Her Italian Hitman

by Regina Wade

  The scars of a man whose entire life has been fight after fight after fight, all for the sake of service and protection. Not just a man. A soldier, whose cause is justice.

  Feeling the scars sends a thrill of raw lust coursing through my veins. Knowing the reason they exist warms my heart, makes it swell for this incredible man who has sacrificed so much for so many others.

  My fingers move of their own accord. Listening to the song of his body, finding not just the aches and pains, but also the sweetness, the places that feel good in a way that has nothing to do with healing.

  Or maybe it does. Maybe the warmth between us heals both of us, a bit.

  His arms wrap around my waist, picking me straight up, turning to carry me to the bed.

  “Enzo, please,” I whisper, stroking his face with one hand. The slight scrape of stubble beneath my fingers is almost harsh, but his soft lips press against the inside of my wrist and I almost melt into a puddle.

  “Please what, cara?” Enzo whispers as his hands unbuckle his belt, yanking his pants down. His cock slaps up, springing from the tight confines of his boxers to slap against the dark hair of his stomach. I wrench my eyes off of his perfect body to his equally gorgeous face.

  “Please. Take me. Now,” I glare up at him, every inch of my body screaming for him to claim me as his.

  Enzo answers me with a kiss and a shift of his hips. I feel him pressing against me, the head of his cock parting my slick folds to begin working into me.

  “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Enzo groans as he thrusts into me. I raise my hips, pressing back against him, wrapping my legs around him to pull him into me deeper.

  “Oh Enzo,” I gasp as I feel him stretching me. He works me open, then pauses, pulling back.

  “Are you ready, cara?” Enzo says, his eyes burning into me.

  I just nod, screwing my eyes shut.

  With one thrust I feel Enzo shatter me. With one thrust, I feel him claim me. His body feels so right, so perfect. I know that he’s the one I’ve been waiting for, saving myself for. This is bigger than mere attraction. This is destiny. Enzo is my soulmate.

  “Don’t stop, please, don’t ever stop,” I gasp, my hands raking down his back, searching for some way to hold on to him even tighter. To pull him deeper. To give more of myself to this impossibly perfect man.

  “I won’t ever stop, Eliza,” Enzo’s voice is pure animal lust, his need for me twisting his normally calm and controlled cadence into something raw and primal.

  “I’ll be inside you every chance I get. Every second my cock isn’t in this tight little pussy is wasted. This is where we belong. Together, just like this, for the rest of our lives,” He shudders against me, his hips slowly pumping, drilling into me with all of his strength.

  His words are crazy, but in the insanity of this moment, Enzo is the only thing that makes sense anymore, the only sanity I can cling to.

  “Yes, god, yes. I want it like this every day, every night, every fucking chance we get. I need you, Enzo,” I moan, the words spilling off of my tongue unbidden. I’m already close to another soul-shattering climax, the pressure of Enzo’s cock inside me hitting spots inside me that I didn’t even know I had.

  It hits me suddenly, the force of it enough to tear a strangled scream from my throat. The kind of scream that I know will leave my throat ragged and sore tomorrow. The kind that hurts.

  Enzo’s mouth covers mine, claims every ounce of my passion, every drop of my pleasure, every sound I make. My scream melts into whimpers as he continues to slam into me, and I don’t know if I’m pleading with him for less or more, only that I never want it to stop.

  “Too good. You’re so fucking tight, Eliza,” Enzo whispers, awe and need mixing together in his voice. I reach up to his face, cradling it, looking him dead in the eyes.

  “For you, Enzo. I saved myself for you. Now come inside me, mark me as yours.” I whisper.

  His eyes widen, then he’s furiously thrusting into me, all his self-control melted away by my begging for him.

  He shudders, and I feel the warmth of him flood me, his cock twitching and shooting me utterly full. Another moan escapes me as a fresh wave of pleasure washes through me. Nothing has ever felt so right. I’ve never felt so complete.

  “I love you Enzo,” I moan as my last climax takes me.

  “I love you so much, Eliza,” Enzo groans as he shudders against me.

  I know, right then and there, that I’ve found the one.

  Chapter 6

  Enzo

  Hey baby let’s go to Vegas. Kiss the single life good-bye. Hey baby let’s go to Vegas. Bet on love and let it ride. — Faith Hill, ‘Let’s Go to Vegas’

  There is nothing better in life than waking up with the woman you love wrapped around you like a fleece blanket.

  I’m an early riser. Always have been. It’s a good thing, too, because in my business, sleeping-in usually leads to sleeping with the fishes.

  Eliza presses herself against me on the terrible mattress. I glance down at her. God, she’s gorgeous. Her silky brunette locks are fanned out all along the bed, contrasting beautifully with her porcelain skin. Here and there, a splash of color spills across the white comforter; an inky blue curl or the tip of a deep magenta strand.

  I study her, taking in the moment. She’s my own personal Las Vegas Mona Lisa and I want to commit the moment to memory. I sketch her in my mind, exactly as she looks right now. The sunlight peeks in through the slits in the blinds and paints bright lines across her face.

  I watch the sun move until the line of light slowly creeps up her face. Eventually it touches her closed eyes. I watch Eliza’s eyelids flutter. She comes awake slowly, letting go of sleep unwillingly before she finally blinks awake and takes in her surroundings.

  “Good morning, my love,” I whisper. I know I won’t be able to keep the day before out of her head for long. Eliza’s been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. But for the next few moments, at least, I can keep the world from invading her reality. I kiss her, drawing her curvy body to mine as I snuggle her closer.

  “Morning,” she mumbles against my chest. Her voice is rough with sleep, her eyes still groggy as she scrubs them with the back of her knuckles.

  It’s endearing, a sweet, vulnerable side to the woman so full of fierceness I met and fell in love with last night. I can’t wait to wake up to the sight of Eliza scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes every morning for the rest of our lives. The thought is enough to swell my chest with emotion, tripping my pulse with happiness.

  This girl is one of a kind, no doubt about it.

  More, she’s made just for me. The possessiveness I feel for Eliza, the need to keep her safe is so intense it’s almost scary.

  I press a kiss against her lips and she eagerly responds to it. It isn’t long before Eliza’s movements become decidedly less innocent and more focused, determined. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, ever curve and inch of her skin designed to drive me crazy. Her hands begin to work their way down my body, feeling every line of my hard body. Every brush of her fingers against me is blissful magic. Her hands are a prayer along my body.

  I’m so focused on Eliza, so enraptured with the play of her fingers along my skin, that I almost don’t hear the distinct sound of a gun slide being pulled. I nearly miss the soft click of metal against metal. Another agent might not have noticed the tiny sound at all among the hustle of morning noise outside the motel.

  But I do.

  Instinct has me reaching under my pillow for my sidearm, but it’s not there. Instead, I shove Eliza off of me, getting her out of the line of fire. I dive in the opposite direction, heading for the pile of our clothes.

  She doesn’t scream, which probably saves her life.

  It takes me two seconds to get to my Beretta, two terrifying seconds. Long enough for her door to fling open. Two men stand in the frame, silhouetted by the early-morning light. Their weapons are already raised, aimed at the bed where Eliza and
I were cuddled only a moment before.

  To their credit, they don’t hesitate. They just unload their pistols at the bed, riddling the mattress with hot lead.

  Unfortunately for them, neither of us hesitates either.

  Eliza has the bedside lamp in her hands, and her magical touch seems to extend beyond massage and making my cock sing. She’s apparently got a knack for throwing things, too. The lamp catches one of our assailants in the head and drops him like a sack of bricks.

  She clearly missed out on a career pitching for the Sox.

  The other guy starts to turn on her. It’s the last mistake he ever makes. Before he can even begin to aim at my free-spirited love, I fire three shots. I follow it up immediately with another three into the first thug. I don’t take any risks, not when it comes to life or death.

  Especially not with Eliza.

  I slam the door shut, moving to the blinds to peer outside. No one else manifests, but red-hot adrenaline still floods my veins.

  “Come on. We’ve got to go.” I look over my shoulder, where Eliza is throwing on clothes in a surprisingly sexy fast-forward reverse strip-tease.

  “Who are these guys?” she asks. She pauses with a pair of jeans tugged half-way up her hips, looking towards the slumped figures in her doorway. There’s a momentary pang of loss as I watch her curves disappear underneath all that fabric.

  I shake off the thought, quickly, promising up a few Hail Marys in advance for all the sinning Eliza is about to make me do while in Sin City. I haven’t been to confession since my Catholic school graduation, but it might be time for a trip to church.

  “I’ll fill you in on all the details on the way. You’re not safe here.” I turn back towards the window. As much as I want to watch Eliza get dressed, I’d much rather watch her strip down in the safety of my bedroom. The sooner I can get this job finished, the more likely it’ll be that we can both sleep soundly at night.

  “Safe to assume they’re Bianchi’s guys, right?” Eliza’s voice is muffled by her shirt as she pulls it on over her head. “I mean how many random assassins can a girl come across in one night?”

  Yeah, I have my work cut out for me for the rest of my life.

  “It’s a safe bet someone in Bianchi’s organization figured out who you are. They’re looking for you, tesoro.” Eliza’s eyes are huge when she walks up to me. Her hair is still down, a mess of tangles from our lovemaking the night before. I like seeing it this way, loose and free around her angelic face. “We’ve got a good head start. This is what I do, Eliza. I keep people safe. I’d do it for a stranger because it’s my job— do you think I wouldn’t do it for the woman I love?”

  She wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly. Emotion threatens to choke me as I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

  “Thank you, Enzo. You saved my life. Again,” she whispers.

  I give her my best smug, cocky grin.

  “And you did it without throwing me out a window. You’re getting better at this,” she says, matching my smirk with one of her own when she looks up into my face, emotion clouding her eyes.

  “We’re still very much in the fire, maybe the frying pan, possibly both at the same time.” I tilt her face up to mine with a finger under her chin. “Let’s get out of here, alright?”

  Eliza nods. I step out onto the terrace, checking both ways. No one in this part of town is dumb or naive enough to investigate early morning gunshots. Just part of the magic of being in a run-down motel in Vegas.

  “We’re clear. Come on.” I don’t even bother locking the door behind us as I grab Eliza’s arm and begin to lead her to the stairs.

  We don’t see anyone, and for a minute I think I might even be able to take a full breath. Turning into the concrete stairwell, things look clear. No guests lingering anywhere. Even the local teenage skateboarders seem to have cleared out for the morning. The only one around is one little old lady bedecked in yellow rubber gloves scrubbing the windows.

  A few steps later, Eliza pulls me in tight, halting our forward momentum in a sudden hug. It’s a sweet gesture, and normally the affection would be more than welcome. But right now she’s in danger.

  “Baby, we’ve got to—” the words die at my lips, halted by the way Eliza’s hand snakes its way down to my waistline. Only then do I realize she’s going for my gun.

  I’ve been on the wrong end of a barrel more than once in my life. It’s never a good feeling. I don’t care what anyone says, or how many war stories get told around the bar. You never get used to having a gun pulled on you, much less your own.

  But I already trust Eliza with my soul.

  She straightens up, drawing the sidearm and bracing her arm on my shoulder. The shots ring out, two in rapid succession. This close to my ear, they’re deafening. Immediately I hear the high-pitched ringing of my hearing being blown out on one side.

  I turn just in time to catch the cleaning lady falling over the railing of the terrace, the gun in her own hand clattering against the pavement below.

  Eliza’s heartbeat is wild against my chest, almost as loud as the ringing in my ears when she presses herself to me.

  “This place hasn’t been cleaned since — ever,” she whispers up at me with a small smile.

  I nod once, berating myself internally for my mistake.

  The smell of cordite is acrid in the morning air around us. I thought I already loved this girl as much as I could, but every moment with her makes my heart swell more.

  “Come on, cara,” I pull her close as I make our way towards my car. “Time to go shopping.”

  Chapter 7

  Eliza

  Get this party started on a Saturday night. Everybody’s waiting for me to arrive. — P!nk, ‘Get This Party Started’

  “This is the strangest first date I’ve ever been on,” I look from Enzo’s rugged face to the blinking facade of the Top Gun.

  Beneath a streamlined marquis, a simple display reads the stores hours, the price of ammunition, and the cost to rent and purchase the most popular guns in the area. A no-nonsense sign above the front door states that both the gun shop and the target range strictly enforce Nevada and federal law.

  “Oh yeah?” Enzo holds open the frosted glass door. His eyes meet mine with a crackling heat as I walk into the gun shop ahead of him. “You go on a lot of dates, tesoro?”

  “Not really,” I shake my head at him.” It’s hard to keep a straight face when Enzo looks at me like that—as if he wants to gobble me up in one bite. “I’ve always been too busy for boys.”

  It sounds so dumb when I say it out loud. I half expect Enzo to laugh, or to find his sharp blue eyes mocking me when I look back up.

  They’re not, of course. I don’t know why I continue to doubt Enzo, or myself around him. He’s looking at me with all that quiet patience. It makes me throb and ache all over again inside.

  “I just wanted more for myself, you know?” I finally say when it’s apparent that Enzo isn’t going to look away any time soon. He has an uncanny way of giving me as much space as I need. It feels good, knowing he has my back. I know my protective Italian will do anything to keep me safe, but he still trusts me to make my own decisions. I don’t know that anyone else in my life has ever treated me with this much respect.

  All the things I never would have expected from the deadliest man I’ve ever met.

  “Anyway,” I go on easily. The store is meticulously clean, an assortment of handguns and various knives on display behind the thick glass of the case at the front. “I just put all my effort into work. Into making something of myself.”

  It feels good to talk about everything I’ve ever wanted for myself out loud. To be unapologetic about my goals and aspirations. Like a baptism, confessing some deep dark secret for the first time in my life. Enzo Rossi is his own kind of sacrament.

  “I don’t want to end up living in this same town until I’m old and grey.” My finger leaves a slight smudge on the immaculate case as I walk the lo
ng length of the display. I recognize the hefty, solid shape of Enzo’s 9mm, right next to a smaller, sleeker handgun that looks like it belongs in a Hollywood action movie. “ I want to see the world. Live my best life. Most people don’t understand that, or why I work so hard—”

  “I understand.” Enzo’s gone all intense again. When his long fingers wrap around my wrist, I’m not surprised to find him looking down at me with the liquid fire turned up in his eyes. “I know what it’s like to search for something more, Eliza.” His voice works its way across my skin like a caress. It reminds me of his hands, staking a claim on me all night. I have to clench my thighs together, fighting the intensity of my arousal.

  “I’ve lived my life that way for so long.” His voice is a whisper against my skin. Darkly erotic in the semi-public space of the gun shop lobby. “I promise, when this is over we’ll take some time. I think you’ll like Sicily. But if you don’t, we’ll go anywhere in the world. Anywhere to keep you happy.”

  Time threatens to stop at his words. I want to ask a million questions, kiss him a million different ways.

  “You’re late.” A deep voice slices through the stillness of the crisp, conditioned air. Instinctively, I jump back, my heart already climbing back into my throat. But Enzo simply uses his hold on my wrist to pull me close, running soothing fingers along the back of my palm.

  “You’re late, you didn’t confirm your package last night, and you brought company with you? It’s very early for you to make me start drinking, Rossi.”

  A man materializes from the back room of the store. His voice is as deep as Enzo’s, an entirely different accent dripping from every vowel. The gruff growl sounds like French— ground down by sandpaper, doused by coffee and deprived of sleep every night for the last ten years. He steps fully into the early morning light a moment later, a coffee mug in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other.