SOLD TO A KILLER: A Hitman Auction Romance

by Evelyn Glass

  I wasn’t sure that my instincts would kick in in the event of something bad happening—hell, I wasn’t even certain that I had any instincts in the first place. But as soon as I laid eyes on that little girl tumbling from the window and landing in a little pile on the ground, I was out of the car and on my feet, my blood pumping through my veins as I hurried across the street towards her.

  She was on her feet and off before I had a chance to get to her—but she was on the ground long enough for me to see the blood smeared across her head. Had that come from the fall, or had that been there before? Jesus Christ. The window wasn’t high, but it was high enough that it could do some damage if she’d landed at a funny angle. I gave chase across the lawn, pursuing her as quickly as I could across the damp grass. She disappeared around the back of the house as soon as she saw me, and I called out to her.

  “Please, I’m not going to hurt you!”

  I racked my brain for her name. Ellie? Stella? Ella!

  “Ella!” I called, hoping she’d at least respond to her own name. “Ella, come here!”

  There was a moment of silence, and a few seconds later, the little girl emerged from behind a thick tree trunk that stood about six feet tall at the end of the garden. She observed me for a second, peering at me suspiciously, and I slowly made my way towards her.

  Just as I reached her, I heard a noise from inside the house—a door slamming, making me jump. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a man—one of the most gorgeous men I had ever laid eyes on in my entire life.

  Chapter Two

  The man strode across the lawn towards the two of us, and I stood next to Ella, feeling my knees growing a little weak as he approached. He was stunning, there was no doubt about that. He stood maybe a full foot taller than me, with black hair cut short enough to show off his angular cheekbones and strong jaw. His eyes were dark brown, and he was wearing a grimy wife-beater with a leather biker jacket draped over the top of it, as though he had been in the middle of something else when he was disturbed.

  “Honey,” he crouched down as soon as he reached his daughter, “who hurt you?”

  His face was wracked with pain, and he ran his fingers through his hair in a panic—he didn’t even glance up at me, not even an acknowledgement, as he examined her for any further injuries. He dabbed at the blood on her head and gently took her by the tops of her arms, steadying her. She stared up at him, but didn’t open her mouth. Something had clearly happened here, and I wasn’t totally sure what it was.

  “Hello?” I didn’t want to intervene, but I had to say something. I had been sent out here to do a wellness check, and found the child I was meant to be checking up on falling from a window with an injury to her head, attempting to flee the house. She didn’t seem scared to be in the presence of her father—in fact, after a second or two, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t make a sound, but he held her tight then scooped her up into his arms and cradled her close. Finally, he seemed to notice that I was standing there.

  “Hi.” He nodded at me. “I would shake your hand, but…” He nodded down at the little girl in his arms, and I smiled, finding myself relaxing.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I agreed. “I’m Mona Landing, I’m the social worker who’s been assigned to your case?”

  “Yeah, the agency called and said you would be here.” He jerked his head towards the house. “Do you want to go inside? I want to get her cleaned up.”

  “Do you know what happened?” I asked, and he shook his head as he carried her into the house.

  “I left her in front of the TV watching some cartoons while I went down to the basement to grab something,” he explained. “I was gone for a second, and when I came back, she was gone.”

  “And then you came out here?” I checked, making sure he had his story straight.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Did you see anything else?”

  “When I was in the car I saw her climbing out of the window on the other side of the house,” I replied, and I saw his face turn pale. I could see the pain etched on his face—just hearing this was enough to get him sick with worry.

  “Did she have the cut when she came out of the window?” He clutched her tightly to him, daddy bear, all protective—but I shook my head.

  “I didn’t see,” I admitted. “I chased her back here when I saw her fall out, but that was it.”

  “I have no idea what she was doing.” He peered in at her face as we made our way inside the house. “She’s never usually like this.”

  “Is there anything that could have set her off?” I pressed gently.

  He shrugged, eyebrows raised. “Nothing that I’m aware of. She seemed fine when I went down to the basement.”

  “Right, okay…” I nodded, and made a note on my clipboard. I could see him glance down, as if on instinct, to see what I had written, and I pressed it closer to my chest.

  “I’m so sorry for all this drama,” he apologized as he opened the door for me and ushered me inside. “I promise we’re not normally like this.”

  “Don’t worry, I have other reports from other social workers at my disposal,” I assured him. “I know this isn’t normal for you guys.”

  “So you’re just here for a routine inspection?” He carefully placing Ella down on the couch. The way he handled her, with such care and gentleness, seemed at odds with the sheer size of him. He stroked her hair away from her face and planted a kiss on her head tenderly. I was having a hard time believing that he had anything to do with her injury or her escape attempt, but I would have to look around before I made my mind up either way.

  “That’s right.” I nodded, peering at Ella. She hadn’t reacted to being brought inside, or plopped down on the cushions of the couch—she was staring at her feet, as though she was trying to keep her mind off of something. I would have to have a talk with her by myself if I could, try and figure out what it was that had her so unsettled.

  “Please, feel free…” He gestured around the place, and I began my inspection of the house—all the while trying to piece together what the hell had happened in here over the last fifteen minutes.

  Chapter Three

  The house had an almost completely open-plan downstairs area, so as I made my way around, I was able to keep a close eye on Jazz and how he acted around his daughter. He vanished into the bathroom for a second and brought out a damp washcloth, and began carefully dabbing away at the cut on her head. He spoke to her softly the whole time—asking about the cartoons she’d been watching, apparently as a way of distracting her from his clean-up. The way he spoke to her, it was comforting, soft, and sweet—but when I went around the back of the couch to inspect her play area, I was stunned at the anger on his face.

  He wasn’t letting her see it, but I wasn’t blind—I was almost taken aback by how angry he seemed, and wondered what had set this off within him. Maybe he was just feeling powerless, angry because he had been unable to protect his daughter, humiliated and worried that it had all gone down in front of a social worker. As I got closer, I could see that he was fighting back tears. Jesus. This had really affected him, that much was clear.

  “Who sent you?” he asked, apparently suddenly remembering that I was in the room. I glanced down at my clipboard—I knew I wasn’t allowed to tell him, but I could see that it was a call from a neighbor. The same one who had rung up the other times when nothing had been found to go against him.

  “Uh, I can’t say.”

  A wry smile cracked over his face. “Was it that neighbor again?” He shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me, I know. I know what they think of me over there.”

  He continued cleaning up his daughter, carefully placing a Band-Aid over her small cut and giving her a kiss when he was done. She smiled up at him, her misadventure seemingly forgotten, just like that.

  “Can I go finish my cartoons?” she asked brightly, and he nodded. She scampered off to the TV and switched it on, plonking herself down in
front of the screen and propping up her chin in her hands. Jazz watched the whole time, brow furrowed. It might have been forgotten that easily for her, but it was clearly a different story for him.

  “Hey, this is going to sound like a weird question,” he began, and for a second, I thought he might proposition me then and there—I flushed slightly, and pushed the thought from my brain. I was there to check on his kid, not him.

  “Go ahead.” I continued my inspection; everything looked good, child-friendly and safe, and I wondered again who had called this in in the first place.

  “Could you babysit for me?” he asked, screwing his face up. “I usually get one of the neighbors to do it, but if they’re calling this in…”

  “Huh?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “I’ll pay, of course,” he jumped in quickly. “Good money. And you can stay over in the guest room.”

  Okay, now that was a tempting offer. It would save me the money on a hotel, and it meant I could continue the inspection without it coming across as though that was what I was doing.

  “Why, what are you doing?” I asked suspiciously. This all seemed a little too good to be true, and I wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t just get in touch with Ella’s mom or a family friend or something and ask them to do it for him.

  “I have work stuff,” he replied vaguely, waving his hand in the air between us. “It’s important, but I’ve had to cancel the last few times because of this little lady.”

  He smiled as he glanced over at her, and I couldn’t fight the grin on my face as well.

  “Um, I don’t see why not.” I shrugged. “As long as we’re clear that it’s in a professional capacity.”

  “What else would it be?” He flashed me a smile, and I felt that flush work its way back up my neck once again. Come on, Mona, get it the fuck together.

  “Uh, right.” I shook my head. This guy was making my brain bend. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to continue this inspection without him there, because he was seriously distracting. And I had to admit, I wanted to see more of him, too. Was that pathetic? It was probably a little pathetic. And he probably knew just how attracted to him I was—fuck, he was probably using that to his advantage, playing me like a freaking guitar so he got what he wanted out of me.

  “I should have a free evening in a couple of weeks?” I suggested. That was when my apartment was getting fumigated, and I could use the free place to stay. He nodded at once, not an ounce of hesitation on his face.

  “That sounds great.” He bowed his head towards me thankfully. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  “Not a problem,” I replied, and stuck out my hand to him. “I guess I can shake your hand now.”

  “I guess you can,” he replied, and took my hand between both of his. His skin was warm and soft, dizzyingly so, and I found myself staring down at the spots where our skin connected before we let go. I withdrew my hand quickly, and patted down my hair, pulling myself together. I had an inspection to complete.

  “Do you mind if I head upstairs?” I asked, and he nodded.

  “Be my guest.” He gestured up the stairs. “If you need anything, just shout. But I’m going to stay down here with Ella.”

  I watched as he went to plant himself next to her, leaning back on his hands and staring intently at the cartoons on the TV, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Okay, this was going to be an interesting first job. I could tell.

  Chapter Four

  I paced up and down the hallway, watching my feet as they made their way up and down the polished wood floor. I was thinking about Ella, again, and what had happened that day a couple of weeks ago when Mona had first arrived.

  I still couldn’t put the pieces together in my head—it just didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I had gone downstairs for what, less than a minute? I still remembered planting a quick kiss on Ella’s head as I hurried down to grab my spanner to work on one of the parts I had laid out on the kitchen table. And when I came back, she was gone.

  I had never felt anything like the fear I felt at that moment. I had been scared for myself before, scared for my friends—but never scared for my own daughter. I couldn’t think of a worse feeling in the world, and it kept me up at night, thinking about what could have happened if Mona hadn’t been there to calm her down and keep her still. Ella was a squirmy, energetic little thing at the best of times—so seeing her so completely still the way she was when I came out to find them was almost too much to bear. I knew something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on her, knew it was more than just her messing around. And when I saw the blood leaking from that wound in her head… I knew things would never be the same after that. I knew someone had hurt my little girl, terrified her beyond belief, and it scared the living shit out of me.

  The worst part of it was that I still had no clue who it was. I had promised myself for months that I would set up security cameras around the house, but I had never gotten around to it. I could have kicked myself when I realized what had happened—whoever it was wouldn’t come back now, after they had been foiled. Or at least, after they knew that I was onto them. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something to do with the club—and the thought of having to choose between them and her was sickening. I knew it would have to happen at some point, but I assumed it would be a decision I made, not one I was backed into out of necessity.

  I had tried asking Ella what had happened that day, but she had stayed almost completely silent on the topic. Whenever I pressed her on what she recalled, she would shrug her shoulders and tell me that she didn’t remember anything. No matter how much I tried to get it out of her, she kept her mouth shut—as though she was protecting someone. As though she was protecting him.

  I knew it was a man because I had spotted three man-sized muddy footprints leading across the kitchen the day of the attack. I had tried to follow them outside, to figure out where he’d come in, but I couldn’t find anything—it was a damp day, and any footprints he’d left behind outside had been wiped out by the rain. I couldn’t even see my footprints out there after an hour or so, and his would be long gone by the time I noticed what was in the kitchen.

  Shit, there was no way around it—I had let her down. I had let my guard drop for a second, and my daughter had been hurt because of it. I could take some comfort in the fact that I wasn’t away long enough for anything to egregious to have happened—but whatever had gone down, it had been enough to scare her out the window and into the arms of a stranger. Ella usually took a while to warm up to new people, but as soon as I saw her standing next to Mona, I knew she was fine. The way she twisted her body in to face her, I could tell that Mona made her feel safe.

  She had left me her number after the inspection, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be better off calling her up and asking her on a date instead of to babysit. I mean, she was cute—really cute, actually, if I was being honest. I’d had a few other social workers in here over the years, but none of them had had Mona’s sparkle. That was the only way I could think to describe her. Her blue-grey eyes gleamed in the light, and her dark brown hair seemed to shine even in the dull weather. Whenever she shot a little smile to Ella, her entire face lit up in the most addictive way—I could have stared at her all day, learning every contour of her face back to front. But I knew I needed a babysitter more than I needed a girlfriend, and she seemed like someone I could trust with Ella. Even though the concept of trusting anyone with my baby girl after what had happened seemed foreign and uncomfortable.

  There was no getting out it, though—I knew this time I would actually have to go. The Marauders needed me, and I’d been away long enough. Nothing—not family matters, not romantic shit, not being on the brink of death—would be a good enough excuse to keep me away from them for as long as I had been. I knew I was pushing my luck, but fuck it, I needed to be with my daughter as much as I could. I think they understood that, and I was the head of the gang, so there wasn’t much they could say ev
en if I didn’t, but I still felt guilty, doubly so when I got those calls wondering where I was and why I hadn’t come to that week’s meeting. We were hanging in this space between doing shit and doing nothing, and I knew they were getting frustrated. I knew, because I would be, too.

  And that’s how I found myself pacing the hall, half-praying that Mona would turn up and half-praying she wouldn’t. I wanted to get out, but I also wanted an excuse to stay at home and keep an eye on things. I glanced over at Ella, who was coloring quietly on the kitchen table—she knew I was going tonight, and I think she was looking forward to being rid of my overbearing presence for an evening. That was the thing with kids though; they never seemed to realize how serious serious situations were, and how silly silly situations were. It was one of the best things about having them in the first place: their warped and wonderful sense of perspective on things.

  My attention was drawn by the sound of a car out on the street—it was a relatively quiet part of town, and I didn’t recognize the sound of the engine as any of my neighbor’s. I peered out the window, and watched as Mona got out of the car. Damn. She looked even better than I remembered, in a casual blue sweater and tight jeans. She looked a little dressed-up to be babysitting; did that have something to do with me?