DON’T HURT MY BABY: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

by Zoey Parker

  She forced the judgmental thoughts out of her head as well as she could. After all, wasn’t she trying hard to be the pretty little wife now? She’d miss the dancing – not just the sexy parts, but the sheer athleticism of twirling around the pole, her arms and legs working as hard as they could to keep her suspended in the air. She was half acrobat and half sex toy up there, and she loved both sides equally. She’d pouted and moped until Toro had installed a proper pole for her, and she’d kept up with her routines as best as she could, inventing new ones to new songs as they became popular, updating older routines to new music when the music got stale. She’d always been a soft-bodied, curvy woman, but she was strong, and she liked being strong. It helped her feel safe.

  Maybe, if she took Milo up on his offer, she’d get him to set her up a pole, too. She could be like all the other pretty wives in whatever neighborhood they found and stay fit by doing what she’d always done. The irony would be its own kind of delicious.

  Sammy heard her heels click-clacking across the floor and turned. Even in the casual short shorts and low-cut tank that Milo had bought her, she knew she was a stunner – and she knew she was recognizable. Tess loved how Sammy looked her up and down, a small smile on his face. He appreciated her body without seeming to undress her with his eyes. There was no noticeable shifting of his hardening dick, no smirking thought of how he could have her if he wanted her plastered across his face. Just a quiet appreciation for the girl sashaying towards him.

  “Theresa Graham, as I live and breathe,” he said. He was from somewhere in the South, she’d never exactly pinned down where, but he tended to play up his accent when it suited him. He held out a hand and took hers, lifting it up to his lips for the kind of kiss that would have been appropriate in a fancy restaurant or a period movie. “We all thought for you sure you went down in the raid that took out Toro’s place.”

  Her stomach fluttered for a moment, and she forced herself to remember that no one was going to volunteer any information to her right now; anything that he said to her at this moment would be a smokescreen, no matter what he did or didn’t know. She smiled back, letting him hold her hand for an extra moment before taking it back. Might as well be sweet and flattering.

  Behind her, she heard the door to the club open, very gently; if she hadn’t been listening for the sound, she probably would have missed it. Milo had wanted to follow her in, but she’d managed to explain – repeatedly but firmly – that she would never get any information at all out of Sammy if he tried that. There were a time and a place for his sort of interrogation – and a time and a place for hers.

  “It’s been an awfully long time since I heard that name, Samuel,” she said, and Sammy gave a little laugh. “I am a good little kitty who used to have nine lives.” She returned his little laugh. Toro had called her his pet for the longest time, and it used to annoy her; now it was the kind of signal she hoped would tell Sammy she could be trusted. Even though she couldn’t. “Or at least, I did until some men came and shot up Toro’s place.”

  “How did you get out?” The question felt casual, but it made her stomach jump all the same. Sammy wasn’t stupid, and no one around a drug lord was presumed innocent. Anyone could have turned to the cops, gotten in too deep with another family, or any other number of things that could threaten an entire community.

  She shrugged. “I still don’t entirely know. I was in the bath when everything went down. I hid in a closet when I heard the gunshots. Came out when things were quiet. There was so much blood, and the penthouse was empty. I grabbed what I could carry and ran for it. I’ve been staying with a friend for a while; I thought Toro would come for me.” She let her face fall, biting her lower lip like a sad little girl who was all alone in the rain. “I guess I wasn’t as important to him as he always said.” She would have let a tear leak out if she hadn’t thought that would be too ridiculous to be believed.

  “Men like Toro can never be trusted,” Sammy said with the wise tone of someone who had been down that road and knew where it led. “Men like me, however; tell me what you need, Tess.”

  “Frankly, I need a job. I’ve been couch surfing for weeks now, and I’m tired of it. If Toro’s done with me, fine, but I need to earn my way.” She let all her fierce pride, entirely true and real, shine through her expression. “I’m not going to go crawling around town begging some other two-bit street dealer for a bed to sleep in just so he can start hooking me out for rent money. I’ll do what I have to do, but I’m better than that.”

  Sammy nodded, and when he stepped back from her and looked her up and down again, he had a different light in his eyes this time. “You used to be pretty good on the dance floor,” he said. His gaze focused on her arms, her legs, her waist, the parts of her body that would show strength and power, even under their softness. “Still know how to twirl on a pole?”

  She grinned and struck a bit of a pose, one leg out to the side, hip cocked, her hand on her hip. Like a slutty actress on a very different sort of red carpet. “I’ve kept my hand in over the years.”

  “You understand I have to ask you to show me.” Sammy’s voice sounded just a little reluctant. “I’m sorry, Tess, I’d take it on faith if I could, but you understand?”

  She nodded. “Bringing me on would be a risk. You need to be sure I’m worth it. I get it.”

  He sighed just a little. “Thank you, girl. I appreciate it. You have an outfit? Makeup?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m like one of those scouts, always prepared.”

  He pointed down a dim hallway. “Dressing room is down there. Come out when you’re ready, and we’ll see what you have.”

  Tess kept up her saunter until she was out of sight, and then her confidence faltered. She caught herself against the wall and took a long, slow breath. If she’d ever thought she could go back to this life permanently, she was wrong. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, never that. But her body… Even before the threat of stretch marks and weight changes that never quite resolved, she didn’t want to live in a world anymore where her usefulness had an expiration date. The prettiest girls danced in the nicest clubs, and as you got older, you were squeezed out of jobs again and again until you wound up in a rundown dive on the outskirts of town, frequented by truckers who only tipped if they got to grope your boobs and get a lap dance. Girls ended up waitressing or hooking in the shitty parts of town, or worse, muling drugs for some pimp who was using the dope to keep other girls whoring for him. Having a steady thing with Toro, there’d been a chance that maybe, eventually, she’d end up running a business of her own; she’d worked hard on showing him that she was smart and savvy as well as incredible in bed and willing to give it up to anyone he sent to her. Without that kind of backing, she’d never make it on her own. Sure, America was the land of opportunity, but opportunity was a hell of a lot easier to come by when you were rich, white, and had a penis.

  At that moment, she knew she’d take Milo’s deal, no matter what happened. She liked running her hand over the soft space of her stomach and knowing that there was something there which would, in time, be her baby; more important than that, though, was the knowledge that she’d never have to worry about stretch marks impacting her income. She wouldn’t have to think about what to do when she wasn’t pretty enough to catch someone’s attention anymore.

  And she’d make it up to the universe, this incredible stroke of luck that she was catching right now. She’d volunteer at women’s shelters, put in hours at the birth control clinic, work with women who needed to get their GEDs – get hers, for fuck’s sake – absolutely anything in order to make it up to the world that she was going to get out of this downward spiral and get herself safe. Get herself and her baby safe.

  She took a long, slow, steadying breath. The first step to making that happen was to show Sammy what she could do on a pole. He’d offer her a job, she knew he would, and then she’d be able to listen for information while she was working and work the other clubs and busines
ses in the area with Milo the rest of the time. She straightened and went into the dressing room to pull on the dance outfit she’d made a man buy her so she could dance for another man. She stuffed her tits into the top and made sure the bottoms more or less covered her ass. She put on makeup that was just a little too much, too dark and too bold; it would look garish out on the street, but in the darkness of a club, it would be absolutely perfect.

  Therese Graham, Sammy had called her, and where he’d picked up that name, she had no idea. She’d been just Tess for a decade. It was a little weird, honestly, but it didn’t matter now. Maybe she’d start using it all again – when Milo found her somewhere safe. Maybe the baby could be a Graham as well.

  No, she thought after a moment. Graham was her deadbeat father’s name, and she’d never even met the asshole. She’d stopped using his name because it never reminded her of herself, just him. The baby would have Milo’s last name. And if he didn’t want that, she’d make one up. Make one up for both of them.

  She settled her boobs one more time, and when she followed the pathway to the stage, she was grinning for real.

  Sammy was ready with music; he called out a list of songs he had available, and she picked one that she’d been practicing for. She had a couple of routines that could be adapted to just about anything with a strong beat, but this one had good timing and showed off the strength in her arms. She struck her easy pose, and then went into the routine on the beat, letting muscle memory take over. This was why she’d kept practicing, no matter what was happening in her day to day life. You couldn’t be thinking about moving your leg this way or pointing your hand just so when you were dancing, and she didn’t care if the stage was in front of thousands and a proscenium or in the back of a smoky bar. You had to be able to let your body do the movements and bring your heart out in the details. She was rusty – she’d hardly been able to practice while Milo had her chained to the bed – but as she sank into the beat and the moves, she found her way. She trembled a little on some of her lifts, and her leg wraps were just a little off, but she didn’t fall or hit her head, or any other humiliating thing that she’d seen happen to girls who were trying too hard. Her bottoms also did not try to crawl up her ass, which she appreciated. She hadn’t been able to find any double-sided tape in the dressing room and had forgotten to bring her own.

  When the music died out as she struck her final pose, she glanced out into the room. If the club were open, it would be dark and dim, the faces of those on the floor more shapes than realities. Now, with the lights mostly on, she could see Sammy in the front, clapping gently and grinning at her. But in the back of the room, she could see Milo. He stood against the wall like a living statue made of shadow, but there was something on his face. It came shockingly close to awe.

  She had a funny idea that she’d done a lot more just now than show off for someone who was close to an old friend. She gave a goofy little bow, designed to be “Oh my, are you clapping for me?” kind of humble and cute. She forced herself not to stare at Milo; if Sammy saw a stranger hanging out in the back of the club, she’d be tossed out on her ear so fast. But she found herself wanting to kiss him, climb him like a tree, and tell him that he could have her for everything he’d ever wanted, and see how fast he ripped these pants off her. She wanted to call him Daddy again and hear him snarl.

  “So, what do you think, Sammy, do you have a spot for me?”

  “I know just the place.” He grinned at her.

  She glanced up again, and her shadow statue was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Milo didn’t let the door slam behind him as he pushed his way out of Assets, his chest heaving as he tried to get himself under control. Seeing Tess dance like that – God, the woman was gorgeous, athletic, impressive – drove home how very little claim he really had over the woman. He’d wanted to yank her down off the catwalk, toss her over his shoulder, and drag her back to his cave like some caveman. He’d had to bite back a shout at this Sammy character, who’d been watching her with such a carefully appraising look, and slap the other women who’d been watching her from the side of the bar, whispering behind their hands and giving Tess sideways glances. He wanted none of this and all of her.

  He couldn’t have that. He knew better than to think he could. Wanting out of this life wasn’t the same as being out of this life, and it was absolutely fucking crucial that he remembers that. He was quite sure he could get Tess and the baby set up for the rest of their lives, but he didn’t know – couldn’t think – whether or not he’d ever be able to be with them. There were too many factors to consider.

  First: he had to track down Toro and deal with this situation before Silk Road decided to deal with it – and him – permanently.

  Second: he had to figure out why the fuck Bastille was back in town. They’d grown up together, seen the worst parts of their lives, and Bastille had been there the day that Milo left their instructors in bloody shreds behind him. He would understand why Milo had never looked back – but Milo had also ruined the closest thing to a home, perverted and twisted as it was, that either of them had ever known.

  Third: could he even be the kind of man who went home to a family? He’d never considered it, and now it was being shoved in his face. It was one thing to play house with a sexy woman in a hotel room, thinking about setting her up like a little family he could visit when he wanted and leave when the itch got back, but the truth was that he’d never done anything but murder. Could he really wake up and go to sleep in the same place, day after day? In the front of his head, it sounded happy and reassuring. But it was the back of his head, as always, that concerned him.

  What if he tried, really tried, and found out he was still a monster? That his hands were bloody, no matter how hard he washed them. What would he do? Who would he be then? What would happen with Tess – with the baby – if he up and left after saying he’d stay?

  For the first time in his life, he thought he might understand what panic felt like.

  Milo put his hands on his knees and forced himself to slow his breathing. Slow his heartbeat. Focus on the physical sensations around him, just like he did when he was following a target, and the adrenaline started to get too high. Cool and dispassionate; that was how the job got done.

  Tess was in there a lot longer than a person needed to be to get hired – and after that routine, there was no chance Sammy wouldn’t offer her a job. Milo had been to enough strip clubs and dance clubs to know that Tess was something else, even if she was rusty like she’d said – but he forced himself to stay cool. She’d insisted that Sammy wasn’t the type who’d want to sample the goods and be sure the girl would put out before he’d make an offer. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t offer her some kind of bonus. Tess wasn’t Milo’s; she could do whatever she wanted. Hell, if she thought he needed the information about Toro enough, she might be willing.

  He wanted to shove the door open, demand that Tess come with him right now, and never ever walk through the door again. He clenched his hand into a fist, drove it into his thigh until he stopped thinking like a madman, and then made himself continue to breathe.

  It was about fifteen minutes after that when Tess came out of the club, beaming. She was back in her street clothes – the real ones he’d bought her, not the slutty “give me an interview” outfit she’d put together to catch Sammy’s eye. He liked that, and he didn’t much care if he was a caveman or not. He wanted his woman just a little hidden away. He wanted to show her off, but he didn’t want anyone to see everything that was his.

  “How’d it go?” Milo asked.

  Tess grinned and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His cock jumped in his pants, and he tried to pretend it hadn’t. He doubted he was very successful. “Sammy hasn’t heard anything about where Toro is, but he says the paychecks are coming in the same as always, so he doubts that Toro’s really left town. Wouldn’t he close up his accounts and run for it if he was running? There are a million places better to store mo
ney than banks in the U.S. so there’s no way he’d do that. Right?”

  Milo nodded slowly. “I can’t believe he’d be stupid enough to still be drawing from those accounts directly, but it’s been a long time since he had to run. Maybe he’s that stupid. It’s worth checking out.” Tess absolutely beamed, looking so proud of herself that he wanted to pick her up, spin her in a circle, and kiss her until she begged for him to fuck her right there in the street.

  But no. No. He’d arranged a surprise for her, and she was going to get the damned surprise.

  “I set up a thing. You should see it.”

  She gave him a long, slow look. He couldn’t blame her; he wondered how many really positive surprises she’d gotten in her life. He made himself put on the big smile, the one that made people believe that he was such a nice guy. It didn’t fool her for a second, though, and he put enough effort in to make his face relax into a softer, more typical expression for him. That got her shoulders to settle down a little bit.

  “Tell me about the thing.”