Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  His eyes swept my face, landing for a long moment on my lips before he turned slightly to the side. “Rasheed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Give us a minute.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  “Come on, Kid.” Rasheed bounced the baby in his arms. “Let’s go play in the next room. Where’s your maraca?”

  “Raca,” Reid babbled.

  A moment later, they were gone.

  The door thudded shut, sealing us in.

  Heat prickled the back of my neck. Exactly the opposite of what I wanted had just happened.

  Boss and I were left alone.

  The air thickened. I couldn’t walk, either to leave his presence or draw closer. We were stuck in a sort of limbo, staggering closer to the edge of a precarious cliff. I sensed even more danger waited beyond.

  For a moment, Boss just watched me and then, without a word, he spun and strode to a shelf. His movements were sure and steady. I watched the imprint of his back muscles, slightly visible beneath his snug-fitting shirt, pull and contract as he reached for a white box.

  “Sit,” he said.

  I held my ground.

  His eyes flicked up and, in that moment, I could have peed myself. There was just so much… power in his words, in his gaze. Though I was resisting, my fear would soon outweigh my pride.

  He ducked, revealing his stunning profile to me. “You’re scared.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You can leave.” He tipped his chin ever so slightly toward the desk. “After.”

  I swallowed. Annoyance mounted in my chest. At him. At me. At these stupid feelings that made his every word echo with power and authority.

  “Look, I don’t know you. I don’t have to listen to you.”

  He bobbed his head. “True.”

  “So…” I blinked rapidly. The last thing I’d expected was for him to agree. “Goodbye.”

  Feeling proud of myself, I nodded and started heading for the door. Before I took three steps, Boss appeared in front of me. Another second and my feet were whisked off the ground.

  I gasped when my shoulders rammed against his chest. My hands automatically gravitated to his neck to keep my balance. Soft hair bent beneath my shaking hands. A fragrance, clean and manly, wafted over me.

  His fingers gently dug into the cavern beneath my knees. “My name is Deacon,” he said. Warm breath hit my cheek. I froze, too shocked to get angry or afraid. He turned his head away and walked to the desk. “I’m thirty-three years old.”

  My brain computed his words while my body vibrated with electricity from where his skin touched mine.

  Never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined a moment like this.

  “The first time I learned that life wasn’t fair was the day I lost my mother to cancer,” he said.

  My heart panged.

  Sympathy stirred in my chest.

  Boss—no, Deacon set me on the desk. “My first love was a beautiful girl I met while stationed in Hawaii. She cheated on me with my best friend. They’re married now. They named their first son after me.”

  I gasped. “That’s terrible.”

  He took a wet wipe from a container. “The day Reid was born, I made a promise to him. That I’d be there for him, the way my dad never was for me.”

  Something cold touched my skin. I glanced down and realized Deacon’s hands were on my leg and he was moving the wet wipe to brush away the sand.

  I jerked back. “What are you doing?”

  “You said you had to leave because you don’t know me.” He looked up, eyes sober. “Now you know me more than anyone else.”

  “That’s… I mean…”

  “Hold still.” His hand moved up my thigh.

  I dug my fingernails into the desk as my body buzzed. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to clean the area before applying the medicine.”

  I swatted at the wipe. “Let me do it.”

  “I thought you weren’t afraid?” he said, ignoring me and continuing his task. “Is there something else about me you’d like to know?”

  “Are you a perv?” I blurted.

  He froze.

  I licked my lips. “Do you always bring women into your office and play doctor? Is that your thing? Or am I your first hostage?”

  Deacon straightened slowly.

  My heart skittered out of time. I eased back when he leaned into my personal space, his eyes glued to mine. Fingernails desperately scraping the underside of the desk, I struggled to breathe.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  Knots tightened my throat. “Angel.”

  “Angel,” he hummed, pressing his lips together like a wine taster who’d sampled the most exquisite bottle in the world.

  Nerves a mess, I hiccupped.

  His eyes zipped to mine and a slow, devastating smile threatened to end me. “Do you want to be my hostage, Angel?”

  By this time, my chest was swelling and falling visibly.

  I had to get out. Had to leave before I lost even more of myself to this dangerous tension. Whatever… this was, it was too powerful to be good. Too consuming to lead to happiness.

  Life had a habit of tearing control from my fingers. Daddy’s illness. Mom’s depression. So little went my way. If I stuck around Boss for one more moment, I’d lose yet another tiny piece of my control.

  He would take it from me.

  And not by force. I knew, like my next, shaken breath, that most would offer anything he demanded. Because men like Deacon had never asked for anything twice. And women rarely denied him.

  Get a grip, Angel.

  This guy had a huge ego. Handsome or no, he needed to be brought down a peg.

  And I was just the woman to do it.

  5

  Deacon

  She watched me intently, nostrils flaring. I could sense her surprise, her righteous anger. Fear made her lips tremble. Pride kept her seated. This woman would not run away, not before she felt she had bested me.

  I liked that.

  Liked her.

  Angel.

  The name fit her so perfectly I wanted to utter it again. Wanted to see the little muscles in her jaw bunch and jump when I did. Wanted her eyes to sharpen and her knuckles to tighten as she gripped the desk.

  To say I’d never felt this way about a woman before would be an understatement. The strength of my feelings, the mounting clamor of my interest, should not be.

  Yet it was.

  I was reminded of the day I held Reid for the first time. Emotions had crashed over me, a mighty wave against a cold and bitter statue. I’d crumbled immediately.

  But Reid was my flesh and blood. Half my DNA. My blood ran through his little veins.

  And this stubborn, beautiful, stunning woman… was a stranger.

  She swallowed audibly and shifted her tempting leg away. “Is that how you repay the woman who saved your son? With threats?”

  “It’s not a threat.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “An invitation,” I answered.

  Her chin lifted another notch. She met my eyes. “Does this little routine work for you?” She waved slender hands and answered herself. “I’m sure it does. Women must eat this stuff up.”

  “I don’t know.” I crouched down and slightly nudged her legs open so I could see the scrape on her thigh. “You’d be the first.”

  She closed her legs and breathlessly scolded, “This is inappropriate.”

  “Why?” I looked up.

  She frowned at me. “Because…”

  “You still don’t know me?” I rested a hand on my knee. “I told you who I am.” Or at least some of it. “Unless,” I allowed the smirk hovering on my lips to grow, “you’re uncomfortable because you’re attracted to me.”

  She coughed, a flush stealing beneath her brown cheeks. “That is so far off.”

  “Good.” I gestured to her legs.

  She glared at me, the kind of stare that—had she
some supernatural ability to shoot lasers from her eyes—would have turned me into human barbeque. After a moment, she slowly opened her legs.

  I trained my eyes on the cut and away from where that delicate little line of pain pointed. My body stirred and a flame burst to life deep in my belly despite my intentions.

  Down, Deacon.

  The tenuous trust between us would be broken if I acted rashly. Touching her earlier had produced an unwitting amount of desire. Being near her, even now, my resolve to be a gentleman was shaken.

  Putting my mouth where it did not belong was not an option. I needed to focus before I tainted this beautiful angel with my darkness.

  “Happy?” Angel grumbled.

  “Come to the edge of the desk,” I said, beckoning with two fingers.

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  “Only to those who are stubborn.”

  “Well, it’s annoying.”

  “I can see that.” I took her leg and mumbled, “Your face hides nothing.”

  She cupped her cheeks in her hands. “I heard I have a great poker face.”

  I paused. “You play poker?”

  “No.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I play UNO.”

  “UNO? Why would you need a poker face in UNO?”

  “That question alone tells me you’re not playing the game properly.”

  I took the bottle of peroxide and held it up. “This will sting.”

  She nodded.

  I poured the liquid over her thigh. It rolled down her legs to her ankles. I sopped up her skin with a towel, noticing the way Angel stiffened. She didn’t make a sound, but she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

  While she wasn’t looking, I let my gaze greedily sweep her body. Toenails, painted a soft blue shade. Prim brown toes. Slim ankles. Scooped calves. Thighs that begged to be touched, petted, wrapped around my neck.

  Her eyes shot open.

  I averted my gaze, guilt stealing into my chest.

  So much for being a gentleman.

  Angel squirmed. “Almost done?”

  I found the cap for the peroxide, closed it and then reached for the antibiotic cream. “Almost.”

  My left hand held her leg steady while I traced the cut with cream. Slowly. Tenderly. I didn’t want to hurt her.

  Still, she shuddered and hissed—under her breath—but I heard.

  I paused, my fingers lingering on her thigh. “Are you hurt?”

  “Could you…” she squirmed, a discomfited look on her face, “hurry it up?”

  I did.

  As soon as I’d finished, Angel jumped off the desk and turned back to look on the surface.

  She gasped.

  I stepped forward to see what was wrong.

  “Stay back!” She whirled around.

  I paused.

  Angel frantically grabbed a wet wipe and started swiping the desk. I saw the trail of sand littered amongst my documents. The tan particles clung to the plump behind straining against her bathing suit.

  She’d probably gotten dirty when she’d thrown herself over Reid to protect him.

  The reminder of what she’d done for my son flashed in my mind. Angel had saved Reid’s life and, for that, I owed her mine.

  “Enough.” I snatched her hand. My calloused fingers rasped against her smooth skin. She froze, horror ballooning her cheeks.

  It was then I realized that she was, undeniably, terrified.

  Should I lay her out on the desk and give that pretty mouth something to truly gasp at?

  No, satisfying my need with an unwilling partner was not my style.

  As much as Angel captured me, it seemed… I could not overcome her distrust. The disappointment stung as much as the peroxide had her cut.

  “I should go.”

  “Already?” The eager word escaped before I could slather it in a coat of disinterest.

  She avoided my gaze. “My friends are waiting.

  “Are you staying at a hotel?”

  She shied away from me. “No. We’re leaving. Today.”

  The disappointment that rolled through my gut stole my breath. I didn’t want her to disappear just yet.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “They’re close by.”

  “Then we’ll walk.” I escorted her to the door. “It’s the least Reid and I can do.”

  At the mention of Reid’s name, she seemed to relax.

  I was thankful for any excuse to linger by her side, even if it meant using my son to accomplish that goal.

  Angel eagerly ran for the door and wrenched it open.

  The moment we left my office, I looked for Reid. He sat on a table, beating a pot and pan with his maraca. Rasheed sang the lyrics of a popular reggae song to the off-tempo beat.

  I cleared my throat.

  His singing faltered. “Boss.”

  “Nice rendition,” Angel said, grinning at him.

  I scowled. What had Rasheed done to earn that sweet smile? I was the one who’d taken care of her injuries and all I’d received were glares and mistrust.

  “You know that song?” Rasheed asked in an earnest, friendly voice.

  “I love that song.”

  Reid banged his maraca against the table.

  Rasheed laughed. “Guess he likes it too.”

  I strode forward and held my arms out to Reid. He came willingly. I turned to Rasheed. “We’re going for a walk. Angel needs to return to her friends.”

  “It was nice meeting you.” Angel batted her eyelashes. “Sorry about earlier.”

  A sloppy grin on his face, Rasheed laughed. “No problem.”

  I stepped between them, my voice a hard bark. “Let’s get going.”

  “Bye.” Angel waved.

  I held the door open and followed her into the warm sunshine.

  San Pedro bustled with life. The setting sun cast a blood red tinge on the sand. Coconut trees towered overhead. In the far distance, steel pan music danced in the air. The music sounded like a gathering of fairies, delicate and bright.

  Reid babbled happily, pointing to a stray dog that was sniffing garbage outside a nearby restaurant. “Doggie?”

  “Yes. Doggie.” I patted his back and glanced over at Angel. She was watching Reid with a thoughtful expression.

  I debated drawing her into a conversation when, from the corner of my eye, I saw something hurtling toward us. Acting on instinct, I gripped Reid tighter and grabbed Angel by the shoulders. I pulled her toward me, accepting the impact of her body as it slammed into my chest. Together, we spun off the sidewalk and toward one of the shops.

  My knee hit a plastic chair situated around the outdoor patio. The legs scraped the concrete and moaned pathetically.

  A gust of wind flew past me. A biker pedaling at top speed. If Angel had been in that spot for one more second…

  “What was that?” Angel asked, dark hair in her frantic eyes.

  “I don’t know.” Whipping my head back, I glared at the cyclist. Fury swept through my chest. I kept Angel against me and studied the man who’d almost knocked her down.

  Instead of using his sense and biking away, the assailant skidded to a stop.

  “What the hell?” I murmured.

  Reid laughed as if it was all a game.

  “Wait, I know that guy,” Angel said, her head popping up from my shoulder.

  “You do?”

  “He’s the one I accidentally knocked over when I was trying to help Reid today.” She worriedly ran a hand over her mouth.

  The man climbed off his bike, his face puffy and red. He stomped toward us.

  Angel cowered.

  “Hey,” I touched her face, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. Her cheek was soft to the touch. “Look at me.”

  She did.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.” I held her gaze until I saw a flicker of understanding rise in them.

  She nodded.

  “Hold Reid and stay here.” I handed my son over. He latched o
nto Angel as if they were old friends.

  “Wait.” Angel slipped her hand into mine.

  I froze, my body seizing as I looked from her hand to her face. Her eyes were filled with concern.

  Concern for me.

  My lips curled up. There was no more fear. It was gone.

  I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and winked. “I’ll be right back.”

  6

  Deacon

  I turned away from Angel and Reid. Shook my hands out at my sides to loosen the muscles. Familiar tightness crept into my chest and spread through every nerve and vessel.

  Someone was about to die.

  Mentally paging through the methods at my disposal, I bemoaned the fact that I hadn’t brought a weapon.

  We kept a handgun back at the shop. Licensed. For safety purposes.

  Or so I told the government.

  I’d considered packing it in my suitcase for the trip, but I could not. The organization preferred to fly under the radar and, thus, employees did not travel with guns. Weapons of choice were arranged beforehand and delivered upon location.

  It was best this way. To avoid detection, guns were purchased locally and discarded as soon as the target was exterminated. We disappeared into the night without leaving a trace.

  My fingers twitched as if my revolver had magically appeared by my side. Guns were easy, quiet and clean. A quick turn of the silencer and life seeped away with little fanfare.

  But I didn’t need a weapon to achieve the needed results.

  Depending on how stupid this man was, I’d decide if I would go for the pressure point and end it quickly or beat him until he stopped breathing.

  The second option was messy, risky. San Pedro was well populated. Tourists strolled leisurely at all hours of the day and night. Perhaps I would beat him enough to get the point across and leave it there.

  Such thoughts stampeded through my head in the half-a-minute it took to approach him.

  My gaze slid over the man’s slim, shuddering frame. He had sickly white skin, the kind that did not take well to the harsh Caribbean sunshine. Rashes spread over his hands and neck. Dull blue eyes stared past me with an almost crazed sheen.

  “Move out of my way,” he hissed.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Who the hell are you?”