two things that make this a lot easier for me. First, he doesn’t know what’s coming. There is no particular reason for him to assume that someone might be after him, especially me. After all, we used to be close enough for others to call us friends. That’s just them, though. I’ve never seen him as a friend, but more as a necessity.
I could never call someone like him a friend.
I straighten up and stretch, relaxing my face for just a moment, before I scan the surroundings down below. Just as I hoped, the streets are still empty. Not many people like to walk around in this neighborhood at night. It was one of the reasons for me to choose this spot. That alley, that door.