jcsbth by onechangeatthetime

STOLEN BY THE HITMAN

A MEN OF RUTHLESS CORP BOOK

JAGGER COLE

Stolen By The Hitman Jagger Cole © 2021 All rights reserved. Cover by Cormar Covers | Editing by MJ Edits This is a literary work of ﬁction. Any names, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or establishments, are solely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and a violation of US copyright law.

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CONTENTS

Stolen By The Hitman A Special Present Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue Men of Ruthless Corp Also by Jagger Cole About the Author

STOLEN BY THE HITMAN

Taking her was never the plan. Giving her up isn’t an option. I’m a man with a certain set of strengths: brutality, precision, and the coldness to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It’s what made me an asset to the SEALS. Now, it’s what makes me an ideal killer for hire with Ruthless Corp. But my strengths are put to the test when she comes between me and a job. It’s supposed to be easy: kill the scummy old bastard of a target, take his priceless diamond necklace as payment. Except that’s a little hard to do, when those diamonds are locked without a key around Leah Hartley’s pretty little neck. She’s young and innocent, with curves so goddamn tempting that my hands ache to claim her. But she’s also something else now: mine. My captive. My prisoner until I can ﬁgure this mess out.

There are forces hunting us down. They’re after the jewels and the both of us. But I’ll be damned if I give her up. There’s a key out there for the prize around her neck. But pretty soon, I don’t give a damn about the diamonds. I already have my prize. And she just might be the key to my broken, cold heart.

A SPECIAL PRESENT

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ROURKE

S HE

WASN ’ T SUPPOSED

to be here.

No one was. The target, a certain Terrance Rynsburger, was supposed to be alone. I grit my teeth, my eyes narrowing as they move between the portly man in his sixties and the absolutely stunning blonde girl standing next to him. But once my gaze lands on her, it’s impossible to look away. She’s gorgeous, young, and innocent—the kind of innocent a man like me has no business even looking at. But I can’t pull my eyes from her. She’s magnetic to me; dangerously so. Distractions can mean death on a job, even one as one-sided as this. Terry Rynsburger is as much a threat to me as ﬁeld mouse is to a fucking tiger. But ignoring him is still dangerous. I know better. I’ve been trained better than this. But she’s fucking all of that up. I groan. He was supposed to be alone. I’ve cased Terry’s huge Paciﬁc Heights home for two weeks. The sprawling San Francisco mansion in the thick of “Billionaires Row” is a fortress, standing tall next to homes belonging to the likes of

Danielle Steel, the CEO of PayPal, and the guy who designed the fucking iPhone. But fortress or not, I’ve examined every detail of this place. I know every entrance and every exit. I know the rotation of his guards. I knew, or at least I thought I knew, the ideal moment to slip in and take him out. She’s thrown that o . This was supposed to be easy. Get in, put one through the back of Terry’s skull through the mouth so it looks like a suicide. Then take the diamond choker from the safe behind his desk as my payment and disappear. The client even supplied the combination for that safe. And when I did a test run last week, I made sure that combination worked. I grit my teeth. Goddamnit. This wasn’t supposed to go down this way. I turn my eyes to her and tense. It’s sort of hard to pull o a hit that looks like a suicide with a goddamn witness in the room. “Did she send you?!” Terry blurts. He’s moving back towards his desk. I somehow manage to pull my eyes from the utterly captivating girl standing near him and bring my gun up. “That’s far enough,” I grunt at the red-faced, sweaty billionaire. “I know it was her!” he squeals again, like a pig. “That bitch! That little cunt!” His hand darts back. Mine tightens, bracing for a weapon.

“I’m not armed!” he blurts. “But I want to show you something.” “Slowly,” I growl thickly. He brings a hand up. My jaw grits. Fuck, there’s my payment. It’s called the Claimed Heiress—a diamond choker that once belonged to a shipping tycoon here in San Francisco. It’s also valued at two-point-four million dollars. “This what you’re after, asshole?!” Terry blurts. He looks frantic. Frantic people do irrational things. “Take it easy,” I mutter. My eyes slide back to the girl. She looks utterly terrified, standing there in that skirt-suit that fits her like a fucking glove. O ce attire shouldn’t be that hot. The pencil skirt fits her like a second skin. The fitted blouse hugs every curve, and those towering black stilettos make the look even more enticing. The outfit is distracting. Her big blue eyes and plump, full lips are disorienting. But her being here at all is the biggest problem. Who the fuck is this girl? “This what you want? Huh? That why she sent you? To kill me and take this?!” Terry’s losing control and spiraling. He starts to move towards the girl. “Mr. Rynsburger, I need you to sit the fuck d—” “You want this?! How about now!”

He bolts behind her. She gasps, paling as my gun follows him. But I quickly drop the barrel away from her. In one motion, Terry whips his arm around her, his hands ﬂash, and suddenly, she gasps as he clasps the Heiress choker around her neck. I snarl. Fuck. “You know why they call it the Claimed Heiress, don’t you?” Terry crows gleefully. Unfortunately, I do. It’s called that because the damned thing doesn’t come o . It’s got a lock that was designed by one of the most famous clock-makers in prewar Europe. It’s un-pickable, and you can’t break it without destroying the whole thing. The Heiress has one key… “Oh I think you do know why, don’t you?” Terry swallows. He looks terriﬁed, but he knows this is his only play. “One key, you prick,” he chuckles. “And I don’t have it.” I raise my gun up. Terry cowers behind her as she whimpers in fear. But I snarl and bring the gun away again. What the fuck is wrong with me? Being cold and ruthless is how I’ve survived this long in life. First in the Navy with the SEALs, now as a killer for hire with Ruthless Corp. I don’t back down. I don’t blink. I don’t hesitate. But here I am doing all of those things, because of one pretty face. I start to move towards them. “What are you gonna do?!” he gasps. “Kill her? Cut her damn head o for it?!”

I push past the girl, grab Terry, and whirl to slam him into a chair. “You’re going to unlock it. Now.” He smiles weakly. “No can do.” I push the gun into his face. “Yes, can do.” Terry whimpers. “I really don’t have it. T-the key, I mean,” he blurts. “Bullshit.” “I really don’t!” He chokes. “B-b-but she does!” He gasps. “That bitch who hired you!” I frown. “Laura, right?” That’s who sent you to kill me, isn’t it? Wanted you to make it look like a suicide, too, I bet?” My jaw grits. I don’t like this. “She has the key! She’s playing you, pal! She wants you to kill me, then you’ll go to her for the key because we both know that necklace is worth half its value without it. When you go asking for it, she’ll kill you and take it.” He grins winningly at me. “But, guess no one’s taking it now. Not unless you want to put a bullet in her pretty little head.” He nods at the girl. When my eyes turn to her, she pales. I know what I should do. The cold, heartless monster in me that was honed in war would do what I need to do. Kill the

girl, kill this asshole, go get my goddamn key, and then it’s early retirement. My eyes close for a second. Except I know I can’t do that. Not her. Not with the way those big blue eyes look at me. Not the way the scent of her hair that I can even get from here makes my skin tingle. And not with the way those soft curves beg for my hands to grab ahold and never let go. I’m not killing her; I think grimly to myself. I’m taking her. Her and the necklace. I hiss as I jam the gun against Terry’s neck. I reach back for the zip-ties in my back pocket and slip them over his shaking hands. Then I tie his wrists against the arms of the chair. “What he fuck are you—!” “I took a job, and I don’t ever not finish a job I started,” I snap. Before he can blurt anything else, I grab a gag from my back pocket, jam it in his piggy mouth, and tie it behind his head. “So you’re staying here, right where I can find you. We’re going to figure out which of you is fucking with me. And then, either way,” I lean down, my eyes narrowing. “I’m going to put a bullet in you.” Terry pales. I stand back and tap the earpiece in my ear. “You with me Mags?”

“Loud and clear,” Maggie, my eyes and ears at her computer in the van downstairs, drawls in her Kentucky accent. I hear her drag on a cigarette and scowl. “Thought I told you to quit those fucking things,” I grunt quietly. “Thought I told you I’m old enough to not take orders from a kid like you,” my ﬁve-foot-nothing, grey-haired, midsixties back-up grunts. I sigh. “I need you to babysit.” Her breath sucks in. “Who?” “The target.” Maggie groans. “Rourke, honey, you’re supposed to shoot the target.” I glance at Terry. “Plans have changed. He’s tied up, but I need you up here. I’ll come down and let you through the cut in the back security fence, by the park. And Mags?” “Yeah?” “Bring a gun.” “You know I will,” she mutters. “Where am I headed when I get inside?” “We’re with him in the study, but—” “I’m sorry, who the hell is we?”

I wince. “I have…” my eyes slide to her and my voice lowers. “Company.” “Uh, what?” “I’ll meet you downstairs, Mags. I gotta run.” I click my audio o and turn to the girl. My eyes drag over her, greedily. Hungrily. She swallows, her tongue slipping out to wet her full, soft lips. “I—I just work here!” she blurts, trembling. “That’s a shame.” “Please!” she gasps. “I don’t want any trouble!” “Well, that’s also a shame,” I growl. Before she can react, I’m storming across the room to her. She shrieks as I grab her and throw her over my shoulder. “Cause trouble just found you.”

LEAH

H IS MUSCLES CLENCH and coil against me as he jogs down the back staircase. His big hands dig into my skin, and my heart pulses heavily. I want to scream, and yet I don’t. Maybe I’m scared of what he’d do if I did. Or maybe I know it wouldn’t do any good—that he’d silence me before any help ever came for me. And yet maybe also, I’m just so glad to be out of that room. Before this insanity—before the huge man with the tattoo and the piercing eyes and the gun barged in, I thought it was ﬁnally going to happen. I thought Terry was really going to just do what he’s been hinting at for months. I know that’s why he had me stay late tonight. It’s why he never paid me last paycheck period. It’s all part of his manipulations and mind games. It’s not enough to be richer than God for a man like him. He has to own people. He has to have control. I knew the personal assistant job to one of the wealthiest men in San Francisco was too good to be true. I was right. On

a resume, sure, PA-ing for Terrance Rynsburger looks incredible. Not to mention the connections it would give me. The job was every business major’s dream. Except Terrance Rynsburger is a nightmare. A predator. First it was my work dress code; how he thought pants were outdated. I acquiesced. He thought jackets looked manly, I said okay. Then the skirts needed to be shorter. I needed to “look sexy” to compliment him on business meetings. But I needed the job, and he all but threatened to ﬁre me if I didn’t go along with his requests. So I did. And then, the touching started. First it was hands on my shoulder that lingered too long. Then it was a hand at the small of my back that would make me wince and retch inside. Or the times I just happened to “walk in on him” changing, even though he’d just called me in to his o ce. I almost quit so many times, but the connections and the opportunities were too good. The money was too good. And San Francisco is so fucking expensive. So is school. So I stayed. But then, the web got even more tangled. Terrance was having me organize his cloud storage—putting ﬁles into the right places, cleaning things up, that sort of thing. But when I was doing that, from my own computer, I stumbled onto, well… something I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t snooping, and it’s not like I was looking for anything like this. But the folder of documents, contracts,

maps, schedules, and contact lists was labeled “2010 Tax Returns”. I looked into it just to double check before I deleted it, and that’s when I saw what I almost wish I could unsee. Terrance isn’t just the founder and CEO of RynsTech Industries. His money doesn’t just come from his massive stock holdings and trading portfolio. He’s a predator: a real, actual predator. It turns out, Terrance’s extremely lucrative side-hustle was —is—tra cking girls from third world countries for the purposes of forced prostitution. I remember realizing the gravity of what I was reading in that file folder and almost vomiting. Terry’s been using his shipping contacts and reputation with international port authorities to smuggle in women. I wanted to run. I wanted to go to the police, or just never show up to work again. But not ten minutes after I slammed my laptop shut in horror, there was a knock on my front door. And that’s how I met my first FBI agent: Special Agent Kim Morales. Apparently, they’ve had their eyes on Terry. And by accessing those files from my own computer, suddenly, I was their way in. That was scary enough. But when Agent Morales smiled thinly and told me flatly that I was now being labeled as an accomplice, I knew what real fear was. They didn’t care that it was obvious I had nothing to do with Terry’s horrible side-hustle. There was no pleading or crying

to change their minds. In fact, they knew I wasn’t. But I was the weak link in his walls. By threatening me, they could force me to go back into that o ce every day to spy for them. And that’s what I’ve been doing, for two horrible months. So not only am I dealing with Terry being a creepy, lecherous boss, but I’m dealing with the FBI breathing down my neck for information on him. Last month, Terry suggested we get dinner. When I said no, my job load doubled. And I couldn’t say shit. Last week, he brought me into the o ce and locked the door. He told me it took dedication and loyalty to “make it” in the business world and started to undo his pants. I was only saved by a frantic phone call from one of his business partners. Agent Morales and her team, by the way, didn’t care about the incident in the slightest when I told them. But tonight, when he told me to stay late, and when I saw the guards purposely leave this ﬂoor? My heart sank. My body curled in on itself. I knew I should have run or quit. But I showed up anyways. He showed me that stupid necklace and told me he wanted to see me wearing it—it and nothing else. That’s exactly the point when this man barged in. I tremble against the broad shoulder. But whoever he is, the man who’s slung me over his shoulder like a caveman is no savior. This isn’t my hero. This is out of the frying pan and into the ﬁre. Because now I’m being fucking kidnapped. “Please,” I whisper.

“Don’t speak,” he grunts. My mouth shuts. His hands tighten on me. I hate myself for liking that—for liking the way his hand feels on me. We slip out the backdoor of Terrance’s mansion. He hauls me through the darkened back patios and gardens. I know there are guards close. But I can’t bring myself to scream. Near the back, I notice the security cameras on the wall pointed askew, meaning we’re in a blind spot. There’s a hole that looks like it’s been cut with a welding tool or something in the metal privacy fence. The man holding me grunts and squats as he steps through it, me still in his clutches. It’s dark out. My heart thuds as he glances left and right and then jogs down to a side-street alley that runs behind Terrance’s mansion. He runs up to a dark black old-school muscle car—a Mustang. He opens the passenger door. But when he shoves me, I ﬁnally do scream. Instantly, his huge hand clamps over my mouth. “Not a word,” he growls. His eyes slide to my neck, then its lower. I blush. I can feel the heat of his eyes as they drag over me. I know I should be appalled, or terriﬁed. And maybe I am scared. But I shamefully like the way his gaze feels on me. It’s not even like he’s mentally undressing me. It’s like he’s seeing me—the real me, like no one else ever has. With a quiet snarl, he pulls away and slams the door shut. I watch him storm around to the driver’s side, slide in, and start the engine. Then he turns to me.

“What are you?” he snaps. I tremble. “Excuse me?” The man—my captor—frowns. He eyes me with a gaze that pierces through me. “I meant who are you?” “Leah,” I whisper. “Leah Hartley.” “And what are you to Terry?” “His personal assistant?” The man’s eyes narrow. “How old are you exactly?” “Nineteen.” His brow cocks. “And you’re the PA to one of the most powerful, richest men in San Francisco? How the hell did you swing that?” My mouth thins. “I think it’s more how he wanted me to swing that.” A shadow crosses his face. “I… I didn’t,” I blurt. “I mean, he tried to…” I look down. “Tonight, actually. Right before you walked in.” My captor is silent. When I look up, his mouth is tight. “I’m sorry, Leah,” he growls quietly. I smile weakly. God, he’s so hot. Distractingly and disarmingly so. He’s huge, and powerful looking. He’s got tattoos running down his muscled arms, and more visible at the neck of his black t-shirt.

“Was he telling the truth about the key?” He mutters, glancing at me. I nod. “Laura has it. It’s a thing between them.” The man frowns and turns to me again in the dark car. “Between them?” “Yeah, like a family disagreement thing.” His brow arches strictly. “Family?” I frown curiously as I turn to him. “Well, yeah.” “You mean like a business family.” I shake my head. “No I mean like how Laura is his daughter.” The man stares at me blankly, looking stunned. “Wait, did you not know that?” “It’s not my job to ask questions like that.” “What is your job,” I whisper softly. “You know,” he growls. I swallow again. “You… you kill people, don’t you?” His eyes hold min. “Yes.” I swallow thickly. “Are you going to…” my lip sucks between my teeth. “I mean, for the necklace,” I whisper. “No,” he growls. “No, I’m not. I don’t kill innocents.”

“This necklace is worth a lot.” I cringe. Why the fuck did I just say that? Gee Mr. Killer, are you sure you don’t want to murder me? But he just turns to me and smirks thinly. “You trying to pitch me on killing you for the necklace?” I pale. “No, I just—” “I know how much it’s worth, Leah. I’m still not going to kill you for it. You can relax.” I smile weakly. I start to let my shoulders relax. That is, until there’s a knock on his window. I gasp, almost jumping out of my skin. The man keeps his eyes on me for one more second before he turns and cranks the window down. An older woman with silver hair pulled back and a stern look on her face leans down to rest her arms on the window frame. “Just wanted to check in before I head up there to babysit.,” she drawls in a southern-tinged accent. My captor nods. “We’re good, Mags.” She nods in response and glances past him to me. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “This your new friend?” “Looks that way.” She arches a brow. “Nice jewels, honey.” “Uh, thanks,” I mumble.

She eyes me again and then turns her attention to him. “So what’s next?” “Call Laura and get a meet. She’s got the key, and it’s only worth half without it.” “It’s worth nothing locked around her neck,” she mutters. “But we could do with half.” Fear grips me. But the man growls and shoots the older woman a hard look. “Mags,” he says warningly. She shrugs. “Hey, I’m just sayin’.” She nods at me. “No o ense, honey.” “Uh…” “Alright, I’m going up there. He’s still got his o ce ﬂagged through the security system as do not disturb to his guards.” “Good.” The man frowns. “Oh, one more thing.” He glances at me. “What you said before, about Laura and Terry. That really true?” I nod. “Shit.” He glances back to the older woman. “Here’s a fun twist. Laura is Terry’s daughter.” The woman’s brows raise. “Oh? Well that’s a can of worms I wasn’t looking to get into.” “No shit. See what you can dig up on that angle though, yeah?”

“Yeah, can do. You should skedaddle, though.” She glances past me as he starts the car with a rumble. “Don’t get lost now, honey,” she drawls. “You’re worth a goddamn fortune with that thing on your neck.”

ROURKE

S HE ’ S silent as we drive. I can admire that. It might be out of fear, but she’s not screaming her head o . She could be, and maybe she should be. But she’s just looking straight ahead. My thoughts swirl, drifting back to what she was saying about what almost happened in that o ce before I barged in. I think about that greasy prick Terry cornering her, trying to… how did she put it… how he wanted her to “earn her job.” The thought of it makes my blood boil. Instantly, I’m furious. And I suddenly wish I had put a bullet through his fucking teeth. Or maybe just through his balls. The idea of that asshole trying to force her into anything is fucked up and disgusting, yes. But I know it’s bigger than that for me. Any man who would do that deserves to have his dick cut o and shoved down his throat. But the idea of someone trying that with her speciﬁcally has my teeth grinding. I turn, a growl rumbling in my chest as I drink her in. My eyes slide over her. My pulse thuds. My cock thickens.

Fuck. No one has done this to me in… well, a very long time. A decade or more. I was wild when I was young. Then the Navy swallowed me up and spit out a cold-blooded machine. It had to, and I had to be that. I fought for my country across the entire world. I killed from the shadows. I was a wraith; an angel of death. And I played that part for years, until machine gun fire almost cut me in half. My mind flashes back to the warlord’s compound in Libya— the last room down the hall from the main gates that wasn’t cleared properly. I twitch as I remember the man who jumped out pumping lead into us until my best friend Jason cut him down. We lost four men that night. Jason and I were airlifted back to base in fucking pieces. I remember him looking at me in that chopper, mouthing “take care of her.” And when we landed, Jason was gone. Over the next year, I learned to do everything again—walk, talk, all of it. Then they shipped my ass back stateside, gave me a classified Purple Heart and Navy Cross, and honorably discharged me. At first, I was lost. I was still trying to kick the painkiller addiction and taking odd jobs, trying to get into a gig with a private contractor. But I was too dark to find that kind of work. Every single thing I’d done was a highly classified, o -the-books mission. I didn’t exist in the military, which made it pretty damn impossible to get military contractor jobs. So I took bar bouncer gigs. I fell in with some real

shitheads down in Dallas—muscle for some two-bit crime lord. I knew I was wasting my talents, but it was all I had. That’s when Rogue found me. The motherfucker was watching me pummel some dealers for cash they owned my boss. He walked right up to me, didn’t blink when I pulled a gun on him, and asked what the fuck I was doing with my life. When I didn’t have answer, he gave me one: come work for him. Turns out, he’d been watching me. Like he watched all the potential recruits to his company. We sat down, he told me what I could do and what I could be, and I didn’t look back. After that, I was a member of Ruthless Corp, Rogue’s gunfor-hire company. “Who was that?” I blink turning to the girl—Leah. “What?” “That woman back there.” I smirk. “That would be Mags. Maggie.” “She’s like your partner or something?” I grin. I like that she’s full of questions, even with the craziness she’s been thrown into. “Yeah, sort of.” Definitely sort of. When I settled in at Ruthless Corp, and when Rogue got me clean, I could finally fulfill my promise to Jason. I knew who he’d meant when he said to “take care of her” in that hellish

helicopter ride. He means his mama, back in Kentucky— Maggie, or Mags. She’s who Jason got his no-shit attitude from. She’s probably who he learned to shoot from, too. Mags might be in her sixties, but she’s a tough bird. So tough that she’s been my backup on more than one occasion. She’s not walking around guns blazing, but she’ll be my eyes and ears when I’m walking into someplace hostile. Mags and I’s relationship is hard to explain. She’s sort of a mom ﬁgure, but not really. More like a crazy, gun-toting aunt. Mags is backwoods Kentucky through and through— one part gunpowder, one part moonshine, two parts attitude. She’s arguably a better shot than me, and could almost deﬁnitely drink my ass under the table. “Thank you, by the way,” Leah says softly. I turn to her. “I’m not sure you want to thank me just yet.” “Yes ,I do.” She trembles, hugging herself. “He… Terrance… he could have, I mean back there before you—” “That’s not going to happen,” I growl. “That’s not ever going to happen.” The savagery in my voice surprises me. The instant possessive protectiveness I feel for her is almost overwhelming. “I should have just quit, I just…” “You don’t need to have an excuse, darlin’,” I growl. “You didn’t do shit to deserve whatever bullshit he tried to put you

through.” She turns and smiles at me, biting her lip. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Our eyes lock before mine slip back to the road. After the SEALs, I closed up. I didn’t let anyone in, least of all women. I shut myself down and away from all of that. But her? I groan. She’s bringing up desires and lust in me I’ve ignored for a decade. And it’s threatening to explode. But I can’t think of that. I can’t sit here lusting after this fucking nineteen year old girl no matter how fucking hard she makes me. I need to ﬁgure this shit out. I need to know what the hell is going on with this situation, so I can ﬁnish the job I was hired to do. “I’m going to make a phone call. But I need you to not say anything,” I say gently. She nods. “Okay.” I turn to glance at her again, the road lights drifting over her pretty face as she looks out the window. “You okay?” She nods. But she’s not. Not really. I mean a guy who looks like me—a monster—just basically kidnapped her. But she’s a part of this, like it or not. And I don’t. I thumb down to Laura’s number in my phone and hit call. The dial tone comes through on my car speakers.

“Mr. Jenner.” Laura’s—my client’s— voice comes through with the haughty, snobby-rich tone I’m used to from her. “I take it this call means our business has been concluded—” “You lied to me,” I snarl. Anger bubbles inside of me. Not just because I got fucked. Not just because this was supposed to be easy. But because this was supposed to be the last job. I’m forever thankful to Rogue for what he did for me. He found me when I was up to my eyeballs in shit, and he saw the potential inside. He’s given me a new life through Ruthless. But all stories must end. And my days of killing for cash are over. They have to be. Mags is getting older, and I’m just getting sick of the life. When Laura contracted this job, she told Rogue she wanted to discuss payment with me in person. Ruthless is getting its usual cut, from her direct. But when I met with her, she told me about the Heiress diamonds. She obviously never told me the target was her goddamn father. But she did say the Claimed Heiress was an old family heirloom that has caused a lot of trouble. With the job, she’d kill two birds with one stone—Terry dead and the necklace gone. Because it was to be my payment for the job—my hefty, hefty payment. Mags doesn’t know all details yet, but this was my big cash out. With the two-point-four mil from this thing, I was going to buy a big-ass house back in Kentucky for the both

of us to just spend our days drinking sweet tea on the front porch. Now that dream is fading. Laura chuckles. “Did I?” “You don’t think it was prudent for me to know that the target was in fact your own father?” “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” “When I asked you for the details on this job, that would be the time to tell the truth about the full details. Not lie about them.” “Well, Mr. Jenner, it seems to me that I just didn’t tell you the full story, which I don’t have to. You’re a hitman, not a Congressional hearing.” “Do not make the mistake of imagining that since you’re paying me—or promised to pay me—that you can speak down to me,” I grunt. “And what you did was give me the wrong intel for a mission. Which could have gotten me killed.” “You seem okay to me.” I grit my teeth. “Very funny.” “Is the job done or not, Mr. Jenner. It’s a simple—” “We need to meet.” She pauses. “Mr. Jenner, is he dead or not?” “Let’s just meet.”

“So that’s a no,” she says dryly. “I have half of what I was promised, Laura.” She laughs coldly. “Ahh, so you want the key.” I hate being fucked with. And I deﬁnitely hate when people think they can make me dance like a goddamn puppet. “What I want is to stop playing games, Laura. And if you have the key, then yes. I want it, as per our agreement.” “Hmm…” she muses. “Do you have it or not?” I snap. “Perhaps I do.” I roll my eyes. “Well then perhaps I don’t kill your father.” I can hear her bristling through the phone. “Do you have him?” I glance at Leah. She looks terriﬁed to even be present for this conversation. And I don’t blame her. She’s what, a college student? A personal assistant to some rich douchebag? And now she’s a stolen captive in stranger’s car, privy to a conversation about an assassination. “He’s safe. I have people on him,” I growl. “But I’m not a charity, Laura. Nor am I an idiot. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll meet, I get what I want, then I’ll take care of your father. That’s how this transaction works. It’s simple like that.” She pauses again. “I need to think about it.”

“You have an hour.” I hang up before she can answer. I know Laura’s type. She thinks money makes her powerful. In truth, it means she just has so much more to lose. Deep down, she knows that. She’ll call. In the meantime, I need to lay low. I turn to my captive—my temptation. The reason my cock is rock fucking hard in my jeans. I look at the necklace. It’s mine—that’s my retirement, right there. But then my eyes drift to her lips. And her eyes. And over her curves. The necklace is my retirement. She is what I want, though. More than anything I’ve wanted in a long damn time. But I need to check that. I need to get my shit in line. “What happens now?” Leah whispers quietly. Now, I take you. I rip that pencil skirt o of you, wrap your legs around my waist, and sink my cock balls-deep in that hot little pussy. I make you mine, until your moans are all I know. I clear my throat, shaking the fantasy away. “Now, we wait.” We wait, and we see how long my self-control can last.

LEAH

T HE FIRE — AS in what happens out of the proverbial frying pan—isn’t so bad. Or at least, it’s not as scary as I thought it was at ﬁrst. He’s not as scary as I thought he was. It’s not that he doesn’t frighten me—he does. But when I look at him, it’s not really fear that courses through me. It’s something else; something hotter. My eyes keep sliding back to him as we drive around the city. I keep letting my gaze slip over his muscled arms and broad chest. Passing streetlights glint over the tattoos and scars on his skin. He turns to catch me staring, and I blush. I quickly turn back to stare out the window at the Presidio, feeling my core tighten. He’s… hot. I groan to myself. He’s very hot, actually. He’s much, much older than me, and dangerous looking. But maybe that’s the attraction. Or at least, the attraction I haven’t been ﬁnding anywhere else.

When you’re on your own at seventeen, it’s hard to find any time at all for being attracted to anyone. I frown, my eyes drifting over the passing buildings. My dad was gone before I hit kindergarten. But from what my mom always told me, it’s best that my memories of him are faded and few. Then my mom got sick when I was a sophomore in high school. So when other girls were going on first dates, and having first boyfriends, first kisses, and losing their virginities in the backs of cars, I was making dinner, paying bills, and making sure my mom’s dosages were good. I juggled taking care of her and school until she passed when I was a senior. Luckily, we’d planned for the eventuality of her cancer. So I was set up to take care of myself until graduation. The day after that, I was gone—sold the house, bought a car, and drove west until I hit San Francisco. The university here had o ered me the best financial package of any of the school’s I’d applied to. But even so, I juggled waitressing and school until I fell into my job with Terrance. I exhale slowly. So that’s why. That’s why I’m nineteen and I’ve never had a boyfriend, or a first kiss—much less a first time. I guess that’s why I’m so happy to be in the fire, so long as I’m out of the frying pan where I might have lost my freaking virginity to Terrance fucking Rynsburger, by force. I shudder. “My name is Rourke, by the way.” I feel a warmth creep into my cheeks. “And I’m sorry you’re caught up in this, Leah”

I turn to look at him curiously. It’s… I don’t know. It feels out of character for a man like him—an actual hitman, as Terry’s daughter said on the phone—to say something like that. It makes me want to tell him everything. I tremble, my lips thinning. I close my eyes and turn to look out the window again. I want to tell him about Terry’s side business. I need to tell him about it, especially since there’s an even worse part of it: the fact that Laura, his daughter, is involved in the operations. Even worse than that, she might be even more evil than Terry is with the whole thing. Knowing that it’s Laura behind hiring a hitman to go after her own father sends a chill up my spine. My mind ﬂashes back to the emails I saw between her and Terry in those secret ﬁles—emails where he was content with how business was going, and how she disagreed. Terry is disgusting for exploiting all of those destitute women. But Laura wants to expand. She’s been talking with a human tra cking ring out of China that she wants to get into business with. Terry disagrees—not out of any moral compass, he just doesn’t want to upset a solid business by expanding. I cringe. I want to tell Rourke all of this. I need to tell him this if he’s going to be meeting with this ghoul of a woman. But I can’t; not with the threat hanging over me by the FBI. It doesn’t matter that I’m innocent. Part of our arrangement is that if I spill any of this to anyone, they’ll throw me under the bus. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, big time.

Rourke frowns at my silence. “Are you okay?” I blush, realizing I’ve just been staring into space. “Sorry, I just…” His brow furrows, and he clears his throat. “Stupid fucking question, I guess.” I smile wryly. “I’m okay.” “Look, for what it’s worth, you weren’t supposed to be caught up in this. When we can get that o …” he nods at the jewels around my neck. They’re heavy, and cool. My hand slides up to touch the multi-million dollar diamonds. “When that’s o , you’re in the clear. I’m going to make sure of that.” His cellphone dings. He frowns and pulls to the side of the road before looking at it. “We’ve got a meeting with Laura.” He tuns to me. “I’m serious, you know. I am what I am. But I’m not a psychopath. This business only concerns you because that damn thing is locked around your neck. When it’s o , I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay out of any fallout.” He brings the phone up to his ear, o

the car speakers.

“Mags, we got a meet.” He shakes his head. “No, stay there with him. She’s—” his lips curl in a grin. “Thanks for the input,” he chuckles darkly. His eyes dart to me. I blush feeling like the conversation is about me. He hangs up and sighs.

“Alright, let’s go get this thing o back to your life, Leah.”

your neck and get you

“Okay,” I say quietly as he pulls the car back onto the road. But part of me wonders if there’s any going back after this at all.

T HE MEET IS in a warehouse south of the city in San Bruno. It’s dark and dimly lit when we pull through the gates of the industrial park. Rourke’s eyes narrow as he scans the buildings and the parked cars near the open hanger door of a big, dimly lit warehouse. He growls quietly. “What is it?” “I don’t like this,” he grunts. He drives into the shadows and stops the car. The engine turns o . In the darkness, he turns to me. I tremble when I see the glint in his eyes—dangerous, but also so freaking alluring. It’s like ﬁre, and I’m a moth that can’t stay away. “Rourke, I—this meeting. You should know…” I close my eyes and look down. I want to tell him, so, so badly. But I can’t. “I wouldn’t ever bring you into something like this,” he says quietly, misreading my hesitation. “But…” “But she needs to see this,” I tap the necklace. “To know you’re serious with your end of things, right?”

He smirks “Business major,” I shrug with a small smile. “And a smart one,” he grins. But then my breath catches when he pulls a gun out. My pulse thuds as he checks it and slips it into a holster under his arm. Then he pulls a second gun out and does the same under the other arm. “Let’s get this done so we can get you back to your life.” We step out of the car and walk to the side door. “Stay behind me,” he growls thickly. I nod and I pull close to him before shyly realizing I’m crowding him. I start to retreat, but his hand comes back and takes mine. I tremble, tingling as he squeezes it gently. Inside, there’s only one light on, hanging low over the middle of the empty warehouse ﬂoor. “Ahh, Mr. Jenner!” Laura, Terry’s daughter, calls from up high. I recognize her voice from the few times I’ve taken phone messages from her. “How about we turn some lights on, Laura,” Rourke grunts. “Oh, I’m ﬁne, thank you.” “Turn the goddamn lights on,” he growls. “I don’t make deals with people I can’t see.” “And I don’t negotiate with failed hitmen.” He chuckles. “Right. Well, here’s how this is going to work. You can be a bitch if you want, but the job doesn’t get done

until my end of things is squared. And something tells me, you need this job to get done.” “What makes you think I’m so desperate that I’ll jump through your hoops, Mr. Jenner?” “Because people don’t put contracts on their own father’s heads casually. Personal or ﬁnancial, my bet is you need this to happen.” “Ahhh, well then,” Laura’s voice sounds dangerously edged. “Perhaps I call your employer to complain about the service I’m receiving for my money?” Rourke rolls his eyes. “Rogue will agree with me. We all know you opted to pay me this way so the money would never be traced to you. That’s ﬁne. I don’t care and I don’t question that or why you want your father dead. I don’t actually care.” I turn to him, only now grasping that he really doesn’t know what he’s involved in. I tremble. Suddenly, I’m afraid. Because I’ve been privy to emails and phone calls I probably shouldn’t have seen as Terrys PA. I know things I shouldn’t. But I do know them, and it makes me very, very afraid for this. Rourke thinks he’s settling a family thing gone horribly askew. But there’s so much more going on here. Besides the thing with the tra cking, I know that Terry’s been quietly writing Laura out of his contracts and wills. And I’m guessing Laura knows that.

My blood chills. This isn’t just a daughter being irrationally angry enough at her dad to have him killed. This is a billiondollar takeover. I swallow and draw close to Rourke. “We should leave,” I whisper quietly. He frowns, turning to glance at me with concern. “Leah—” “There’s more going on here than you—” “Ms. Hartley, is it?” Laura calls out. “We’ve only met the once.” She laughs coldly. “Another of my father’s little whores?” Roark growls and tuns to her. “That’s enough. And turn the fucking lights on, now.” He glances back at me, frowning. “What did you want to tell me?” He mutters quietly. “She’s not after Terry,” I hiss. “She’s after his entire—” The lights suddenly go on. All of them, brightly. Rourke and I both hiss and flinch, flinging hands up to block the blinding floodlights that make it impossible to see. Rourke growls. “This doesn’t have to be complicated, Laura! Give me the goddamn key, and one call will have your job taken—” “Yeah, I’m cancelling the job,” Laura says flatly. “And you, too.” My heart lurches. “Goodbye, Mr Jenner.”

“Move!” I grunt as he slams into me, shoving me to the ground. The deafening sound of gunfire erupts around us, and I scream. Big, strong hands lift me as if I’m weightless, yanking me out of the way behind some wooden crates. Bullets pepper the side of them. I scream again, and my hands fly over my head “Stay down!” he roars. I turn my head to say something, but he’s jumping up from behind the crates we’re behind. My mouth falls open as he yanks his guns out. His face is grim and vicious as he starts to fire back: vicious, scary, and hot. It’s like watching a lion roar. The lights flooding us blink out as he shoots at them. I gasp when he suddenly bolts, running across the open space to another jumble of wooden crates. The gunfire follows him, spraying the side of the wall and the crates. With the floodlights out, I glance up at the top of the warehouse. On a catwalk around the perimeter, I spot Laura yelling and pointing to where Rourke just ducked behind. Three more men with machine guns run up next to her, aim, and start firing. My pulse is racing. I turn to look at him. And at the same time, Rourke turns to look at me. His eyes harden, and his jaw grinds. Behind him is the open doorway, and past that, his car, and escape.

My heart sinks. But he’s not looking at the door. He’s looking right at me. Suddenly, he’s up and running right at me. I scream as the floor behind him explodes with machine gun fire. He slams into me like a truck, grabbing me in his arms and never slowing. We hit a second side door hard, slamming it open as we tumble into the night. He tosses me over his shoulder and runs, hard and fast around the side of the building. A man steps out of the shadows, and I scream as Rourke guns him down without hesitation. Another guy pops up, but he too tumbles back when Rourke’s gun flashes. At the car, he throws me into the passenger seat, slides over the hood, and jumps in. Gunfire splinters the crates next to us as he revs the engine and peels out. My heart is pounding, fear and adrenaline pumping as we roar o into the dark California night. He could have left. The thought screams in my head. He had every chance to turn and save himself. But he came back for me. I blush. But then I just feel silly. No, he came back for the necklace, that’s all. He came back for his payment— “Are you okay?!” I realize he’s screaming at me and has been. I’ve just been too numb to answer. I turn and nod in a daze. “I—”

“Leah!” He’s looking right at me. I bring a hand up to touch the diamonds around my neck. “I think it’s ﬁne—” “I’m not asking about the fucking necklace,” he growls. His eyes burn hotly in the darkness of the car as we thunder through the night. “I’m asking if you are hurt.” I swallow. My heart thuds. I nod quietly. “I’m ﬁne,” I croak. His eyes harden. “You’re sure?” he asks, anxiously. I nod again, trembling at the intensity in his gaze. “Yes.” Rourke exhales. “Okay, good.” He takes another deep breath and turns back to the road. His hands tighten on the wheel. “Okay, good. That’s good,” he grunts. We’re silent, but my heart thuds as we drive o night.

into the

LEAH

B Y THE TIME the car stops, I’m actually having a hard time breathing. For a second, I wonder if I’ve been shot. My panic rises, and my pulse races so fast it feels like my body is buzzing. I gasp, sucking in air as he shuts the car o . Rourke bolts out of the car and runs for my door. He yanks it open and crouches next to me as he rips the seatbelt o . “Breathe,” he whispers quietly and calmly. “Just breathe, Leah.” “I—was I—did I get shot?!” He shakes his head. His hands squeeze mine. “No, darlin’. Just breathe. You’re in shock.” “Why—how… what do you mean—” “Because that was a lot,” he says gently. I suck in air. “Breathe,” he murmurs quietly. His voice is so deep and soothing. “Just breathe,” he keeps saying, like a mantra.

His hands stroke my wrists. And slowly, I feel my chest untighten. I breathe again, feeling more normal. “There we go,” he grunts. I swallow. Slowly, I breathe again and open my eyes to see him looking at me intently. I blush. “Sorry.” “Don’t be.” “I just… that was…” He grins. “First shootout?” My face burns hotly. “What gave it away?” Rourke chuckles. He peers close and suddenly frowns. “Fuck.” “What…” I follow his gaze and gasp. The panic surges inside of me when I see the blood soaking the sleeve of my blouse. “Come here,” he growls. He scoops me up, cradling me into his chest as he turns and moves to a door next to the old house. He punches a key code into a side panel, and the door unlocks with a click. He steps in and clicks it shut. Then I cling to him as he runs up three ﬂights of stairs. At the top, there’s another keypad and door. Inside, my head spins as I turn to look at a loft-like space—brick walls, beamed ceilings, big windows covered with dark curtains. There’s a couch, tv, and big bed in one corner; a kitchen area in another. There’s also racks and racks of guns, and a partially disassembled motorcycle in another corner.

“Where—” “You’re safe here, Leah,” he growls. “Come.” He brings me to the couch and lays me down. His brow is furrowed as he grabs a towel and presses it to my arm. “Hold that,” he says gently. He bolts across the room and then rushes back with a white and red case. “Let me see,” he murmurs. He pulls the towel away and peers at my arm. “Was I shot?” I choke. He smiles quietly. “No, darlin’.” I bush. I like when he says that. “Looks like you caught some wood shrapnel from the crates they were shooting. Hang on.” He pushes at the sleeve, and I wince. “I need to cut this sleeve o ,” he growls. I just nod. Deftly, Rourke uses a pair of surgical scissors to cut through the sleeve, up to the shoulder. Then he keeps cutting, until the whole shoulder falls away. I blush, catching it before it falls o my chest. But then I stop caring. Whatever, I’m wearing a bra. And this isn’t a peep show, he’s literally giving me medical attention. The man is stopping me from bleeding, not checking me out. I blush. Even if I want him to.

He seems to ignore the white lace of my bra. He peers at the cut, and suddenly slips glasses on. I bite my lip, feeling my core tighten. How the fuck did he just get even hotter? Rourke glances up at me. I blush as if he’s just caught my thoughts out in the open. But he just frowns slightly. “This is gonna sting.” “It’s okay.” He nods and holds up a spray bottle of antiseptic. He squirts it on my cut, and I wince. Then he takes out a big, big pair of tweezers, and my eyes widen. “And this is really gonna sting.” “I’ll be—” The tweezers grab what must be the wood splinter, and I see white. “Fuck!!” I scream. I clutch at him, swaying with the pain. Rourke grits his teeth and yanks, I feel the huge piece of wood slide out of my arm. When it slips free, I exhale with a groan. He quickly covers the cut with a badge soaked in antiseptic, which burns before it starts to tingle. “It’s got a mild topical numbing agent on it,” he grunts. “To take the sting o .” I nod, breathing deeply. “Thank you,” I whisper. “This is my doing,” he scowls as he bandages on my arm. “You shouldn’t have been there in the ﬁrst place. And I’m sorry for bringing you into it.”

“I had to be there, though.” “It shouldn’t have ever…” he frowns and then sighs. “I’m sorry you’re in this, Leah.” I look at him. He takes his glasses o , and my heart races as he looks up at me. My eyes dip to his t-shirt, and I frown. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” He glances down and shrugs. “Eh, just some blood.” He stands. But this time when his eyes land on me, they don’t ignore the fact that my blouse is hanging down over my bra. His gaze drops to my chest, hungrily. I know I should be… well, something that isn’t what it makes me feel. But instead, I blush and tingle inside. His eyes slide up to mine again, and I watch his jaw grit. “I’ll grab you a shirt.” He turns and walks across the big loft to a dresser by the bed. “Is this where you live?” I turn when I say it. But then I gasp. Rourke’s back is to me, and he’s peeling his t-shirt o . I stare, shamelessly. Good lord, he’s like a superhero. His muscled back ripples as he tugs the shirt o . His lean, chiseled form twists as he tosses it away, his tattoo ink ﬂexing. “One of the places.” His voice snaps me out of it, and I quickly look away. “When I’m in San Fran, it’s like a place to lie low.”

“A safe house?” He smirks, glancing back at me. “Kind of, yeah.” “So you’re like… you’re a professional…” He turns back to me again, raising a brow. “A hitman?” I say softly. His jaw tightens, and he nods almost imperceptibly. “Does that scare you?” I swallow. “Are you going to kill me?” “No,” he growls thickly. “Then no.” Rourke slowly walks back to me, still shirtless, and I shiver. But I want him closer. I want him near me. “Here’s your shirt,” he grunts, passing me a big t-shirt. “Thanks.” He turns as I turn away too. But when I bring my hands up to get the buttons of my ruined blouse, I wince. “Ouch! Fuck.” “You okay,” I hear him growl behind me. “Yeah, it’s just…” I try again and wince at the pain in my arm. “It’s just my—” I turn and gasp. Rourke is looking right at me, maybe a foot and a half away.

“Let me,” he murmurs. He steps closer, and his big hands push mine away. My pulse thuds, my face burning with heat. His big fingers deftly pluck one button and then the other, moving down. The blouse falls away, and my breath catches as he helps me slip it o my shoulders. The room is so quiet as I look up at him. I tremble under his fierce gaze, standing here in my bra. “Fuck,” Rourke groans quietly. He moves into me. I gasp as his hand slides around my waist. He pulls me into him, and I whimper as I look up into his eyes. His mouth lowers to mine, and then hesitates at the last second. All I can hear is my heart thudding in my ears. All I can feel is pure heat, and his hand on my skin. And all I want is everything he wants to give me or show me. “I’m bad news, Leah,” he growls quietly. “I don’t think you are,” I whisper back. “Then you’re not paying attention.” “I’m paying attention just fine.” I swallow and look up at him. My very core tingles. My thighs squeeze together. I want him. I crave him, like I’ve never wanted anyone before. “You have three seconds to tell me to stop, Leah,” he groans.

I whimper softly. “Or?” “Or I won’t,” he snarls. “Not ever.” His eyes narrow, and my lip sucks between my teeth. “One.” I whimper. “Two,” he growls. “Leah, I’m fucking warning you—” “Three,” I gasp right before he crushes his mouth to mine. I moan, and my head spins. My pulse thuds as his lips take mine. My mouth opens for his tongue, and I whimper as I melt against him. His big hands scoop me up into his chest. He moves us back, and I moan as we fall across the couch. He growls into my mouth, kissing me deeply. I whine in protest when he pulls away. But then his mouth falls to my neck, then my collarbone. I’m trembling all over, aching for him. I want him to have me—all of me—and right now. His hands grip me tightly; possessively. One slips over my stomach and up to the front of my bra. He pops the clasp, and I tremble and whimper as my tits spill free. “Fuck baby,” he groans. He kisses lower, down my collarbone and down over the slope of my tits. His mouth slips over one nipple and then the other. I cry out, pressing them to his lips. He kisses lower between them, and his big hands push me back onto the couch. I moan, writhing and arching my back as he kisses down my stomach. His ﬁngers tug the zipper of my skirt down, and

my heart skips. This is all new. I’ve never done any of this, and certainly none of where I know this is going. But I want this, badly. I want him. The skirt falls away. Rourke groans as he moves between my legs, his eyes centered between them. I whimper as he moves closer. His breath is hot against my pussy through the cotton of my panties. He nuzzles them, and my eyes roll back. “Oh God,” I whisper. He groans into me again, his hot breath making me soak through the cotton. His tongue drags over my panties, rubbing my lips through them. I cry out, gasping in the new pleasure. Rourke growls and looks up at me before his eyes slide back to his prize. His ﬁngers slip under the waist, and he starts to peel them away. When they’re past my pink, swollen pussy, he growls thickly. “Fuck, baby girl,” the rough, gorgeous, older man groans. He tugs my panties the rest of the way o and tosses them aside. The huge hitman drops between my thighs and his big hands push my legs wide apart. He spreads me open, making me blush as he leans close. His breath teases over my slippery lips. “Rourke,” I whimper. His tongue suddenly touches me, dragging over my pussy. I cry out, arching my back as the pleasure shudders through

my core. “Oh fuck!” I gasp. “Moan for me,” he growls against me. “Let me hear you moan for my tongue.” I gasp as he plunges his tongue been my lips, tasting me deeply. He curls the tip up over my clit. His tongue circles and curls around the throbbing button, making my head spin. I cry out, gripping the sofa beneath me as my hips lift into him. His big hands slide to the backs of my thighs, gripping my ass as he growls into my pussy. “Oh my fuck…” Everything starts to shake. I tremble, gasping as the room spins. His mouth sucks and hums at my clit, and it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt. His mouth drives me wild and makes me clench until I know there’s no holding back. “I—I’m coming!” My hands grab his hair. My body sti ens and bucks, and I grind my pussy shamelessly against his mouth. The orgasm hits me, and I scream his name as I cling to him, riding his tongue. I’m still gasping and writhing as he grabs me and scoops me into his arms. His mouth crushes to mine, kissing me deeply as I moan, aching and desperate for more.

ROURKE

K ISSING HER IS RELIGION . Tasting her is all I ever want. And holding her is like coming home. I groan as my mouth takes hers, kissing her deeply and softly. I still have the taste of her in my mouth and on my tongue, but Leah’s kissing me back eagerly. And I want more. I want all of her. I want her moans in my ears forever. I growl as I pull back to look at her, naked but for the diamond choker around her neck. Like a princess, all for me. A prize for me to claim. “Fuck,” I groan under my breath. My cock surges in my jeans. Her eyes slide over my ink and my scars. For a second, I grimace when I feel her gaze there where the bullets ripped me apart. But she just reaches out. Her ﬁngertips brush my skin, her lip caught between her teeth. “These are bullet wounds?” I nod.

“From your job?” “From the Navy.” She looks up at me in surprise. “I was a SEAL,” I grunt quietly. “What happ—” she catches herself, shaking her head with a frown. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.” But I want it to be. I barely know this girl. But I’ve been around the sun enough times to know the way she makes me feel is a rarity. I know the pull I feel to her isn’t something you get every day, or even ever in a lifetime. “We were clearing a stronghold in Libya full of Gaddaﬁ loyalists,” I growl quietly. I’ve never shared this story with anyone besides Mags. Even she only got the bare bones version to spare her the details of her son dying. “We’d cleared a room, but it wasn’t actually clear. There was a secret door behind a bookshelf where the last of them were hiding out. They knew they were fucked and just opened up with a machine gun. They took out four…” I look down. “Five of my platoon. Somehow, I lived.” Her face falls and crumples. Her eyes mist, and she reaches for my hands. “I’m so sorry, Rourke,” she whimpers, genuine pain in her tone. “Mags—Maggie, the woman you met—her son was one of the ones we lost. He was my best friend,” I growl. “And

when I got whole, I came back to take care of her.” I look up shaking my head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” And I don’t. But I know it feels good to do it. I know it feels natural to open a part of myself to her that no one’s ever seen. I pull her into my lap, kissing her, touching her, wanting her. My cock surges for more. Leah moans, kissing my mouth and my neck. She can feel me hard and throbbing between her legs, and she gasps. And then my fucking phone goes o . I groan and glance at it. Shit, it’s Maggie. My eyes slide back to Leah, but she just smiles shyly and nods. I snatch the phone up and answer it gru y. “How’s our hostage—” “We’ve got trouble!” I sit bolt upright, hissing. “What?! Fuck, Maggie, are you—” “I’m ﬁne! I’m ﬁne! But we’ve got problems!” “Terry—” “He’s still here,” she hisses. I hear a thump and then a man’s howl of pain. “Little prick,” she snaps. “Mags, what the fuck happened?” She groans, and it sounds like a groan of pain. I sti en. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m ﬁne,” she mutters. “Mags…” “They got the drop on me. One of this asshole’s guys came in like a goddamn cowboy. I had him dead to rights, but this fucker,” I hear another thump and another cry from Terry in the background. “Little shit knocked his chair back and threw my shot.” She swears. “Smashed up my foot too.” “Shit,” I groan. “And the guard?” “Yeah, that’d be our problem. I winged him pretty good, but he got out.” I wince. That’s not good. Not at all. “Look, this prick has the controls to his whole security system up here in the o ce. I’ve got the entire house on lockdown with most of his guys outside. Got a few loose rats inside, but the o ce door is sealed up good. But Rourke, I’ve got audio on these assholes, and—” “Okay, Mags, stay put,” I grunt. “We’ll come to—” “Rourke!” she barks. “Listen to me! I have them on audio, and they know where you’re at!” My eyes widen. My pulse thuds. Fuck. “Terry’s guys are coming to you, Rourke. You need to get the fuck out before—” I hear a crash downstairs. My eyes slide to Leah. Oh fuck. “Mags, stay put. I’ll call you back.”

I hang up and whirl to the naked temptation still sitting on my couch. “Need you to get dressed right now, angel,” I growl quietly. Her eyed widen. Her face pales. But she nods—she understands the gravity of this. She jumps up and tugs her skirt back on, pulling the old t-shirt over her head. I grab one too and start grabbing guns o the rack along the wall and stu ng them into a du el. My go-bag is already ready to go, and I shoulder that too. Then I grab my “last resort”—the giant-ass Browning .50cal machine gun. The thing weighs as much a fucking motorcycle, but from the sounds of the boots running up the stairs, I’m gonna need it. I grab Leah and usher us over to the kitchen area. I shove the fridge aside. Leah gasps at the hidden staircase behind it. I pull her close, I lean down, and I kiss her softly. But the thundering of men’s boots up the stairs are close. It’s time to go. I urge her into the stairwell. “Cover your ears, angel.” She’s pale and trembling. But she nods as she steps inside. Her hands ﬂy to her ears as I turn shoulder the massive gun. I cock it, grit my teeth, and narrow my eyes at the door to my safe house. And then, I unleash hell. The gun roars like a fucking demon. Molten lead thunders across the apartment through the metal door. I hear men

yelling, and a few attempts at return fire. But I just keep firing, until the whole belt of ammo is gone. When I’m done, it’s silent except for the ringing in my ears. The barrel is smoking hot, and the door to my place is barely still attached to the frame. But there’s not a peep from the other side. I ditch the Browning, turn, and pull her into me. She moans as I kiss her deeply, hungrily tasting her mouth. I’ve killed plenty. I’ve defended plenty of ideals and fellow soldiers. But I’ve never felt as protective as I do with her. I’ve never felt like I had something like this to fight for. I kiss her until her lips are swollen and her breath is gasping. And I’d keep kissing her, but it’s time to get the hell out of here. Her eyes hold mine as I pull away—a silent promise. An eager vow that she’s mine. “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” I say gently as I shoulder my bags. “Where do we go now?” There’s less fear in her voice now. It’s like a strength in her has awoken. “To Laura,” I growl. “We’re taking this fight to her. Because I’m done being a pawn in the middle of this family feud.” She takes my hand, and we rush down the stairs. I’m ending this. For me. For Mags. For my dream of a future without a life of violence and death. But mostly, for her.

For Leah.

W E ’ RE HALFWAY DOWN the hidden back staircase when I stop us. I pull her back. The point of stopping is to hide the necklace around her neck before we step out into what may be a crowd, given the gunﬁre. But when she gasps and turns to me, I crumble. I snarl as I press her to the brick wall of the dark staircase. I groan and crush my lips to hers, kissing her possessively. She moans into my mouth, gasping and clinging to me until I slowly pull away. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a bandana. It ties loosely around her neck, hiding the Heiress from any curious types we may cross. From the look in her eyes, she already knows that. I take her hand, and we rush down the rest of the staircase. At the bottom, a side door will take us just around the corner from where I parked. I tap out the code on the panel next to the door, knock it open with my shoulder, and tug Leah after me into the dark night. “Right there is good.” I freeze even before I hear the words. It’s usually a good idea to stop whatever the fuck you’re doing when someone jams a gun between your eyes.

Leah gasps, jumping back as her ﬁngers clench in mine. But I just grit my teeth, scowling as my gaze slips down the gun to land on a smaller woman in a grey pants-suit. I’m about to go for my piece. But that outﬁt screams “Fed”. “Not a move, cowboy,” she grunts. The woman whips a badge out. And sure enough, she’s a Fed alright—FBI Special Agent Kim Morales. I feel Leah’s hand tighten. Her breath catches as she draws close to my back. The woman—Agent Morales—smirks and gestures with her eyebrows at the badge she’s holding up.” “Still want to pull that piece out?” “Kind of.” She narrows her eyes. Then she turns her gaze past me. “Hello, Leah.” I frown. “What the fuck is going on—” “You setting o

ﬁrecrackers up there?”

My jaw grits at the knowing smirk on the FBI agent’s face. “Yep.” “Loud ones, huh?” I shrug and grip Leah’s hand tighter. “Little early for the Fourth of July, don’t you think?” Agent Morales smiles thinly.

“What can I say,” I growl. “I’m a patriotic guy.” “I know you are, sailor.” She smiles thinly, and my eyes narrow. “Master Chief Petty O

cer Jenner, is it?”

My mouth thins to a line. “So if I go in there, am I gonna see Patriotism, or dead bodies?” She smiles at my grit-jawed silence. “Relax. It’s your lucky day, Rourke, I’m not here for you.” “Then what the fuck do you want—” “I’m just checking in with my friend Leah here.” Leah trembles behind me. “I—” “You’re supposed to answer your phone when we call, Ms. Hartley.” Wait, what? Slowly, I turn to level my eyes at Leah “I don’t have it,” she mumbles. “Why not?” Leah’s eyes dart to mine. Her lip quivers between her teeth. “Playtime with your boyfriend doesn’t mean you get to ignore me. And if you’re curious how we found you, I told you we were always watching. We saw the two of you sneak out of the back of Terry’s place after work.” She glares at Leah. “Where the hell is our information?”

The girl with her hand in mine pales, trembles. “I—I don’t have it, but—” “What the fuck is going on here, Agent Morales?” I snarl. I hate these Fed games. And I’m becoming irrationally angry at the way this woman is speaking to Leah. Agent Morales smiles thinly at me. “Oh dear, do you not know? Your girlfriend here is involved with, well, some very not good things.” “No, I’m not!” Leah pales and turns her eyes to mine. “Rourke, I’m not—” “She’s in bed with Terry and Laura.” I stare at Agent Morales. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fun little side project of theirs, trucking girls in from third world countries and pushing them into prostitution. And Leah here is right in the thick of it.” “That’s not true!” Leah spits vehemently. “I’m just his personal—” “No, you’re ours,” Agent Morals snaps. “You’re our eyes and ears with Terry. Period. And when you close your eyes and plug your ears, you become not very helpful.” I wrinkle my brow. “You can’t seriously believe she’s involved with that you’re saying she is.” “I don’t care,” Morales shrugs. “Excuse me?”

The FBI agent’s eyes narrow. “I said I do not care, Mr. Jenner. I want Terrance Rynsburger. I want Laura Bowman. And your girlfriend here is going to get them for me, or she’s going to prison.” What the fuck? She smiles thinly. “You wouldn’t think a contract killer would want to get mixed up with an FBI informant, but what do I know, I’m single.” “Shocking,” I growl lowly. She shrugs. “This game is over, Leah. Here.” She hands her a card with her name and number on it. “You have a day to get me something concrete linking Terry and Laura to the operations, or you’re going away, for a long, long time.” She smiles thinly. “Enjoy your date night, kids. And Rourke?” Her dark eyes narrow on me. “Try not to set o anymore ‘ﬁrecrackers’. Next time, I’ll call in the cavalry.”

LEAH

T HE CAR HUMS through the city. But we’re utterly silent. I swallow, trembling as the light from the streetlights glide over us. I turn, eyeing him nervously. He looks pissed. Like, really, really pissed. “So you’re a fucking FBI informant?!” He finally snaps, aggressively enough that I jump in my seat. I swallow, looking down. “It’s not what it—” “Then explain it to me, Leah!” he roars. “Make me see how that’s not exactly what it fucking looks like!” “I’m not involved, okay!?” I yell back, surprising myself and I think him, too. “I was going over some of Terry’s files on his cloud drive and accidentally found this folder full of stu about this tra cking thing he and Laura are up to. The FBI must have had a flag on it, because they were at my door almost instantly.” I suck in a breath.

“Rourke, they strong-armed me. They threatened to throw me under the bus unless I turned spy for them.” His jaw grinds. “I am not involved!” “No shit!” He barks back, shaking his head. “But you should have said something! Like when we were going to meet Laura? I mean for fucks sake, Leah…” “I’m sorry, okay?!” I blurt. “I was fucking terriﬁed!” His jaw grinds as he grips the wheel tightly. “I’m a fucking contract killer, Leah! I’m a professional hitman, for fucks sake! It’s not exactly on the list of FBI approved careers!” “Look, I said I was sorry! Here!” I yank Agent Morales’s card out, rip it in two, and toss it to the ﬂoor. “Are you happy?!” “Let’s just get this shit done with,” he grunts. My lips curl into a sneer. “You know, I didn’t ask you to fucking kidnap me.” Rourke bristles, turning to look at me. “That what this was?” “Me over your fucking shoulder against my will? To your fucking hideout? What the hell would you call that?” I snap. He glares at me, eyes blazing. And I tremble. We both feel the heat of the memory of what happened in that hideout. I’m still trembling from his mouth on me—touching me like no one else ever has. The car grows quiet.

“Where are we going?” I ﬁnally say quietly, breaking that silence. “To Laura, to end this.” “How do you know where—” “Because I do my homework.” He looks away. “Like I should have done with you.” The car grows quiet again as we drive through the city.

W E PARK in an alley behind a big building in the downtown ﬁnancial area. There’s still a bristling tension between us, and it makes my heart wrench. I know I should have been more forthcoming about me being tangled up in all of this. But also, cut me some fucking slack? Yeah, Rourke is a professional hitman. He’s a hired killer. And in a small way, I’ve started to make peace with that. I’m not letting it cloud the way he makes me feel when he looks at me, or groans into my ear. Or touches me. But part of me wants to scream at him to try and do the same for me. I’ve never been kidnapped. I’ve never been in a fucking shootout before. I’ve never had to escape down hidden staircases after a hit squad tries to murder me. I look up at the towering glass and steel building looming above us. “What is this place?”

“This is where we find Laura and end this shit,” Rourke growls. I want to ask him if he means “this shit with the necklace locked around my neck,” or if he means all of “this shit” including whatever is happening between us. My heart sinks bitterly at the thought. I know we barely know each other. I know we just met, and by him literally kidnapping me over his shoulder. But I know what I feel around him, and I know it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I know the idea of not having him near me burns. But I’m silent as Rourke pulls out a keycard with some wires running out of it, connected to a keypad looking thing. He frowns and pushes it into a security card-reader next to a maintenance door in the alley. The keypad in his hand lights up and flickers, and he taps some buttons on it. It beeps, flashes again, and then suddenly the door unlocks with a metallic click. He pulls it open. But I stop and turn to him. “Rourke…” “I shouldn’t have said that, before,” he growls. “About doing my homework with you.” I swallow. “I know you’re not a part of any of this willingly—not the shit with Laura and her father, and not this current situation. But you are part of it, like it or not.” “I know,” I whisper. “Rourke—”

“You like the idea of me, Leah,” he growls quietly. He looks away. “You’re caught up in a version of me that I don’t think actually exists—this hero type that you think saved you from Terry back at his o ce.” “You did save me—” “I had a job to do, and a payment that was owed to me. That’s all.” I hear his words, and they burn. But I also see the way he won’t look at me. I might be young, and inexperienced with any of this. But I know what he’s doing. “Why are you pushing me away?” “Because I have to,” he snarls, whirling on me. He groans, his hands gripping my arms as he shoves me back into the wall. And before I know it, he’s slamming his mouth to mine. I moan, my hands sliding up his forearms as I kiss him back. I whimper into his lips, my body arching from the wall to press eagerly to him. Rourke groans, claiming my mouth with his as a hand threads into the back of my hair. But then suddenly, he’s pulling away. His eyes blaze as he shakes his head. “No,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Rourke…” “You have no idea how broken I am, darlin’,” he drawls deeply. “How damaged and how poisonous I am.” I shake my head, clinging to him. “Rourke, you’re not—”

“Except I am,” he snarls. “You have no idea the death I’ve seen and caused, Leah. The darkness that surges in my fucking veins. I’m a fucking hitman, angel,” he snaps viciously. “I’m a goddamn contract killer. I murder people, Leah. For fucking money! That the hero you think you’re falling for?!” The tears start to brim in my eyes. “Why are you doing this?” I croak. “Because I can’t let you near me,” he hisses. His eyes close. His head shakes. “Because you’re so fucking good, and sweet, and innocent.” His eyes open and they level at me. “I’ve done so much fucked up shit in this world. I’m doing this, Leah,” he grunts. “Because I’ve destroyed so much good in this world. And I won’t add you to that list.” “Rourke!” “Let’s go.” He turns and pounds the button for a maintenance elevator. The door slides open, and he storms in. I hesitate, but then I slowly follow him inside. He pushes the button for the penthouse and then pounds in a code. The doors close, and we start to rise. “Rourke…” “Leah, please,” he groans tightly. “I just—” “Please don’t,” he whispers.

Tears brim my eyes. “Why not?” “Because if you say another word, I’ll never be able to do what I have to do.” The tears start to fall as I turn to him. I grab his shirt and yank him towards me. His haunting dark eyes fall to mine as my heart crawls into my throat. “If that’s supposed to be an e ective threat, you’re a fucking idiot.” His jaw ticks. His eyes burn into mine. “Leah—” “I love you, Rourke,” I manage to whisper right before he yanks me into his arms and slams his mouth to mine. I moan as he pushes us back until my back hits the wall of the elevator. His hand fumbles behind us, and I feel the elevator stop. My pulse throbs as he keeps kissing me, his hard body pinning me to the wall. His hands slide to my waist, and my arms go around his neck. I moan when I feel the thick, throbbing bulge between his legs press against me. My skin tingles with need and desire. I want him, and I want him to have all of me: right here, right now. “Leah,” he groans. “Have me,” I gasp as he yanks my skirt up. “Rourke, I want you to—”

“Nothing in this fucking world could pull me away from you right now, darlin,” he groans. He yanks his shirt o , and then mine. I whimper as my tits press to his rock-hard chest, my aching nipples dragging over his hot skin. He tugs the skirt to my waist, and a hand slips between us. I’m still not wearing any panties from before. His fingers stroke my bare, wet slit. I hum I pleasure, my hips pushing into him. He tugs at his belt and then his zipper. His jeans drop, and he shoves his boxers down. I gasp sharply as I feel the huge, thick, pulsing hot heat of his cock spring between my thighs. I look down, and my jaw falls open. “Oh my God…” I whimper. Rourke is fucking big. Like the definition of the crude term “hung.” His fat, pulsing cock twitches between my legs, thrumming with a needy energy right against my slit. And I only get wetter when I look at him. I reach down and curl my fingers around him. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I start to run my fist back and forth on it. He groans, kissing me deeply. “I’ve never—” “You’re mine, darlin,” he hisses. I moan because I know it’s true, and I know I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.

His knee pushes my legs apart. My pulse thuds as he reaches down to take his cock from my small hand into his fist. He runs the swollen head back and forth over my clit, and I whimper. I crush my lips to his eagerly. “Take me,” I gasp. “With pleasure, love,” he growls as he pushes the head between my lips. I cry out as he sinks into me. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, but he’s so big. I feel him stretch me so deliciously as he fills me like nothing I’ve ever dreamed of. His hands grip me tight as his hips push. Then they move to my ass. I gasp when he lifts me into him, and my legs curl around his muscled hips. His tongue dances with mine, and he groans into my mouth as he sinks deep. I cry out, clinging to him as pleasure I’ve never imagined hums through my core. Rourke grunts and rocks his hips. And suddenly, he’s pushing through and sinking his huge dick into my little pussy for the very first time. “Oh fuck, Rourke!!” I cry out. I kiss him desperately as he drives so deep, I’m sure I can feel him in my stomach. My eyes roll back in pleasure as I feel his pubic bone grind into my clit. “Yessss…” I moan as he saws out and then drives back in. He groans, sucking on my neck as he starts to slide in and out, fucking me against the elevator wall. His thick cock plunges into me, and I’m so wet that I can feel it running down my thighs and his.

He snarls and starts to pound into me. I cling to him, moaning in desperate pleasure before suddenly, I feel myself start to come. I moan and press my lips to his as the orgasm explodes deep in my core. He growls, kissing me as he keeps thrusting. One climax trips into another. My nails dig into his shoulders. My thighs quiver and clench around him. I come again, and this time, he groans as he buries every inch deep inside. His big cock throbs, and suddenly I can feel something hot and sticky spilling into me. “Leah,” he groans, kissing me as I cling to him. We slow until we’re panting into each other’s mouths. I’m still pinned to the wall by him, but I don’t ever want to be anywhere else. Slowly, he grins as he gently slides out. He sets me down on the ground and kisses me deeply. I moan into his lips, my whole body tingling with desire. I’m his. But honestly, I was his the moment he laid eyes on me. His brow crumples. “Fuck, baby… I was too rough.” “You weren’t,” I whisper, kissing him gently. “I… that should have been in a bed. I mean, for your ﬁrst—” “It was with you,” I murmur. “That’s all that matters.” “Fuck, Leah,” he groans. His mouth ﬁnds mine again, and he kisses me deeply. I don’t even know how long we stay like

that, but slowly, I giggle as I pull away. “Should we get dressed?” He chuckles. “Might throw o there naked.”

her negotiations if I roll in

I grin and glance down at his very large, still hard cock. “Um, yeah, maybe a bit.” Rourke laughs, and I realize this is the ﬁrst time I’ve seen him really smile. I like his smile. He kisses me deeply, and then we both start tugging clothes on as we laugh. He pulls me into his arms and pushes the button for the elevator. Then he turns to kiss me. He’s still kissing me as the doors open. But when we hear the click of about a dozen guns, suddenly, we’re not kissing anymore. I gasp as he snarls and yanks me behind him. We turn, and my heart sinks. Standing right outside the elevator doors is Laura Bowman, Terry’s daughter. And she’s with about two dozen guys with guns pointed right at us. She smiles thinly as Rourke tenses his muscles. “Take her.” Rourke roars as ten of the men suddenly rush us. He tries to bring his gun up, but the other ten guys suddenly yank him away from me. He bellows like a wild animal as they pin him to the wall and disarm him.

The other ten men grab me, ignoring the snarling roars from Rourke. Three of them hold me fast, and a fourth suddenly storms over with a silver key in his hands. Another man grabs my head and keeps me steady as the man with the key suddenly unlocks the Heiress. It’s like they’ve rehearsed this. Instantly, they throw Rourke into the elevator and yanks me behind them. He hisses and goes to charge. They bring guns up, but he keeps storming towards us. “That’s enough, Mr. Jenner!” Laura snaps. She suddenly pulls a pistol out and points it right at my head. “One more step, and I shoot her.” He stops instantly. His jaw tightens and his eyes look possessed with fury. “You fucking bitch!” he snaps. “We had a—” “A deal, yes, I know, Mr. Jenner. To that end…” She suddenly tosses him the necklace, followed by the key. He seems to catch both out of instinct. But his eyes are locked on me. “What the fuck is this, Laura?!” he snaps. “Your payment,” she sneers back. “Even if you didn’t ﬁnish the job.” “Let her the fuck go,” he growls. “Or I—” “Here’s how this is going to happen, Mr. Jenner,” Laura says thinly. “The jewels are yours. Keep them. I don’t want them,

and you can think of it as me buying your silence about all of this. But, you are going to ﬁnish the job I hired you for, and kill my father.” “The fuck I—” “Because if you don’t, Rourke,” she snaps. “I’ll kill her.” She turns to smile at me. My blood runs cold, and I see the color drain from Rourke’s face before he snarls in anger. “Keep the fucking jewels. Our deal is cancelled—” “Yeah, no, that won’t work for me.” She smiles thinly. “And does it look like I need two million dollars, Mr. Jenner?” She glares at him. “I don’t want a stupid necklace, Rourke. I want my father dead.” His eyes land on mine, looking wild. Then they turn back to her and surge with fury. “I’m not getting in the middle of your corporate takeover of his sexual tra cking ring.” Laura smirk. “Then don’t, and your little girlfriend here dies. Or maybe…” she smiles cruelly. “Maybe she joins my family business?” Rourke explodes in anger. He lunges forward. All twenty other guns in the room level at him. But it’s when Laura presses her gun into my temple that he actually stops. His eyes surge with anger. “Kill my father, Rourke. Kill him, and she’s yours. Don’t, and she’ll wish she was dead.”

Two men suddenly rush him and shove him back into the elevator. They push a button, and the doors slide shut on the man who stole me, and my heart.

ROURKE

“D RINK

THIS .”

I can’t see straight. I can’t even really hear what Mags is saying as I storm back and forth across the floor. “Rourke!” she finally yells. I startle, turning to her. She shoves a glass in my face. “I said drink this!” I glower. “I don’t need any fucking medicine—” “It ain’t medicine, it’s moonshine. And you do need it.” My shoulders are heaving. My jaw grinds so tightly that I feel like my teeth my snap. “This ain’t your fault, Rourke,” she says gently. She nods at the glass. “Drink.” I grab it and slam the glass back. It tastes like pure fire, vaguely apple-flavored. But damn if it doesn’t clear my head. My heart, however, is another story. That part of me aches like it’s just been torn out. Like it’s just been shot through. I close my eyes and suck in air.

Maybe my heart has been torn out. Because I’m pretty damn sure it’s still back there at that skyrise. They have her. They have Leah, my heart. And I might as well be dead without her. “Rourke.” I slowly turn to Mags. Her face is lined and hard. But I can see the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, honey.” Mags isn’t exactly the “honey” type. I smile thinly. “Thanks.” “Seems we’ve got two options though. And both have a pretty quick expiration date.” Her mouth thins. “I looked up this Agent Morales.” Mags shakes her head. “She’s a killer, Rourke. Stone-cold. She’s you if you worked for the Feds and had tits. If she’s on this, she’s on this. It’s a matter of hours, probably less, before she’s got her boys knocking down our door.” I swear. “So, two options. One, we take this…” she holds up the necklace and the key. “We call my guy, get it sold to the buyer he’s got lined up, and we get the hell out of—” “Leaving her with Laura is not an option,” I seethe through clenched teeth. Mags smiles. “Figured you’d say that. Well, then there’s option two: do what that bitch Laura said and kill the old bastard.”

We’re back at another safe house of ours, with Terry hogtied and gagged in the bedroom. I turn to glare at the door he’s behind. The idea of killing him, and then Laura, sounds very, very appealing right now. But, it’s not the play here. If there’s one thing Laura has demonstrated so far, it’s that her word isn’t worth shit. She’s liar, she’s got her own agenda here, and I don’t trust her in the slightest bit. When it comes to trusting her with Leah’s life, that drops to zero. “We don’t know she’ll honor the deal.” Mags frowns. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what else we’ve got on the table.” I look down. But then suddenly, it clicks. Mags is right: “we” don’t have anything else on the table. But I do. I walk over to the Mags, put my hands on her shoulders, and sigh. “Take the Heiress and the key, go to your guy, get it sold, and then I want you to call this number.” I pass her a card with a realtor’s number on it. “Ask for Chris Talbot, tell them Rourke told you to call, and tell him the deal is a go.” She frowns. “What the shit crazy are you talking about, Rourke?” “I’m telling you to get the hell out of this fucking game, Mags. He’s a realtor with a property I’ve been looking at back in Kentucky. It’s yours. The money from that fuckin’ necklace will more than cover it and let you live easy-peasy with a sweet tea out on the porch for the rest of your days.”

She stares at me, her eyes narrowing. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think about pullin’ any hero bullshit—” “I promised him!” I hiss, sharply. She blinks, taken aback. I suck in a breath. “Jason,” I say quietly. “I promised him I’d look out for you.” “Rourke, you have looked—” “Like hell I have,” I growl. “Maggie, I’ve put you in harm’s way. I dragged you into a life of fucking crime.” “You think I’ve got a squeaky-clean—” “Mags,” I hiss. “This is me fulﬁlling my promise to Jason. I swore I’d take care of you, and so help me fucking God, I will. The property is yours. But I need you to go, now.” She stares at me. “And you?!” “I’m not done here.” She glares at me. “Rourke—” “I’m not joking, Mags. You need to go. Now, before the FBI comes smashing through that door. Or worse, Laura’s people.” “Boy, there ain’t no way in hell I’m leaving without you—” She freezes when I pull my gun out and point it at her. “Mags, I’m not asking. I’m telling. Go.” Her mouth thins. “Well look at you, Mr. Tough Guy.” I growl. “Mags, please…”

“You really like this girl, don’t you?” My jaw grits. “I mean you really like her.” “I’m in love with her,” I growl. She looks away and sighs. “Goddamnit, Rourke…” “Please, Maggie. Take the fucking necklace and go. Please. For Jason.” She purses her lips. “Don’t you dare pull that card.” “Fine. Then do it for me.” She shakes her head. But slowly, she takes a breath. “On one condition.” “What’s that.” She glares at me. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare get yourself or that nice girl killed. Understand?” I grin. “Deal.” Suddenly, she’s hugging me. And I’m hugging her back.

W HEN I FINALLY GET M AGS INTO her car and on the road, I turn and head back to my car. I open the passenger side door and pick up the two pieces of torn business card. When I put them together, I narrow my eyes at the number for Special Agent Kim Morales.

This is a bad idea. It’s a terrible strategy, and the odds fucking suck. I’ve been to war. I’ve played out a hundred assassinations. I know the risks here. But this one is the only one with a sliver of hope. And no matter the cost, if it saves Leah? Well, then that’s the play I’m using. Come hell or high water.

ROURKE

“H EY ,

QUIT SHOVING ME , YOU FUCKIN ’

Neanderthal!”

Behind Terry, the door to the elevator opens. I smile, and then I shove his ass in. He swears at me, but I ignore him. I step in after him and push the button to the top ﬂoor for the second time tonight. Last time I was on this elevator, I had her. I had an angel moaning into my lips. This time, I might very well be walking down death row. It’s a terrible play. But like I said, it’s the only I’ve got that gives Leah a shot at getting through this shit. So I’m taking it. Essentially, what I’m doing is mixing ﬁre with dynamite, and then dousing the whole thing with gasoline. There’s almost a zero percent chance this doesn’t explode in my face and either kill me or get me thrown into jail. But this is the path. This is the only way. The doors slide open. And suddenly, my heart surges. There she is—the girl I love. I smile, and my pulse quickens.

Whatever happens here, I had her, just for a second. For a blip in time, I had the peace I’ve been ﬁghting for for my entire life. “Well well. You actually delivered.” Laura smiles thinly as I shove her father, hands bound behind his back, out of the elevator then step out after. Terry glares at her, seething. “You miserable little bitch!” he snaps. “You greedy little cunt —” “Yes, lovely to see you as always too, dad,” she drones in a bored tone. She raises her gaze to me and frowns. “Well?” “Well, what?” “Well shoot him, Mr. Jenner.” My eyes slide to Leah. She pales as I take my gun out. I glance at my watch. Here we go. “I’m waiting, Mr. Jenner.” Ten seconds. Laura sighs heavily. “Now, Rourke, or we have no deal.” Five seconds. She snarls. “Are you fucking deaf?! Shoot—” Right on schedule, the doors smash in, and the FBI charges in, guns out. And predictably, all hell breaks loose.

Laura’s men are quick. But the FBI is quicker. The agents swarm in, and pretty soon, Laura’s crew is on their knees. Laura herself is screaming shrilly as three FBI agents wrestle her to the ground. And Terry looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. I’m just standing there; hands up, and my gun on the ground since they smashed in. And my eyes are locked onto Leah, with a grin on my face. Agent Morales saunters in, looking smugger than a pig in shit. “My, my, my!” She sneers. “What have I got here? The pimp,” she nods her chin at Terry. “The pimp’s psycho daughter,” she sneers at Laura. But then she turns her gaze on me. “And a professional hitman to boot!” My smile fades. “We had a deal.” She smiles. “What deal?” I knew the likelihood of this turning on me was almost a hundred percent. But I’ve prepared for that. “Fine,” I growl. “Fine, I’m yours.” Leah pales. “No!” she screams. “But she,” I growl, nodding at Leah. “She goes free.” Morales laughs. “Not a chance.” “I hear there’s big hunt on underway at the Bureau for the Heiress diamonds.” Morales sti ens. “Heard that, did you?”

“I did. And I’m betting you already know they were in Terry’s possession. Well, they were my payment. I have them.” “I’d think real quick about telling me where they are,” she hisses. I smile. “Of course. Just as soon as she goes free,” I growl, eyeing Leah. Agent Morales glares at me. “Tell me ﬁrst, then she—” “I was born, agent Morales,” I grunt. “But I promise you it wasn’t yesterday.” Her mouth thins. “Fine,” she ﬁnally grunts. I’m not going to tell her. The diamonds are Maggie’s. But when I’m sure Leah is free and clear, it won’t matter. “Ms. Hartley goes free,” Morales mutters. “Then you tell me where the Heiress is.” “I want that in writing.” She rolls her eyes. “Rourke, I’m not playing any—” Suddenly, the lights go out. Immediately after, an explosion detonates across the room, and I’m moving, fast. I drop to my knees, grab my gun, and then bolt up. It’s pitch dark, but another explosion rocks the room, illuminating everything. It’s just for a second, but it’s just what I need. I shoulder my way through three FBI agents. And suddenly, I’m grabbing Leah. She screams in terror and thrashes at me. But I pull her close and bring my lips to her ears.

“It’s me! It’s me, darlin’!” She sobs as she throws her arms around me. Gunfire explodes through the room. I grab Leah and yank her away. It’s pitch fucking black, and I’m blind. But suddenly, a hand grabs my arm. I whirl with a snarl, ready to fight to the death to get out of this, when suddenly… “Move your ass, honey!” The voice is pure Kentucky moonshine. I grin. Mags. She grabs my arm, I grab Leah. And then we’re moving. A gunfight erupts behind us as we crash out of the room into dark hallway. But at least I can see now. And sure enough, there’s Maggie, holding a shotgun, wearing night vision goggles. “Let’s move!” She hauls down the hallway to a service elevator. When all three of us are inside, she jams the close door button, and we start to drop. “What the fuck!?” I yell at her. “Mags, I told you to get the fuck—” “You know ‘thank you, Maggie, for saving my ass’ would work a whole lot better,” she snaps. She grunts as she yanks the night vision goggles o . “I’m getting too old for this shit.” She glances at Leah and smirks. “You okay, sweetheart?” “Mags,” I growl. “What the fuck are you—”

“You saved my son’s life, Rourke,” she grunts. I shake my head. “I didn’t—” “A dozen times before that night,” she hisses. “And that night wasn’t your fault. This is me saving your ass now. If you think I’m running o to the country to sip tea on a porch while you get shot up, you’re outta your goddamn mind.” My jaw clenches. “We’re gonna have to run.” “Yeah,” she grins. “But with style.” Maggie holds up the Heiress choker and the key, and winks. “I’m skippin’ that house in Kentucky. But I did call my guy. His buyer is very motivated, and just o ered a ten percent bump for an immediate sale.” She shrugs. “How’s Vietnam sound to you?” My brow furrows. “Like a nice place with a pretty sweet nonextradition stance with the US.” She winks. “Exactly my thinking.” I turn to Leah and pull her into my arms. She bites her lip before I lean down, and I kiss her with all that I have. When I pull away, her face is red, and my pulse is roaring. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You could stay, tell them I forced you at gunpoint—” Before I can get another word in, she grabs my collar, yanks me down, and kisses me hard. This time, it’s her that pulls back, nipping at my bottom lip.

“If you think I’m not coming with you,” she turns to grin at Maggie, then back to me. “Then you’re outta your goddamn mind.” I grin as she leans up, grabs me again, and kisses me. And it’s all over. I’m done. I’m hers. The elevator door opens. But I’m just buzzing as we rush out and into the waiting van. Maggie drives us to her broker, who’s waiting with the cash and some ID’s she’s had him whip up. Then it’s o to the private airﬁeld, then Vietnam, then the rest of our lives.

EPILOGUE

ROURKE

Vietnam, Three Weeks Later T HE SAND IS hot as hell under my toes. But the beer in my hand is cold, and the view is perfection. Rogue sighs into the phone. “So, that’s it, then?” I nod. “That’s it.” “Don’t tell me where you are, but, you’re good, right?” I grin. “I’m good, man.” My now-former boss chuckles. “Rourke Jenner, actually out of the game. Well hell, man, I’m proud of you.” “Rogue, I owe you—” “You don’t.” I frown. “Yeah, I do.” “Well consider me thanked.” “Listen, I’m gonna send you your cut of the—”

“Bullshit.” I frown. “No, I am. You got fucked with Laura going to jail before she could wire you.” He chuckles. “No, I mean the hell you are. You don’t owe me, Rourke. You don’t owe anyone. Go live your life, man.” “Rogue—” “I’m not telling you again. Don’t you send me a cent, brother.” I smile and nod. “Fine.” “Hey, one last question.” “What’s that?” “Is she worth it?” I turn to look at Leah, laid out in a bikini, sunning by the pool of our new sea-side villa. Bought and paid for, all cash. About a mile down the beach is Maggie’s place, complete with the brand new southern-style porch she’s had put in, and the shine distillery pu ng away in her garage. We’re actually going over there tonight for dinner and to sample the new batch. Leah looks up. She grins when she sees me looking at her and pulls her shades o . She blows me a kiss and mouths “I love you.” I mouth it back. When this call is over, I plan on mouthing those words directly between her legs after I yank that bikini o . “Rourke?”

“Yeah, man,” I grunt with a grin. “Yeah, she’s worth it all.” He chuckles. “Good man. Well, I guess I’ll catch you around the sun, Rourke.” “Be good, Rogue.” “You know it. Take care of yourself, and that girl.” And I plan on doing that, for the rest of my life. I toss the phone aside, and I head over to the love of my life. My angel. My saving grace. And when my lips press to hers and she sinks into my arms, I know this is exactly where I’ll be: forever, with her.

Looking for more from Rourke and Leah? Sign up for my newsletter and read a steamy extra scene! This isn’t an epilogue or continuation to Stolen By The Hitman. But this extra hot “follow-up” story is guaranteed to fog up your Kindle! You’ll also get a free full-length book when you join! Get the extra scene!

MEN OF RUTHLESS CORP

Hungry for more Men of Ruthless? Stolen By The Hitman is its own standalone story. But you can binge on way more dangerous alpha hitmen from some of your favorite authors right here.

ALSO BY JAGGER COLE

Bratva’s Claim: Paying The Bratva’s Debt The Bratva’s Stolen Bride Hunted By The Bratva Beast His Captive Bratva Princess Owned By The Bratva King Standalones: Her Rough Mechanic Cherished Captivated Roping His Bride Stalker of Mine Hungry For Her Wrapped Up In Her Bosshole Grumpaholic Be Ours The Scaliami Crime Family: (All standalone books which can be read in any order.) The Hitman’s Obsession The Boss’s Temptation The Bodyguard’s Weakness

Power Series: (All standalone books which can be read in any order.) Tyrant Outlaw Warlord Wants & Needs Duet: All He Wants Everything He Needs Forever Always Duet: Forever His Always Hers Tu

Built Series: Big Deck Hard Screw

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A reader ﬁrst and foremost, Jagger Cole cut his romance writing teeth penning various steamy fan-ﬁction stories years ago. After deciding to hang up his writing boots, Jagger worked in advertising pretending to be Don Draper. It worked enough to convince a woman way out of his league to marry him, though, which is a total win. Now, Dad to two little princesses and King to a Queen, Jagger is thrilled to be back at the keyboard. When not writing or reading romance books, he can be found woodworking, enjoying good whiskey, and grilling outside - rain or shine.

You can ﬁnd all of his books at www.jaggercolewrites.com