Hit Man: A Sexy Action-Packed Alpha Adventure Romance

by Michele Mannon

  “Hayden will be happy to learn how you’ve been trading secrets within an outside source who he suspects is another operative. He’s going to find out; nothing gets past him. As to when he learns of such a thing . . .”

  “You’re a bloody wanker. You know damn well I didn’t reveal anything important.”

  “A wanker with a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Take Aubrey to the airport tomorrow. She doesn’t have a passport so you’ll need to pull some strings to get her on the one-fifteen to Sacramento. Ask one of our colleagues to help her through US customs.”

  “Are you out of your freakin’ mind, mate? How about you call Hayden and see if he’s available to pick up your gal?”

  “Like I said, it benefits us both if we hold off in contacting him.”

  “So am I your Uber driver now? Why don’t you drive her there yourself?” he calmly asked but I could hear the irritation in his tone.

  “I need to follow up on a lead with El Chulo.” Who told me a woman called the warehouse on Mendoza’s behalf and that his men traced the call to Tepoztlán. I needed that number, pronto, and with Hayden’s help, an address.

  I studied McDuff in his flip-flops, ripped jeans, and a T-shirt imprinted with the faded revolutionary Ernesto “Che” Guevara. Shamrock made it so damn easy to underestimate him. But, as he’d been tracking Fahder, he might have know where I could locate his ex-mistress. I might not have needed El Chulo’s help after all.

  I selected my words carefully. “What of Fahder’s ex-mistress? Think he’d show up at her place?”

  McDuff chuckled. “No way. No love lost there.”

  “Señora Mendoza has poor judgment in men. I’m sure she’s relieved to have moved on from that relationship.”

  “She goes by Señora del Leon.”

  Dios, there’d been no easy way to get this out of him. “Where can I find her?”

  “Ah, so now we get to the heart of it. What are you offering in exchange?”

  “What is this, Let’s Strike a Deal Day?” I demanded.

  “Don’t tell me. Fine. You can escort your girl while I follow this lead.”

  I felt like punching him in his smug face. “How about I share with you where your next assignment will be?”

  He didn’t react outwardly but I was damn sure I had his cooperation. “If my hunch is correct,” I clarified. “But first, how about you jot down señora’s address for me.” I waved to Aubrey from across the room, then addressed McDuff in a low voice. “Take care of her. And no matter what happens, make sure she’s on that goddamn plane. Comprende?”

  “You, amigo, are in love,” he replied, voice booming.

  She approached with several beers but I moved away toward the door. I needed to shut this conversation down fast before I hurt her any more than I intended to. I took a few seconds to regroup.

  When I turned back to them, McDuff was showing her one of his PlayStation games, and if I heard her correctly, Aubrey was challenging him to play.

  “I’ve got to be going. Business calls,” I informed her. Might as well cut the cord, then, and begin my road trip out of town.

  “See you tomorrow?” Aubrey said as she approached. Eyes locked on my face, searching for the lie I struggled to hide. I grasped hold of her and pulled her into my arms. I kissed her, allowing every suppressed emotion to bleed into it. A kiss good-bye. For all I knew, it might be our last.

  “Wow,” she mumbled, after I let her go.

  “Wow,” McDuff added, clapping his hands and applauding my efforts as he drew in closer and handed me a slip of paper. “Any parting kiss for me?” he joked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Pack your bags, McIdiot.”

  He gave me a curious look. “Where am I going?”

  “Home, mate. Home.”

  “What the fuck?” he muttered.

  And that’s how I left things several hours ago, McDuff with his mouth hanging open and Aubrey so damn beautiful, so damn trusting of me, it hurts.

  My mother warned me that when I fell in love, it’d feel like being caught up in a windstorm. Spun around and around. Dizzy. Giddy. She neglected to say it happens suddenly, catching you off guard and when you’re at your weakest. She forgot to mention the nagging ache in the pit of your stomach when things end. Because, for a guy like me, it always ends. Dios, things never truly begin. Until Aubrey came along, the beginning of the end of my casual overnight encounters.

  You let her go. She’s not for you.

  McDuff is right about one thing: “What the fuck?” I can’t afford to get distracted. I’ll deal with my goddamn heartbreak later. I’ve information to dig up and an assignment to complete.

  Señora del Leon. What are you up to?

  The sun is on the horizon by the time I arrive at Hacienda Santo Miguel in the city of Tepoztlán, an hour-and-a-half ride south from Mexico City.

  I circle my motorcycle around the property once, slowly taking mental notes of the security in place, the areas of access, any weaknesses I can manipulate.

  There’s a small gated door hidden behind thick shrubbery in the back of the sprawling estate. Locked, of course. And no dogs prowling the grounds, which is a good sign things are going my way. I don’t hurt animals. Period.

  I spend a few minutes digging in the dirt beneath it, planting my sticks of boom-boom, the handwoven fuse easily accessible from the inside. Just a precaution, in case I need to leave from the back door in a hurry. Matter of fact, my army bag is loaded with precautionary measures. I’m prepared for just about everything.

  A large gated wall with barbwire shaped in the form of roses both decorate the top of the fence and prevent anyone from scaling over it. Almost anyone—a few whacks with the mallet I’ve packed should flatten out a few thorns. Yet to the untrained eye, the only way in and out of the hacienda is through the guarded front gate.

  I stash my motorcycle in a wooded area a few yards away. Nobody better steal my baby or there’ll be hell to pay.

  I begin my wait, and watch.

  At 9 PM sharp and then at 10 PM, the security detail switches positions. Six men total. Three at the gate, three patrolling the grounds.

  Midnight rolls around. Another exchange. Their predictability is my green light to go.

  I tap my foot and hold steady. Until it’s 12:55 and the guards inside are preoccupied, readying for the changeover. Five minutes to crawl across the dark roadway. To secure my rope over the roof of the security booth and, as quiet as a lamb, haul myself up onto the roof and over it.

  Would a little bang-bang of my mallet and my hopping over the fence be the easier approach? Claro que sí!—of course. But I get off on the challenge. And besides, there’s bound to be more to see if I approach the hacienda from the driveway.

  I’m over the booth without incident. Retrieving my army bag, which I’ve tossed over the fence, I sprint toward the main house with less than a minute to spare.

  The winding driveway leads me through a maze of outer buildings. A barn, a toolshed, a garage separate from the one attached to the house. As I expected, there’s a lot to take in. The night is calm, the air quiet with the faint sound of the wind rustling the leaves. Unlike the constant noise coming from inside Fahder’s former estate. Or the incessant buzz from Casa Bella’s energy grid as it turned off and on . . . compliments of yours truly. It’s strange there’s such little thought to security at the hacienda. Like Señora del Leon has nothing to hide.

  Maybe she doesn’t have anything to hide. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve got the wrong woman.

  I tighten my grip on my army bag.

  No time like the present to find out.

  I spend the next few hours familiarizing myself with my surroundings. Plotting out an emergency plan in case I need it. Laying my explosives all over the place, connecting the fuses, carefully covering them up.

  My mood lightens along with my pack. By all appearances, this couldn’t be any easier.

  But I’ve made tha
t mistake in thinking before.

  I settle down inside the barn, with a clear vision of the Spanish arch and cobblestone walkway leading toward the front double doors. Just in time to watch the trio of useless amateurs march by, one of them pausing to ensure the front door is locked.

  Like whoever is inside wouldn’t secure the door behind them.

  What a trio of clowns. They never once looked my way or thought to check the exterior buildings. Easy access inside this estate. Lax security. Dios, I’m beginning to think I do have the wrong woman.

  To add to my growing doubts, the hacienda isn’t what I expected. There’s a natural elegance to the place. Lights in the bushes cast a soft glow on the house. Showcasing, even in the dark, it’s salmon-color exterior, the green shutters, and matching green window pots. The red, pink, and yellow flowers add to the picturesque vibe. One solitary fountain in the driveway.

  Even the smell of fresh manure coming from behind me and deep inside this working barn points to a sense of normalcy.

  Everything is neat and orderly.

  Aubrey would love this place.

  With a sigh, I focus on the dried mud caked onto the wheels of a tractor, a warning I need to be up early and out of here before the groundskeeper finds me. Using my duffel bag as a pillow, I roll onto my back and stare up at the rafters above.

  What would it be like to live in a house like this? Settle in one place? Come home to . . . her.

  Dios mío, my heart fucking hurts.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and block out the pain along with the impossible.

  It takes a long time for sleep to pull me into her comforting embrace.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Aubrey

  “Leave it to Diego to fall for a kickass. Next time we meet, I demand a rematch.”

  I laugh at the charming man. “That was the rematch. From last night, remember?”

  He takes a corner and I swear the small Fiat goes up on two wheels. Antonio drives like he plays video games. Reckless. Daring. Pushing his lime-green Fiat with its blackracer-striped frame to the limit. I feel lost after all the side streets he’s navigated down. At this rate, I’d never find my way back to his apartment for a rematch. “Slow down, Antonio. The flight isn’t until later.”

  “I’m Finn. Finn McDuff. Not Antonio.”

  I frown. “You tell me this now? I’ve been calling you by the wrong name all night?”

  He winks at me. “‘Antonio’ does have a nice ring to it.”

  I sigh. Figures this maddening man would be friends with the most exhaustingly infuriating man I’ve ever met.

  “Diego talk about us?”

  “No.” I roll my eyes. “He’s led me to believe he does security work. Not CIA.”

  His lip lifts into a half-smile. “As much as it hurts me to say it, Diego is a good man. A goddamn hothead. Impatient to a fault. A keen competitor.”

  “Sounds more like you’re insulting him.”

  “Easy there. What I’m trying to say is he’s a passionate man.”

  “You think?” I raise my eyebrows.

  McDuff chuckles before growing serious. Patting my hand, he says, “He’s passionate about you. I’ve never seen him smitten. Never seen him go out on a limb like this. And trust me, Aubrey, when I tell you, if he humbled himself enough to ask me for a favor, the man’s a goner.”

  I smile to myself. Could what he’s saying be true? Have Diego’s feelings for me grown into something deeper than friendship and more meaningful than sex?

  “I predict this isn’t the last you hear from him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He shrugs and changes the subject. “Did you put the card I gave you in a safe place?”

  I roll my eyes. “Listen, just because I let a little boy steal away with my passport doesn’t make me absentminded. Are you sure your business card and scribbled note is enough to get me past security?”

  “Relax. I made a few calls. Check in with Melanie, she’ll be expecting you. But save the money I gave you for security.”

  “I suppose CIA work comes with its perks,” I murmur. I hope his calls and this business card are enough. Evidently, another colleague will be contacted to meet me in Sacramento to help me through immigration.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  I turn and search his face. “You’re not CIA? But I heard Diego say so. . . .” Diego made certain I heard him last night, almost like he couldn’t tell me directly yet wanted me to know the truth.

  “He lied.” McDuff gives me a soft smile. “Don’t be too upset at him. In our line of business, work always comes before anything else. And Diego risked a lot by bringing you to me.”

  “Who do you work for?” I murmur, still trying to wrap my head around it.

  McDuff doesn’t reply.

  “Fine.”

  “Brilliant. You don’t seem like the type to cause drama. He said you’d keep quiet about what you do know. Please do, for your own sake.”

  “After my stay in Mexico City, believe me, I want to forget this entire experience.”

  Except my project.

  Except Diego.

  I shake off the overwhelming feeling of loss that’s taken hold of me and focus on the positive. I’ve a new plan to implement. I’ll return to Sacramento, raise money for my cause, consult with my professors at Stanford about what I aim to do, and figure out the best approach toward executing my housing plans. It’s not an immediate solution, which troubles me deeply. Yet what choice do I have? I put myself at risk. There’ll be no helping Margarita and other families like hers if I’m dead.

  I tried. I failed, miserably. But I’m not defeated.

  He enters the airport and pulls up in front of the gate. “Got your ticket?”

  “Ticket. Envelope of money. Business card. And two legs to carry me out of this country.”

  “He’ll kill me, lass, if you don’t get on that flight.”

  I roll my eyes. “Now, who’s being dramatic?”

  He chuckles.

  I exit the car and Finn approaches me on the sidewalk wheeling a suitcase and a long blue tube. “Yours?”

  “Where did they come from?” I ask Finn as he hauls Zoey’s suitcase from his small trunk.

  “Diego. Last night, he put it inside my car after he left us.”

  “He must have retrieved them from my taxi driver.”

  “That’s what love will do to a man,” Finn informs me.

  Yes. I have everything I need. Except Diego. “He doesn’t even know where I’ll be living or how to contact me.”

  “Trust me. When Diego gets fired up about something, barriers crumble.” Finn pauses. “Hang tight. If luck will have it, things will be better by Christmas. See you around, Aubrey.” He gives me a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek before maneuvering his big body back inside the tiny Fiat and driving off.

  As I head inside, my heart beats wildly despite McDuff intentionally trying to take the sting out of my departure. A different day, a different departure. A different good-bye.

  I check in with Melanie, claim my seating, drop my suitcase on the conveyer belt. Following Finn’s directions, I hand the business card to the tall security officer, who looks at it before putting it in his pocket. Next I slip him the envelope of money, which he doesn’t look at but stashes inside the same pocket before ushering me through security. Inside, I settle down onto an uncomfortable plastic seat. I try to keep my mind off Diego as I begin the long wait for boarding.

  It’s only when my thoughts completely quiet and I come to terms with my leaving brokenhearted and empty-handed that all hell breaks loose.

  Sirens blare. Blue-and-red emergency lights spiral. Armed security guards begin ushering people away from the gates, back through security, past the lobby check-in, and outside in front of the terminal.

  “Que paso?” I ask the nearest officer.

  “Security scare,” he answers in English. “We’re closing the airport. Hurry up, señorita. You’ll want to ca
tch a cab before they’re all taken.”

  “What about our luggage?”

  “Call tomorrow.”

  I calmly find my way to the taxi line. What to do . . . what to do?

  Finn is long gone. Diego . . . gone, way gone.

  And I’ve nowhere to go.

  What do I do now?

  Returning to Mexico City is asking for trouble. And even if I do hang low at a nearby hotel, I’ve no way of entering back through security. That business card was undoubtedly a one-shot deal. What I need is somewhere safe to go outside of the city . . . as well as my passport . . .

  There’s really only one option left.

  I dig into my purse and retrieve the small thank-you card before asking the man ahead of me, “Can I use your phone?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Diego

  “Aubrey’s gone,” McIdiot informs me.

  I press my eyelids closed, briefly. Like the bright midday sunlight has abruptly caused a migraine. I’m inside the hacienda, upstairs and in a blue-themed room, on the phone with McDuff as I watch from a window high above a servant playing soccer with a young boy. Señora del Leon is also outside, rocking back and forth on a white wicker chair. By all pretenses, it’s a leisurely day at Hacienda Santo Miguel. Peaceful. Enviable, even.

  And the last place I want to be right now.

  “Don’t go ballistic on me. I did everything I could to find her. But she’s gone.”

  “How?”

  “They closed the airport. Security threat. I was halfway to my apartment before I heard. I maneuvered my way back past security but I couldn’t find her.”

  “Her flight?”

  “Never departed. She probably jumped in a cab. She’s gone.”

  Mierda.

  “I’ll swing by her hotel. Where else would she go?” McDuff grumbles.

  “Check my apartment. Though, even if she can find it, there’s no way she’d get inside. Not with the security I’ve got in place.”

  “You took her to your apartment?”

  The blue room has turned bloodred. I’m too furious to answer. Today had gone as smoothly as I hoped for. Security still at a minimum, few staff members on hand to dodge and evade, easy access into the house. I thoroughly searched three rooms for any clues as to what Señora is up to. Before entering the blue room and feeling my phone vibrate. Before the mindfuck of all mindfucks began dancing around inside my head.