Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance

by Marie Carnay

  His brow creased. He didn’t move.

  “Please, Damien.”

  “Rogers.”

  She blinked.

  “My full name. It’s Damien Rogers.” He stepped closer and shut the bathroom door.

  Mia smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

  His hands found the hem of her sweatshirt and twisted the fabric. “I should stay outside.”

  “No.”

  A rumble sounded from deep in his chest. “I’m not a gentle man, Mia. I don’t do easy or kind.” His hands landed hot on her belly and she shuddered.

  “I don’t want gentle. I want you.” They were all kinds of wrong for each other. Opposite in so many ways.

  But he did something to her heart when he looked at her. She’d spent so many years putting up walls and shutting everyone out, but this man could scale them like they were three feet tall.

  He saw through all her defenses to the real her. The vulnerable woman who never let herself feel or love or take a chance. She’d learned the hard way what happened when she did that.

  No amount of love could change the way her father felt about her. Cold indifference. That’s all he’d ever given. But Damien…

  She slipped her hands beneath his shirt and over his taut skin. Her fingers roved over the grooves of his muscles, up and around the tattoos on his skin. He burned.

  “You’ll regret this.” He tore the sweatshirt from her body.

  She tugged his shirt over his head. Acres of muscles. Angry ink. Everything she shouldn’t want. “I won’t. Not ever.”

  Her fingers slid down to his jeans and Damien reached for her. While she tugged on his button, he yanked down her pants. They fell to the floor and his hands wrapped around her waist.

  “I can’t stop myself when I’m with you.” His words seared her cheek as he leaned close. His lips torched her neck as he ran them up and down.

  Mia shoved his pants down and his cock bobbed in the humid air. Yes. It was what she needed. Craved. Sex didn’t heal or change people, but it could help Mia forget. She could lose herself in Damien’s rock hard body and be free.

  Her underwear disappeared and before she knew it, Damien had lifted her into the shower. The warm water sloughed the dirt from her skin and the blood from his. It all mixed together as it ran down their bodies and Mia came clean.

  Damien’s hands ran over her skin, soap in one, heat in the other. He lathered her all over, covering every inch of her body in bubbles as his fingers turned her on. Mia closed her eyes as he turned her around.

  The water washed over her and she imagined them together in another life. A small town on the coast with a little beach bungalow and not a care in the world. A little brown haired girl running through the sandy grass, Damien scooping her up in his arms.

  She ducked her head in the water to hide her tears. It was a life they could never have. One Damien probably never wanted. Did killers even have daydreams? Did they ever think of the future?

  He squeezed shampoo into her hair and worked it through the tangles before turning her around. The water ran over her and Mia pushed the cruel visions aside.

  She didn’t need to think about a fairytale. Damien was right there with her. His body would be enough. It would have to be.

  Mia sunk to her knees.

  He tried to pull her up. “No.”

  “I want to.” She reached for his cock, thick and ready for her. Her lips slipped over the velvet skin and Mia closed her eyes.

  She’d been helpless since the minute Damien walked into her life. He’d made all the decisions. Directed her every move. It was her turn now. She needed to take back some control. Take back some of her power.

  He could make her cry out in bliss, but she could bring him to his knees. With one hand stroking his shaft, Mia leaned close, taking more and more of his cock inside her mouth.

  Hmm. The feel of his thick shaft filling her up, his control brought right to the edge and back again, it made her feel alive. Damien’s thighs tensed, his hands gripped the tile wall, and he groaned as she picked up speed. This was more than sex. This was power. Control. Freedom.

  His balls were hot as she ran her hands around them. She rolled the heavy sac between her fingers as she slid down his shaft. The water ran over her face and poured down Damien’s body but she didn’t stop.

  She couldn’t stop. Over and over she lapped at his head before sliding down to take him deep. Her fingers stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach and in no time, Damien groaned above her.

  His hips jerked, his shaft hardened even more and Mia swallowed as the first wave of his release hit the back of her throat. God, she’d needed this.

  Damien might be a stone cold killer, but she could still wreck him. His hands slipped under her arms and he hauled her up like she weighed nothing.

  Lips crashed into hers and Damien’s tongue thrust into her mouth. Mia’s whole body clenched in anticipation. She wanted him to wreck her. Drive her right over the cliff and into oblivion.

  They would run out of hot water before Mia ever had enough.

  12

  DAMIEN

  Fuck. He growled into her lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His words came out harsh and thick, but he couldn’t hold back.

  All that silky, soft skin. Flushed cheeks. Lips she used so well. He pushed her hair off her face and captured her mouth again.

  Mia did something to him no other woman had. She made him human.

  It was a million kinds of wrong. He never should have touched her. Never should have taken her out of her father’s house and turned her whole world upside down. But there was no going back.

  He couldn’t undo the damage. All he could do was drown in it.

  The water ran over his hands as he traced circles up and down her slick skin. The cheap motel lighting showcased every bruise and scrape on her body. Every place she’d fought him and that bastard Rocco. Every punch and kick and scream.

  Mia didn’t know how strong she really was. She might be terrified, but through it all, she’d kept fighting. When she broke down in the other room…when she’d cried and trembled and looked up at him with those big chocolate eyes full of fear…

  It had done something to him. He didn’t just want to help her. He needed to.

  The thought sent a tremor through his body. Was that how Melanie had felt when he had looked up to her all those years ago? Was that why she had sacrificed her whole life for him?

  Mia reached up and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips touched and Damien knew this woman would be his undoing. She would wreck him.

  Her nipples pebbled in front of him and Damien bent to suckle. She whimpered and he flicked his tongue. She cried out and he sucked.

  With every stroke and pinch of her sensitive flesh, Mia came apart. Her cries turned to mewls and she clawed at his arms, dragging him closer.

  “Please, Damien.”

  Oh, Christ. Don’t beg me, baby. I can’t…

  Damien flipped her around with a groan. Her breasts mashed into the cold tile and her fingers scrabbled up the wall as he crowded tight against her.

  “You’re a dangerous woman, Mia Davenport.”

  She moaned. He nipped her earlobe with his teeth.

  “You make me forget to look behind my shoulder. When you’re here, like this…” Damien slipped his hand between her legs. So wet. “I forget about all the people who want me dead. The thugs hunting us this very minute.”

  He found her clit and rubbed, up and down, side to side. Around and around until the little bud swelled with anticipation. Mia whimpered and bucked into his hand.

  “You make me reckless.”

  She shuddered against him and Damien couldn’t wait any longer. With one hand braced on the tile and one gripping her hip, he took what he wanted. The woman he so desperately needed.

  Drugs weren’t his thing. He’d seen addiction and its devastation first hand. But Mia made him crave. Made him ache.

  She was his heroin. His met
h. He’d do anything for one more hit. One more high.

  Oh, God. His cock sunk inside her tight sheath. No holding back. No easing in. Just base need. Animal drive.

  He grunted and slammed his other hand on the wall. So fucking tight.

  She pressed her ass against him and he thrust. Hard and quick, over and over. A brutal rhythm that crushed her upper body into the shower wall and brought him racing toward the abyss.

  Mia cried out, her voice stolen by the torrent of water sloshing over them both, and her body gripped him in pleasure. Again and again her muscles milked him, spurring him toward his own release.

  How could he hold back when this beautiful creature was shaking beneath him?

  With a final pump of his hips, Damien came. Hot and fast and thick, his release filled her up. He’d taken her bare. Again.

  He sagged against her, his head pressed into the tile. Mia had been the first. The only woman who’d trusted him enough to take him without protection and to let him come inside her.

  Knowing that he’d filled her with his seed—with a part of his fucking soul—it crushed him. She was light where he was dark. She was heaven and he was so far down in the depths of hell.

  No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he would never, ever deserve her.

  As the water turned cool, Damien pulled back. He turned the shower off and grabbed a towel. Draping it over Mia’s shoulders, he tried to focus. She wasn’t his forever. Damien didn’t have one.

  The first shot he took, the first life he ended, that was where his future stopped. There was nowhere for him to go but down.

  After grabbing another towel and wrapping it around his waist, he turned back to Mia. She’d tugged the cotton around her shoulders, but exhaustion was creeping up. She lolled against the tile wall.

  He dried her off with slow and gentle strokes, soaking up the water along with his guilt. The beautiful, lonely woman turning around in his arms deserved more than this. More than him.

  She deserved a husband and a family and a fucking white picket fence.

  Not death and destruction and fear.

  With a deep breath, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He tugged the bed covers down and nestled her into the sheets. She didn’t even open her eyes.

  He tucked the blanket up around her and stepped back. Damien had never looked after anyone before. Not a cat or a stray dog. Not even his sister.

  Melanie.

  He tugged on his clothes and sat down on the room’s only chair. Threadbare and frayed, it wasn’t much. Just like him.

  With a deep breath, he pulled the locket from around his neck and flipped it open. The faded picture had a crease running through the middle and a torn corner. But it was the only picture he had. Damien ran his finger over the little girl’s face. Her hair was like Mia’s—brown and straight—but her big blue eyes held a pain no child should bear.

  A worker in the group home had taken the photo. She had told Melanie to give her best smile since her picture was the first thing foster families would see. His sister knew better. No one wanted a twelve-year-old girl and her tag-along little brother.

  She spent her whole life taking care of him. Every scrap of food she got, she’d break in half and let him pick. He never thought to take the smaller half. Not when he was little.

  When they got older…after Marcelo’s crew picked them up…it was too late. The sister he knew was already gone.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand. How could he have ever sent Mia to the same fate? Had it been that long since he’d seen goodness? Hope? Had he become immune to the humanity some people still possessed?

  Mia shifted in the bed and Damien shook his head at his own heartlessness. He needed to find a way to get her home and the cartel off her back. It didn’t matter what happened to him. He was a dead man.

  Damien pulled a wad of cash out of his front pocket and set his handgun on the table. Only one person came to mind.

  He picked up his phone and dialed the number he still knew by heart.

  “Wellington PD, Johnson.”

  “Hey Rick, it’s Damien Rogers.”

  The twenty-year veteran of the police department turned the phone off speaker. “Are you all right?”

  “Not dead yet. Need a favor.”

  “It’s been a long time. The precinct’s changed.”

  “I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious. I don’t know who else I can trust.”

  Damien ran his fingers over the ridges in the tabletop while Rick mulled it over. He was the only cop who’d ever shown a bit of kindness to Melanie. If he were on duty when she was hauled in, he’d call Damien first and get her released to his custody.

  ‘What do you need?”

  “I’ve got a woman with me. She’s gotten tangled up in Marcelo’s gang. I’ve got to get her out.”

  “What’s she done? Petty theft? Prostitution?”

  Damien dug his fingernail into his palm. “No. Nothing like that. Marcelo wants her dead. She needs protection.”

  “Whoa…you know I can’t promise anything like that. Shit, Damien, half the cops… you know.”

  He didn’t need to say it. Damien knew. They were either on the take or would be if Marcelo’s men could get to them. It always amazed him what a couple grand in a pocket could do.

  “She’s not just a girl from the streets, Rick. She’s the DA’s daughter.”

  Rick cursed into the phone. “You’re involved in the Davenport mess? Fuck, man, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  “What’s the talk?”

  “That it’s Marcelo’s work. But the ADA wants it wrapped up. He’s up the chief’s ass every damn day to get the case closed. He’s gunning for an interim appointment and then the election.” Rick paused. “The DA’s body hasn’t been released from the morgue and the man is already campaigning. It’s sick.”

  “It’s politics.” Damien cracked his knuckles. It’s why he couldn’t stand the rich in town. They were worse than the criminals. At least a thug was straight up with his crimes. The politicians and the attorneys and the cops? They were the liars.

  “Can you help her?”

  “I can try.”

  Damien exhaled. Probably the best he could do. “Thanks, Rick.”

  “No promises, Damien.”

  “I know. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up as Mia rolled over in the bed.

  “Is something wrong?” Her sweet, sleepy voice tugged at something long buried inside him.

  Damien stood up in a rush. “No. Go back to sleep.”

  Her caramel hair trailed behind her as she leaned close. “Come to bed. You must be exhausted.” She patted the empty pillow and Damien swallowed.

  Women didn’t affect him. They could be pretty or ugly, fat or thin. He never cared. They had only been tools. Something he used to pass the time or get his rocks off. Not a person with feelings attached.

  But one look at the beautiful, innocent woman smiling up at him, half-drunk on sleep, had his hard edges easing. She was a bad influence.

  A terrible decision.

  Mia needed to get far, far away from him before he couldn’t stop himself. Damien walked up to the bed. She smiled and another chink in his armor broke free.

  “I’m sorry I woke you.” His words came out thick. Heavy.

  She rolled over and pushed the covers down. “I’m not.”

  Damn. Her body curved against the mattress. Pert breasts, wide hips, gorgeous ass.

  He let out a low groan and climbed over her. “Be careful what you wish for, Mia.”

  “Too late.”

  Her lips landed on his and Damien came unglued. His hands were too rough, too hard. He tore at her skin, shoved her legs apart with his knees. She was pinned beneath him but it wasn’t enough. He wanted every inch she could give.

  Every last part of herself. He wanted to drown in the smell of her, so clean and pure. He yanked his pants open and his cock sprang free. She rose up to meet him.


  Damien took. He plowed her depths, sinking inside her empty channel so fast, she cried out. So fucking wet and ready. He wasn’t a religious man, but right then he wanted to pray.

  13

  MIA

  Mia rolled over on the lumpy mattress and reached for Damien. The bed was empty. She sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes as the bathroom door opened.

  Damien stood in the glow of the bathroom light, skin damp and glistening, wearing nothing but a towel. Mia swallowed.

  Her nipples hardened against the scratchy sheet and she shifted on the bed. Her body ached for him.

  “Good morning.” She smiled, but he only nodded and bent to grab his clothes.

  “We need to get going.” He jerked his head toward the open door. “I’m done in there.”

  Mia blinked. The night before…the things he did to her…the way he made her feel. It was better than anything.

  Why would he shut her out? She slid off the bed and crouched beside him, her naked body barely hidden behind her bent legs. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

  “I already told you. We’ve got to go. Marcelo can’t be that far behind us. We need new clothes and a new set of plates. There’s a town not too far ahead. Should have something.”

  An angry scab snaked down Damien’s shoulder and as he reached for his crumpled up shirt, it split open.

  “You’re bleeding.” Mia reached out. “Let me help—”

  Damien shrugged her off and stood up. “It’s just a scratch. You need to get ready. We’re leaving in ten.”

  Mia rocked back on her heels. He was shutting her out, but she didn’t know why. After all they had shared…She shook her head and stood up. “Fine. I’ll be ready.” She walked into the bathroom with a purposeful shake of her naked ass and slammed the door.

  Ten minutes later, Damien pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed back to the interstate.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Further away.”

  Mia exhaled and fidgeted with the belt. “We can’t just keep driving, Damien. We need a plan. A way to put Marcelo behind bars.”