The Hitman's Baby - A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (With extra added bonus novel for a short time only!)

by Ashley Rhodes

  I waved, and when he got close I hugged him briefly. Shit, did I smell like sex? Last thing I needed was a lecture from Jason.

  When we parted, he walked me to the parking garage. I leaned against my car there. We’d walked in silence, and Jason had a pensive look on his face.

  Finally, he spoke. “So, Nic called me.”

  I groaned. “I see. And what did she say? I take it this has to do with the other night.”

  “She’s a mess, Naomi,” Jason said. “She didn’t tell me any details, just vented about… well I won’t repeat it but she’s upset with you. What did you say to her?”

  “We just had an argument is all,” I said, shrugging. No way was I going to tell him the truth. “She’s worried about me. She always is, though. Wants me to settle down, but, you know, with the guy she wants me to settle down with. I think if it was her choice I’d be barefoot and pregnant in some guy’s kitchen.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry that I upset her, really I am, and I’ll talk to her, but you don’t know what it’s like. She doesn’t harp on you like she does me.” Jason had a tendency to harp as well, it was worth mentioning, but I didn’t feel like opening that box of worms here and now—already; Jason was already harshing my buzz, making my too-brief connection with Jack an even more distant memory. I wanted him to just leave me alone. Go comfort Nic if you’re so concerned with her, dumb ass.

  “Yeah,” Jason said. He rubbed his chin. “She’s a little concerned that you’re getting too close to this Jack Hawke guy. And, honestly Naomi… so am I.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, my face heating. What the fuck did he know about it?

  Jason put his hands up in peaceful surrender, an offer of parley, but didn’t drop it. “Nic said you couldn’t stop talking about him. Naomi, you know what’s going on better than anyone else, I’m sure, but you do have a tendency to… well, self-sabotage.”

  I set my jaw, and squared my shoulders, ready and willing to fight about this. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” I asked sharply.

  Jason sighed. “I knew this would get your hackles up; look, we’re just looking out for you. Professionally, for one thing—if you get involved with a patient, do you think you’re going to be able to get another job in this town? This could ruin you, Naomi.”

  Maybe it will, I wanted to say. Maybe I want it to, because this job, this city, this life is strangling the fire out of my soul and Jack Hawke is the only thing fanning it back to life right now. But that way lay madness. So instead I jabbed Jason in the chest, “Nobody elected you my guardian, or my caretaker, or my father. You can keep your nose out of my business, thank you very much, and if you think that you can just make accusations like that and that I’ll just take it lying down, then mister you have got another think coming.

  “I don’t know where the hell the two of you get off making judgments and guesses about how I’m handling my patient, my job, or my whole freakin’ life,” I was almost shouting now, “but you are entirely off the mark here and I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about who you, or Nic, or the fucking Pope himself thinks I should be taking an interest in because, Jason, this is my goddamn life and I’ll do what the fuck I want with it.”

  Jason’s face had gone harder and harder as I ranted at him, and now he was almost trembling with controlled anger. His eyes were furious, and riveted on me, and his face had gotten a shade redder.

  “Jesus Christ, Naomi,” he said quietly. “Can’t you see why I’m worried about you? Can’t you see why I care who you take an interest in and what you do with your life? Do you even have any idea how I feel about you?”

  Shit.

  I knew this day would come. I had tried to pretend that it wouldn’t, and I had denied that it was possible, but of course it was. The way Jason constantly had his eyes on me, was always asking after me; the way he ignored Nic almost entirely and had almost our whole lives.

  The easy thing, for all concerned, would have been to just try and open up and give Jason a chance. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it before. Jason was good looking, he was an upstanding citizen, he was a cop for God’s sake; he was as good a man as they came. And for all those reason and others, for the long nights I had spent with him for year, and years, and for the way he had always been around to comfort me when my mother and then father had passed away, and the way he had been a much needed buffer between my pushy sister and I—even if he had his own way of pushing—I did love him.

  Just… not like that. I wanted to, at one point. It never happened, though. It wasn’t happening now.

  My stomach twisted, and my chest tightened. It would be better if he’d never said it. “Jason,” I whispered, trying desperately to look strong right now but failing miserably, “I… I wish that I could say I felt the same, but…”

  Jason’s shoulders slumped a little, his whole body caving in from the inside. His jaw muscle jumped once, twice. He blinked rapidly. “No,” he said. “No, I guess not. Why, though, Naomi? Why not? Haven’t I always been there for you? Haven’t I proven that I’m worth it? Worth a shot, at least?”

  “Jason, I love you; I have for… God for most of our lives but just… not like that. You’re like my brother; I love you more than I may ever love another man, but I can’t be with you like that. Besides, Nicola would…” I bit it off, and squeezed my eyes shut when Jason’s eyes widened.

  “What about Nic?” He asked. I didn’t answer immediately, and he pushed me for more, growing more tense as he did. “What about Nicola, Naomi? What does she have to do with this?”

  “Fuck, Jason,” I sighed. “Are you fucking blind? Nic is gorgeous, and she is so madly in love with you she’s turning herself inside out trying to get your attention. How can you not see that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, “how can you not see me?”

  “Well, I guess you probably know how Nic feels, then, don’t you?”

  I waited for it to sink in. Nic would kill me when she found out about this. Would Jason be able to keep his trap shut about it? Best case, of course, was that he’d finally realize how much better Nic was for him than I was. I tried to figure if that’s the conclusion he was coming to by watching his face go through the motions but it didn’t reveal anything to me.

  “Nic loves you,” Jason said finally. “And if you were happy—if I made you happy—she would be happy for both of us.”

  I sighed, and slumped against the car. “Jason, you don’t get it. You and me? That’s not going to happen. If it was, it would have by now. Tell me you know that’s true.”

  “I don’t,” he said. “I don’t see why it has to be.”

  I wanted to hug him again, or put my hand on his shoulder, or give him a peck on the cheek—one of the things I had done a thousand times before to comfort him. But now, it seemed like any contact I made would give him the wrong idea. I wondered how long it would feel like that. Was this what it felt like when a friendship like ours changed irrevocably forever? If I answered wrong, would I lose Jason forever?

  “Because, Jason, I don’t have those feelings for you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m sorry. It’s not something I can help. And I already have those feelings—” Shit. “I mean, I’ve had those feelings before and I know what they feel like.”

  Jason, though, was used to catching little details like that. He was used to listening, and to watching body language, and suddenly I was under interrogation. I could see it change in him, the way his focus sharpened to a point that felt like it was driving into me. “Who do you have feelings for, Naomi?”

  I started to dissemble, but he interrupted me, seeing through my bullshit before I even dragged it out.

  “God, Nic was right. You’re hung up on Jack Hawke, aren’t you?”

  “No!” I snapped. “Of course not, Jason; he’s a patient, how can I get that through to the two of you?”

  “You can’t,” he said, “because it isn’t true. Look at you, Naomi, you get flustered the moment he comes up. Your fa
ce is red, you’re fidgeting with keys and your scrubs, trying to keep your hands occupied. You’re even…” he examined me closely. “Your hair is a mess. What’s that on your neck? Or your earlobe, did someone…” he stopped, stared at me, his mouth open slightly. He wasn’t breathing, he seemed like he might be going into shock.

  And then he staggered back, shaking his head slowly, and leaned against the car parked next to mine, maybe to keep from falling down.

  Oh, God. Oh, God, he knew.

  I was so fucked. I panicked. I started slipping my keys into my car door. “I don’t have to put up with this,” I muttered.

  “You fucked him,” Jason was muttering. “Jesus, Naomi, do you have any idea who he is? What he’s connected to? You can’t have feelings for me, when I’ve looked after you and protected you and loved you for years; but you can screw a hardened criminal in the hospital while you’re working? Have you… are you fucking kidding me? Are you crazy, Naomi?”

  I opened my car door and slipped into it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said as I put my keys in the ignition.

  Jason held the door when I tried to close it, and I looked up to see his face twisted with pain and disbelief. “Naomi… please… just give me a chance. I love you. More than Jack Hawke is even capable of.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if I was seeing someone,” I told him, “or if I was single. It wouldn’t matter who I was seeing, Jason; it wouldn’t change anything. Please let go of my door.”

  “You know he’s wrapped up with Peter Valentino, right?” Jason snarled. “A fucking mobster? You have no idea what you’re stepping into, Naomi. Jack’s not some rebellious teenager tagging city property and trespassing on the steel mill grounds for illegal parties. He’s involved in the sort of world that people die in; violently. You really want to be a part of that?”

  “There’s nothing going on between me and Jack Hawke,” I said, a politician clawing desperately to stay on-message. Just drop it, Jason. Please, please just drop it and go away.

  He let the door go, shaking his head. “Please be safe, Naomi. Please. If anything happened to you…”

  I closed the door, though, and made sure I didn’t run over his feet when I pulled out of the space and sped away around the corner.

  Halfway home I pulled over, leaned my head against the steering wheel and sobbed. Just like that, it seemed like my world was upside-down. Jason had ruined us. Jack had ruined me. Nic… if nothing else, maybe now that Jason knew exactly how I felt, he would finally see her. She’d be so furious that I said anything to him about how she felt, but… maybe that was for the best. Maybe, if he could just see that she was the one for him, not me, then some part of this would fix itself.

  If Yvonne was with me, she’d push me to look for the silver lining. So, I did.

  With things the way they were, I didn’t see how they could get any worse.

  Chapter 9

  Jack

  For the longest time after Naomi left, I could still smell her.

  No one else seemed to notice, or if they did they didn’t say anything. But I avoided showering until almost six just because the scent of her was on my fingers, and floating up from under the blanket. Her hair had been filled with her own scent, too, different than what was between her legs, of course—but none of that bullshit flowery, fruity crap that so many other women washed their hair with.

  There was definitely something sweet about her, though; sweet, and practical, and direct. And good God she had squeezed me right. Being inside Naomi had felt like going somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. Being in the wrong neighborhood, or a Catholic church during the mass when I was covered in somebody’s blood. That place was quiet, and clean, and special.

  I’d been a secret guest no one was supposed to know was there. It made me crave being back in it; with her, surrounded by her smells, her body, her everything.

  Which was the next best thing to never-gonna-fucking-happen. Just the fact that she was hangin’ around my mind like that meant that I needed to back away slowly before something real bad happened.

  I didn’t rest much for the remainder of the day. I tossed and turned when I tried to sleep, already having a hard time of it from my injuries; add to that not being able to shut my brain down, and I was about as fucked as it was possible to be. Why’d she have to take me up on it? Why hadn’t she warned me I’d be screwed in the head like this afterward?

  People are idiots, that’s why. Animals. We just don’t know better. At least, I never did.

  I didn’t know what time it was when the stranger came into my room, but he wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. He was in street clothes. That meant he was either one of Valentino’s guys, or he was a cop who’d somehow gotten wind I was here and connected to the mobster. The second I saw him, scenarios started playing through my head. I was still too banged up to last long against someone fresh, so I’d go for his knees, one at a time, maybe his eyes. My room was five stories up. If I could put him through the window, we’d be over fast. I could call for help, hit the nurse call button, but that would just put someone else in the way. I could bludgeon him with the metal rod that held my periodic IV drip, but that was a strain on my ribs and I’d be slow.

  Knees, or window, then.

  “Jack Hawke?” The man asked. He was tall, clean cut. Good lookin’, I guess—straight nose, no scars, square jaw. Not a fighter. Good sign.

  “Who wants to know?” I asked.

  “I’m just being polite, Mr. Hawke. I know who you are.”

  “Alright,” I said. “So? What do you want?”

  “Don’t you want to know who I am?” He asked me.

  “Will it change what you want, how this plays out, or whether you leave me alone?”

  He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. I guess it doesn’t. He seemed to think.

  “I’m Officer Jason Desouza,” the guy said.

  Well, it was better than one of Valentino’s guys come to finish the job. By a little bit, anyway. “I see. Well, you’re wastin’ your time. I got nothin’ to say about what happened. I didn’t see the guys, I don’t know why they grabbed me, it was a freak accident and I’m not pressin’ charges.”

  He sighed, and closed the door behind him. “That’s not why I’m here, Mr. Hawke.”

  “Call me Jack,” I said. “I’ll call you Desouza, and we can be straight with each other like that. What do you want if you’re not here on official business?”

  “Well,” Desouza said, pulling something from inside his jacket, “it’s not entirely unofficial, actually.” He handed me a small packet, a manila envelope. I opened it cautiously and tipped the contents into my hands.

  They were pictures. Of me, sometimes, and sometimes of people I was with in those pictures. I knew ‘em. Valentino’s guys, mostly, but a few others were just everyday scumbags I knew from the cage.

  “What’s this?” I asked. “You been watchin’ me? What, you want an autograph? Gimme a pen, I’ll sign it.”

  “You’re confirming those are pictures of you, then?” Officer Desouza asked.

  “Sure. That’s me. What’s your point? You got a badge, lawman?” I tossed the pictures on the bed.

  He nodded slowly, his lips curled down in an obliging frown. He pulled his badge from his back pocket and held it up. “Satisfied?”

  Could have been a fake, but it wouldn’t have mattered. “Alright, so? You got some pictures. What’s your point?”

  “All of those were taken at times when illicit exchanges were made,” he said. “Drugs, illegal arms, even people. Human trafficking is a major felony, Jack. Care to explain what you were doing there?”

  I gestured at the pictures, “You got nothing there showing me taking or giving money, drugs, weapons, and sure as hell no people. I don’t truck with that crowd.”

  “Mind if I ask what you were doing with them, then?”

  “You know how many drug dealers you probably passed on the way up here?” I said. “You can’t throw
a rock in this city without hitting ten of ‘em. I come from a bad part of town, what do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me what your association is with men like Peter Valentino.” Desouza fixed me with the Cop Look. He must not have realized who I was.

  “Name doesn’t ring a bell,” I said.

  “Two of those pictures show you in his company,” he pressed. “I know that you know him.”

  “Just cause you got a picture of me in proximity to anybody doesn’t mean I know him, pal.”

  “I’m not your pal, Jack.”

  So it was gonna go like that? “Alright. You gonna cuff me, or read me my rights? I gotta ask for a lawyer here, or what?”

  He didn’t produce cuffs, didn’t acknowledge that I had a right to a lawyer. Still, that didn’t mean all this was off the books. “I got nothin’ else to say, Officer.”

  Apparently he did, though. “I know you’ve got a record, Jack. I know you’ve been picked up for assault, battery, public drunkenness, and disturbing the peace. You’re a criminal.”

  “I been to jail a few times,” I said. “No prison time, no convictions. Plenty of people have. So what?”

  “So you live a dangerous life, with dangerous people,” he said. He was getting angry, losing his cool. That meant this was personal. I wondered who he really was, but kept that question to myself. “Getting someone else involved with it could mean putting them in danger. If Valentino wants to get at you, how do you think he’d do that? Find someone you care about, maybe?”

  Pieces fell into place. I’m not stupid. “Oh,” I said, finally understanding. “This isn’t about me at all, is it?” I couldn’t exactly name Naomi, though. “Look, guy, you got this all wrong. I don’t got anybody like that. Look at me, you think I’m the kinda guy who’s got kids? A wife? Even a girl for more than a night? I ain’t got nobody. No family. No friends. Don’t you worry your pretty head about me.”

  Of course, if he did mean Naomi, he did have a point.

  Officer Desouza narrowed his eyes at me, watched me carefully for some tell. Good luck with that, bud. I ain’t got a tell. Tells are for people who don’t believe what they’re sayin’.