Shadowed: A Hitman Mafia Romance (Team Zero Book 4)

by Rina Kent

  I startle awake with the sheets tangled all over me. Sweat trickles down my back, gluing the nightgown to my skin. The sound of my harsh breathing resembles a trapped animal rather than a human.

  It’s a dream. No. A nightmare.

  I wrap my arms around my middle and try to control my breathing.

  It’s been over a month already. I should be over all the hell that broke loose in Le Salon. I should be starting anew on the other side of the country.

  If only he’d disappear from my dreams. Sometimes, he looms there, watching me with those sinister eyes. Other times, he’s bathed in blood and laughing like a demon. The dreams I hate the most is when he’s fucking me. Hard. Rough. Unapologetic. I could feel his thickness inside me, moving in and out of my slick core. I can never forget how the dream version of him stretches me open and brings me to the throes of sick pleasure. I even came a few times.

  Freaking hormones.

  I wake up ashamed. Every time, I have to remind myself why I escaped him and all the reasons why I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I only manage to clear the haze after I go through the whole mantra of ‘I’m not going to be my mother’.

  It’s an endless vicious cycle.

  I push the sheets away and stumble to my feet. It’s half an hour earlier from when I’m supposed to wake up, but I won’t be getting any more sleep anyway. If I do, I might go back to dreaming about him.

  Nope. Not going there.

  I take a quick shower in the small bathroom. The house Ghost and Mist provided for me is a small property on the outskirts of a village in York.

  The villagers are nice and welcoming. I even found a shelter home where I read to children and listen to the women’s tragedies. Their stories bleed my heart open, but it distracts me from my own. I pour all my energy into helping them cope as they taught us in psychology lessons. Victim after-care was my top favourite class in the forces.

  My ability to listen helps those women in seeing there’s someone who cares about them after being neglected for too long. Just being a shoulder to cry on can be enough for women who were made to believe they’re rubbish.

  Becoming useful in those women and their children’s lives brings me a sense of being. It’s like my existence has another purpose aside from revenge.

  That and…

  I place a hand over my stomach. It’s not even showing yet, but I can feel the life beneath the skin.

  After the first week I came here, I vomited every time I woke up and felt dizzy all day. In the beginning, I thought it was because of the shock from witnessing that man’s death and Shadow’s unfeeling eyes when he did it. I thought it was my disgust for missing him even after all that I’ve seen him do.

  The morning sickness didn’t stop over the course of the second week, so I went to the local hospital. When the doctor came back with my results, I must’ve looked like I’d been stabbed because the doctor kept checking my pulse.

  Pregnant.

  I told her I hadn’t had sex in freaking years. I couldn’t be pregnant. Go check your machines, lady.

  Then it hit me. Shadow came all over me that day at the lake house. According to the doctor, that’s enough to impregnate me. Penetration isn’t necessary as long as the sperm can enter my vagina during my ovulation period.

  I’m pregnant.

  Sometimes, I can’t believe it myself.

  When I came here, I planned to linger for a while, stay under the radar, then call Johnny and take him up on his offer. My best shot to continue my revenge is to work underneath President Joe and destroy him from the inside.

  Snitching about the factory isn’t enough. I want to see him lose everything, just like he made Mum lose her youth, her freedom, and eventually her life.

  I also planned to meet Liam and Elle in secret and let them know I was okay.

  The pregnancy news changed everything.

  I’m sure it’s written somewhere that someone as broken and full of hatred as me shouldn’t become a mother.

  However, when the doctor suggested abortion, I almost kicked her in the face. There’s no freaking way I’d kill my own flesh and blood. I love the child already. He or she calls for a deep instinct in me. Something primal and inexplicable.

  I don’t really remember my mum. I remember the need to avenge her. I remember her dead eyes and a weird thing she had for humming and talking to pictures. Strangely, I don’t remember her warmth or her love for me.

  In part, I hate the child version of myself for burying all good memories and just recalling the need to avenge her But maybe that’s part of why I want to be a mother with everything in me.

  I’ve been counting days until I meet this baby.

  But to keep them safe, I need to give up on my revenge – for now.

  I also have to protect him or her from Shadow so their lives wouldn’t be a replica of mine.

  My head leans against the bathroom’s wall while the cool water pounds down on me.

  If only those overcast eyes would leave me alone. I replayed our last encounter a million times.

  Maybe I was too harsh. Maybe I shouldn’t have called him all those names. Maybe he shouldn’t have slit someone’s throat and took a blood bath in front of me.

  It’s pointless to ponder on it.

  Shadow is gone from my life just like he’s supposed to.

  I shut off the water and wrap my torso in a towel. Once I’m in the bedroom, I wear my jeans and a light sweater. The house is cosy and what I’d call a villager’s dream. The wood creaks at places, but the stony built is solid.

  Two medium-sized sofas decorate the lounge area that overlooks the kitchen. The grey hue of early morning hours spills from the small window covered by orange curtains.

  I turn on the coffee machine that Lisbeth, the town’s florist, gave me as thanks for volunteering in the shelter. She said it’s a Christmas present from her son, but she doesn’t like or understand the thing.

  No idea how Ghost and Mist got a house like this, but I’m beyond thankful. It’s the perfect escape.

  Once the coffee is ready, I pour it in a mug and step outside.

  Fresh air penetrates my nostrils, and I breathe it in with a sigh. I stand on the porch overlooking the flowers’ field. Hundreds of bright tulips cover the land in a symphony of colours. A few spring bulbs peek here and there. Violet and orange hues fill the sky in the distance as the sun rises.

  It’s my favourite time of the day. The world is silent and it’s only me and nature. I sip my coffee on the porch, then I wear my apron, gloves, and go into the fields.

  I’ve been making a decent living by selling these exquisite flowers to the florist in town. Thank God I don’t have to pay rent or I would’ve been thrown in the streets.

  Birds’ chirps welcome the day from above even though the sky is starting to get gloomy. Every time there’s an overcast sky, I can’t help but remember those eyes. He’s always been as flippant as the weather.

  Seriously, where’s that ‘time heals everything’ when I need it? Shadow can’t keep popping in my head all day, every day. But again, I should know more than anyone that time can’t heal everything.

  I focus on cultivating tulips with careful, steady hands. As much as I love doing this and volunteering at the shelter, this can’t be a permanent stay for me.

  There has to be somewhere safer where I can raise my child. I can’t go back to the forces. Part of the deal with Mist and Ghost was that they’d stage my death.

  One: because their leader – whoever that is – needs proof that Ghost killed the traitor.

  Two: so the police lets my case rest.

  Three: because of Shadow. If he thinks I’m alive, he’ll go to all lengths to find me and that includes putting Liam and Elle’s lives in danger. If he thinks I’m dead, he won’t approach them.

  A slash of grief grips me when I think of my surrogate family. I even lost the bracelet she gave me during that atrocious day. I don’t want Liam and Elle to think I’m dead, but if
it’s to protect them from Shadow, I’ll do anything. Ghost agreed to keep my death news as a last resort, so I’m hoping he sticks to his part of the deal.

  “This mobster business is nothing compared to the world we came from.” Mist told me that day when I insisted on knowing what they really are. “We’re killers for hire. Murder is all that we know. I like your bravery, Zoe, and I don’t want you to end up as collateral damage. If you want to protect yourself, stay away from people like us.”

  I know Mist is no-nonsense but hearing those facts crushed the truth home. In all those years, Shadow has been separated from Nonna, he’s been turned into a killer.

  At times, I wonder how that feels and if any of them had a say in it. Mist, Ghost, and Shadow seem so assertive about what they are. They’re ruthless, calculative people who fit the cold-blooded image. But are they heartless? Perhaps.

  But perhaps they aren’t. Perhaps deep down, there’s another side to the story.

  Not that I should care. Damn me.

  I carry a basket of newly-cultivated tulips and place it in the front of my bicycle. After removing my working clothes, I climb and hit the long road. Trees decorate the distance. The house is a bit isolated from the town, but a good twenty minutes ride on the bicycle every morning is brilliant.

  Mr and Mrs George, the owners of the florist shop, greet me with huge northerner smiles.

  They’re both big and look so healthy for a couple in their sixties. Then again, most people in York aren’t stress-bitten and their life rates are undoubtedly higher than us in the South.

  Mark takes my basket, nodding in approval about my picks. After he hands the flowers to his wife, Lisbeth, he asks. “Fancy a cuppa?”

  I plop my elbows on the counter, grinning. “I had my coffee, but you know me, I can’t say no to more.”

  Mark pauses arranging a set of beautiful blueberries to narrow his cobalt blue eyes on me. “I said a cuppa. That means tea, lass.”

  “I want coffee.”

  “Are you even English? You’re probably one of those French who infiltrated us after the war.”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Mark.” Lisbeth shakes her head before disappearing behind a door to the right.

  I place a hand over my heart and feign gasping. “I haven’t thought about that but maybe I am.”

  He huffs. “Bloody French.”

  “Bloody Brits. No, that’s not it.” I adopt my funniest French and gesticulate wildly. “Pfft. Les Anglais!!”

  Mark guffaws and his belly moves with the deep-throated laughter. I can’t help but laugh along.

  These simple, warm-hearted exchanges are what keep me afloat since that day I walked out of Le Salon and never looked back.

  Lisbeth returns with a large mug filled with coffee that smells like home. Their entire shop oozes a homey feel. Framed pictures of their children are plastered all over the walls. One is a pilot. Another is a teacher — the one I should thank for the coffee machine. The third is a simple farmer. Mark and Lisbeth are proud of all of them. They never talk about one without mentioning the other.

  What would it feel like if I were raised in a normal family with normal parents like Lisbeth and Mark? I wouldn’t be a shameful existence. I would even have a successful career. A family. I could bring a coffee machine to my mother at Christmas and she can give it to the southerner girl.

  Stop dreaming, Zoe.

  “Will you read to the children today?” Lisbeth asks in a thick northern accent.

  “Of course.” I take a sip of coffee. Homemade. Yummy. “I’ve been debating on which story to read.”

  “You southerners always overthink things.” She grins. “Live your life and forget about choices.”

  If only it was that easy.

  I smile back at Lisbeth. I don’t know if it’s because of the wrinkles or the short, whitening hair, but she reminds me so much of Nonna. The only light in Shadow’s darkness. I often wonder how she’s doing. I didn’t get to say goodbye, but I wish I saw her one last time on that day everything went to hell.

  After an easy chat with Mark and Lisbeth, I thank them for the coffee and do my usual grocery shopping in town. I find super cute girls’ dresses and I can’t help but fall in love.

  I hope I have a baby girl.

  Unable to resist, I buy the dress and yellow shoes with adorable little bunnies. I’m grinning like an idiot as I climb the stairs to the house.

  New life. Just me and my baby.

  “Good morning, Zoe.”

  I freeze mid-step. The grocery bag drops from my hand and hits the wooden floor with a clank.

  The source of the voice stands at the corner of my porch.

  Ghost.

  He’s wearing one of his usual suits and his posture is straight but not uptight. A hint of exhaustion appears in the lines of his face. There’s something different about him, though. It’s his eyes. They used to be calculative and mysterious, but now, the dark brows seem as if they’re sad?

  That doesn’t make any sense. Ghost is basically the leader of Le Salon. I often heard his name floating around, but I never thought that Julian and Ghost were the same person until he told me.

  We agreed to cut off all contact then. The fact that he’s standing on my house — his house’s — porch, is concerning, to say the least.

  Maybe he’s here on Shadow’s behalf. He’s his friend after all. Another jolting thought hits me.

  Did Ghost come with Shadow to take me?

  My gaze shifts sideways as I step back.

  I don’t know why I expect the devil to come out and snatch me to the darkness. My heart is thundering like it’s about to burst open, but to my horror, it isn’t all because of dread. A warm burst of anticipation fills me to the core.

  “He’s not here,” Ghost says as if reading my mind. “I gave you my word.”

  I eye him peculiarly, still not trusting why he showed up.

  He reaches for the grocery bag lying on the floor. I snatch and hold it close to my chest. “Is there something you want?”

  My tone isn’t supposed to be biting. I shouldn’t provoke Ghost. What if he’s here to kick me out of this house? I still didn’t form a clear course of action about where to go from here.

  “Elle is coming over.”

  I stare at him, my stance widening. I don’t care if he’s Ghost or a killer or whatever. “What have you done to her?”

  His lips twitch in what resembles a sad smile. I frown. That’s the first time he showed a hint of a smile. “The real question would be: what has she done? You should be proud of her courage. She infiltrated us in search of you.”

  My heart nearly falls to the floor. That idiot. That damn idiot. I should’ve known she wouldn’t stay put in case of my disappearance, but I trusted that Liam would keep her safe. Why the hell would he allow her to infiltrate a place like Le Salon?

  Knowing Elle, she probably didn’t listen to Liam like I didn’t.

  My voice is pleading as I implore whatever shard of mercy Ghost has. “She’s too brave for her own good. I promise to knock some sense into her. Please don’t hurt her.”

  He’s silent for long seconds. I hold my breath for the same time, and that’s when I see what I missed earlier. Ghost is… heartbroken. I relate because even though I’ve been trying to get to terms with my situation, that’s how I feel since the day I left Shadow and his maze.

  “I have no intention of hurting her.” His words are confident, refuting any type of doubt. “I wanted to let you know she’s on her way here with Mist. She doesn’t know the destination, so if you like me to tell Mist to change direction, now is the time to tell me.”

  I shake my head. “She can come.”

  There’s no way in hell I’ll trust them with my sister’s life. Besides, I miss her so much. I can’t believe Elle went through infiltrating that world for me. That fool. I’m going to smack her for that — after I hug her to death.

  “Very well.” Ghost nods and starts to leave.

 
“And…” I call after him which causes him to stop and slowly turn to face me. The lump in my throat doesn’t disappear no matter how much I swallow it. “Did Shadow know I died?”

  “He almost killed me for it.” Ghost’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “He also knows you staged your death, so he’ll try to come for you. You have my number. Call if you need anything.”

  Shadow is coming for me.

  I don’t know whether to feel excited or be scared out of my mind.

  Or both.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elle was never a hugger. She hated it with passion and I loved annoying her about it.

  So when she runs into my arms, I’m overwhelmed with surprise and other undecipherable emotions. I didn’t know I needed this until her arms wrapped around me.

  I hug her back and tears stream down my cheeks. I missed her. I missed our little, albeit imperfect life.

  The reality hits me fast and hard. What did I leave my life for? Revenge? President Joe continues breathing and laughing while I’m hauled in a town in the middle of nowhere.

  Elle’s shoulders shake and I realise she’s crying, too. Rage Ball never cries, not since her mum taught her that crying is for weaklings. I sob into her embrace for what seems like forever. I can’t believe I got her into this whole mess, too.

  “Hey… um…” Mist trudges beside us on the porch with a flustered expression. “Don’t cry.”

  Elle and I cry harder until Mist fidgets. The badass madam of Le Salon actually fidgets. I knew she didn’t like the girls being hurt, but I never thought it bothered her this much.

  “If you stop crying…” Mist trails off until both of us look at her. “I’ll punch them for you or better yet, I’ll break their dominant arms so they’re useless.”

  I smile despite the snot and tears streaming down my cheeks. If there’s anyone capable of doing that then it’s Mist.

  Elle scowls. “Don’t do it.”

  I stare at her through a blurred vision as she wipes her eyes. Mist said ‘they’, not Shadow. Just how did Elle implicate herself in Le Salon?

  Mist glances from me to Elle, seeming as if she wants to bolt. “I have to go, but I’ll be back. Are you going to be okay?”