Stolen By The Hitman: A Men Of Ruthless Corp Book

by Cole, Jagger

  “One of the places.”

  His voice snaps me out of it, and I quickly look away.

  “When I’m in San Fran, it’s like a place to lie low.”

  “A safe house?”

  He smirks, glancing back at me. “Kind of, yeah.”

  “So you’re like… you’re a professional…”

  He turns back to me again, raising a brow.

  “A hitman?” I say softly.

  His jaw tightens, and he nods almost imperceptibly. “Does that scare you?”

  I swallow. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No,” he growls thickly.

  “Then no.”

  Rourke slowly walks back to me, still shirtless, and I shiver. But I want him closer. I want him near me.

  “Here’s your shirt,” he grunts, passing me a big t-shirt.

  “Thanks.”

  He turns as I turn away too. But when I bring my hands up to get the buttons of my ruined blouse, I wince.

  “Ouch! Fuck.”

  “You okay,” I hear him growl behind me.

  “Yeah, it’s just…” I try again and wince at the pain in my arm. “It’s just my—”

  I turn and gasp. Rourke is looking right at me, maybe a foot and a half away.

  “Let me,” he murmurs.

  He steps closer, and his big hands push mine away. My pulse thuds, my face burning with heat. His big fingers deftly pluck one button and then the other, moving down. The blouse falls away, and my breath catches as he helps me slip it off my shoulders.

  The room is so quiet as I look up at him. I tremble under his fierce gaze, standing here in my bra.

  “Fuck,” Rourke groans quietly.

  He moves into me. I gasp as his hand slides around my waist. He pulls me into him, and I whimper as I look up into his eyes. His mouth lowers to mine, and then hesitates at the last second.

  All I can hear is my heart thudding in my ears. All I can feel is pure heat, and his hand on my skin. And all I want is everything he wants to give me or show me.

  “I’m bad news, Leah,” he growls quietly.

  “I don’t think you are,” I whisper back.

  “Then you’re not paying attention.”

  “I’m paying attention just fine.”

  I swallow and look up at him. My very core tingles. My thighs squeeze together. I want him. I crave him, like I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  “You have three seconds to tell me to stop, Leah,” he groans.

  I whimper softly. “Or?”

  “Or I won’t,” he snarls. “Not ever.” His eyes narrow, and my lip sucks between my teeth.

  “One.”

  I whimper.

  “Two,” he growls. “Leah, I’m fucking warning you—”

  “Three,” I gasp right before he crushes his mouth to mine.

  I moan, and my head spins. My pulse thuds as his lips take mine. My mouth opens for his tongue, and I whimper as I melt against him. His big hands scoop me up into his chest. He moves us back, and I moan as we fall across the couch.

  He growls into my mouth, kissing me deeply. I whine in protest when he pulls away. But then his mouth falls to my neck, then my collarbone. I’m trembling all over, aching for him. I want him to have me—all of me—and right now.

  His hands grip me tightly; possessively. One slips over my stomach and up to the front of my bra. He pops the clasp, and I tremble and whimper as my tits spill free.

  “Fuck baby,” he groans. He kisses lower, down my collarbone and down over the slope of my tits. His mouth slips over one nipple and then the other. I cry out, pressing them to his lips. He kisses lower between them, and his big hands push me back onto the couch.

  I moan, writhing and arching my back as he kisses down my stomach. His fingers tug the zipper of my skirt down, and my heart skips.

  This is all new. I’ve never done any of this, and certainly none of where I know this is going. But I want this, badly. I want him.

  The skirt falls away. Rourke groans as he moves between my legs, his eyes centered between them. I whimper as he moves closer. His breath is hot against my pussy through the cotton of my panties. He nuzzles them, and my eyes roll back.

  “Oh God,” I whisper.

  He groans into me again, his hot breath making me soak through the cotton. His tongue drags over my panties, rubbing my lips through them. I cry out, gasping in the new pleasure.

  Rourke growls and looks up at me before his eyes slide back to his prize. His fingers slip under the waist, and he starts to peel them away. When they’re past my pink, swollen pussy, he growls thickly.

  “Fuck, baby girl,” the rough, gorgeous, older man groans.

  He tugs my panties the rest of the way off and tosses them aside. The huge hitman drops between my thighs and his big hands push my legs wide apart. He spreads me open, making me blush as he leans close. His breath teases over my slippery lips.

  “Rourke,” I whimper.

  His tongue suddenly touches me, dragging over my pussy. I cry out, arching my back as the pleasure shudders through my core.

  “Oh fuck!” I gasp.

  “Moan for me,” he growls against me. “Let me hear you moan for my tongue.”

  I gasp as he plunges his tongue been my lips, tasting me deeply. He curls the tip up over my clit. His tongue circles and curls around the throbbing button, making my head spin. I cry out, gripping the sofa beneath me as my hips lift into him. His big hands slide to the backs of my thighs, gripping my ass as he growls into my pussy.

  “Oh my fuck…”

  Everything starts to shake. I tremble, gasping as the room spins. His mouth sucks and hums at my clit, and it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt. His mouth drives me wild and makes me clench until I know there’s no holding back.

  “I—I’m coming!”

  My hands grab his hair. My body stiffens and bucks, and I grind my pussy shamelessly against his mouth. The orgasm hits me, and I scream his name as I cling to him, riding his tongue.

  I’m still gasping and writhing as he grabs me and scoops me into his arms. His mouth crushes to mine, kissing me deeply as I moan, aching and desperate for more.

  6

  Rourke

  Kissing her is religion. Tasting her is all I ever want. And holding her is like coming home.

  I groan as my mouth takes hers, kissing her deeply and softly. I still have the taste of her in my mouth and on my tongue, but Leah’s kissing me back eagerly. And I want more. I want all of her. I want her moans in my ears forever.

  I growl as I pull back to look at her, naked but for the diamond choker around her neck. Like a princess, all for me. A prize for me to claim.

  “Fuck,” I groan under my breath.

  My cock surges in my jeans. Her eyes slide over my ink and my scars. For a second, I grimace when I feel her gaze there where the bullets ripped me apart. But she just reaches out. Her fingertips brush my skin, her lip caught between her teeth.

  “These are bullet wounds?”

  I nod.

  “From your job?”

  “From the Navy.”

  She looks up at me in surprise.

  “I was a SEAL,” I grunt quietly.

  “What happ—” she catches herself, shaking her head with a frown. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  But I want it to be. I barely know this girl. But I’ve been around the sun enough times to know the way she makes me feel is a rarity. I know the pull I feel to her isn’t something you get every day, or even ever in a lifetime.

  “We were clearing a stronghold in Libya full of Gaddafi loyalists,” I growl quietly. I’ve never shared this story with anyone besides Mags. Even she only got the bare bones version to spare her the details of her son dying.

  “We’d cleared a room, but it wasn’t actually clear. There was a secret door behind a bookshelf where the last of them were hiding out. They knew they were fucked and just opened up with a machine gun. They took out four…” I look down. �
�Five of my platoon. Somehow, I lived.”

  Her face falls and crumples. Her eyes mist, and she reaches for my hands.

  “I’m so sorry, Rourke,” she whimpers, genuine pain in her tone.

  “Mags—Maggie, the woman you met—her son was one of the ones we lost. He was my best friend,” I growl. “And when I got whole, I came back to take care of her.”

  I look up shaking my head.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  And I don’t. But I know it feels good to do it. I know it feels natural to open a part of myself to her that no one’s ever seen. I pull her into my lap, kissing her, touching her, wanting her. My cock surges for more. Leah moans, kissing my mouth and my neck. She can feel me hard and throbbing between her legs, and she gasps.

  And then my fucking phone goes off. I groan and glance at it. Shit, it’s Maggie. My eyes slide back to Leah, but she just smiles shyly and nods. I snatch the phone up and answer it gruffly.

  “How’s our hostage—”

  “We’ve got trouble!”

  I sit bolt upright, hissing. “What?! Fuck, Maggie, are you—”

  “I’m fine! I’m fine! But we’ve got problems!”

  “Terry—”

  “He’s still here,” she hisses. I hear a thump and then a man’s howl of pain. “Little prick,” she snaps.

  “Mags, what the fuck happened?”

  She groans, and it sounds like a groan of pain. I stiffen.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she mutters.

  “Mags…”

  “They got the drop on me. One of this asshole’s guys came in like a goddamn cowboy. I had him dead to rights, but this fucker,” I hear another thump and another cry from Terry in the background. “Little shit knocked his chair back and threw my shot.” She swears. “Smashed up my foot too.”

  “Shit,” I groan. “And the guard?”

  “Yeah, that’d be our problem. I winged him pretty good, but he got out.”

  I wince. That’s not good. Not at all.

  “Look, this prick has the controls to his whole security system up here in the office. I’ve got the entire house on lockdown with most of his guys outside. Got a few loose rats inside, but the office door is sealed up good. But Rourke, I’ve got audio on these assholes, and—”

  “Okay, Mags, stay put,” I grunt. “We’ll come to—”

  “Rourke!” she barks. “Listen to me! I have them on audio, and they know where you’re at!”

  My eyes widen. My pulse thuds. Fuck.

  “Terry’s guys are coming to you, Rourke. You need to get the fuck out before—”

  I hear a crash downstairs. My eyes slide to Leah. Oh fuck.

  “Mags, stay put. I’ll call you back.”

  I hang up and whirl to the naked temptation still sitting on my couch.

  “Need you to get dressed right now, angel,” I growl quietly.

  Her eyed widen. Her face pales. But she nods—she understands the gravity of this. She jumps up and tugs her skirt back on, pulling the old t-shirt over her head. I grab one too and start grabbing guns off the rack along the wall and stuffing them into a duffel. My go-bag is already ready to go, and I shoulder that too.

  Then I grab my “last resort”—the giant-ass Browning .50-cal machine gun. The thing weighs as much a fucking motorcycle, but from the sounds of the boots running up the stairs, I’m gonna need it.

  I grab Leah and usher us over to the kitchen area. I shove the fridge aside. Leah gasps at the hidden staircase behind it. I pull her close, I lean down, and I kiss her softly. But the thundering of men’s boots up the stairs are close. It’s time to go.

  I urge her into the stairwell. “Cover your ears, angel.”

  She’s pale and trembling. But she nods as she steps inside. Her hands fly to her ears as I turn shoulder the massive gun. I cock it, grit my teeth, and narrow my eyes at the door to my safe house.

  And then, I unleash hell.

  The gun roars like a fucking demon. Molten lead thunders across the apartment through the metal door. I hear men yelling, and a few attempts at return fire. But I just keep firing, until the whole belt of ammo is gone.

  When I’m done, it’s silent except for the ringing in my ears. The barrel is smoking hot, and the door to my place is barely still attached to the frame. But there’s not a peep from the other side.

  I ditch the Browning, turn, and pull her into me. She moans as I kiss her deeply, hungrily tasting her mouth. I’ve killed plenty. I’ve defended plenty of ideals and fellow soldiers. But I’ve never felt as protective as I do with her. I’ve never felt like I had something like this to fight for.

  I kiss her until her lips are swollen and her breath is gasping. And I’d keep kissing her, but it’s time to get the hell out of here.

  Her eyes hold mine as I pull away—a silent promise. An eager vow that she’s mine.

  “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” I say gently as I shoulder my bags.

  “Where do we go now?” There’s less fear in her voice now. It’s like a strength in her has awoken.

  “To Laura,” I growl. “We’re taking this fight to her. Because I’m done being a pawn in the middle of this family feud.”

  She takes my hand, and we rush down the stairs.

  I’m ending this. For me. For Mags. For my dream of a future without a life of violence and death. But mostly, for her.

  For Leah.

  We’re halfway down the hidden back staircase when I stop us. I pull her back. The point of stopping is to hide the necklace around her neck before we step out into what may be a crowd, given the gunfire. But when she gasps and turns to me, I crumble.

  I snarl as I press her to the brick wall of the dark staircase. I groan and crush my lips to hers, kissing her possessively. She moans into my mouth, gasping and clinging to me until I slowly pull away.

  I reach into my back pocket and pull out a bandana. It ties loosely around her neck, hiding the Heiress from any curious types we may cross. From the look in her eyes, she already knows that.

  I take her hand, and we rush down the rest of the staircase. At the bottom, a side door will take us just around the corner from where I parked. I tap out the code on the panel next to the door, knock it open with my shoulder, and tug Leah after me into the dark night.

  “Right there is good.”

  I freeze even before I hear the words. It’s usually a good idea to stop whatever the fuck you’re doing when someone jams a gun between your eyes.

  Leah gasps, jumping back as her fingers clench in mine. But I just grit my teeth, scowling as my gaze slips down the gun to land on a smaller woman in a grey pants-suit. I’m about to go for my piece. But that outfit screams “Fed”.

  “Not a move, cowboy,” she grunts. The woman whips a badge out. And sure enough, she’s a Fed alright—FBI Special Agent Kim Morales.

  I feel Leah’s hand tighten. Her breath catches as she draws close to my back.

  The woman—Agent Morales—smirks and gestures with her eyebrows at the badge she’s holding up.”

  “Still want to pull that piece out?”

  “Kind of.”

  She narrows her eyes. Then she turns her gaze past me.

  “Hello, Leah.”

  I frown. “What the fuck is going on—”

  “You setting off firecrackers up there?”

  My jaw grits at the knowing smirk on the FBI agent’s face. “Yep.”

  “Loud ones, huh?”

  I shrug and grip Leah’s hand tighter.

  “Little early for the Fourth of July, don’t you think?” Agent Morales smiles thinly.

  “What can I say,” I growl. “I’m a patriotic guy.”

  “I know you are, sailor.”

  She smiles thinly, and my eyes narrow.

  “Master Chief Petty Officer Jenner, is it?”

  My mouth thins to a line.

  “So if I go in there, am I gonna see Patriotism, or dead bodies?” She smil
es at my grit-jawed silence. “Relax. It’s your lucky day, Rourke, I’m not here for you.”

  “Then what the fuck do you want—”

  “I’m just checking in with my friend Leah here.”

  Leah trembles behind me. “I—”

  “You’re supposed to answer your phone when we call, Ms. Hartley.”

  Wait, what? Slowly, I turn to level my eyes at Leah

  “I don’t have it,” she mumbles.

  “Why not?”

  Leah’s eyes dart to mine. Her lip quivers between her teeth.

  “Playtime with your boyfriend doesn’t mean you get to ignore me. And if you’re curious how we found you, I told you we were always watching. We saw the two of you sneak out of the back of Terry’s place after work.”

  She glares at Leah. “Where the hell is our information?”

  The girl with her hand in mine pales, trembles. “I—I don’t have it, but—”

  “What the fuck is going on here, Agent Morales?” I snarl. I hate these Fed games. And I’m becoming irrationally angry at the way this woman is speaking to Leah.

  Agent Morales smiles thinly at me. “Oh dear, do you not know? Your girlfriend here is involved with, well, some very not good things.”

  “No, I’m not!” Leah pales and turns her eyes to mine. “Rourke, I’m not—”

  “She’s in bed with Terry and Laura.”

  I stare at Agent Morales. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a fun little side project of theirs, trucking girls in from third world countries and pushing them into prostitution. And Leah here is right in the thick of it.”

  “That’s not true!” Leah spits vehemently. “I’m just his personal—”

  “No, you’re ours,” Agent Morals snaps. “You’re our eyes and ears with Terry. Period. And when you close your eyes and plug your ears, you become not very helpful.”

  I wrinkle my brow. “You can’t seriously believe she’s involved with that you’re saying she is.”

  “I don’t care,” Morales shrugs.

  “Excuse me?”

  The FBI agent’s eyes narrow. “I said I do not care, Mr. Jenner. I want Terrance Rynsburger. I want Laura Bowman. And your girlfriend here is going to get them for me, or she’s going to prison.”