Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance

by Marie Carnay

  Damien stared out from the dark car, watching for any movement on the street. Nothing. All the families of Hatchet Street were nestled snug in their beds, oblivious to the danger in their midst.

  He opened his door and got out of the car.

  Now came the tough part. Damien fished for the spare key under the mat and unlocked the door. All clean and quiet, just like Donny had promised. He hustled to the bedroom and ripped the comforter off the bed. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

  Carting it back out to the car, he braced himself and popped the trunk. If she flew at him, he would muffle her in the layers of fluffy down. But he needn’t have worried. She was just as he had left her. Unconscious and easy.

  Damien wrapped Mia up in the comforter and carted her inside. He leaned back on the door, her body still limp in his arms, until his heart slowed. It didn’t matter how many jobs he had done or how many fights he had been in. There was a fine line between adrenaline and panic.

  He laid her on the floor, still bundled into a fluffy white mess, and pulled a chair into the center of the living room. She offered no resistance as he shoved the comforter aside and picked her up. He sat her on the chair and used the phone cord to bind her wrists and ankles.

  After she was secure, he put the comforter back and searched for something to keep her quiet. The last thing he needed was her waking up screaming. No one screamed in this part of town.

  A dishcloth would do. He hustled back into the living room and twirled the soft cotton into a gag before shoving it in her mouth and tying it around her head. Damien nodded at his handiwork. Now he could relax.

  He grabbed the rest of his things from the car before slumping on the couch. He had shown up at the district attorney’s place full of hope. There had been a moment where he even thought he would get out. The DA would talk, he would find out the truth, and that would be it.

  He could walk away.

  Instead, it had all gone to shit. The most powerful lawyer in the city was dead and he had been at the scene. He used the guy’s gun to put Angelo out of his misery. He kidnapped his daughter.

  There was no getting around it. Damien was fucked.

  He couldn’t go to the cops. Half the guys on the force were dirty. The rest were too stupid to help him. The few who were decent, he couldn’t drag into this.

  He couldn’t run. Everyone in the city had to be looking for this girl by now.

  The cartel was the only option. He looked up at Mia. Her head lolled to the side and a purpling bruise where he had struck her marred her beautiful face. So innocent. Young.

  She had lived a life of privilege and excess. Judging by the DA’s house, the girl had never wanted for anything. Now he was going to hand her over to men who would chew her up and spit her out. Men who would use her, break her, take and take until there was nothing left. Then her body would show up somewhere. A runaway. A suicide.

  Mia Davenport would never be free again. If only she hadn’t been in the closet. If only she hadn’t witnessed the murder and seen his face.

  Damien stood up and strode into the kitchen. It might look like any other house on the block, but this one was full of so much evil, Damien wasn’t sure he would survive.

  4

  MIA

  A brain-splitting, oh my God I drank what, pounding. It ricocheted through Mia’s head and she fought the urge to vomit. What a wake-up call.

  She tried to swallow, but her tongue took up her entire mouth. It stuck there like a dry old sock she couldn’t spit out. She smacked, tried to cough, but it stayed there, thick and scratchy. Damn.

  Lolling to the side, Mia waited for the world to stop spinning. She hadn’t been this bad off since she had lost count slamming Everclear punch at a frat party in college. At least that time she had been surrounded by friends.

  Now, she was…where? Her memories stopped and started in her brain. She had been at her father’s place, waiting for him to come home.

  Then it should have been the gala and the photo-ops. Had she had too much champagne at the party? Did she drink away the horrible taste it all left in her mouth?

  No. She remembered…blood…gunshots.

  That can’t be right. She reached for her head, but her hands couldn’t move. What the hell? She tugged harder.

  Fear wormed its way through the pain. She inhaled through her nose and tried to focus. Her father’s study. She had been there to find the case file…then…Oh my God.

  Mia snapped her head up as the memories rushed back. Her father had been murdered. She had watched the shootout, her father’s death, and then…another man. She struggled to come back to reality.

  Her eyes opened and Mia tried to scream. It came out muffled. Oh, no. The thick cotton in her mouth wasn’t her tongue. It was a gag. She tugged on her arms and tried to kick her feet. She was bound to a chair.

  Panic bubbled up inside her, hammering her heart, dilating her eyes. She blinked over and over.

  Think, Mia. Think. She glanced around her. She sat in the middle of a tidy living room with a couch, two chairs, an end table and a lamp. It looked like an ordinary room in an ordinary house.

  They usually didn’t come with young women tied up in the middle. She twisted to look behind her. An archway to a dining room. Beyond it, the hint of a kitchen. Her stomach flip-flopped and she tried to swallow the rising bile.

  There was only one explanation. She had been kidnapped. Oh my God. The man who shot the killer. The man with huge shoulders and a firm jaw.

  Sweat slipped in beads down her spine.

  She remembered it all in slow motion. His body bent over the dying man as he whispered in his ear. The rummaging of her father’s files. The shot that put the killer out of his misery.

  Then he opened the closet door and found her.

  Mia had fought and struggled and tried her hardest and she hadn’t come close to getting away. The minute he spun her around and fixed those gray eyes on her, she knew. He would either be her savior or her damnation. She didn’t know which.

  It didn’t matter that his fingers wrapped around her throat, he had seen her. Peered straight into her soul and made a judgment call. There had been a moment when she had glimpsed something. A spark of humanity? Hope? Something other than cold fury and hate.

  But then he had shut it down and knocked her out.

  Mia whimpered. If she didn’t get out of there before he came back, he would kill her. Maybe worse.

  She tugged on the cord around her wrists. Up and down, side-to-side she worked it, but no matter how hard she yanked, it didn’t budge.

  Her feet were no better. Damn it. She looked around the room. Yes! An empty glass. It sat on the edge of the coffee table, waiting for her.

  Could she get to it without him finding out? She turned back and looked at the kitchen. He could be in there, waiting for her. Or he could be outside…or in the shower…He could be anywhere.

  She turned back to the glass. It was a risk she had to take.

  With a deep breath, Mia launched herself up into the air and lunged toward the glass. She moved an inch.

  Again and again she rocked herself back and forth in the chair, throwing her body weight toward the coffee table. Every time she landed, a thump shook the whole room and she turned to look at the kitchen.

  Her kidnapper never appeared.

  Sweat soaked her hairline and her wrists and ankles throbbed from the pressure. The rag in her mouth was soaked in her own spit. How long had she been at this? An hour? More?

  Mia snorted out another breath and lunged. Thank God. She bit down on the gag and rammed the chair into the coffee table. The glass shook. She rammed it again and it fell off the edge.

  It landed with a thud. All she needed to do was pick it up. It didn’t take much to topple the chair. She crashed down hard on her side, but barely felt the pain. She was running on adrenaline now.

  She dragged her body and the chair closer and closer until she could grab the glass. It felt so cold in her fi
ngers slicked with sweat. So deadly. Mia held it by the base and slammed it against the leg of the coffee table. The top of the glass shattered.

  Jabbing the sharp end into the cord around her wrists, Mia rubbed.

  Part of the glass nicked her wrist and she fought the urge to cry out. She rubbed harder. Another piece cut her and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Again and again she stabbed and rubbed, cutting herself, but cutting the cord as well.

  Her wrists slicked with the mix of sweat and blood and she tugged at the looped cord. Just as she was about to give up from pain and exhaustion and hopelessness, one piece broke.

  Mia laughed, as much from exhaustion as from joy. I might get out of here alive. She worked her hands out of the binding and untied her ankles before yanking the rag out of her mouth. It didn’t matter that she was bleeding or that she had on almost no clothes. She was free.

  Keeping low to the floor, Mia crept to the door. She twisted the lock and pulled it open. The window shades rattled, but she couldn’t stop now. She yanked the door all the way open and darted out into the night.

  Rain hit her face. The kind of rain that keeps even criminals inside. Hard and pounding, it pelted her whole body, soaked through her clothes, and chilled her to the bone. But she didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere else to go.

  She took off toward the house with lights on two doors away. The pavement scraped her feet and she stubbed her toe on a crack in the asphalt. It didn’t matter.

  Up into the grass of the house next door she ran, passing the For Sale sign. Her toes dug into the wet earth, the balls of her feet slipped on the grass, but she kept going. Only a little more.

  The neighbor’s drive loomed ahead of her, large and full of promise. Too bad she would never reach it.

  The ground rose up at terrifying speed and Mia slammed into the grass. Oomph. A huge weight landed on top of her. It crushed her ribs, pushed out her breath, threatened to take away her freedom.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but the storm stole her voice. She lashed out with her arms and legs, but the person on top of her pinned her down. A hand appeared beside her head and dug into the earth.

  And then she saw the sky. He flipped her over like she weighed nothing at all.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Her kidnapper had found her. She would recognize the voice anywhere. Mia struggled in his grip. He pinned her arms above her head.

  “Let me go.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Mia tried to knee him where it would hurt, but he shifted, his thighs coming down to rest on hers. She bucked and twisted in his hands, but all it did was dig her further into the soggy ground. If she worked any harder, she would start burying herself alive.

  Shit. It didn’t matter what she did. She couldn’t get away. Her whole body sagged in defeat.

  “I won’t go to the cops. Please.” She would promise him all the gold in Fort Knox if he let her go.

  The man adjusted until his face hovered inches above hers. His hood acted like an umbrella, sloughing the rain away from their faces. Even in the dark she could make out his square jaw. The hint of beard on his chin. The fire in his eyes.

  Her tongue turned to cotton again, but it wasn’t from the rag.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t let you go.”

  His tone softened as he said it and Mia became aware of so much more than her fear. Every breath she took pressed her breasts into his chest. Her nipples were rock hard from the cold and each rub sent a pang of arousal through her.

  It was so very wrong.

  She shifted beneath him and their thighs rubbed together. It only made it worse. She couldn’t be attracted to him. He was a killer and a kidnapper. She rolled her lips over her teeth and bit down.

  Every beat of her heart sent a jumbled up mess of emotions running through her. Fear. Anger. Passion. Lust.

  Mia shivered.

  “You’re cold.”

  “It’s raining.”

  His lips twitched. “Let me take you back inside and warm you up.”

  “You’re not getting your hands on me.”

  His head tilted and the rain hit her cheek. “You mean like this?” He squeezed her arms and she clenched her fists. “You’re hurt. Bleeding. I’ll help you.”

  The icy sting of the rain made her think of knives. “And then what?”

  The man stilled.

  Mia’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t kill her after all this. She struggled again. “I’m never giving up. You’ll have to kill me if you want me to stop trying to escape.”

  For the longest while, her kidnapper just stared at her. Was he debating whether to chop her up into tiny pieces or wring her neck?

  Rain soaked into his clothes and dripped down the sides of his hood. His gaze roamed over her face, dipping down to her chin and back up. At last, he spoke. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  A thrill rushed through Mia but she shut it down. He was probably a better liar than she was. If he got her back in that house…

  She looked into his eyes and plastered on a photo-op smile. “If you’re not going to kill me, you’ll have to find some other way to shut me up.”

  Before he could say a word in response, Mia took a deep breath and screamed.

  This time, the noise carried on the wind. She took another breath, ready to belt out another shriek, when the man pinning her down shocked her silent.

  He didn’t knock her out, hit her, or clamp a hand over her mouth.

  No.

  He kissed her. Lips against lips. Tongue darting out to rake across her flesh. He tasted of liquor and sin and more danger than Mia had ever dreamed of.

  She gasped and he took her deeper, sweeping his tongue across hers, nipping her lower lip with his teeth. The man kissed her like she was the only woman he had ever wanted.

  Mia should have taken advantage. She could have bit down on his tongue and scrambled away while he rolled around screaming. But she couldn’t. Not when he had unlocked something hidden deep inside her.

  Instead, she did the unthinkable.

  She kissed him back.

  5

  DAMIEN

  Holy shit. Damien pulled back and tried not to focus on her swollen pout. She was the district attorney’s daughter.

  The dead district attorney’s daughter. He had kidnapped her. Put her in his trunk. Tied her up. Tackled her into the grass.

  And all he wanted to do was kiss her again. Run his tongue down her neck. Twist those pencil eraser nipples that poked into his chest. Take her places she had never been while she cried out his name.

  Fuck. He never thought with his dick. Never.

  Damien yanked her up to stand. With one hand holding her body tight to his chest, he clamped his free hand around her mouth. They needed to get back inside before someone called the cops.

  She struggled in his grip. Still feisty. A certain body part liked it. Down boy. He gritted his teeth and focused on what mattered—getting the little firecracker back in the safe house ASAP.

  He busted through the side door and tossed her onto the couch. She bounced.

  “Strip.”

  Mia’s eyes turned to saucers and she scrambled across the seat until her back hit the arm. “W-what are you going to do?”

  Damien ignored her and stalked down the hall. Isn’t it obvious? He grabbed the comforter he had wrapped her in earlier and headed back to the living room.

  Instead of a thanks for thinking of me, or an oh, how thoughtful, he got a fly-by. The ceramic vase grazed his ear as it whizzed past his head to shatter on the wall.

  He exhaled in a huff. “Quit wrecking the place. It’s not yours.” For being a pompous lawyer’s brat, the woman sure didn’t know her manners. Damien stepped toward the little vixen and she balled her hands into fists.

  “You’re not touching me.”

  “You need to get naked before you pass out.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  Damien sn
orted. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’ve got no interest in that teeny little body of yours. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and it only made her nipples stand at attention. The rings of darker skin shone through her shirt like beacons calling him forward.

  Damien adjusted himself and bit back a grin. He’d always been a good liar.

  “You keep staring at me like you want to rip my clothes off.”

  Or not. He frowned. “Your clothes are soaking wet and you’re chilled to the bone. You need to warm up.” He tossed the comforter at her. “If you don’t get naked and wrap up in that, you’ll have more than blue fingers and toes to deal with.”

  Mia glanced down at her fingers and a gasp slipped from her lips. She looked back up at him in shock.

  Ding, ding, she finally got it. “Believe me now?”

  She nodded. Her hands slipped under the edge of her shirt, but she didn’t take it off.

  “What is it now, princess?”

  “Can you…turn around?”

  He rolled his eyes. “And give you a chance to hit me over the head with the other vase? Sure thing.” He motioned at her shirt. “It’s not like I can’t see it all already, honey.”

  Despite the shivers that wracked her body, Mia’s cheeks turned pink. “So that’s a no?”

  He didn’t bother to respond.

  “Fine.”

  Damn, she’s stubborn. Damien hadn’t known a woman so determined since…He pushed the thought aside. They weren’t anything alike.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited. Mia bit her lip.

  “You’re not getting any warmer.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. It was such an unexpected act of defiance that Damien forgot to play the asshole.

  He laughed.

  And in that instant, Mia softened. Gone was the scowl and the angry brow. Exhaustion and surrender took their place. Her body shook and trembled and her eyes looked at him with something other than hate.