by Naomi West
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
BAD BOY’S TOUCH: A Dark Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Moretti Family Mafia) copyright 2017 by Naomi West. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
BAD BOY’S TOUCH: A Dark Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Moretti Family Mafia)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
BAD BOY’S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Books by Naomi West
BAD BOY’S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance
CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)
OWNED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blood Warriors MC)
Broken: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Satan’s Wings MC)
STOLEN: The Vanguard MC
SOLD: Jagged Souls MC
RELEASE: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
Hawk’s Baby: Kings of Chaos MC
Outlaw’s Baby: Devil’s Edge MC
Hitman’s Promise: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
DARE ME: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Mailing List
BAD BOY’S TOUCH: A Dark Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Moretti Family Mafia)
By Naomi West
I CAN’T SAY NO TO THE BAD BOY’S TOUCH.
I’m a survivor.
So when life brings me to my knees with a gun against my head,
I do what has to be done to stay alive.
It’s left me at the mercy of a sexy, dangerous hitman.
He’ll let me live… if I do everything exactly as he says.
Scraping dollar bills off the floor to the cheers of leering men.
My parents would've been proud . . . if I'd known them.
My life hasn’t been fair or easy.
But it’s not a fair or easy kind of world.
No one gets a free ride.
Sometimes, though, it seems like mine has been worse than most.
Like when I end up at the wrong party with a gun pointed right at me.
Still, despite my struggles, I’m not ready to give up just yet.
The voice inside my head is screaming, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!
Not yet.
Not today.
Why he didn't pull the trigger, I'll never know.
But now I'm at his mercy…
And he's coming to take what belongs to him.
Chapter One
Alexis
When the cab pulled to the curb, I thought surely, he must have misunderstood me. The mansion, with its high brick wall and massive gate, was a much nicer place than I was used to going. “Is this 1407 Maplewood?” I asked as I double-checked my phone for the information that had been included with the work agreement. I’d never worked someplace this nice before.
The cabbie glanced at me in the mirror. He had been leering at me for the entire ride and his dark eyes glittered now at my uncertainty. “It is, but I’d be happy to take you someplace else if you’d like. Maybe back to my place.”
I was used to this. It was my life, and there was no point in being offended or throwing a fit. If I yelled and raged at this man, there would just be another one to take his place once he moved along. Besides, I was being paid to let men look at me. “No, thanks.” I paid him, grabbed my bag, and scrambled out of the car. If this turned out to be the wrong house, I’d just call a different cab company.
As the taxi screeched off into the night, I advanced toward the gate. My heels clacked on the concrete and my feet already hurt inside them. My boss had insisted that I work at least part of my shift at The Corral before I took off for this private job. If he had known what I was doing, he might have fired me on the spot. “The customers come here to see you, Alexis,” he had explained when I had asked for some time off. “Sure, they like the other girls. I mean, skin is skin. But you’re the star of the show. Nobody dances like you do.”
“I guess that means I deserve a raise,” I had argued from the shabby chair in front of his desk, grateful for any bargaining chip I could get my hands on.
He had immediately granted me my time off after that. Now I wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. This place was set up like a fortress, with two guards at the gate who I had no doubt were armed. What was I getting myself into? “Hi, I’m Alexis Reid. I was told to ask for Vick.” This had been the man who had slipped his business card into my G-string along with his tip and promised me a much more lucrative position than the one I had at The Corral.
The guard’s eyes roved down my body and then back up to my face. I was ready to give him my identification, but he swung the gate open with a push of a button and waved at me to step into the courtyard. The mansion was a modern one, stark white and full of right angles and long lines. Tall palms flanked it on either side and I felt small as I walked slowly up to the front door. Landscape lighting kept the place illuminated, showing off the owner’s wealth even at nighttime. I wondered how many luxury cars had driven over this payment and just what this guy did for a living that he could afford a place like this.
The door swung open as I made my way up the front stairs that led up to the portico. A man in a suit leered at me as he gestured for me to come in. “Alexis Reid?”
“Yes,” I affirmed, unsure of what else to say. I knew what my job here was, but I had never performed it at a private residence before, and certainly not one of this caliber.
“We’ve been expecting you. Please follow me.” He clo
sed the door and led me through the entry way and down a long hall toward the back of the building. Gesturing at a door, he turned to me. “You can get dressed here. Just head down those stairs when you’re ready.” The man pointed to a carpeted stairway at the end of the hall.
“Thank you.” I stepped into the room he offered. From its position and the sparse decoration, I knew it had to be a guest bedroom of sorts. Still, there was a king-sized bed with a lush comforter, a massive window that overlooked a garden, and a private bath with a tub, shower, and a double sink. Yeah, this guy had money all right. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If I played my cards right and got more gigs like this, I would have myself hoisted out of debt and into a better apartment in no time.
I set my bag down on the bed and got out everything I needed. The heels I was wearing were high, but the ones I danced in were even higher and covered in sequins. I couldn’t understand why men were so turned on by just a pair of shoes, but they had been a hit every time. Next, I laid out my hot-pink bra and matching thong, plus the slinky silver dress that would go over it all.
As I removed my rhinestone heart pasties from my bag, I felt a pang of guilt for being in this business. I had never imagined myself as a stripper. It was supposed to just be a short-term thing—something to get me through until I got a real job—but the money was good and the late nights kept me from getting up and submitting resumes in the mornings. Besides, who would be interested in hiring someone like me? Skipping through various foster homes growing up, I had never been in one place long enough to truly get settled. My grades had constantly slipped and I had managed to graduate by only the barest margin. There had been no time for college or certificate courses after that. I was too busy trying to survive. At twenty-four, I couldn’t say my life had gotten any better.
Still, I had work to do. I took deep breaths as I changed clothes and put on my shoes. Packing everything else back into my bag and leaving it there, I headed downstairs.
I guess there are a lot of things you can put in a mansion, and apparently one of them is your own private strip club with a DJ. As I descended the stairs, my music kicked on. The room was dark, with only a few lights shining on the stage. The DJ was off in the corner, and the men were arranged in plush chairs and on sofas all around the stage. The walls, furniture, and carpet, were all a dark blue. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have imagined I was in an actual club. It was just a much nicer one than where I performed regularly. I immediately found my place on the small stage, glancing out at my audience.
The men here weren’t like the ones at The Corral. There, I could encounter anyone from a college kid out on his own for the first time to an old drunk. I treated every one of them like they were the only man in the room, and the wad of cash I took home every night meant they believed it. Here, the men wore dress shirts and trousers. They looked like they had come from a business meeting, and they leaned forward eagerly as they waited for my performance to begin.
I’d sent over the soundtrack, as Vick had requested. I knew what songs worked best for me—which ones I could lose myself in as I danced. Strutting forward, I set my feet wide and flipped my long hair back. I was ready.
I swiveled my hips enticingly, keeping in time with the beat. I had to admit that there was some small part of me that enjoyed being viewed as a sex symbol. It made me feel as though I was finally worth something to someone, even if it was only for a few minutes. I was special and important as I swung around the gold pole and pulled off my dress.
The men clapped and cheered, eager for more. I didn’t worry about them for the moment, letting the music take over my mind. On the days when I felt so ashamed of what I had become, I let myself disappear into the songs. I wasn’t a stripper, scraping up the cash men had thrown at me just to pay the bills. I was a beautiful woman, the personification of the melody as I let my body flow free. As the music built to a crescendo, I whipped off the hot-pink bra and flung it aside, confident and completely in my groove.
The men called for more, and the DJ had everything set up and ready to go. The next song kicked in, and I stepped down to the floor. One man was seated closer to the stage than anyone else. It wasn’t Vick, but he was clearly the guest of honor. I stepped over his legs so that I straddled him, leaning forward to push my chest into his face. I knew this would only be the first of many lap dances.
“What’s your name, big boy?” I asked seductively. I knew that men liked it when you made them feel as though you were interested about them—like you truly cared what their names were instead of how many bills they had in their wallets.
“Call me Frankie,” he said with a grin. His eyes were on my chest.
“Whatever you say, Frankie,” I replied as I worked my hips against him. I felt something hard in his pants, but not what I had been expecting. He was armed.
Frankie reached out and ran a hand down my side. I didn’t let the men at The Corral touch me; it was against policy. This was definitely not the club, and I made no move to bat his thick hands off my body.
Chapter Two
Lorenzo
It had been hard to wait for darkness to descend over the city. I’d planned this hit for a long time, and I was eager to get it over with. The Calzoni family had been stepping into our turf for too long, running drug deals and money laundering schemes that interfered with Moretti business. There had been more than enough of it, and Matteo had finally awarded the job to me. The others were jealous. There were plenty of capos, including Matteo’s own son, who would have been happy to do it. But Matteo knew that I was the only one who could actually pull it off.
“Lorenzo,” Matteo had said as he leaned back in his desk chair. “You know as well as I do that this must be done. We have waited too long already. Get in there. Get Frankie. He deserves it.”
“And anyone else?” I had struggled to keep the excitement out of my voice. A new hit always sent a surge of adrenaline through my blood, and this was the most important one of my career.
“Them, too. Anybody who has so much as laid eyes on Frankie Calzoni deserves to die. He has his mitts in everything, and it’s time we cut them off.” Matteo’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. He was happy with himself.
Coming in through the tree line just to the east of the property, I took up my usual surveillance position. How many times had I already been here, watching Calzoni’s guards as they changed shifts? I had studied every door and window of the mansion until I knew them all by heart, even memorizing what kind of curtains they had and when they might be open. Like most people, Frankie and his men kept to a routine most of the time, and I knew it like the back of my hand.
I pulled in my breath to slow my heart as I checked my pistol and the extra magazine. I had cleaned and examined my weapon thoroughly the night before, but I knew that this was my only chance. Everything had to go right. If not, my career as a hitman—and my life—would be over with. But everything was in smooth, working order, and the only thing I had left to do was wait.
At exactly midnight, two guards came out of a side entrance of the building. Their ties were loose and they laughed and shook their heads at each other as they came out into the courtyard. Whatever they’d been doing, they’d been having a good time. They spoke to the men at the gate for a moment, pointing over their shoulders at the festivities they had just left. The new guards replaced the old ones, and I watched and waited anxiously.
I needed just enough time that the new shift was well-established at the gate and the old shift had gone inside, but not too much time that they would be required to report in. I wanted to give myself enough leeway in case things didn’t go down the way they were supposed to. No matter how careful I was, there was always the possibility of a mistake. Raising my gun and aiming carefully, I fired two shots, one right after the other.
The guard on the left reeled backward, blood splattering against the brick wall, and dropped to his knees. The one on the right had only a split second to look toward his partn
er before he met the same fate. They lay on the pavement on the quiet street, their hands flung out uselessly at their sides. My silencer kept me safe from any nosey neighbors.
Things had begun. There was no more time to wait around. I slipped from my hiding spot and patted down the bodies. I knew there was a remote control that opened the gate, and it only took a moment to find it clipped to one guard’s belt. Tucking it away inside my jacket, I dragged each of the bodies up into the tree line, placing them right where I had been hiding. The irony would be lost on whoever found them, but I sure appreciated it.
It would be easy to open the gate and walk through it, but I had a good feeling that it would trigger an alarm of some sort inside the house. I needed the element of surprise on my side. Scaling the wall, I dropped down onto lawn and headed immediately for the back side of the house.
The outer wall was higher here, and for some reason, Calzoni imagined that meant he didn’t need to have this side of the mansion as well-guarded. There were security lights, but I took those out easily as I made my way to a wide French door that led out to the massive infinity pool. Other than that, I was alone.
I had acquired many skills over the last ten years, since Matteo Moretti had taken me under his wing. “You should never be a one-ring circus, Lorenzo. Sure, you can shoot. I’ve taught you well. But there are many other skills that would be useful to you, and you shouldn’t ignore them. Train yourself, physically and mentally. Never stop learning. The best in the business are like this.”