Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance (10 page)

N
o matter
how hard he gripped the wheel, it wasn’t tight enough. Visions of the District Attorney—Mia’s father—covered in his own blood, filled his mind. The man got off too easy.

He picked at a scratch on his knuckle. The plates he’d lifted from another car in the parking lot had been sharper than usual. He wiped the blood on his jeans. It would heal. Unlike his sister.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring back Melanie’s face. All he could see was her dead body. He tried to think of a happy memory. A time when they weren’t hungry or scared or too fucked up to do much of anything.

It wasn’t easy.

Damien checked the time. Mia was late. The longer they hung around, the bigger the risk. He needed to get them somewhere quiet and safe. A place he could tell her about her father.

She wouldn’t understand.

The passenger door opened and a woman wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat leaned down to get in.

“You’ve got the wrong car, lady.”

The woman fell into the seat and pulled the hat off. “No, I don’t.”

Damien frowned. “Mia?” She seemed distant. Strange. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded and looked out the window. The sunglasses hid her eyes and he couldn’t tell what was going on.

Shit
. He’d never been good at reading women. “Those sunglasses are cute.” He winced as the words came out. Cute? Was that the best he could do?

Mia didn’t even acknowledge him.
Great
. How was he supposed to break the news of her father if he couldn’t even compliment her when she needed it?

Relationships weren’t Damien’s strong suit, but…
oh, hell.
Was that what this was? A relationship? No. It couldn’t be. He’d kidnapped her for God sakes. Tied her to a chair, tackled her in the grass, gagged her so she couldn’t scream.

But after all that…It was something. The first thing he wanted to hear in the morning was her laugh. Her moan, the last thing at night. He knew she loved classic country and French fries dipped in mustard. Cheesy 80’s TV shows and cheap beer.

Mia had gone from a woman he couldn’t trust to one he couldn’t imagine living without. He glanced at her profile as she stared out the window. High cheekbones, perfect nose. Lips he would never tire of kissing.

She wasn’t a fling he would toss aside when the moment was right. He could deny it to himself all he wanted, but it was there, beating inside his heart.

I’m in love with her.

He needed revenge on the bastard who gave the drugs to his sister, but Melanie wasn’t in a hurry. Her bones were already in their final resting place. Mia was vibrant and strong and so fucking alive it made his chest ache.

She needed him more.

He couldn’t be a good man. He couldn’t erase all the hurt and pain and blood on his hands. But he could try to be who Mia needed.

A few hours later, Damien pulled into a better hotel on the edge of another town.

“Isn’t this place expensive?” They were the first words she’d spoken since they had left the mall.

“I’ve got it covered.” He got out and hustled over to her door to pull it open before she could.

Mia frowned at him.

“I’ll get us a room. We can order room service and relax.”

“Okay?”

The single word came out as a question, but Damien ignored it. Tonight wasn’t about the cartel or Marcelo. Tonight was about Mia and coming clean and asking for her forgiveness.

They checked in and got a room and while Mia was taking a shower, Damien got everything ready. He might not be an expert at being a gentleman, but he’d seen enough TV. He could wing it.

Mia came out of the bathroom, her hair still up in a towel, and she paused at the threshold.

“What’s going on?”

Damien glanced at the room service table and the wine and the folded napkins. “I ordered dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

She sat down at the empty chair and tugged the towel off her head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.” He poured her a glass of wine and held it out.

Mia didn’t take it.

“Is something wrong?”

She folded the napkin back and forth in her lap and stared at the glass. “No…I just…I don’t feel like drinking.”

“All right. Well, how about dinner?”

Damien watched as she picked up the fork. It hung limp and loose between her fingers as she poked at the salad and chicken on her plate.

As the minutes ticked by, Damien’s hope crumbled. If he couldn’t manage a single nice dinner, what chance did he have for a future with Mia?

She was used to five-star restaurants and lush houses with more art than wall. He could never compete with that. She didn’t even like the wine.

How could he tell her about her father when she could barely look him in the eye? How could he tell her he loved her?

If he couldn’t get through to her, he would lose her before they even had a chance. Damien stood up in a rush. That wasn’t going to happen. Not now.

He pushed the table to the side of the room, grabbed the remote for the TV and turned it to a music station. A soft, slow beat filled the room and Damien held out his hand.

“If you won’t drink and you won’t eat, then how about dancing?”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “You want me to dance with you?”

“I do.”

‘“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand seeing you so sad. I want your smile back, Mia. I want to hear you laugh.”

Her eyes went wide and she took his hand. He pulled her up onto her feet and wrapped his arm around her. Just the touch of her skin soothed the beast inside him.

He nuzzled her neck and she sighed. He pulled her close and she surrendered. Her body hugged his, her arms slipped around his neck, and by the time the song ended, she was back from the darkness.

The light in his life was glowing.

Mia pulled back and managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Distracting me.”

“Anytime.” His hands slid down her body to cup her perfect ass. “Mia, I want you to know…I’d never betray you to the cartel again. When I saw you there in the closet, all I could think about was finally having answers. Knowing the truth.”

Her brown eyes clouded. “About what?”

“My sister’s death. Marcelo said she overdosed, but I always thought he had taken her out. That he’d given her some bad drugs to put her down.”

Mia stopped dancing. “Like a dog?”

“Exactly.” God, he didn’t know how to tell her the truth. He held onto her and waited until she looked up into his face. “I found out today I was right.”

She sucked in a breath. “Marcelo killed her?”

Damien shook his head. “It wasn’t Marcelo who killed her.” Mia tensed in his arms, but he kept going. She needed to know. “You father ordered the hit, Mia. He’s the one who killed her.”

Mia’s legs gave out and Damien grabbed her before she fell to the floor.

“It can’t be true.”

“My source wouldn’t lie. Not about that.”

An anguished sob tore from her chest and she shoved against him to get away. Her tears hit his hands, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“What are you going to do now? Kill me? Hand me over to that bastard Marcelo?”

“What? No! Mia!” Damien fell to the floor and crushed her body against his. She shook. “I told you so you knew the truth. I would never turn you in. I would never trade you to Marcelo.”

He pulled back and she fought to get away. He gripped her arms so tight they’d bruise. “You’re worth more to me than any vengeance. You’ve changed my life.”

She stilled. “But my father…all the things he’s done…”

“Are over. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Her eyes slid shut and Damien couldn’t bear it. The hurt etched into her face was there because of him. He would do anything to take it away.

His fingers found the waist of her jeans. He slipped the button free.

“Stop it.” Mia wiped at her face and tried to bat his hand away.

“No.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m helping us both forget the pain.” He tugged down her jeans and yanked them free of her body. “You mean more to me than any ghost, Mia. Let me prove it.”

She trembled as he gripped her by the thighs. She gasped when he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

Before she could say a single word, Damien spread her legs. Just the sight of her sweet sex obliterated all his anger. All his rage.

He dove between her legs, his tongue slicing through her folds to flick her clit without a second to waste. Mia cried out and fell back on the mattress.

If he couldn’t make her laugh and smile with a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, he’d make her forget about the horror of their lives the only way he knew how. One lap of his tongue at a time.

He kissed her swollen folds. “Relax, Mia. Let me help you.” He trailed kisses up and down and ran his hands over her silken skin. She shuddered.

Every kiss and lick eased the tension running through her. Every suck and nip calmed his racing heart. They might never work in the outside world, but in the bedroom, they were perfect. He couldn’t relate to her over dinner? Fine. They would do their bonding the old fashioned way.

Naked.

Mia’s fingers tore over his head and Damien picked up the pace, lapping at her clit, drawing little gasps and moans from deep inside her. She bucked her hips into his face and he sucked her clit into his mouth.

She groaned and he sucked harder. It didn’t matter how stressed out or confused or sad she was, he would force pleasure into her veins. Her sex soaked in her arousal and Damien lapped it up like a starving animal.

The minute he opened that closet door, his whole life changed. Gone was the empty, hollow place inside him. Mia filled it. She was the only good thing in his life and he wanted her to know it.

With a gentle thrust, he slipped one finger inside her. She cried out as he stroked her inner walls. Her muscles clamped around him and Damien looked up over the peaks and valleys of her body.

Mia gripped the bed sheets with one hand and his head with the other. Her black lashes stuck to her cheeks and her lips were stuck open in an O. As he lapped at her clit again, she came.

Body tight and frozen. Face locked in a mask of pleasure. The bliss flowed through her in a violent wave and Damien smiled. He’d broken through. He’d found the real Mia hiding behind the hurt and confusion.

She collapsed back onto the bed and Damien crawled over her. His lips landed on hers and she moaned as her own pleasure filled her mouth.

Her knees came up and Mia broke their kiss to snuggle against his chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve put you through hell, Mia, but I’m not sorry I’ve met you.” He stroked her still-damp hair. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She wedged herself tighter against him and wrapped her arm around his middle. “Tell me it will all work out. Tell me we’ll find a way.”

His hand ran over her hair again and again. “I promise, Mia. I’ll find a way out of this or die trying.”

Mia didn’t say another word, but from the wetness seeping into Damien’s shirt, he knew she was crying. He hugged her closer.

Soon, baby. Soon there won’t be any need for tears.

P
acing
the hotel room had done nothing to calm her nerves. When Damien told her about her father and his sister, she’d lost it. Her father—the District Attorney—had hired a hit?

It was unbelievable, but Damien was sure. And she trusted him, as crazy as it sounded. But now, because of her, he would probably be going to jail. If he found out she had called the ADA, he would never understand.

He would take one look at her and think she was as dirty as her father. How could she tell him it was to protect him? To protect their baby?

She stared at the full coffee cup in her hands. He’d handed it to her before walking out the door. She couldn’t drink it and couldn’t tell him why.

Keeping the baby a secret wasn’t fair. Damien deserved to know the truth. But she didn’t want it to cloud his judgment. Would he be happy? Angry? Would he look at her the same way he did last night?

Mia closed her eyes and remembered the brutal necessity in his kiss. His rough hands and hard fingers. The way he needed her to unravel. If he knew she carried his child, would he still want her the same way?

Whatever his reaction, he deserved to know the truth. She couldn’t hide behind her lie and everything she had done. He needed to make a choice with his eyes wide open. If he wanted to leave her, she would survive. Somehow.

The door to the hotel room opened and Damien walked in.

She’d never get over the look in his eyes when he saw her. How could smoky gray look so warm?

His wasn’t classically handsome. His nose had been broken at least once. His tattoos hid scars as well as muscles. In another life, before all this, she would have walked by him on the street and not given him a second glance.

But now when she dreamt, she dreamt of him. When she opened her eyes, the first thing wanted to see was his face.

The way he made her laugh without trying. The way he knew just where to kiss and touch. The way he watched her when he thought she didn’t know.

“Are you ready? We need to check out ASAP.”

Mia set the cup on the table and wiped her palms on her jeans. Nerves always made her sweat. She tried to smile. “I’m ready, but I was hoping—”

Damien cut her off. “I called the cops.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“The guy I met the other day, Rick Johnson. He was a beat cop when Melanie and I were on the street. He’s a detective now.”

Mia swallowed.

“He’s setting up a meet. Me and you and some of the good guys. You’ll get your record cleared. I’m going to see if I can get a deal.”

She rushed up to him and grabbed his shirt. “I don’t need a clean record. I need you.”

He smiled, but she knew it was just for show. His eyes were distant, focused on the deal and not on her.

“If this all works out, you’ll get me. Marcelo will get taken down, I’ll get a deal. It’ll all work out.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She needed to talk to him first. Tell him about the baby. The ADA. Mia tugged on the cotton in her hands. “You said you couldn’t trust the cops or the DA’s office. What are you doing?”

He trailed his fingers down her cheek and Mia shivered. “I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. I’m making it right. Melanie didn’t die for nothing.”

Panic edged up Mia’s throat. When she’d called the Assistant District Attorney, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d reacted out of fear and shock. She was pregnant. Damien was wanted for so many things. But now that she knew about her father and how dirty he was…

What if everything Damien said before was true? What if Steven was worse and he was walking into a trap?

“Damien, I need to tell you—”

“Shh.” He kissed her lips quickly and pulled back. “Don’t worry, Mia. Everything will work out. It has to.”

“No, you need to listen. I—”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Whatever it is you have to say can wait. We’ve got to go.”

“No. Damien, please—”

“It can wait, Mia.” He tugged her toward the door and dread washed over her. How had it all gone so terribly wrong? There was no way the meet could be legit. The cops had to be dirty. With her phone call and the ADA waiting for her…

Oh, God
. Damien might never make it out alive.

She was supposed to be the optimistic one. She wore the rose-colored glasses in this relationship, not Damien. He had to know it wouldn’t be easy.

Her eyes widened as she followed him out of the room and down the hall. His muscles bunched on his back with every step and his free hand clenched and unclenched as they headed toward the elevator.

Oh my God. What if he does know? What if he’s going in knowing he won’t come out?

Her throwaway cell phone buzzed in her back pocket and she pulled it out.

Convince your boyfriend to answer our questions and we’ll give him a deal. Probation, no jail time. Call me.

Mia read the message three times before slipping the phone back in her pocket.

Damien glanced at her. “Everything all right?”

“Mm-hmm. Just checking the time.” She smiled as he turned back around. The ADA offered a deal. No jail time. She chewed on her lip. If he could be trusted, then maybe…just maybe…they would make it out of this alive.

She thought back to the last time she had seen the man in person. Twenty-one years old and fresh out of college, she had dutifully shown up at the after-party for her father’s election campaign.

Steven had just been appointed the head Assistant District Attorney. He was twenty-nine and looking for someone to celebrate with.

“Mia, I’d like you to meet our newest ADA, Steven Willows.” Her father’s hand pushed against the small of her back.

She stepped forward. “Mia Davenport.”

The ADA slid his fingers over hers and held her hand a moment too long. “Call me Steven.”

Mia smiled and pulled her hand away. “Nice to meet you, Steven.”

Her father had leaned over her shoulder to whisper in the new ADA’s ear and the man laughed as he looked her over. She couldn’t help but think she had just been handed off like a piece of chattel. It made her skin crawl.

“Enjoy the party, Mia. I’ve got to make the rounds.” Her father didn’t even look at her as he walked away.

“Your father tells me you’re interested in criminal law.”

Mia turned to the ADA. “I’m interested in ensuring only guilty people are put behind bars.”

“Everyone is guilty in some way or another, Mia. Don’t you know that?”

She stood taller. “I know my father has a reputation for prosecuting first and asking questions later.”

“Aren’t you a principled little thing.” Steven sipped his drink. “After you go to law school and practice for a few years, you come back and tell me if it’s still so black and white.”

“I’ll do that.”

The night had worn on and she’d grown to like the ADA. Maybe not his politics, or his outlook on life, but he seemed to listen to her when she spoke about innocent people and the unfairness of the justice system.

She should have known from the first moment he’d looked her up and down that it was all a show. But it wasn’t until he groped her at the bar that she had put it together.

He had thought she’d be a sure thing. The DA’s daughter would be an easy fuck he could woo with some fancy talk and war stories from the trenches.

The drink she’d thrown at him dissuaded him of that notion.

Since then, Steven Willows had been cold and distant. Professional. When he had agreed last year to work with her law school’s Innocence project, she had been pleasantly surprised.

When he had offered to look into cases her professor flagged, she’d been impressed.

It had been three years since that first night and never once had he tried to make another move. Did he finally see her as an equal? Was he a good guy or as dirty as her father?

Mia didn’t know.

They stopped at the elevators and waited for the doors to open. If she could get Steven to listen to Damien’s story, maybe it would all work out.

Maybe her baby would have a father who saw his kid at more than just prison visits.

She squeezed Damien’s hand as the elevator dinged. All she could do was hope.