Driven to the Edge: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

by Morgan Black

  Hoping it looks unintentional, I sit up enough to reveal a glimpse of my collarbone and shoulders, tipping another drink up to my mouth.

  I stay quiet, not wanting to risk an awkward conversation. Given I haven’t eaten for a while, the combination of warm water and tequila has me feeling fairly light-headed in a short amount of time. I haven’t even finished half my glass before I feel a nice, content buzz humming through my veins.

  That’s about all I want, though. I can’t risk actually getting drunk. I can’t actually lose control of myself.

  I take another calculated risk. I decide to be the one to break the silence.

  “I mean what I said earlier. I’m done trying to run.”

  I peer up at Jake, whose face is partially shadowed in the bathroom’s dim light. He looks thoughtful and far-away, like it isn’t me he’s thinking about. Which is probably a good thing.

  “Good idea,” he says, only a little sarcastic.

  I try my hand at seeing things from his point of view.

  “I feel like you’ve probably got a plan,” I say. “A plan that didn’t originally involve hauling a hostage all over the desert. It must be... frustrating.”

  Now he’s looking right at me.

  “You have no fucking idea,” he says, deadpan.

  “Do I get to find out what you’re heading to Vegas for?”

  “First off, you’re my hostage, not my partner. Second off, who says we’re headed to Vegas?”

  “It’s the only logical destination given where we’ve stopped.”

  “... Fair enough.”

  Jake takes a swig from the bottle. He licks his lips, doesn’t grimace the way I did. I wonder if he’s a habitual drinker or if there’s just something heavy weighing on his mind.

  I lean back in the bath and cross my legs, water rippling away from them. The move works: his eyes lock onto my legs, traveling as far up them as he can before my skin disappears below the water.

  It feels strangely empowering, doing this to a man on purpose. It’s not the type of person I usually am. But then again, I haven’t even dipped my toe in the dating pool since Erik fucked my business over and left me. Not because I felt like I couldn’t move on, but because I had to throw myself entirely into work.

  So... empowering, but also intimidating.

  I let him think the tequila is having more of an effect on me than it is. I laugh suddenly, and when his eyebrows raise in question, I just shake my head.

  “Just remembered something,” I say, quiet and cryptic.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Last time I drank tequila. It was back when I was at Cal Arts. Messy.”

  Jake considers me with an ever-growing smirk on his mouth.

  “You don’t strike me as a partier,” he says.

  “Maybe not anymore. But oh, back in the day.”

  “Back in the day? You aren’t that old.”

  I laugh again, this time throwing my head back, water splattering off my hair. Jake takes a step into the bathroom, and for a moment it looks like he might reach out to touch me. I steel myself for it, waiting. But instead he sits down on the floor beside the bathtub.

  To refill my drink.

  Oh.

  He leans over and tops up my tequila. I take an obliging sip, trying to look like I’m swigging more down than I am in reality.

  It’ll be harder to fool him when he’s this close.

  Relaxing back in the bathtub, trying not to stare at Jake sitting beside me, I take another swig of the tart, burning liquor. Something occurs to me that sets me laughing, my shoulders shuddering.

  Jake tilts his head, watching me curiously.

  Finally, he asks. He can’t contain his curiosity.

  “What?”

  I tilt my glass toward him, smiling in a way I hope is shy and a little flirtatious.

  “Looks like I did end up having a drink with you back at the hotel.”

  It takes a moment for him to catch on, then he’s laughing too. He lifts the bottle up and leans forward, as if to refill it again, but hesitates. He stops right near me, the bottle hovering over my glass, his face mere inches from mine.

  My heart pounds in my chest so loud that I swear he must be able to hear it.

  Should I go for it?

  Should I kiss him?

  I’m too afraid to initiate the contact, even though it would mean my plan is working. I can’t quite make myself do it. But I slip my tongue out, licking my bottom lip, and leave my lips parted a moment, breathing shallowly.

  Jake, his eyes all dilated, the smoky gunpowder smell of him right up close to me, finally leans in and closes the distance between us. He’s kissing me before I even understand what’s going on. Maybe I got a little drunker than I intended.

  For such a violent, controlling man, Jake is a slow and methodical kisser. He merely closes his mouth over mine, testing, teasing, before plunging his tongue in. He takes it slow, exploring the interior of my mouth, the smoky-tart taste of tequila dancing on our tongues.

  Within seconds, I feel light-headed. He’s an incredible kisser. I hadn’t anticipated enjoying this at all.

  I feel myself groan into his mouth, a flutter of shame reddening my cheeks. I’m losing control. Pretty soon I won’t have the upper hand here.

  Jake sets the tequila down and reaches up, twisting a hand through my damp hair. He anchors my head in place, kissing me hard, then trails his mouth down my chin, reaching my jaw. His hot tongue gliding across my jawline, I throw my head back, losing myself in the sensation. My eyelids flutter; my pulse stop-starts.

  I can’t remember the last time someone kissed me like this.

  Possibly never.

  As his mouth explores mine, Jake’s hand explores my body. He starts at my hairline, brushing over my hair, then drags his fingers along the lines of my shoulder and clavicle. He shrugs out of his suit jacket in a hurry, then rolls up a sleeve so he can dip his hand below the surface of the water.

  In the hot bath, I feel his fingertips graze my knuckle. I gasp, jerking reflexively in the water, and a low chuckle sounds in the back of Jake’s throat. The sound of it isn’t entirely un-menacing, and that yanks me out of the moment. I remember who he is now: my captor. A murderer. I can’t let myself enjoy this too much.

  But then his hand squeezes my breast, his strong fingers massaging over my skin. I whimper and lean up into his hand, my body betraying my attempts to stay stoic.

  I can’t help but remember my last night with Erik, the last time I’d let a man touch me like that. Our last night together was wild, euphoric, the desperate clawing of two people trying to salvage a relationship on the brink of falling apart. Then I found out he wasn’t as invested in fixing things as I thought.

  First Erik, now Jake... what’s wrong with me?

  Jake’s strong hand working my breast, his mouth on my neck, the tequila buzz warming me all over, I give in and let myself enjoy it. Even if this seduction is a means to an end, there’s no reason I can’t close my eyes and enjoy the feeling in my body, right?

  It feels wrong. But it also feels so good.

  Jake’s hand travels further down--just like my dream, my hazy mind reminds me--and his fingers brush against my slit, sending an electric jolt through my entire body. I stifle a gasp in my arm, thrashing in the tub, and Jake lets out another one of those low, predatory laughs.

  He’s leaning over me in the bathtub now, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but I’m sloshing water onto his expensive dress shirt anyway. He doesn’t seem to care. His stubble grazes my cheek as he kisses me, devours me, his fingers probing just a bit inside me...

  I shudder, clutching my knees together. It’s been so long since I let someone do this. I know I won’t be able to last long. I can’t feel how wet I am due to the bathwater, but my body is thrumming, eager for any hint of a touch from Jake.

  To be fair, my body has wanted Jake from the beginning. It was just my own sense of ethics and common sense that held me back.

&
nbsp; Now I give in, arching my hips up as his fingers delve inside me, dipping in slowly, pressing in just to the first knuckle, just enough to hint at what’s to come.

  Then his thumb brushes my clit, a light and gentle touch. I shudder all over, biting down hard, clenching my teeth.

  Jake begins to work up a rhythm with his hand, two fingers pumping inside me alternating with well-timed pressure on my clit from his thumb. I rock back and forth in the tub, the hot water peaking my temperature even higher as the flames of arousal kindle in my stomach.

  Panting quietly, I toss my head back and am startled to find Jake looking directly into my eyes. That dark intensity of his stare freezes me in place, mouth open, breathing hard. I feel like I can’t move, like I can’t even breathe.

  Jake stares me down as his hand works over my sex, driving me into a fever. He’s still piercing my eyes with his when the sudden crash of my orgasm tears through me, a violent surge that sends water sloshing out onto the floor as I thrash against Jake’s hand. I can see the desire in Jake’s eyes, just how bad he wants me. It sends a whole new series of shudders through me.

  I cry out, burying my wet face in his dry neck. Jake holds my head in place with his free hand. I can smell him, that gunpowder and aftershave scent. In that moment, I’ve never smelled anything sexier. There’s something so impossibly controlling and masculine about him that I feel like I should hate it, but I don’t.

  I crash back down to earth, breathing hard.

  Jake’s smirking at me again. He leans down and nips my ear, a gentle kiss to the shell of it.

  “That ought to relax you,” he purrs into my ear. Then he kisses me one last time--lewdly, full of tongue--before he disappears and leaves me alone in the bathtub, wondering how that all just happened, my thighs still shaking, my body still aching with need for him.

  13

  ~ Jake ~

  I probably shouldn’t have done that.

  Yet I feel better now that I have.

  Getting Alicia a little drunk, loosening her up, then making her come with my fingers alone... strangely, it’s done wonders for my mood. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so focused on nothing but revenge for my brother that I forgot what it was like to enjoy the little things in life, like making a beautiful woman writhe underneath me.

  Maybe it’s just good to feel like I’m in control of something other than killing people.

  Alicia was so disobedient before, but she seems like she’s finally fallen into line. Relieving.

  She’s not going to be happy when I cuff her to the headboard later tonight. But I hope she understands. It’s nothing personal. Well, except I suppose it kind of is. She’s proven she’s the type who’d risk dying to the elements in the desert to get away, and even though I’m not entirely sure what I want to do with her, I know I can’t have her reporting me to the authorities.

  When she comes out of the bathroom, she’s wearing one of the hotel towels that’s not entirely long enough. Her long, shapely legs are only barely covered at the uppermost parts of her thigh. It’s cute, how she’s trying to be so modest after what we just did.

  Her cheeks are flushed--from the bath or the tequila or the orgasm I can’t say. She catches her teeth on her bottom lip and peers up at me from across the room.

  “I’m feeling pretty sleepy,” she says, trudging towel-clad across the carpeted floor. She sinks down onto the bed that she chose earlier, yawning theatrically into an elbow. I admire the cascade of her wet auburn hair down her back, over the contours of her shoulder blades.

  If I let it happen, I could distract myself with her body for hours.

  But I’m also pretty tired. Although I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at all tonight, given what the last few days have been like. Given the police may be looking for me. I just don’t know.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have any clean clothes for you,” I say, glancing sideways to Alicia. “We’ll pick up some tomorrow.”

  For now, once I enter the city, she’s just going to be my cover.

  I grew up in North Vegas, and while I’ve been out of the city proper for some time, enough people there might recognize me that going in solo is a bad bet. Coming in as part of a couple, though, diverts eyes. The Jakob all those fuckers know is a loner, a rough type, known for cracking skulls on behalf of his brother’s “accounting firm.”

  If I show up dressed all nice with a fake wedding ring and a blushing fiancee, that will avert a lot of eyes.

  Or at least I hope.

  I look back over at Alicia and wet my lips. As far as arm candy goes, I could have done a lot worse. Even if this plan was improvised.

  “All right. If you’re ready to sleep, put your hand up against the headboard there.”

  Alicia can tell what I’m about to do. Her face falls. Her mesmerizing hazel eyes flash with anger.

  “What! No! I promise I won’t try to run.”

  She protests, stammering as I reach into the pocket of my discarded suit jacket and withdraw another zip tie. She looks like she might try to fight me at first, but modesty wins out. She won’t let me see her naked, won’t try to wrestle me free for fear of dislodging the towel.

  Funny, considering I had my fingers inside her just a few minutes ago. But that was almost certainly just the booze. Because when I hover over her, securing her wrist to the headboard, I can see a glimpse of contempt in her eyes.

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” I flash her an apologetic smile. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

  She drags her teeth along her bottom lip again, her body down beneath me on the bed. It would be so simple to throw a leg over her, pin her down, explore even more of that gorgeous body with my hands...

  “So long as you let me go when this is all over, you can do whatever you want to me,” she says. She looks like she’s being sincere. But there’s a hint of tequila fog over her eyes. I lean down and peck a kiss to her hairline.

  “We’ll discuss that in the morning,” I say. There’s an implied promise there. Or maybe a threat, depending on how you look at it.

  I double-check all the locks, cut the lights, and strip down. I leave one of the handguns on the nightstand--though not the one between the beds. I don’t trust Alicia not to wave that around like an idiot in some harebrained escape attempt.

  That would end poorly for her.

  Laying back in bed, listening to the ambient noise of the parking lot outside, I run over the last few days in my head, starting with the disaster in La Jolla.

  I’m not usually so emotional. I told myself I could go about this mission in a cold-blooded way. But I was kidding myself.

  Down in La Jolla, I did the same thing to a man that someone did to my brother. A man who might not have even been involved in his murder. He was a shitbag, sure. A Császár guy. Guilty of all sorts of things. But in my quest to dig up dirt, I lost my cool.

  Ray Bennett was the CFO of Taurus Logistics, one of the many Császár corporations that my brother worked on. When the IRS flagged them for an audit, someone in the Császár leadership lost their cool. They had my brother killed. So naturally, Taurus Logistics was my first stopping point for finding out what the fuck had happened and who the fuck had done it.

  I cracked kneecaps and skulls all the way up the Taurus chain ‘til I got to Bennett, cornered him at his vacation house in La Jolla. I broke in and waited in his living room ‘til he wandered back in from his morning surf session.

  Then I beat him so bad that his wetsuit was probably all that was holding him together in the end.

  I left him sniffling and bleeding on the floor of his million-dollar retreat, Martinsen’s name stashed away in my pocket, then stole his phone and opened up all the gas lines in the place.

  I watched it burn, Bennett still inside it.

  Everyone I’ve ever hurt has deserved it. That’s how I can still live with myself. Every asshole I ever kneecapped, every fucker I’ve downed on my way to avenge Alain. They’re all bad people. People the world won’t miss. Shi
t, sometimes I feel like I deserve a medal.

  Some nights though, like tonight, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve become one of them.

  I’ve got a hostage zip-tied in my hotel room. Since when was I the type of guy who did that?

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, I tell myself as I begin to drift off to sleep.

  Tomorrow will be the first real test. I need to be rested. I need to be on the top of my game. Alicia doesn’t know, but she might be instrumental to my plan, although I’m making it up as I go along.

  Tomorrow, I’m hitting one of the Császárs’ casinos. Just for recon. Nothing dangerous. At least not intentionally.

  But who knows how badly it could blow up.

  I can hear Alicia breathing in the next bed over. Her breath has finally gone slow and rhythmic. She’s finally asleep. For a half-second, I imagine what it would feel like to just crawl into that bed beside her. To feel a little warmth and human comfort during a black and bloody time of my life.

  But why do I think that?

  I’m like a comet hurtling toward the planet’s surface. The only possible ending is flaming out and wiping out everything in my path. It’s not a human comfort sort of time.

  14

  ~ Alicia ~

  I come awake gradually. My arm hurts. No surprise, as it’s pinned over my head by that stupid zip-tie.

  When I peek my eyes open, I see that Jake is already moving around the room. He’s dressed and changed and is tidying up every trace of our presence. Fortunately, I’m at the stage now where I don’t worry that every time he cleans, he’s getting ready to dispose of my body.

  But it still sets me on edge.

  When he notices me looking, he smiles just a bit. I remember the night before. The way his powerful fingers worked me into a frenzy. The way I let him do it, tequila or no tequila.

  Part of me says it’s all right, it’s just the plan. I’m seducing him so he’s less tempted to murder me, right?

  But the other part of me knows how much I liked it. Heat rises to my cheeks; I blush and look away from him.