The Hitman's Secret Love Child: Second Chance Romance

by Terry Towers

  She shrugged looking down at the ground between our feet.

  “Tina. I want the truth. Where’s your kid?”

  “At the apartment.” When a scowl formed on my lips she quickly added, “He’s sleeping. He’s okay.”

  I gave my head a shake. I had no idea what to do about her. She was hardly my responsibility and God knew my life would be a hell of a lot easier if I just minded my own business, but I couldn’t. Not when there was a child, alone, waiting for his drug-addict mother to come home.

  Reaching into the car I grabbed the envelope that contained the picture of me and Sidney and the head shot of her inside and then closed the car door, locked it, then stuffed the envelope into my inner jacket pocket. Grabbing Tina’s arm I pulled her behind me towards the apartment building.

  “Let go of me Elijah! I gotta work.”

  “You’re not working tonight, Tina. You’re going back to your apartment and caring for your kid.”

  She fought me, but I easily overpowered her. I somehow had to get her back into rehab, even if it meant turning to my last resort and having the authorities step in. I really didn’t need this right now, I had to plan my next job, but my conscience wouldn’t allow it. A hit man with a conscience, kind of a paradox wouldn’t ya say? But that’s how it was.

  I released her arm once we were in the elevator heading to the third floor.

  “I need to work the streets, I need the money, Elijah.”

  I looked down at her, my brow cocked. “For more heroin?”

  “Umm, no. No.” She mustn’t have had a hit for a while because I could see she was getting twitchy. “We need food. And I have to pay the power.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “I do Elijah.” She whined my name and I cringed. Fuck, I hated seeing people detoxing. I’d grown up seeing it and it brought back memories I wished to forget.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you and Chris starve or sit in the dark.”

  “Elijah, pleeeease.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the third floor. Taking her elbow in my hand I pulled her down the corridor. “Okay, I’ll be straight with you.”

  I was attempting to ignore her at this point.

  “Please. I just need one more hit. One more and then I’m done.”

  “Heard that before, honey.” We stopped at her door and I motioned for her to unlock it. “Come on.”

  She sighed, pulled the apartment key from her jean shorts pocket and unlocked the apartment door. I went in before her, knowing she’d follow along. “Christopher, buddy?” Immediately her kid came rushing from his bedroom.

  “Eli!” He couldn’t pronounce Elijah, so he always called me Eli. Grinning from ear to ear the child wearing a pair of stained Scooby Doo pajamas came running over to me. I picked him up and gave him a hug, keeping him secure in my arms. He smelt, I doubted he’d seen a bath in a week or more.

  “Hey buddy. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  I walked with him holding onto me into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets. Some coffee, leftover Chinese food, box of macaroni and not much else. What I did see was the bag that contained all of her drug use tools. I gave my head a shake, disgusted.

  “I told you. I need to buy us food,” Tina stated, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at me as I left the kitchen and entered the living room again.

  “This is what’s going to happen, Tina. I’m taking Chris with me and calling his grandmother. He’s going to his grandmother’s again and you’re going back to rehab.”

  Anger flared up in her eyes. “To hell I am! He’s not your kid, we’re none of your business!”

  I placed Chris back onto the floor and bent down to his level. “Okay buddy, you’re going to go into your room and pack your book bag with your stuff and coming over to my place for pizza!”

  The little boy’s face lit up with excitement. “Pizza! Yeah!” He literally bounced with excitement as he rushed away from me and into his room.

  Standing, I walked over to Tina. “Last chance, Tina. It’s rehab or jail.” Reaching into the pocket of my jacket I pulled out my mobile phone. “What’s it going to be?”

  “Please, Elijah. You can’t do this! I’ll do anything you want… Anything.” She sank to her knees and reached for my belt buckle. “I know you don’t have a girlfriend. I rarely see you with a woman. Maybe I, maybe we can –”

  Grabbing her elbow I pulled her roughly to her feet, rougher than I intended but she was seriously pissing me off. There was a reason why I didn’t date. There’s only one woman I wanted and her picture was stuffed into my jacket pocket. No one else would do. I’d tried. I’d tried so many times to get her out of my head, but I couldn’t. If I couldn’t have Sidney I didn’t want anyone.

  “I don’t want that.”

  “I’m clean, Elijah. No STDs, I promise. I was just checked last week. I’ll even show you the report the doctor gave me.”

  I rubbed my temple with my fingertips; a headache was beginning to form. I really, really, really didn’t need this shit tonight.

  “I’m ready!” Christopher came running for his room with a little backpack stuffed with toys.

  “You’re going to rehab and you’re going tonight. I can call the center or the cops. Your choice, Tina.” Our eyes locked and I could see her trying to figure a way out of the predicament she was in.

  She sighed. “Fine. But you’re a fucking asshole, you know that.”

  Sounds about right, I mused, scrolling through my contacts and pressing the number to the rehab. It was actually programmed into my phone, sadly we’ve been through this entire scenario more than once. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. This was a prime example, but I had to try something and it was really the only thing I could think of without involving the police. But on the other hand, I refused to let the child continue to live the life I’d led at his age. The whole situation was a moral dilemma for me.

  ~*~*~*~

  Sidney

  “God, it’s nice to get home,” I muttered under my breath.

  It had been a long month. Convention after convention, mixed with interviews, appearances and shooting part of the third season of “The Hunters.” The show was physically demanding and I tried to do as many of my own stunts as possible. I felt I owed it to the fans. I’d been told I’d grow out of that feeling; maybe they were right, but as for right now it’s what I preferred. But I’d finally caught a break and my last interview was cancelled so I got to come home a couple of days early. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on my boyfriend’s face when he saw me home early.

  Tossing the keys into the crystal candy dish by the front door, I immediately heard music coming from the pool area. Walking through the foyer I walked past the staircase that led to the second floor and headed for the back door that opened up into the pool area. A dip in the hot tub with my sexy man was exactly what I needed to unwind.

  Unzipping my jacket and pulling it off, I was tossing it onto a chair when I stopped dead in my tracks, my mouth turning into a large “O” of shock. The hot tub was occupied with my boyfriend and some woman straddling him. “What in the hell!”

  The couple froze and the woman immediately slid from his lap. As soon as she turned I gasped. It was the woman who was co-starring with him on his latest movie. I couldn’t even remember her name, she was some former model, now an up-and-coming actress.

  “Sidney!” Anthony stood up and raked a hand through his wet hair.

  My eyes dropped to his groin; his cock was rock hard and ready for action. My gaze then shifted to the woman, who appeared to also be naked.

  “You were going to fuck in my hot tub. You bastard!”

  “No. No. Sidney baby…” Anthony got out of the hot tub and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. Or attempted to anyhow, his erection was making it difficult. “Listen, I can explain.”

  “Dirty bastard!” Anger surged up w
ithin me, hot and demanding. I strode up to him meeting him halfway, my hand drew back and with all the power I could muster I slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap echoed into the night air. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the woman quietly getting out of the hot tub and gathering up her clothing.

  “Sidney. Please.” Anthony took a step back and rubbed his jaw. “We can talk this out.”

  “Talk this out? What’s there to talk out?” I turned to the woman who was attempting to pull her spandex dress over her wet body. “And you, Miss Fake Tits. What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my house? You whore!”

  Her face turned even redder than it already was. She managed to squeeze into the dress and without answering me grabbed her heels and rushed off past me and into the house. Good riddance. Let her go, she wasn’t the one who cheated on me, the asshole standing before me was.

  Anthony stepped up to me and grabbed my upper arms in his hands. “Look, baby. I know I fucked up a little bit.”

  I looked up at him in disbelief. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to explode through my chest. “A little bit? Are you serious? A little bit? You were fucking your co-star in my hot tub. Or have you forgotten I’m the one who owns the house and it was me who got you that movie role? Have you forgotten that?”

  “It was a stupid mistake, you’ve been gone for over a month Sid.” He looked at me with a look so sad and anguished that it would sway most women. But not me. I knew him. He was an amazing actor and he was just putting on another show.

  “And you were on location in Prague with the whore for three months before that, but I didn’t bring my co-star back here and fuck him! Maybe I should have.” I spread my hands out to the sides. “You know, apparently that’s what we do in this relationship.”

  “Please. Sid. I’m so sorry.”

  “No.” I batted his hands away from me, I was fighting hard to control my temper. “I want you out. I want you packing your shit and out.”

  “Now? It’s almost midnight, Sid. Let’s just go to bed and discuss this in the morning when things have cooled off a bit.”

  I shook my head. “You know what.” I took a couple of steps back from him. “You’re right.” He let out a sigh of relief and a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. He made an attempt to close the distance between us, but I put my hand out stopping him. “I’m going to a hotel for a few days. When I come back I want all of your stuff and you gone.” I really should be kicking his ass out right now, it was my house why should I have to leave, but I just didn’t have the energy for this tonight. Getting away and having him leave while I was gone was just the easiest solution.

  I spun around to run back into the house, but once again Anthony’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. I spun back around, fire burning in my eyes. “Don’t touch me! You’ll never get to touch me again. Never! Now let me go before I go and do something I might regret.”

  He didn’t hesitate, he released my arm and nodded, his expression turning solemn. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” Without another word I stormed back into the house, grabbed my keys and purse and left.

  Chapter 3

  Elijah

  In and out. Easy peasy. Well, ideally that would be the case, but not this time. The hit was at a hotel in Beverly Hills, which in itself was a pain in the ass. High-end hotels had lots of cameras and security. They had loads of workers coming and going, all more than happy to assist you with whatever they could. However, I’m pretty sure the limits of their assistance end when it comes to murdering someone.

  But despite all the complications, Gavin McMurray was dead and I was silently exiting his suite. When the hotel staff found him in the morning it would appear he’d had a heart attack. That wasn’t the case at all, but it had to look like he died of natural causes. Why? I don’t know, as long as I get paid then I don’t ask the question why.

  What I do know is that Gavin was the average, run-of-the-mill piece of shit who stepped onto the toes of the wrong people. One thing you need to understand is that I don’t just kill the average working joe off the street. Honest, law-abiding citizens will never see or hear from me. The people I kill usually have a body count of their own much greater than mine, but in many cases it’s not their hands that get dirty.

  In other words, I’m the killer who kills the killers.

  With my ball cap pulled down and my glasses covering a good chunk of my face I quickly walked down the corridor and to the stairwell. Once in the stairwell, I quickly made my way down the flights of stairs. Fifteen flights to be exact. I swear to God, it felt like it was never going to end, but finally it did. Instead of going through the lobby I headed for the back entrance. The lobby would have an insane amount of cameras, coming from all directions, but the back of the hotel wasn’t quite so bad.

  I burst out into the warm night air and took a deep breath in and slowly released it, a smile creeping onto my lips. It was always such a relief to have it done and over with. Unlike other men who did what I did, I didn’t get enjoyment out of murdering people, not at all. I did it because it needed to be done. The men I killed were the kinds of men who always managed to stay one step of ahead of the law. Someone needed to stop them and it just so happened I got paid – paid quite well in fact – to do it, a happy bonus. Sure the people who paid me may one day become the mark. Hell, maybe one day I’d become the mark. I had no allegiance to anyone and trusted no one. It was a kill or be killed life I lived.

  I was about to head through the hotel back parking lot when I caught sight of her, the angel who haunted my thoughts – Sidney Lopez. She was crossing the street in front of the hotel and entering a bar. Forgetting that there was a dead body in the hotel waiting to be found and that I should be putting as much distance between me and the crime scene as possible I stopped dead in my tracks and watched her. Like a moth to a flame I followed Sidney, running down the side of the hotel, crossing the street and entering the bar she’d disappeared into.

  As soon as I entered the bar I was greeted by country music. This was a little out of place in this area of Beverly Hills, but it seemed to be pretty busy so what did I know. My eyes scanned the bar and found her; she was alone at the far end of the bar and was being passed a cocktail.

  If she were any other woman I’d have no issues going up to her and starting a conversation, if the fancy struck me, but she wasn’t, she was Sid. So instead I made my way across the bar and sat at the other end of the bar from her, angled so I could get a good view of her, and ordered a beer.

  Fuck, I’m a stalker. This was serious stalker behavior. I knew virtually everything there was to know about her, had a binder full of autographed pictures of her and followed her around the country attending conventions she was at, paying through the ass for it, just for a minute of her time. Fuck, yup, this was hardcore obsessive. I was looking at a stalker in the rear view mirror.

  I watched as she drank the first cocktail down as if she were a dying alcoholic and that was the last drink she’d get before she kicked the big one. The first was followed by a second. The third drink came from a douche who approached her. I call him a douche because he approached her while I sat there like a prepubescent idiot with a hard-on watching it happen, not because I knew that for a fact. Maybe he was a great guy, I doubted it, but perhaps. Either way I hated him.

  She accepted the drink and douche-boy took a seat next to her. Didn’t she have a boyfriend? I thought she did. Her boyfriend was a major fucktard, the typical egocentric Hollywood asshole, but that’s another story. Then why was she here?

  I watched the two of them as I nursed my first drink. Douche-boy persuaded her to get up and dance. So I adjusted myself in my seat to watch them on the dance floor. Douche-boy did everything in his power to touch her, caress her, rub his body against hers. As I took a swig from my beer, I realized that my grip on the bottle was so tight my knuckles had turned white.

  I forced myself to relax. That could ha
ve been me. I could have been the one to approach her, but I didn’t. It wasn’t his fault that he was an opportunist. But there was just something about him that didn’t sit right with me, he was too slick. Too smooth.

  My jaw clenched. I wanted to pound his face with my fists. I wanted to put the barrel of my gun against his temple and pull the trigger.

  Fuck, I was a stalker and had rage issues. Yes ladies, a stalker with rage issues, step right up and claim your dream man! I needed therapy. Actually, if I were to be completely honest I’d been there done that. Didn’t help.

  A slow song came on and he pulled her into his arms. Her body tensed, but at his insistence she seemed to give in and embraced him. Once the song ended they returned to the bar. Mr. Douche was becoming more hands-on and although she was on her fourth drink she seemed to be becoming more uncomfortable with his attention.

  After watching another fifteen minutes of her fending off his advances I was about to get up and end it myself when the bartender stepped in and after some heated discussion the man moved on and Sidney was alone again. She drank one more drink before getting up. I was expecting her to head to the bathroom, but she headed towards the side exit instead. As soon as she exited Mr. Douchebag followed behind along with a friend, both disappearing out the side exit.

  A big, bright alarm bell rang off in my head, screaming danger, danger, danger.

  I was immediately on my feet. A beautiful, intoxicated celebrity in a dark alley with a couple of half-drunk douches meant trouble. Luckily for her and unluckily for them I was about to stop whatever I feared was about to go down.

  In less than a minute I was across the room and at the exit door. Before I exited, I pulled a pistol from the holster and attached a silencer. I’d rather not kill them, but I’d do what I had to. It was always good to be prepared. I inched the door open and a burst of rage rocked through me. One of the men had her pinned face first to the wall of the bar attempting to pull down her pants as the other watched with his back to me. She was attempting to scream, but douche number 1 had a gloved hand over her mouth, stifling her cries.