Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense

by Imani King

  “Red, gig’s up.” His voice was flat, emotionless. I heard him jiggle the doorknob.

  “Red!” I cried out, frozen in place on the bed. I gulped hard. Maybe he was just here to pick me up?

  “One second!” I heard the shower turn off. At the same time, the doorknob jiggled. I heard the door slamming and shaking, like it was being kicked in. My heartbeat rushed in my ears, and I swallowed hard, tasting metal at the back of my throat. I stumbled up out of bed. My legs tangled up in the covers, and I fell to the floor, fear coursing through my body.

  “Red!” I screeched his name. I heard him shuffling behind the door, and I crawled toward him, toward the only hope of safety. The door crashed open, and Federico stood in the frame, my father standing behind him.

  “Little girl, get the hell up,” my father said. “You’ve been a very naughty young lady, and you’re going to be confined to the house for more than a little while.” I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. Federico rushed inside and pulled me up, wrenching my hands behind my back.

  “How did you know we were here?” My voice came out in a croak. At the same moment, Red stumbled out of the bathroom, wearing a white t-shirt and basketball shorts.

  “Easy, little girl,” my father said, his bald head red and angry. “Freddy here put a tracker on Red’s phone. That damn thing was supposed to fade out for good in the desert last night, but it showed up here late last night. I guess Red had no idea how important Freddy actually is. Good thing, too. I’ll need a replacement for Red pretty damn soon.” Red looked to Freddy and then to me, his eyes flaring with rage.

  “Fucking let her go, you prick,” he said, his voice seething.

  “Dammit, Red,” Freddy said, his spittle flying over my ear and neck, “You’re done.” He pulled my wrists tighter and tied something around them, making a knots so tight that my fingers started to go numb within seconds. In one smooth motion, Red turned and pulled a gun from the table behind him, some kind of handgun. I shivered and went weak in the knees. What other tricks did this man have up his sleeve? Red angled his body toward Art, pointing the gun straight at his head.

  “Freddy, get the girl,” my father hissed. In a flash, Freddy had moved a knife to my throat, the sharp point against my jugular.

  “Red,” I squeaked.

  “You wouldn’t, you monster,” said Red. “She’s your daughter.”

  “And just like her mother. You know, I never expected that Gabi would fall for your sorry ass. It appeared it didn’t take her that long. Guess she has a thing for the bad boys too. And look where it’s gotten her.” Faltering for a moment, Red dropped the gun to the ground.

  “Red, no! Don’t let them take you!” I shouted.

  “Don’t you fucking hurt her, Freddy,” Red growled. “Fuck, Art. What the hell do you want? And why did you bring Gabi into this? Couldn’t you leave her alone?” Freddy took the knife away from my skin but still held it to my neck. I breathed out, fear sitting in a knot in my gut. Who was I afraid for? Myself? For Red?

  “Oh no, Red. You see, it’s you who put Gabi in danger. My men would never hurt her.” He smirked and crossed his arms, cool and domineering despite his short stature. He grinned, but it looked more like a scowl. I’d never been close with my father, but I never thought he’d stoop down to this level—threats, beatdowns, using his peons to go after a man for his money.

  “They were from the cartel,” Red said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Sure they were. I didn’t say I wasn’t working with the cartel, Red. I just said I owed them. And what better way than to pay them from your money you refuse to spend? My dear daughter is just a minor piece of the puzzle. She’s useful, just like her mother was.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about her!” I struggled against Freddy, screaming. Freddy brought the knife back to my neck and I grunted, trying to stomp his foot with my heel.

  I know what you did, Dad. The words nearly formed on my lips, but it was the last secret I had. The one that might save Red. The only card I had to play.

  “Steel toes, honey,” Freddy hissed in my ear. I whimpered, struggling against him. “This kitty’s got claws, Red. I can see why you like her.”

  “Gabriella, you’ll come with me. And Freddy will take care of this trash. Don’t worry, you’ll forget about him eventually.” My father chuckled, a nasty, grating sound.

  “Don’t hurt her, Art,” said Red, raising his hands slightly. It was a gesture of a man defeated, a man giving up. “Just don’t hurt her.”

  “Gabriella? Oh, no. She’s far too valuable. And she values her degree from Berkeley, she’ll do exactly as I say. After all, I’m all she’s got. Hand her over to me, Freddy.” Federico grabbed the tie at my wrists and pushed me over to my father. He took me by the arm and pulled.

  “Dad… why are you doing this?” I looked at him. His eyes were beady, cruel. I’d never seen love in those eyes, but this, this was unimaginable. I’d spent so much time away from Art in my childhood that I’d never really known how evil he was, what he was really capable of.

  “Oh my little girl,” he said, pulling on my arm again and heading toward the door. “Because I’m broke, and Red’s got money. It’s as simple as that. This way, I get the people I owe off my damn back, and I get you back to college where you can’t cause me so much trouble.” I looked back to see Red’s stormy blue eyes on my own.

  “It’ll be okay,” he mouthed. My eyes widened in surprise.

  He had something up his sleeve, and I had no idea what.

  Red

  Federico drew his gun as Art pushed Gabriella through the door, rough and horrible. He was an awful little man, and it made me sick to the pit of my stomach that he was touching her. Touching my beautiful Gabi.

  “I got him, boss,” said Freddy. Art grunted and shoved Gabi through the door. She kept quiet. And she hadn’t mentioned her mother.

  Good girl, smart girl. She was smarter than me. And I bet if I’d asked her any of her thoughts, she would have told me that the whole damn thing was going south as fast as it could go. She would have told me to get the hell to a safe house or somewhere else Art wouldn’t think to go. But Art had been ready for me, had probably wanted it to go down this way. He’d meant for me to fuck up, to feel too safe, and it had been icing on the cake that Gabi had distracted me.

  Gabriella, beautiful Gabi.

  The broken door slammed shut, and I heard the elevator doors close in the hallway.

  “Dammit Freddy,” I said. “You could have told me that you’d put some tracking shit on me. Fucking cop.”

  Freddy waved the gun, gesturing to me.“You’re the idiot who came back here. Who goes back to his house? With the boss’s daughter? I thought you were better than this. That’s why we wanted you, Red.”

  “Put the fucking gun down, Freddy. Or I’ll whip mine out again.”

  “It ain’t loaded,” he said. But he sat the gun down anyway, placing it on one of the luxurious side tables Art’s decorator had put in my bachelor pad. Fucking Art. How did I know the whole place wasn’t tapped out to hell? That he wasn’t listening right now? As if reading my mind, Freddy nodded for me to calm down.

  “Sit down, why don’t you? You look nervous as hell, Red. Don’t worry. The place ain’t got wires of any kind. I checked.” Freddy grinned, the damn double agent.

  “But Gabriella,” I muttered, sinking into the leather chair by my balcony. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled it, trying to wake myself up from the nightmare that my life had become in the past two days. The best I’d felt... and then directly to the worst. Gabriella had put me through a spectrum of emotions that I didn’t even understand. Emotions I hadn’t felt in years.

  “Ah, the girl. Art won’t hurt her. He thinks he can still keep using her. Funny thing about Art is that he controls so many people, but he doesn’t for a moment consider that they might rebel against him, that they might figure him out. He thinks Gabi is going to care so much more about the money than she act
ually is. If I know anything at all about the girl, she don’t give a shit about that kind of thing, not really.” Freddy lit a cigarette and paced through the room.

  “It’s the using her I’m worried about. She does care about her degree.” I looked up at the wiry little criminal turned FBI agent. His hatchet-like face made him blend in to Art’s army of goons, so much so that I’d barely noticed him in the years he’d been at Art’s manor. He’d even taken me by surprise.

  “And you like that girl, dontcha, Red? Naw man, you can’t fall for the boss’s girl, not in a situation like this.”

  “Too late.” The smoke wafted through my apartment, and rage boiled in my gut. “Put out the cigarette, man. Gabi doesn’t like it.” He grinned and stubbed out the cigarette, then threw it one of the vases I never used. He cleared his throat and looked at me, his face hard now.

  “Red, can you testify in a case against Art Sanchez? About all the shit he’s done--not just about Rose? We can get him on all the other stuff, criminal collusion, and all that jazz… but we got no evidence on Rose. Otherwise, he hasn’t murdered someone, not with his own two hands.” I sighed and stood up.

  “Art thinks there’s no evidence. That’s the thing, man.” I walked over to the bookcase by my bed and took out a dusty copy of David Copperfield. “Dickens, man. He’s been covering my ass for years.” I opened the book to the midway point, where I had a small scrap of fabric. It was covered in Rose’s blood. But more importantly, it was covered in Art’s.

  “What the hell is that, man?”

  “A piece of Rose’s famous green dress. The one she wore the night she was killed.”

  “Dammit man, if it’s just got her blood on it, we can’t do anything with that. All it does is implicate you.”

  “It’s Rose’s, all right. And it’s Art’s. We get the bastard on this, he’s gone.” I shuddered. I’d been dreading this moment for years. I closed my eyes and thought of Gabriella’s face, her beautiful body. And more than that, the sweetness of her soul, the sharpness of her mind. “There’s just one thing we need to clear up.”

  “What’s that?” Freddy reached forward, gesturing for me to hand over the fabric. I’d kept it for twelve years in the same Ziploc bag, in the same hidden place in my house. I prayed it was enough to preserve the DNA. If it was, we’d be more or less in the clear. “What do you gotta tell me that I don’t already know? You’ve been involved in plenty of shit with Art, but I tell you man, it’s all clear if you can get Art on this.” He looked at me with questioning eyes.

  “Well, first of all, my name’s not Red. And I met Art back in Queens, when he was still working with the mob. When my dad was too.”

  “Jesus, Red.” Freddy’s hand dropped to his side. “All the way back that far?”

  “All the way back that far. That’s why Art has had me on his side for so long. He knew my father was abusing me and my sisters. Hitting my mom. Hell, he goaded me into killing my dad, writing it down before I did it.”

  “Jesus,” said Freddy. He looked around nervously. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

  “Because Art would tell you anyway, and if he goes down, I go down too. Let’s go.” I grabbed the bobby pin Gabi had left and put it in my pocket, rubbing my thumb over the ridges.

  It felt better to carry a part of her with me, no matter how small.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gabriella

  I listened for a gunshot as we rode down in the elevator together. My father kept his hand firmly on my arm, pressing his fingers deep into my skin. There would be bruises there, evidence of my father’s cruelty, but not nearly enough to put him away. Not where he needed to be.

  A gunshot. No, that would be too obvious. Freddy will use the knife. And I won’t even hear it. I won’t even see his last breaths.

  I wished I could be there to care for him, to comfort him. But instead, he’d die alone, in his penthouse. I choked back a sob.

  “Why are you doing this?” My voice came out in a moan. My father looked at me and grunted. Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I wept silently, for the man I’d just left, for my life, ruined in such a short time. Swept along by the tides, I’d been pushed into a corner, utterly helpless. I cried out, unable to hold back the weeping sounds.

  “For fuck’s sake, little girl,” my father said, looking me up and down. “Be fucking quiet. We don’t want to attract attention.” I clamped my mouth shut. The elevator clanged to a halt in the parking garage and my father pulled me out of the doors, pushing me toward his Escalade. He clutched my arm hard, and I groaned.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed as loud as I could, and my father flung my body hard against the car, swinging the passenger side door open.

  “Now you listen here, princess. You get in the car, and you sit on your fucking hands, or I’ll end you. I swear I will. I’ll break your fingers, one by one, and there goes your hope of being a surgeon, you bitch.” He shoved me into the Escalade and closed the door. I watched as he walked to the driver’s side and leaned against the passenger’s side window, anguish sweeping through my body in a sick wave. My arms started to cramp even as my father started the car. He peeled out of the parking garage, bound for his Los Angeles villa. I leaned back. There was nothing more I could do. And that made everything worse.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Red. In my mind, I combed over the details of his body, the perfect angles, each muscle hard and chiseled. It had all happened so fast, me and Red. I had never really thought that we’d build a real relationship, but I’d hoped for a few more days. A few more nights beside him, a few more pieces of pure, perfect satisfaction.

  I thought of waking up and taking him inside of me, that feeling of completion. I’d never get it again.

  The cramps in my arms increased. Pain shot up through my fingers and into my bones. Each jerky movement of my father’s car created more agony.

  But still, I was silent. There was nothing to say. I was defeated. Red was defeated. And there wasn’t anything either of us could do about it. Art had us, and he had us good. I imagined Freddy, his gray hands around Red’s neck, the knife at his throat. How would that horrible little man kill Red? He’d had the gun out… but he wouldn’t risk shooting Red there. Not unless he had a silencer.

  And Red had assured me it would be okay. I read his lips, those beautiful full lips. He had seemed so sure, so certain. Did he know something that I didn’t?

  How in the hell did he think that any of this would be okay? He’d end up dead, no matter what. Or so far behind bars that I’d never see him again.

  My stomach jumped as we pulled into the parking lot in front of my dad’s house. The car screeched to a halt beside the grand stone steps to his house. I glanced up and saw the intertwining gargoyles on the door, each of the monsters pulling and fighting against each other. A perfect metaphor for my father’s life—he would climb over anyone who got in his way. And here I was, caught up in the mix. You’d think that his daughter would be different, but no. I was just a stepping stone, a player in his game.

  A pawn, Red had said. And that’s exactly what I was. I didn’t know what he meant when he’d said it then, but here I was, moved from place to place, just like a chess piece.

  “Damn you girl,” he said. My father got out, slamming the door behind him. He opened the passenger side door, then pulled me out and shoved me up the stairs to the house. I squealed in frustration, tearing at the ties that still held my hands. My fingers were going numb, pulsing horribly from sitting on my hands. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, just like your mom. I can’t believe you slept with that animal. A common criminal—”

  “One who works for you, Dad. And it was awesome. And he’s a far better man than that producer you tried to hook me up with,” I spat. He shoved me down the hall, gripping the tie that still bound my hands. “He’s a hell of a better man than you are too, you nasty old pimp.” He spun me around and raised his hand, bringing it down hard across my cheek.<
br />