Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance (4 page)

T
his is impossible
.
Mia slumped in the chair and blinked back a wave of tears.

When her kidnapper left, she had counted to sixty before trying to escape. No matter how hard she yanked or how much she rocked back and forth in the chair, she couldn’t get free. Not a hand or a foot, not even a finger.

The damn radiator was as solid as a jail cell. At least she’d managed to spit the damn shirt out of her mouth. That was something. Mia fluffed a lock of hair off her face with a hard exhale.

She needed to get free and call the cops before he came back. Otherwise, she might never get the chance. Visions of the gun going off while he leaned over the dying man played through her mind. He was a killer. A murderer.

But something else lurked beneath the surface. Something…good. She saw it in the way he looked at her. If he’d been evil, she would either already be screaming at the hands of Anthony Marcelo, or she would be dead.

No way would a man without a soul let her shower and give her spare clothes or treat her wounds. Mia chewed on her lip. An evil man would never have kissed her like she mattered.

If she couldn’t get out via force, she needed to come up with a plan. A way to trick him into letting her go. She closed her eyes and thought back to the murder.

Her father had been gloating. Throwing around his weight and his name like they meant something to a thug with a gun. He’d always been an egotistical asshole. Mia just hadn’t realized how big his head had swelled.

The guy who died…the one who shot her father…what had he said? She scrunched up her face and tried to think. Marcelo was angry. He wanted her father to rein in the cops. Mia’s eyes popped open.

The cops.
If Marcelo had his hands not just in the DA’s office, but in the local cops as well, would they even help her? Was that what her kidnapper was after? Info on dirty cops?

It didn’t seem like it. She shook her head. Whatever he was trying to find, he had come up empty. If she could get him to talk, maybe she could help. If she could give him answers, maybe he would let her go.

Before Mia could come up with a plan, the door opened. Her kidnapper slipped in with a sack full of food and couple of sodas.

“A little tougher this time?” He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Maybe I wanted to stay.”

“Right. And I’m a billionaire.” He pulled paper-wrapped burgers out of the bag and a mountain of fries.

He spread everything out on the table between them and slid over a chair.

“Isn’t this the part where you untie my hands so I can eat?”

The man ran his tongue over his lower lip and Mia’s muscles clenched. It was so simple, but so dirty. She thought of his lips on hers. That tongue in her mouth. She swallowed.

He held out a French fry. “Sorry. Can’t risk it. Open up.”

She opened her mouth and he popped the French fry in.
Mmm
. Grease and salt and fried potato goodness. Mia was starving. She swallowed and opened her mouth again. This time, he put a giant burger dripping in ketchup and mustard near enough for her to bite.

Oh, wow.
Could you be in heaven and hell at the same time? Mia wasn’t sure. Any other day, she’d probably turn her nose up at dinner like this. But it wasn’t any other day. She had watched her father be murdered, been kidnapped, almost escaped and now…She was eating dinner with a man who wanted to trade her off to the most dangerous criminals in town.

So much for her appetite. Mia shook her head when he offered another bite.

“You need to eat.”

“What’s your name?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you care?”

“I’m not going to eat until you answer a few of my questions.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll go hungry.”

“I thought you wanted me alive to hand off to the cartel.”

“You don’t need to be healthy. Just breathing.”

Damn it
. She wasn’t getting anywhere. With a sigh of exasperation, Mia opened her mouth. He slipped in a fry.

“Damien.”

“E—use me?” Not the most ladylike of questions, but Mia could have cared less. As long as she stayed tied to a chair, she could talk with her mouth full.

Her kidnapper tried not to smile. “My name is Damien.”

Oh.
The name shouldn’t have meant anything to her. But it did.
Damien
. Just knowing it changed something between them. He might still be a killer and a kidnapper and a bad, bad man. But he had a name. A damn sexy name.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now you need to eat.”

Damien fed her the rest of a hamburger and a whole carton full of fries. The empty gnawing in her stomach finally disappeared. As he stood to clean up, she braved another question. “So why my father?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did Marcelo want my father killed? Did he disobey orders?”

He snorted. “Marcelo didn’t want him to die. Angelo was supposed to scare him. Rough him up a little. Remind him who was boss.”

“Marcelo.”

“Exactly.” Damien balled up the empty wrappers and scooped everything into the trash. “Angelo should have checked for a gun first thing.”

“Is that what you would have done?”

“Damn straight.”

She shouldn’t like his answer, but she did. “You don’t bullshit people, do you?”

“Not usually.”

She smiled. “Neither do I. Guess we have something in common after all.”

“I have nothing in common with you, honey.” He turned around and leaned back on the counter. “You’re a modern day princess. I’m a murderer.”

Mia glowered. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know your father was the district attorney. I know you have a huge house full of shit I could never dream of buying. I bet you went to the best schools. Had the nicest car. Tons of rich boyfriends.”

“Try again.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. My father might have tons of money, but I’m not part of his life.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t, I mean.”

“Then what were you doing in his closet?”

“None of your business.”

Damien pushed off the counter and walked past her. “Told you so.”

Mia tried to turn around, but she was trapped by the restraints. She managed to swivel her head. “I was there for a photo-op. I hadn’t been to my dad’s place in years. I haven’t lived with him since my mom died.”

He paused in the doorway but didn’t turn around. “Your mother’s dead?”

“Cancer almost ten years ago. I was fourteen.”

“What happened then?”

Mia snorted. “My father shipped me off to boarding school. Sold the house. Got a girlfriend. Then another and another.”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice if she tried. “He only calls when he needs to parade me around like a trophy. I’m his box checked. Kid: One. All I’m ever good for is the media.”

Damien spun on his heel. “Is that why you haven’t cried?”

“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to start blubbering.”

He stepped back into the room. “But you watched your father be murdered. He died in front of you. That would shake anyone up.”

She’d give anything to cross her arms and turn around.
Damn chain.
“I’m not sorry he’s dead, okay? You happy now?”

Damien stepped closer. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He sat down in the chair. “It does to me.”

“Loosen these ties and I’ll tell you.”

Without another word, her kidnapper leaned over her and tugged at the ties around her wrists. His chest hovered an inch from her face, his shirt gaping low enough to reveal a swirling mass of tattoos across his chest. Mia swallowed.

How’d it get so hot in here?

He smelled of greasy food and rain and she realized for the first time that he’d lost the hoodie, but never changed clothes. Muscles stood out in stark relief on his arms, rippling and flexing as he loosened the ties.

A chain dangled from his neck with something attached to it.
A…locket?
She opened her mouth to ask when he rose up.

“Is that better?”

Mia tugged up her arms and they moved a few inches. “Yes, thank you.”

“Now talk.” He sat down in the chair and waited.

This close, she could see the color differences in his eyes. They weren’t just gray; they were more blue mixed with steel. His short beard hid a scar on his chin she hadn’t noticed before and his cropped hair was almost as dark as her own.

She swallowed. There was so much she wanted to learn about this man. But she needed to run.

Mia exhaled and met his stare. “My father was a bad man. He withheld evidence, lied to the court, and put innocent people on trial and behind bars to up his conviction rate. He didn’t care about justice. He cared about winning.”

“Was he always like that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know? When I was little, he was just my dad. Always at work, never home. I never saw either of my parents. My mother made partner in her law firm when I was four.”

“Sounds rough.” She could tell he didn’t mean it.

“You try having three sets of nannies instead of parents.”

“What?”

Mia focused on the doorway past Damien’s head. “My parents couldn’t guarantee they would make it home at night. My father was first chair on capital murder trials. My mother was doing corporate deals worth billions.”

She didn’t know why she was spilling out the painful secrets of her childhood to a stranger. But what did she have to lose? He’d probably dump her at Anthony Marcelo’s feet in the morning. She would be dead in a matter of days.

“When I was three, they had an
au pair
suite built into the house and hired three different women to raise me. Every eight hours they changed shifts. Eight to four was Isabelle, four to midnight was Donna, and midnight to eight was Rebecca.”

“When did you see your parents?”

Mia ran her tongue over her lip. “Sometimes one of them would make it home on a Saturday. We might go to the park for an hour. Or have lunch.” She shifted on the chair. Suddenly she felt so very exposed.

Damien reached out and brushed her hair off her face. “You should still be grateful. You had a roof over your head. Food to eat. Clean clothes.”

Mia frowned. “You didn’t?”

He pulled back as if he’d been burned. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Damien stared at her and for a moment, she saw the kid inside of him. The young, wide-eyed kid who hadn’t been cared for at all.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never knew my parents. Grew up in foster care. In and out of juvie.”

“What’s that?”

“Juvenile detention.”

“Oh.” Mia leaned closer. “How’d you end up with the cartel?”

“They took us in. Fed us, clothed us. It was better than the streets.”

Mia frowned. “Who’s us?”

Damien stood up like a rocket. “Enough talking. I’ve got to take a piss. Don’t move.”

Mia watched him walk away. Part of her wanted to stay, get him to open up and share his life with her. She could see so much more than anger behind the wall he’d built around himself.

But while they had been talking, she’d gotten a hand free. It wasn’t time to fall for a hitman, no matter how vulnerable he seemed in the moment.

She had some serious running to do.

D
amien slammed
his fist into the dresser. The whole piece of furniture rattled and wobbled and threatened to collapse. Just like his self-control.

Damn this woman.
She’d gotten into his head. Turned on his feelings.
Christ
. When did he let that happen?

Feelings were for dead men. Men who didn’t have rap sheets and police files and blood on their hands. Feelings got you killed.

He paced back and forth in the bedroom, trying to shove it all out of his mind.

Her gentle voice slipped from her lips like silk. Her big brown eyes looked up at him like he was a person instead of a tool. He wanted to pin her body to the floor and ravage her.

Damien scrubbed his lips with his hand. He couldn’t get her taste off his skin. All strawberries and cream. Fucking innocence in a damn bottle. She was everything he hated. Everything he couldn’t have.

It didn’t matter that her childhood sucked. It wasn’t as bad as his.

Mia Davenport was his chance. He would take her to Marcelo and strike up a deal. The truth and his debts repaid for the only witness to the DA’s murder. The only person who knew the DA’s secrets. After that, Mia would be on her own.

The thought sent a shudder through him. Damien knew what they would do to her. He knew how far they would go to break her. He’d seen it first hand. First Marcelo would hook her on something good—heroin or meth.

Then he’d use it like bait.
You do this baby, I’ll give you what you need.
When Mia had been all used up, when there wasn’t even a shell of a girl left to abuse, he’d let her overdose and throw her out in the trash.

Just like Melanie.

Jesus
. He was sending her straight to hell. But he didn’t have a choice. Without her, he would never really know.

Damien checked his watch. Four in the morning.
Fuck
. He’d been up for almost twenty-four hours. He needed some sleep. His eyes burned and his muscles ached with fatigue.

Could he trust her not to run? If he tied her to the bed, would she still be there in the morning?

He exhaled and rolled his shoulders back when a thud made him spin.
Oh, no
.

Damien tore the bedroom door open and raced into the kitchen.
Shit
. The chair lay on its side, chain still wrapped around it. No Mia to be seen.

With a groan of frustration, he tore through the house. She had to still be inside. From the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, Damien raced, eyes darting back and forth. Nothing.

Down the hall he went, ducking into bedrooms, closets, bathrooms. He threw open the last door and almost shouted in relief. Mia hadn’t made it outside.

Her legs and ass hung out of the too-tall window as she kicked and wiggled. She wasn’t tall enough or strong enough to launch herself out. He wrapped his hands around her shins and she screamed. He hauled her back in and she kicked out.

Something inside Damien snapped. He grabbed her by her wrists and spun her around. She couldn’t leave him.

Her back hit the wall and he crushed his weight against her. “What are you doing?”

“Looks like I’m getting caught.”

“I told you not to run.” It took all his self-control not to shout.

“I had to try. When you hand me over, I’ll be dead.” Her breath came hot and fast and every inhalation pressed her tits into his chest.

His cock throbbed inside his pants and he ground himself against her. Her eyes widened. Her lips fell open.

Visions of her on her knees, his cock buried down her throat, filled his mind.
Fuck
. She’d grip him like velvet. He knew it. His hold on her wrists tightened as he pressed them into the wall beside her head.

Damien stroked the skin above the rope still tied around one wrist. “Couldn’t get this off?”

“Maybe I wanted it on.”

He inhaled through his nose and leaned closer. She shouldn’t kid about wanting him. One look at her bound and waiting like that and he had to fight to keep control.

Her lip trembled and the urge to kiss her into submission overcame him. He wanted her naked and moaning. Coming from his tongue and his hand and his cock. Begging for him to plant his seed deep inside her.

“You make me think very dirty things, Mia Davenport.”

Her eyes widened.

“Do I scare you?” He bent to nuzzle the bare skin of her neck.

“Yes.”

“Do I turn you on?” He blew hot air across her collarbone.

“You shouldn’t.”

He nosed the too-big sweatshirt off her shoulder. “But do I?” His lips grazed her skin.

“Yes.”

Damien looked up into her eyes. “Ever want to do something you know is wrong? Something that will wreck you, tear you apart, make you want to crawl into a hole and die?”

Her eyes clouded over and her cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

“Me too.”

He leaned closer, his lips almost touching hers. She quivered.

Her voice came out in a whisper. “What happens if you give in?”

He smiled. “You go straight to hell.”

As soon as their lips collided, Damien knew the truth. They weren’t in hell. They couldn’t be. Not with the way she fit against him and the way she kissed him back. She was as desperate and hungry as he was. More.

She moaned. He licked. She trembled. He took.

Kiss after kiss on her lips, her cheek, down her soft neck. Too many clothes. She had on way too many fucking clothes. His hands slipped beneath the sweatshirt.

Mia cried out as he found her breasts beneath the fabric. Warm and luscious in his hands. He stroked the soft peaks until her nipples stood out, hard and begging.

Her hands slipped behind his head, the rope he’d used to bind her still dangling from her wrist. She arched into him. “Please, Damien.”

He stilled. “Please, what?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He kissed her silent as he reached up to take her hand. With one hand holding the binding, he reached into his jeans and pulled out a pocket knife. He flicked out the blade.

Her pulse raced beneath his thumb. “What are you doing?”

“Setting you free.” With a single cut, the rope fell away.

The knife slipped into his pocket as her hands inched beneath his shirt, fingers running over his abs and up his chest. She moaned as he grabbed the sweatshirt, gasped as he tore it from her body.

Her tits bounced in the air as the fabric ripped over them. Spectacular. Firm and round and just right to suckle. Damien bent his head and captured Mia’s nipple. She arched her back and wove her fingers through his hair.

God
. She was incredible. So responsive and wild. Uninhibited and free. He needed to taste her. To dive between her legs and lap up all her slick heat. With her hands still roaming over his body, he yanked open the too-big jeans. They fell to the floor in a heap.

Hmm
. Hips he could latch onto. Pussy he couldn’t wait to devour. Damien grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. With a flick of his wrists, Mia flew back and landed on the bed. Her ass hit the middle and she bounced up and down.

Fuck, yes.
He dove after her, chasing her down as she backpedaled on the mattress. Her back found the wall and he grabbed her by the knees. He spread her wide open.

Damn
. Pink and glistening, her slick heat called to him. Begged for his tongue to pillage. Plunder. Make her scream.

He leaned closer.

“You shouldn’t—I mean you don’t have to—”

Damien didn’t let her finish. His tongue lapped up her slit and Mia stopped talking. He flicked her clit and she moaned.

She bucked on the bed and he pinned her down. His hands gripped her inner thighs and Mia reached for his head. Her fingers fumbled over his scalp and pulled him closer.

Yes. That’s it. Ride my tongue.
Damien licked and swirled his tongue around her clit, drinking in her nectar. Damn was she sweet. Her sex was as innocent and fucking pure as she was. The opposite of him.

Where he was rough and dirty, she was smooth and delicate. Where he was hard and violent, she was soft and gentle. Her body trembled and he dipped lower, thrusting his tongue inside her, groaning as her muscles clamped around him and pulled him deeper.

He couldn’t wait to fuck her. With a pussy that tight, he’d see stars.

Gone were thoughts about the cartel, Marcelo, even Melanie. All Damien could think about was Mia’s hot little body and how he wanted to drown in it. He’d been on the verge of collapse an hour before, but there was no stopping him now.

He would rock her world with more orgasms than she could take. Fill her up and satisfy every last need she had. They could worry about tomorrow in the morning.

“Damien. Please…” Mia whimpered above him and he released her leg to slip a finger inside her. Stroking her inner wall, he watched from the bed as she arched and moaned.

Her eyelids fluttered, her mouth fell open, and when he licked across her clit, she fell apart.

Damn
.

Flushed cheeks, arched back, body frozen as pleasure coursed through her. No woman he’d been with had ever been so open. So raw. It had always been a means to an end. A quick fuck, a fast orgasm, and a gotta go, see you later.

Never this. Mia fell back on the bed, her hair fanned out around her, her arms thrown wide. She was an angel and he didn’t deserve her. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. At least for tonight.

Damien tugged his T-shirt off and threw it on the floor before crawling up the mattress. His shoes landed in a pair of thuds at the foot of the bed.

Mia rose up, but he pushed her back down.

“We’re nowhere close to done, babe. Don’t move.”

She reached for him anyway. “Don’t order me around.” Her hands landed on his belt and she ripped it open. Her fingers unfastened his button and pulled the zipper of his jeans down.

Her hand slipped beneath his boxers and Damien let out a low hiss. “What are you doing?”

Mia grinned. “Stroking your dick, I hope.”

Damien laughed. It was the second time she had managed it in a matter of hours. He never laughed anymore.

“Like what you feel?”

She bit her lip.

“What is it?”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you…um…Do you know…”

He kissed her silent before nudging her head to the side. His lips found her ear. “I’m clean.”

“Do you have a condom?” Her hand ran up and down his shaft and Damien shuddered.

“No.”

She turned her head and found his eyes. “Then make it count.”