Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance

by Marie Carnay

  “That settles it.” She turned and grabbed her jeans off the floor. “I’m definitely coming.” She fished her shirt out from under the bed. “I could use some more clothes.”

  Four hours later, Damien pulled into the parking lot of the mall. Bringing Mia along was a terrible idea, but what other choice did he have? If Rick’s news was as serious as it sounded, he’d probably seen the last of Mia’s sweet body.

  Leaving her at a giant mall in the suburbs would be the best for everyone. He could deal with Marcelo and she could get on with her life without him. Damien just had to convince Rick to go to bat for her.

  He parked in a crowd of other cars and killed the engine. “I’m meeting the cop alone. If he’s got news about Marcelo, the guy could have been tailed. It could be a set-up.”

  “I thought you said he was on the up and up?”

  “Things change. He might not be a good guy anymore.”

  Mia nodded. “Okay. I’ll be shopping. Call me when you’re done.”

  Damien reached out and dragged her over the console. His lips landed on hers and he kissed her until she moaned. “You have your phone, right?”

  She nodded. “Stay safe.”

  “You, too.”

  He opened the door before the sight of her swollen lips made him change his mind. Mia deserved more than this.

  More than him.

  Damien made his way through the parking lot, scanning the cars and every passerby as he went. The food court wasn’t hard to find. Neither was Detective Rick Johnson.

  The man screamed cop from a mile away. High and tight haircut, close-fitting jacket to hide the piece under his arm. Look on his face that said been there, seen that.

  Sliding into the seat opposite the man, Damien cut to the chase. “What’s going on?”

  “Hello to you, too.” Rick looked him up and down. “You look good.”

  “Talk.”

  Rick leaned over the table. “First of all, I didn’t go looking for this, okay? It fell into my lap. Second of all, I can’t help your girl. The precinct is overrun. I’d never pull it off without Marcelo’s thugs finding out.”

  Fuck. Damien forced his voice to stay low. “If it’s not about Mia, then what’s so fucking critical you have to see me in person?”

  “It’s about Melanie.”

  Every part of Damien’s body snapped to attention. He gritted out the words. “She’s dead. What’s there to talk about?”

  “She didn’t overdose.”

  “Yes, she did. I saw her body. She had all the signs.”

  “You remember what you said when it happened?”

  “I said she didn’t do it herself. Someone had to force her. You said I was wrong.”

  Rick nodded. “And I’m sorry about that.” He shifted in his chair and leaned closer. “I should have listened to you.”

  Damien froze. Had he been right all along? “Did Marcelo order it? Shit, Rick, I knew it.” He scooted his chair forward. “I went to the DA’s office that night to try and find something on her. Anything. One of the guys told me a grand jury had been called over her death.” He swallowed. “That it had been murder, but the DA and the cops hushed it up.”

  Rick’s voice edged barely above a whisper. “It was murder. But it wasn’t by Marcelo.”

  Damien blinked. “Then who…?”

  “She was an informant for the FBI.”

  Damien gripped the table. It wasn’t possible. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. They were close to taking down the whole cartel. She was the key. The star witness.”

  Damien thought back to his meeting with Marcelo the night she died. The taste of butter and syrup was fresh on his tongue. “Marcelo didn’t know. He’d have killed me on the spot.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Rick reached across the table, his hand out in a warning. “It was the District Attorney, Damien. That chick you’re so hung up on? Her father killed your sister.”

  Damien rocked back in the chair like he’d taken a punch to the gut. “No.” It was all he could say.

  “If the FBI kept digging into the cartel’s activity they would have found him out. Davenport was already in up to his elbows with Marcelo at that point.”

  “How’d he even know?”

  “The FBI had been keeping the state in the loop. The DA’s office knew about the indictments coming. He had her killed before they made it public.”

  Damien’s heart hammered in his chest. George Davenport took a hit out on my sister. Mia’s face swam before him and he focused on the cop to block it out. “I need proof.”

  “Ask your girl about it. She’s his daughter, she should know.”

  “They were estranged.”

  Rick leaned back in his chair. “Then I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “Who’s your source?”

  “You know I can’t tell you. I’m already risking my neck just being here.”

  Damien’s head was spinning. For years, he’d been living with the guilt of his sister’s death. Trying to come up with some proof it wasn’t an accident. Some way to stick it to Marcelo and get the hell out of the cartel.

  When Mia had landed in his arms, he thought she’d be the key. But never like this.

  If his sister was an informant…If the DA had her murdered…Everything changed.

  He wished the asshole were still alive so he could be the one to riddle his chest with bullets. If what Rick said was true, then Mia’s father wasn’t just a son of a bitch who ignored his daughter and did deals with the devil. He was a murderer.

  If Mia found out…The knowledge would destroy her. He glanced up at the cop’s stoic face. “Do you know who did the hit?”

  Rick shook his head.

  Didn’t matter. Damien would find the bastard who pumped her full of those drugs and he would make him pay.

  He clenched his fists under the table. He didn’t need to run from Marcelo anymore. He needed revenge. Then he and Mia could be free. “Thanks, Rick. I owe you one.”

  “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

  Damien didn’t answer. He was done talking. Someone out there killed the only person in the world who loved him and Damien was going to make him pay for it.

  17

  MIA

  Three weeks of living out of motels and a stolen car had taken their toll. She walked through the mall in a daze. It had been so long since she had done something normal, she had almost forgotten how.

  People milled around the shops on their lunch breaks. Women in suits, men on break, and moms chasing toddling little ones were everywhere. Not a single one could claim to be a criminal.

  A fugitive.

  Mia slowed and leaned against the railing. A month ago, she’d never have stepped foot in a place like this. Without a high-end store to burn through her father’s money, what was the point?

  This mall had it all, though. She looked up at the pharmacy looming in front of her and a sign next door caught her eye.

  Hastings Police Substation. What? A tremble rushed through her. The police.

  Her feet moved toward the bulletin board outside the tiny office on autopilot. Mug shots. All of the area’s most wanted, stapled up to the wall for anyone to see. She couldn’t be up there, could she?

  She let her hair fall across her face as she stopped in front of the board.

  Oh my God. They used my law school job photo.

  Mia swallowed as she stared at the grainy black and white version of her with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, black suit jacket on. Wanted For Questioning. REWARD.

  She pulled her hair forward even more to hide her face.

  This can’t be happening.

  When Damien said she would be a fugitive…When he told her there was no going back to life before…It hadn’t sunk in. Not until now.

  She could be arrested. Thrown in jail. Her eyes scanned the board until she spotted his face. Oh, no.

  He was younger. Longer hair and f
ewer tattoos, but it was Damien. He had the same haunted look in his eyes. Mia took a deep breath and read the caption. She expected First Degree Murder. But it only mentioned questioning, same as her own.

  She reached out to touch his picture, but stopped halfway. If anyone saw him in the mall…

  Mia whipped around. If anyone recognized either of them…

  The sign to the drug store caught her eye. She needed to get away from the police as fast as possible. Rushing into the store, she ducked her head and focused on the floor.

  What could she do to hide? Sunglasses and a hat. She could dye her hair.

  Mia rushed through the store, looking for everything she would need when familiar labels caught her eye. She paused and stared at the rows of tampons.

  She counted.

  Then counted again.

  The bright blue boxes stood all in a row, accusing her. Mia turned back around. It can’t be. I’ve just got my dates wrong.

  She looked to the end of the aisle. The part of the store she had always hurried by in the past. Pregnancy tests.

  They hadn’t been using protection. She knew it was stupid, but the first time…She thought she was going to die. The second, she was so thankful to be alive.

  After that, she had no one to blame but herself. Damien had asked more than once. She blew him off.

  Oh, God. She walked toward the display and stood there, staring at them like a zombie.

  “Do you need some help?”

  Mia snapped her head up. A middle-aged woman stood in front of her wearing a white lab coat and a placid smile.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m the pharmacist here today. Do you need some help choosing a test?”

  Mia blinked in slow motion. “Um…” She swallowed. “Yes, thanks.”

  The woman smiled again and turned toward the shelves. She picked up two boxes. “This one is for early detection. It’s pretty accurate if you’re eager to know as soon as possible, but it does give a false negative on occasion.”

  She waved the box in her other hand. “This one is more accurate, but you need to wait a bit longer to use it. Which would work better?”

  Mia could barely talk. “I’ll take both.”

  “Great. I can ring you up if you like.”

  She followed the woman to the back of the store and put the sunglasses and hat she had grabbed on the counter.

  “First baby?”

  Somehow she managed to nod.

  “It can be overwhelming, I know. But just take it one day at a time.” The pharmacist turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf behind her. “These are the best prenatal vitamins. Want me to add them to your things?”

  Mia felt like the whole world had been dropped into a vat of clear Jell-O. Her brain felt fuzzy, her limbs, thick. Speaking took serious effort.

  She nodded.

  The pharmacist kept talking, but Mia couldn’t hear her. All she could think about was the chance she was pregnant with Damien’s child. A man wanted by the police and the most powerful criminals in the state.

  A white bag entered her vision and she took it. The pharmacist squawked some words of encouragement and Mia mumbled a vague reply. She couldn’t pretend her life wasn’t about to fall apart.

  She stumbled out of the pharmacy and down the hall to the bathrooms. The family bathroom was open and she slipped inside and locked the door. Thank God.

  Being alone gave her a chance to breathe.

  She gripped the sink’s edge, sucking in gulps of air as she stared at her reflection. Could she do this? Did she have a choice?

  With shaking fingers she tried to open the first box. Over and over she tugged on the stiff cardboard until at last it gave way. Then she opened the second. She wanted to be sure.

  A few minutes later, the sticks sat on the edge of the sink. Mia refused to look. She paced the tiny room, counting the tiles on the floor, wringing her hands back and forth.

  At last, she stopped moving and faced the sink. I can do this. I can do this.

  She closed her eyes. Counted to ten. Looked at the pregnancy tests.

  Holy shit.

  Two lines.

  Her big brown eyes stared back at her in the mirror as her hand slipped to her flat belly. I’m pregnant.

  She had always wanted a family. A white picket fence and a house in the suburbs. A family sedan and a nine-to-five job. A good husband.

  Her gaze fell to the tests perched on the sink.

  Not a man who was looking at life in prison if he ever got caught. Maybe worse.

  With a cry of anguish, she gathered up everything on the counter and scooped it into the trash. The empty boxes, the tests, her sanity. All of it.

  Mia turned on the faucet full-blast and splashed her face. The icy cold mixed with her tears and washed down the drain.

  She could run. She could bail on Damien and rush into that police substation and claim he had kidnapped her. She could tell them all about Marcelo and what he did to her. How her father was murdered and why.

  She could sell Damien out and watch the father of her child go to prison.

  The water kept running in the sink, drowning out her sobs. It did nothing to stop the pain in her chest.

  No matter how much sense going to the police made, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave Damien.

  She thought about how he saved her from that brute on the waterfront. How he took her mini-golfing to cheer her up when they were on the run. How for the last three weeks she had wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way.

  He might be a stone cold killer, but he would never hurt her. And she would never leave him.

  Mia turned off the water and hit the button for the hand dryer. The hot air dried her skin and calmed her nerves. She wasn’t letting the father of her baby go to jail and she wasn’t letting him be killed by Marcelo.

  There was only one thing to do.

  She gathered her things and turned on her throwaway cell phone. Thank God Damien had insisted on getting them the other day.

  “Hello.”

  “It’s Mia.”

  “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Anything.” Steven’s voice always edged into flattery when he sensed a victory.

  It made her skin crawl, but she had no other choice. “I want to set up a meet. I hand you Damien Rogers and you give him a deal. He knows all about the Marcelo cartel. He can give you names, dates, witness testimony. You take what he can give you and he gets immunity. No jail time.”

  Steven whistled. “You know I can’t promise immunity. I’m only interim District Attorney.”

  “Already? Wasn’t being ADA enough?”

  “Technically, I’m both at the moment.”

  Mia swallowed the nasty comment screaming to get out. Thank God she’d turned him down all those years ago. “If you won’t help me, I’m sure the fed—”

  “No.” He cut her off before she could say another word. “You want him safe, right?”

  “That’s all I want.”

  “Then agree to jail time. He serves a few years in protective custody, the trials and plea deals happen, he’ll be out. A free man.”

  Mia rubbed at her swollen eyes. Could she send Damien to jail?

  “It will mean he stays alive, Mia. Otherwise, I can’t promise that.”

  He would never forgive her. One look at the cops and her face and Damien would know she set him up. Her gut twisted at the thought.

  “There has to be another way.”

  “It’s the only way. He’s a thug for the cartel, you know that. He’s probably run drugs and roughed people up. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a murderer.”

  Mia didn’t volunteer.

  “I can’t give a killer immunity. I’ve got an election to run.”

  Of course. The election. “My father hasn’t been dead a month and you’re already focused on the election?”

  “I’m sorry
about your father, but life goes on.”

  “So does your career, apparently.”

  “Do we have a deal, or not?”

  Mia glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. Damien would have to forgive her. Once he found out about the baby…he would understand. She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Excellent. I’ll set it up. You’ll be in touch?”

  “Yes.”

  The phone went dead and part of Mia’s heart died with it. She’d just betrayed the only man who made her smile even when the whole world was falling down around them.

  The only man she’d ever loved.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at the screen.

  South entrance. 5 minutes.

  She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. He might be a hitman for a cartel, but deep down, Damien was a good man. A dependable man.

  He wouldn’t throw everything away because she went behind his back. She knew he hadn’t said it, but she saw the way he looked at her when he didn’t think she was watching. The way he stroked her bare skin early in the morning. The way he said her name when he came deep inside her.

  She touched her stomach and forced a swallow. The father of her baby needed her to protect him and she would do whatever it took. Even sending him to prison.

  Mia shoved the phone in her purse and unlocked the door. He might hate her for what she was going to do, but he would live to be a father.

  18

  DAMIEN

  No matter how hard he gripped the wheel, it wasn’t tight enough. Visions of the District Attorney—Mia’s father—covered in his own blood, filled his mind. The man got off too easy.

  He picked at a scratch on his knuckle. The plates he’d lifted from another car in the parking lot had been sharper than usual. He wiped the blood on his jeans. It would heal. Unlike his sister.

  He closed his eyes and tried to bring back Melanie’s face. All he could see was her dead body. He tried to think of a happy memory. A time when they weren’t hungry or scared or too fucked up to do much of anything.

  It wasn’t easy.

  Damien checked the time. Mia was late. The longer they hung around, the bigger the risk. He needed to get them somewhere quiet and safe. A place he could tell her about her father.