Initially, I wasn’t going to go to Pat’s funeral. I didn’t know if I could bear the sight of him in a box, and I knew that everyone there knew my connection with Pat. I was afraid that his grieving family and friends would try to place blame on me.
Instead, everyone I spoke with was very kind. I got the chance to console Pat’s wife and daughter and they thanked me for being such a good friend to Pat. They understood the nature of our work and they knew exactly what Pat was getting himself into. I guess he told his wife that this was the biggest story he’d ever be a part of. He wanted to leave a legacy for all other reporters to strive to achieve, and I’d say he accomplished that.
After the funeral, I drove Bryce to Lilian’s house. She had invited us over for supper, as one big family. I politely declined, feeling like the odd person out, but she insisted. I held his hand the whole way there, just thinking about how the past week had felt like a dream.
When Bryce and I were alone in his hospital room, we’d stay up late talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. He talked about finding a way to further his career so he could make more money. He wanted to spend as much time with Arianna as possible and work on getting partial custody of her one day.
I was already pleased with where my career was, but I needed more to my life than just work. I wanted a family one day. I wanted to have a stable and loving relationship with someone. He expressed his desire for the same.
But, leave it to two emotionally damaged people to beat around the bush. It was clear that we were both in love with each other, but neither of us could explicitly state that we wanted to enter a committed relationship. It wasn’t until he was discharged from the hospital that he asked me to be his girlfriend.
After he got the all-clear to leave the hospital, I took Bryce to my house so I could look after him. Lilian had enough on her plate and I wasn’t sure if Bryce should be alone. Besides, I really wanted him close to me.
The first night home, we were cuddling on the couch when he finally turned to me and asked me if I wanted to date him. I gave him an enthusiastic “yes” and kissed him hard on the mouth. I forgot all about his badly broken nose and nearly started crying when I saw how much pain I caused him.
“I guess I deserve that,” he said. “We’re even now,” he joked. “No more beating each other up.”
The next few days, I was afraid to touch him, besides gentle pecks on the lips and to clean his wounds. He didn’t want to use the medications prescribed to him, so he was in quite a bit of pain. I tried to distract him with good food and conversation as much as I could. He seemed pretty happy, so I could relax a bit.
Having him around to hang out with while he recovered was great, but there was something missing. It was hard to listen to his sarcastic jokes, or have him stroke my hair, or even just look at him without wanting to jump on top of him. I craved intimacy with him so badly. I had emotional intimacy with him, but I wanted the physical relationship too.
One night as we were lying in bed, I couldn’t help but check him out. I loved the way his hard muscles showed through his clothes. The swelling had gone down in his face, and I wanted to take his perfectly square jaw line into my hands and kiss him like I’d never kissed him before.
Overwhelmed with desire, I rolled over to the opposite side of the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hearing my dramatic sigh.
“I want to make love to you, but I’m afraid of hurting you.”
He laughed. “I’m not that fragile. If Tilucci and his thugs can’t kill me, I don’t think your loving will either.”
As we drove, I replayed that night in my head, eager to get him home so we could go at it again.
“Oh,” I said, out of the blue, “I was offered the anchor job again.”
“Congrats,” he said. “Are you going to take it?”
“I don’t know, Bryce,” I whined. “It just seems so boring.”
“It sounds like a big step up in your career. Besides, I think you’d find a way to keep things interesting. I think you should go for it.”
“All right,” I sighed. “I’ll ask for a meeting tomorrow.”
I gave his hand a squeeze. It would be a big change, but if I wanted the chance to go the distance with Bryce, I needed stability. It would be the best thing for the both of us.
When we got to Lilian’s house, she greeted us at the door with warm embraces. “I’m so glad you guys came,” she exclaimed. “Arianna’s been talking about you two all day.”
Arianna came running to the living room and gave both Bryce and me a hug. Bryce scooped her up with his uninjured side and carried her into the kitchen with us.
Lilian was so kind and generous and I completely understood why Bryce wanted her to raise Arianna in his stead. She talked non-stop throughout dinner on everything that Bryce missed out on in the past few years. I kept stealing glances at Bryce because it warmed my heart to see him look so happy.
After dinner, Arianna got ready for bed while the adults talked over a glass of wine.
“Bryce,” Lilian said, “I know we haven’t discussed it yet, but I have something for you.”
She handed him a manila envelope, thick with paper. He opened it and started reading the first page.”
“Are you sure?” he said. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“If you don’t want partial custody, then you don’t have to fill out the forms,” Lilian said. “I know that Arianna would be thrilled to have you around more, and you absolutely should have the right to play a bigger role in her life. I think you have enough safety and stability in your life to take that on, but only if you want to.”
Bryce looked to me and I gave a nod of approval. I was certain that he’d be a great father.
“Thank you, Lilian. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for such a long time.”
Bryce turned to me and took my hand in his. “Are you willing to be part of my little, dysfunctional family?”
I grinned. “I would love nothing more.”
Lilian clapped her hands once and stood up from her chair. “Do you want to tell her the good news?”
Bryce and I walked into her bedroom hand in hand and sat down at the foot of her bed.
“Hi, sweetie,” he said, tucking her into bed. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure,” she said sweetly.
“I’ve been talking with Aunt Lilian, and we’ve decided that you can come live with me some of the time. Only if you want to, though.”
“Yeah!” she cheered. “Is Jane going to be there too?”
“I think so,” he responded. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yeah, I want that,” she said.
“Good,” he said. “Go to sleep, and we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
He knelt and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Arianna.”
She kissed him back. “Goodnight, Dad.”
Bryce put his arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the head as we shut her bedroom door behind us. I had never been more thrilled for my future as I was in that moment. I was excited for a lifetime of companionship with the man who managed to make me feel safe.
Check out the other books in the Mafia Romance series!
Book 1-Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance
Book 2-Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Book 3-Deadly Ink: A Dark Mafia Romance
Lethal Seduction
A CIA Romantic Suspense
Roxy Sinclaire
Copyright © 2017 by Roxy Sinclaire
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Natasha Snow Designs
Edited by Valorie Clifton
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to per
sons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
Prologue
The war in Kosovo lasted a little over a year and was finally starting to wind its way to a grisly end. War was never pretty, usually bloody. He had been hand-picked as part of a team by the UN to act as ‘peacekeepers’, despite the fact he was still young and had barely served a year as a Marine. His team was in the middle of wrapping up all the loose ends to put a stop to the bloodshed and get the country back to rights once again.
They were at the house of one of the wealthiest families, the Borjans, who stood to gain the most in the civil war if things went their way. Each soldier had an exit and window covered, waiting for the all’s clear from the watcher in the air.
A signal whispered in his headset and he went in. The lock was easily busted, and he cleared the dining room window then the room itself. Echoes of breaking glass surrounded him as the others followed the order. His M16 led the way, taking out anyone who wasn’t a part of the team. He heard the suppressed gunfire of his brothers in arms in other parts of the house. So far, the detail had been easy. If there was resistance, the quieted rattle of their M16s ended it quickly. This was easier than he first thought it would be.
He found the kitchen. At first glance, it appeared empty. He wouldn’t be the Marine that he was if he didn’t check it thoroughly. He had checked each corner and the small alcove that held a wood-burning stove until a noise got his attention. He wasn’t alone, he felt it in his gut, and he turned toward the sound, clicking on the little flashlight to catch his prey in his crosshairs.
Big blue eyes caught his, round cheeks were reddened, and it was clear that fear had caused tears to stain those cheeks. The girl couldn’t have been very old, maybe twelve at most, and she stood frozen as she waited for him to hand her her fate. She waited to die.
He hadn’t killed a child before, much less a little girl. The idea was a sickening feeling, like lead in his gut, and he hesitated. It was his duty, but here he was second-guessing himself. The girl must have sensed it, his hesitation and indecision. She held up one little hand and brought the other to her little bow of a mouth, holding a single finger to her lips.
There was a cry from upstairs, a call to arms to the others in the house to attack, and an angry voice interrupted his line of thought as it bled through his headset. Gunfire erupted in retaliation.
He looked away for a hot second, but when he turned back to do his duty, do what he was trained to do, she was gone. The girl ran. He should go after her. He had a job that said everyone in the house was supposed to die. But that lead feeling in his gut made him resist his better judgement. He turned to clear the rest of the kitchen and go back to clearing the house. He couldn’t chase down a kid to kill her. Where were the morals in that?
After it was all said and done, mission completed, he found himself wondering if he should report the girl who got away, the only one who had been in the house that wasn’t dead on the floor. As the sergeant made his rounds for reports and debriefing, he found the words dying in his throat. He would keep the girl to himself. She would stay his secret. The sight of her big round eyes would be something that he would take with him. They would haunt him.
“Good job, Summers,” was gruffly given as they began to pack up and board the helicopter that would take them back to base. He was young, not fresh from boot camp, but still young enough to have the ordeal make an impression on him through the remainder of his career. War wasn’t something a man could easily forget.
He hoped he would never have to face a child at the end of his rifle again.
Chapter 1
Kosovo had led to a long string of jobs and missions with the military that led to a long list of lives ended by either his rifle or his knife. He’d gotten over the hesitation and trepidation he felt at nineteen. The government had trained him to be a deadly killing machine and used him for just that.
He thought for the longest time that he would die as a jarhead, like the majority of Marines did, until he found that the bureaucracy of it all seemed too much. He couldn’t take the belittlement, the cut budgets, and the shrugged shoulders when they were short on shit and would have to do without. You should never question whether you could pay the man who fought your battles for you.
It was after a tour in Iraq, the big sandbox, that he decided to finish his military career. So much for twenty years and retirement pay. He didn’t need the pomp and circumstance that went with getting out either, but you don’t serve for nearly fifteen years and not get some attention. He was just ready to end his career and try to figure out just what to do as a civilian. Where would he go from here?
Only he didn’t get the opportunity to consider civilian life. He had been approached just as he had walked out the door of his retirement ceremony by a man he would soon call boss and even friend. “Corporal Scott Summers.” He was dark-haired and sported a beard that would make any enlisted man envious. He looked forward to not having to shave unless he wanted to maintain a clean-cut look.
“Charlie Austin.” He offered a hand with his introduction. “I have been waiting for you to call it quits with the Marines for a good long while. I’ve been keeping an eye on you and all that you’ve done. It’s impressive. Have you considered what you intend to do now that you’re out?”
He shrugged, fidgeting with his cover as he considered the other man. They had a similar build, two men who worked hard to be strong and be able to overpower an enemy, to be deadly.
“The thought hadn’t really occurred to me, to be honest. I figured I had the time under my belt with retirement that I should be able to figure that out. Maybe go to school and get a job.”
“That’s an idea.” He gave Scott a friendly smile, though there was something decidedly dangerous about it. “Or you could put the skills you learned from the Marines and in combat zones to good use.” He pulled out a card and offered it to him. “I can’t offer you a fancy rank or medals or recognition to write home about, but I can promise to keep your skills sharp and your knife sharper.”
“Do I get to keep my M16?” It had been something that had stayed in his bed with him for so long that he wasn’t ready to give up the rifle. It wasn’t like a lover, but it was close. His rifle was more like a reassurance that he would be waking up in the morning. Anyone dumb enough to try to off him in his sleep would regret it.
“No.” Austin didn’t turn away or offer any sort of crap explanation. If anything, his dangerous smile turned into a deadly grin. “I can offer you better guns, though.”
“You have my attention, sir.”
That meeting with Charlie Austin had led him into a career with the CIA, working for a department that didn’t exist. The job was similar to that he led as a Marine, though it was simplified to a point that he hadn’t regretted the decision of blindly taking Austin up on the job offer. If anything, the job was freeing. His duties were to keep himself the deadly killing machine the Marines had created. He traveled without hindrance of the bureaucracy, no orders and no staff sergeant breathing down his neck.
He was given a card with a fake name, a phone, as well as a throwaway email address where he would receive all of his orders through. He would receive the name, location, and picture of his target and he would take care of said target. He was essentially a hired killer, a government hit man. Something that paid handsomely and gave him the opportunity to live a lifestyle he wanted, though he chose the safest route of being in the background versus flaunting the money he made with extravagance.
Living as a Marine for so long taught him to live with just the necessities. It was something he hadn’t let go of. You didn’t work for the government for so long and not pick up on some things. He considered his less than extravagant lifestyle a means that kept him alive this long.
Honestly, he didn’t care. He would let her sleep, even though he had laid down enough money to pay for the entire night. He went to the small table where his laptop sat and kept a careful eye on her. She didn’t stir. It had been a few weeks since his last job, and so far, he was on a mini-vacation in a little city outside Reno, where there was no shortage of easy prostitutes and it was a legal thing he could take advantage of.
He was living in a cheap motel, saving a buck so he could spend it on having a different woman in his bed each night. After a few weeks, he was starting to get antsy with being in one place for so long. It was time to get back to work. He needed something to do, something to distract him and keep him from getting bored.
As if Austin knew his predicament, there was an email sitting in his inbox. Feral excitement rushed through his veins, and he opened it without concern that it meant he was going to snuff out another life. This was work. Denver. It was a drive and it would be quicker if he took a flight, but he found himself wanting a little time on the road. He paused though. There was no attachment for a photo and a simple list for a description. The mark was female.
A sour taste developed in his mouth as he read over the limited details. He didn’t like killing women, though he would do it. Women weren’t often targets, but there was the occasional mark who would come up female for one reason or another. He didn’t question the distaste. He would do the job regardless of whether he liked it or not. It had been assigned to him.
Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 2) Page 19