Capturing Victory (Driven Hearts Book 3)

by Nikita Slater

  “And find out where the fuck Riley Bancroft is,” he snapped, drumming his fingers restlessly on his leg. “I want my goddamned car back.”

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  Excerpt: Thieving Hearts, Book 2 of Driven Hearts

  Revulsion hit Katie like a punch in the stomach. It was everything she could do to search for the key to her old apartment in her coach bag, fit it in the lock and open the door. She wasn't sure who she hated more, her ex-husband or herself. She didn't understand how he could feel such disgust for her and her profession, yet summon her here month after month. Oh, she understood the money. Blackmail for money was an easy concept to comprehend. It was the sex she didn't get.

  She shifted uneasily in her knee length button up tan coat. Reaching for the belt, she knotted it tighter around her too slender waist. She knew she'd lost too much weight recently. Constant fear and agitation had taken its toll on her figure. She spent every waking moment terrified that the FBI were going to break down her door. All because of the man whose apartment she was about to enter.

  Something didn't feel right. Usually she heard the sound of music or the TV blaring. The smell of food would hit her as she cracked open the door and stood nervously waiting for his summons. Colin liked to keep her waiting. Like a dog or a slave. Today she heard nothing.

  She pushed the door open further and saw that the interior of his apartment was flooded in darkness. Had he forgotten about their appointment? Impossible. It was the same time every month. Since the day of their divorce a year ago. She would come to him on the 25th of the month at 8 pm, like clockwork. If she didn’t, he would make the call that would end her life.

  Something definitely wasn't right. Her legs began to shake. She wished desperately that she wasn't wearing four inch heels. Not that it was her choice. Colin chose her apparel for these visits. It rarely deviated. He liked the easy access of the coat, heels and nothing else.

  She stepped further into the apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. The sound of the muffled slam made her jump. Her heart pounded in fear and her palms dampened. She smelled something metallic.

  Blood.

  She bit her lip to hold back a whimper. “C-Colin?" she whispered. Then realized he wouldn’t possibly be able to hear her unless he was standing right next to her.

  "Colin!" she called in a stronger voice.

  When he didn't answer she took a few more steps closer to what used to be her kitchen before the divorce. Before Colin had taken everything from her and then demanded more every month after. A $25,000 payment and her on her back with her legs spread, a willing vessel for him to use as many times as he wanted before kicking her out like some dirty whore. Something he liked to call her during their hours together. She shuddered.

  With shaking fingers, she reached for the light and pushed. The bright overhead light blinded her for a moment. She blinked and then turned her head toward the metallic smell, forcing herself to brave the possibility that something might have happened to Colin. She gasped in horror as she took in a pool of blood that was far too big for someone to simply walk away from.

  She whimpered and backed away from the kitchen, intent on reaching the door, her eyes glued to the blood. It was almost perfect in its shiny depth, the way it was spread across the floor. No smears, or prints to mar its glassy surface. She forced herself to blink and continue moving toward the door. She would call the police as soon as she got down to the lobby.

  Her heels were the only sound in the apartment as she shuffled slowly backward toward the door keeping her eyes on the blood, as though it would somehow attack her. Before she could reach the door, her back hit a solid wall of muscle. She opened her mouth to scream and would have jumped away, but a hand clamped over her lips and another around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She was dragged backwards into the heat of a very hard, very male body.

  She knew instantly the man holding her wasn’t Colin. Her ex-husband was the same height as her when she wore heels. And he wasn’t near as hard as whoever was pressed against her back. This man was rock solid. Was this man responsible for the massive pool of blood on the floor? Of their own volition, her eyes fell to the crimson lake. She tried to struggle, but the man held her so tight, all she could do was wiggle helplessly against him.

  He groaned and pushed his face into the back of her neck, nudging his nose into the short blond hair and breathing deeply. W-was he actually smelling her? He tilted her head to the side and forward a little so she was forced to look down. He ran his nose down the exposed arch of her throat from her ear all the way down to her shoulder. He was definitely inhaling her scent. His lips teased her shoulder and he tugged the sleeve of her coat a little until it moved toward the edge of her shoulder exposing more skin.

  Oh god, what was he doing? Was this man going to rape her in her ex-husband’s apartment? Had Colin’s depraved mind come up with some new kind of punishment? But how did that explain the blood? Somehow, she knew deep inside that the blood belonged to Colin. Just as she knew no one could survive the loss of that much. She whimpered against the hand.

  Her fear seemed to penetrate his fascination with her skin. He straightened to his full height, which was still several inches taller than her, even in heels. Though his broad palm remained firmly over her mouth, he used his thumb to rub her cheek soothingly as though to calm her. She blinked rapidly as his thumb brushed too close to her eye, her eyelashes sweeping over the rough pad. He groaned again from behind her and tightened his arm in response, pulling her further into the cradle of his thighs. She gasped into his hand, feeling the rigid length of his cock through the back of her coat.

  Then she caught sight of the tattoo that ran along the edge of his forefinger. His trigger finger. It said, “For Dexter.” Her dead brother's name. She stiffened in his arms, anger suffusing her as she realized exactly who held her. She didn’t bother struggling. There was no point. He was too tall and outweighed her by a lot. The bastard also had a ton more street fighting experience than she did and wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.

  He chuckled darkly from behind her. He knew the exact moment she realized who he was. He dropped his hand from her lips, no longer worried that she would scream bloody murder, and slid it down the front of her body. He wrapped both arms around her waist, still keeping her arms pinned to her sides and dragged her tightly back against him. He thrust his erection into her ass.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed angrily.

  “Think that’s pretty obvious,” he growled, bending his head to speak in her ear. “Come for you, pretty lady.”

  She shivered against him, her eyes falling on the blood. “Wh-what did you do to Colin?” she asked, her voice both a plea and a hope.

  His body became rigid, his arms so like steel bands around her that they hurt. He didn't speak for a moment. She got the feeling he was controlling himself so he didn’t say or do something he might regret. She frowned, her breath catching in her throat. Roman would never hurt her. Would he?

  “You don't have to worry about him anymore.”

  Katie opened her mouth to argue with him, but he brought his hand up to cut her off, pressing his palm against her lips once more. “You don't want to talk to me about your husband right now, Katie. Nod if you understand?”

  She shivered and nodded quickly. She wanted to know what he did to Colin, but Roman was like a wild animal. He’d always been dangerous and unpredictable. There was no telling what he was going to do next. Until she was in a better position. Like on the other side of a locked door, her questions could wait. He moved his hand again.

  “What happens now?” she whispered, hoping that one question would be okay. Was he going to let her run back to her life now that he’d done whatever he’d come to do?

  “You come with me, like you should have years ago when I asked you to.”

  She gasped and jerked in his arms. “Impossible!” she told him.

  She had a job in Milan in just a few
days. She absolutely couldn't go with Roman. She knew the odds of his letting her out of his sight. The man had an eerie way of tracking people. The only way she’d managed to escape him all those years ago was because she’d begged him to let her go. And for some reason her opinion had always mattered to the street hardened criminal.

  “Not impossible, Katie,” he growled at her. “In fact, it’s a fucking promise. You’re coming with me this time. I’m done living without you.”

  “No!” she gasped out, lunging in his arms. “You can't do that, Roman. I have a life. I won't go with you!”

  “I’ve been watching you, Katie, my love,” he growled at her, lowering her struggling body to the floor as she twisted in his arms. He took her elbows and locked them behind her in one strong grip. He pulled something from his pocket with his other hand. “You live a half-life. I’m done watching from the shadows while you slowly kill yourself. It’s time to start living again.”

  “With you?” she spat out, glaring at him over her shoulder.

  “With me,” he confirmed.

  When she realized what he held, she begged him to stop. She threatened him and tried to kick him with her sharp heels. He ignored her threats and her pleas. He pinned her to the floor, lifted her coat to her thigh, baring the smooth naked skin. He froze when he realized she was completely bare underneath. Then he shoved his hand roughly into her coat to confirm his suspicion, cupping her bare breast.

  She gasped and surged up into his hands. He slammed her back into the floor, treating her with a lack of care she’d never felt from him before. He leaned over her, his breathing finally as heavy as hers and growled in her ear, “Knew the fucker was blackmailing you. Had no idea you liked it enough to spread your legs. Maybe I should’ve let him live and just walked away from your mess.”

  She screamed and fought to get away from him. He cut her screams off with a heavy hand over her lips and plunged the syringe viciously into her thigh while she beat at his chest. After a few seconds, she stopped fighting, her body gradually going limp beneath him. He pulled her across his lap, cradling her head against his arm, and smoothed the coat over her nakedness.

  She watched his dark, sinister face as she drifted into unconsciousness. The only man she ever truly loved. The man she feared above all others. He’d finally come for her.

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  Excerpt: Untitled, Book 2 of Angels & Assassins

  They hired him because he was a ghost.

  A ghost from a country that ceased to exist when he was eleven years old. A trained killer that took what he needed, killed the oppressors and escaped his yoke. He had no conscience, no moral reservations or code of conduct to dictate his kills. He took the contracts based only on his wants. Some might call him a monster. There wasn’t enough humanity in him to know what a monster was.

  Men, women, children. Made no difference to him. He walked away from death, went back to his existence and slept his 6.5 hours without remorse. He ate, he researched and worked out, honing his body to lethal precision then he moved on to the next kill. He was intelligent enough to understand that there was something wrong with him. Watched enough people and movies, read enough books to realize that he was different. Curiosity had led him to dig into the phenomenon of himself. Or perhaps it was the lack of himself.

  Sociopath. Lack of emotions. Whatever it was. It made him very good at his job.

  Until her.

  He’d never hesitated before. But now he stood behind her, his gun extended, inches away from her ash blond head. His hand was steady, his brain calculating the payday on the little scientist, telling him to shoot. But his finger was refusing the order.

  He’d studied her ahead of time, same as he studied all of his victims. He never got too close before a kill. Didn’t want to get picked up on camera and linked to a victim. Instead he dug up as much information as he could without physically touching the mark.

  Sidney Fossett. She was 25 years old, 5’5” tall, 138 lbs. The youngest of a large family of eight children with both parents still living. Highly intelligent, with an IQ of 167. She had two university degrees by 18 and her first doctorate by 21. At the age of five Sidney was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, or high-functioning autism.

  She specialized in biological engineering and was currently working with an underground government organization. Her assignment was to work as part of a team to weaponize a biological agent that could take out a large city. Apparently, Sidney didn’t work well with others and was prone to taking work home with her. A strange quirk that was deemed acceptable by the agency as long as she lived on the base and kept all of her notes completely transparent.

  Sidney cared about little besides her own work. Perhaps that was what caused him to hesitate. He understood the driving call of little beyond work. As he stood behind her, finally standing in the presence of the woman he’d stalked for two months with the intent to kill, his narrow world of one snapped open suddenly to envelope two. His gun still trained on her head, he did something he never did. He lifted his eyes from his target and looked around.

  His extremely focused world opened up to encompass the rest of the room. He was… curious? The room was plastered in paper. Every inch was covered from top to bottom in papers. Some had been handwritten and some had been printed, likely from the small printer in the corner of the room attached to her laptop. She was currently scribbling away using pencil and a calculator and mumbling to herself. He had zero understanding of the words that were coming out of her mouth, but he was pretty sure she was utilizing every one of her many degrees in chemical and biological engineering.

  He was beginning to understand the significant hit the world would take with the loss of this brain. He stiffened, his finger tightening on the trigger when she shoved her chair back, scraping it along the hard wood floor and stood abruptly, mumbling, “I’m so close, yet that egotistical, dickless man child… can’t take a woman in the field…”

  He knew he should take her out before she saw him and started screaming, but her scent hit him as she rounded the small table and headed for the wall opposite them. She smelled like home-baked apple pie and warm woman. Lust kicked him like a punch in the gut and his dick responded with a jerk. Shock flooded his system. He couldn’t remember the last time his cock had reacted without his permission. He took women to bed only sparingly, when he felt the need to remind himself of why people were messy and complicated. He didn’t understand why his body was reacting this way.

  Sidney was certainly lovely, but no raving beauty queen. Her blond hair was piled in a crazy, haphazard knot on top of her head. She wore no make-up and her blue eyes were obscured by thick glasses. She stood on her toes, her denim skirt rising up to the back of her knees and her ill-fitting beige sweater swaying with her movement. She wore mismatched ballet flats on her feet. One was red and the other black.

  “Maybe sabotage… or maybe it is just me, but I’ve never failed so spectacularly. I’ll have to sleep on it. Too bad sleep is food for the brain. Fuck sleep, such a waste of time.”

  He nearly laughed out loud at her annoyed mumbles. He felt the strange sensation in his throat and was shocked once more. What was this woman doing to him? She rounded the table, nearly coming face-to-face with him and his gun. Then, failing to see him entirely, sat back down and continued to scribble. His jaw opened in surprise. Had she even seen him?

  Unable to help himself, he reached out and slid his long, thick fingers into the messy bun at the back of her head. He never touched a mark. But he was breaking the rules anyway. What was one more? She was a dead woman anyway. He just wanted to see her eyes before he did her. Slowly he tilted her head to the side so that her face was in the light. She didn’t struggle, but she did frown a little.

  The breath caught in his chest as her eyes flickered up to his face and finally took in the stranger standing in her apartment with a gun. He slowly brought his gun hand up and hooked the edge of her thick black-rimmed glasses
with his small finger, knocking them off her face. They clattered onto the table. She didn’t react, just continued to stare up at him.

  He had been wrong, perhaps fooled by her ill-fitting, mismatched clothes. Sidney was stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. He pressed the gun against her temple because he had no choice. She was a mark and he didn’t pull back from a kill. She had to die. It didn’t matter that she’d somehow shifted his universe in a way nothing had done in his entire life. That she made his cock stand up and beg. That she stopped his trigger finger even though his brain knew better.

  She ran her small, pink tongue over her lips and opened her mouth to speak. Now she would beg for her life. Promise him anything. The flash of her lips wrapped around his cock burned through his brain like a lightning strike. Maybe this once he wouldn’t mind if a victim begged for mercy.

  “I have work to do,” she said, her voice soft but vibrant.

  He frowned. Didn’t she understand what he was there for? He pressed the gun harder against her temple. She rolled her eyes impatiently toward the weapon.

  “I need you to leave now,” she snapped, urgency clear in her voice. “I think I’m close to a breakthrough. I have too much work for this right now.”

  The urge to laugh bubbled up in his throat once more and he found himself swallowing it with extreme control. What was wrong with this woman? She was making it sound like he’d come over for a playdate instead of murder. Fuck, she was priceless. He was beginning to realize that killing her would be like setting fire to the Mona Lisa. Simply not possible.

  “You can come back later,” she said cajolingly, her eyes straying to the paperwork on the table.

  This time a chuckle did escape his lips. The sound was most definitely rusty because it was the first time he’d laughed in… well… as long as he could remember. The woman wanted to get back to her work so badly that she’d invited him to come back later to kill her. Sadly, he was pretty certain she was serious. Because as soon as he let her go she was going to immediately bury herself in her work and forget he was ever there.