Shadowed: A Hitman Mafia Romance (Team Zero Book 4)

by Rina Kent

  “They’re not innocents if they attack first.” I lift a shoulder. Ghost’s twisted up moral codes don’t make any bloody sense.

  If anyone screws us, they’re dead. It’s as fucking simple as that.

  No second chances. No nothing.

  We never got ours so why should we distribute it like bloody candy?

  “Stay low, Shadow,” he warns.

  I smile wide. “I don’t do low, mate.”

  “Don’t cause trouble.” He sighs and Mist shakes her head.

  I place a hand on my heart and grin in mockery. “I promise to meet my troubles halfway.”

  “The saying is do not meet your troubles halfway.” He corrects. He always does that.

  I shrug. “Same thing, mate.”

  He releases a breath and continues drinking in silence with the old hag.

  Ghost isn’t only my mate; he’s my saviour. He pulled me from death’s clutches when older homeless men ganged up on me to steal my blanket. I was beaten before but never with that brutality. I thought I was dying. I should’ve given them the fucking blanket, but I was never the type to give up what was mine.

  Once I decide something belongs to me, the whole fucking world but that thing will be lit on fire.

  I owe Ghost a life. That’s why I agreed to run a mafia business with him even if the idea doesn’t appeal to me. However, I can’t let him save all of Team Zero. It’ll ruin everything I’ve been doing to protect my secret for years.

  While Ghost and Mist converse, I retrieve my phone and stare at the text message I received a week ago.

  I know what you did that summer. Wait. Was it winter?

  If someone knows, they need to be dead.

  Chapter Five

  I’ve never thought of myself as a hot-blooded person. It takes a lot to royally piss me off. My temper simmered under the surface. I definitely don’t go throwing punches like Elle to vent off negative energy.

  But oh, man.

  That Shadow – is that even a name? – pisses me the hell off. I stare at his back as he exits the club with his guard, and I’m itching. No, I’m boiling to kick him in the arse. Although that’s such a sexy arse to kick.

  I shake my head. Seriously, what the hell? This must be the first time in my life where I’m attracted to someone who causes my nostrils to flare.

  “You shouldn’t antagonise him,” a small voice says from my side. I barely hear it over the music.

  Natalie.

  She’s petite with the smoothest mocha skin I’ve ever seen. Her doe eyes appear black in the club’s dim light and her naturally-curled hair is gathered in a sophisticated bun. She already fixed her makeup; it doesn’t appear as if she was crying her eyes out not so long ago.

  “What do you mean?” I face her and lean closer because she speaks low.

  “Shadow is one of the owners here. He rules Le Salon with Mist.” Natalie waves a hand around. “All this is his.”

  My heart drops somewhere out of reach.

  I defied a leader in a place I need to infiltrate. I ruined this whole thing before even starting.

  Son of a gun.

  “But,” I blurt. “He’s a fighter, right?”

  “He only does that for pleasure.” She lifts a shoulder and motions at me to follow her.

  My movements are mechanical as I stumble from the stool.

  What will I do now? I don’t think he hates me, but I sure got his attention in a bad way. How do I mend that?

  I need to avoid him for now until I figure it out.

  Natalie and I go into a back storage. The music and chaos from outside dim as Natalie shows me the variety of alcohol stock. She goes on about the bar’s storage. What’s expected from waitresses; being dressed in evening gowns and serving drinks to whoever asks.

  I lean against one of the shelves where Natalie is listing the special alcohol brands. She seems to know a lot. I thought she was an escort.

  “So you’re a waitress?” I ask.

  “I am.” She crouches and gently closes an opened box. “I used to be an escort but I was demoted a few months ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” Though, I’m not sorry at all that she no longer offers her body to random men. It’s none of my business, but someone as delicate and as nice as Natalie doesn’t deserve that life. The girl doesn’t even raise her voice. No wonder Mist had to defend her earlier.

  “The pay is less as a waitress, but I get tips and it’s enough to take care of my nana.”

  My chest tugs. She’s doing this for her granny. I never had one. Mum’s family disowned her and Dad had distant cousins who didn’t even visit after my parents’ death. I always wanted a granny and was so jealous of other kids at school who talked about their cool grandmothers.

  I can understand why Natalie is in such a place. I’m doing this for my mum, too.

  I fiddle with some bottles, but when I see the price tags, thousands, dammit, I jerk my hand free. “Have they mentioned why they demoted you?”

  She shrugs. “I was told one day that my services as an escort aren’t needed anymore and that I’m to work as a waitress. I didn’t question it. Their word is law around here. Besides, I like being a waitress better.”

  I smile. Looks like I found a new friend here. Although I don’t like the whole ‘you’re demoted with no explanation’ thing. If I were there, I would’ve made her fight for answers.

  Injustice is a no-go in my book.

  I crouch beside her and help with arranging the boxes. “How long have you been working here?”

  “A year.” Her movements are slow but well measured. “Give or take.”

  That means she’s been here since the last owner of this organisation and must’ve witnessed what happened during that time — including the organisation deals and clashes with President Joe.

  A thousand questions fight to get out, but I clamp my lips shut.

  If I start asking questions out of the blue, Natalie will surely become suspicious. I need to be smart about this.

  “Le Salon doesn’t get trouble, right?” My voice is nonchalant. “I escaped some gang fights in my rubbish neighbourhood. I’d rather not find that here, too.”

  Natalie continues closing the opened boxes as she speaks. “We’re well protected. Don’t worry.”

  “The rival organisations don’t cause trouble?” I push, but keep the same careless tone.

  She frowns but keeps at her task. “Who do you mean?”

  President Joe. I want to scream, but I continue playing dumb. “All of them. What do I know about them, anyway?”

  She nods thoughtfully. “A new factory means trouble. It’s a given.”

  The new factory! So the rumours Liam got are right.

  If there’s one thing certain about President Joe it’s that he’s greedy. He’ll attempt to stick his finger in the pot. The reason for his success is buying shares in any remotely profitable business.

  A drug factory is a pot of gold for these scums and an opportunity President Joe would never miss.

  I’ll let him have it. No. I’ll make him have it, then I’ll pull it from underneath his feet.

  I help Natalie with lifting one box into the shelf and ask. “Does Mist run the factory, too?”

  She pauses and stares at me with panic-filled eyes, then quickly lowers her head. “I don’t know.”

  Son of a gun. I went too far.

  I place my arm around her shoulder and whisper in mock fear. “It’s better that we don’t know these things.”

  Her lips lift in a small smile, apparently satisfied with my reply. “Yes. A traitor was executed in cold blood the other day.”

  I gulp, and my fingers twirl a strand of my hair. I drop my hand. Stupid nasty habit.

  Natalie’s eyes keep shifting back and forth, her pupils dilating. She must know something, but I need to tread carefully. Being pushy or obvious won’t only get me killed, but it can also hurt her. I don’t want anyone, let alone Natalie, to get hurt for me.

  May
be, in the future, when she trusts me more, she’ll tell me everything herself. My best strategy is to build a good connection with the girls. They usually have the best gossip.

  After the storage room, Natalie takes me on a long tour around Le Salon. We go from the general public club area with its deafening music and rubbish play on colours, to a less chaotic, more serene lounge area like a parlour of sorts.

  Escorts in designer gowns sit with older men on sofas and smiling.

  Natalie pays them no attention and keeps explaining the principles and so on and so forth. Then she takes me up the stairs and motions at the second floor where I witnessed Mist save her earlier.

  “This floor is for administration,” Natalie says. “Mist’s office and room are at the end of the hall.”

  I clear my throat. “Shadow’s, too?”

  She shakes her head. “Shadow doesn’t stay here. He and a few of the other men live in an adjacent house on the outskirts of the main building.”

  Interesting. I wonder why.

  “That guard, too, I assume?” I would rather not face him because the next time he pulls me with force, I’ll kick him in the balls again.

  It causes me a strange surge of panic. I only know that I had it since that night my parents died.

  Natalie purses her lips. Annoyed? “His name is Lachlan.”

  “Right. Lachlan.” We ascend the stairs leading to the third floor. “He’s as brute as his master.”

  “Lachlan is only brute with those who deserve it,” she says firmly.

  Hell. If I weren’t imagining it, she’s defending the bloke.

  She must’ve seen some recognition in my eyes since she cuts me off before I can open my mouth. “It’s not what you think.”

  I smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

  With an exasperated breath, she stops in front of the last door. “You’ll stay here. Your roommate is Scarlett. She’s a bit...” She pauses as if trying to choose her words then she murmurs, “Eccentric, so be careful.”

  Brilliant. That’s exactly what I needed.

  “Thanks, Natalie.” I squeeze her arm.

  She smiles with genuine care like what I’d imagine a mother’s smile would look like. “There’s one philosophy that worked like magic for me: stay away from trouble and trouble will stay away from you.”

  Natalie pats my hand and leaves, her steps are measured and serene. I can’t help feeling the injustice about a woman like her being in this place. She deserves much better.

  I start to open the room’s door when I hear some male voices from the stairs. They’re not coming up. Just talking. I fidget in place and twirl a strand of my hair.

  It’s risky to eavesdrop especially since I just came, but I can’t miss any chance I get. Besides, if I’m caught, I’ll pretend that I’m lost. Since I’m still new, I’d get a free pass.

  I tiptoe to the top of the stairs and hide behind the corner. From the little overview I get, two men, guards, judging from their black suits and buff physique, are standing in the landing and smoking. Nicotine fills the air and my nostrils.

  One of them, bald and black says, “Methinks they’ll give us extra pay for guarding the new factory.”

  I lean closer, my entire body on full attention.

  The second, taller and leaner and with striking white-blond hair says in a Russian accent, “Shut up. It’s part of our duties.”

  The first one takes a drag and blows up a cloud of smoke, and says. “I mean yeah, but if President Joe and his band of thieves want to steal or ruin the business, we’ve gotta strengthen security. Extra hours. Extra pay. Just sayin’.”

  I knew President Joe will have his eyes set on the factory already.

  “Ghost and Shadow wouldn’t want to give him a share,” the Russian bloke says.

  Why the hell not? I thought it was a done deal since rival organisations always allowed the other a small share as a peace treaty of sorts. If they don’t intend to give President Joe anything, then my mission is at stake.

  “I say they will agree.” The black bloke shrugs. “Ghost doesn’t want a war.”

  “Shadow might.” The Russian.

  My fists clench. That bloody arrogant bastard. I knew I hated him. He’s out to ruin what I came here for. President Joe needs a share. And to do that, Shadow needs to be stopped.

  At any price.

  “But,” The black bloke starts and when I lean forward, the Russian’s head snaps my way. I rear back with a jerk.

  My heart nearly leaps out of my chest and drop to the stairs.

  Son of a bloody gun!

  He didn’t see me, right? I don’t want to find out. I start running. When I round the corner, my head collides against a hard chest.

  I come to a screeching halt and almost fall on my arse. A strong arm surrounds my waist and keeps me upright with ease. I lift my head, and heat rises to my cheeks. I’m momentarily transfixed by those overcast grey eyes.

  Shadow stares down at me with a gleam and a smirk. “We keep running into each other.”

  Footsteps come from the stairs, and my heart thunders. That Russian bloke will tell Shadow I’ve been eavesdropping and everything will freaking end.

  My mind goes on overdrive and no matter how much I think about it, no clear solution comes. The footsteps are getting near. They will reach me in no time.

  So I do the one thing that could gain me time. A mistake. A madness.

  I stand on my tiptoes and seal my lips to Shadow’s.

  Chapter Six

  My lips press against his firm ones. For a second, I almost forget about the footsteps heading our way and get lost in the moment.

  He tastes of smoke and… scotch. Strong, head-turning scotch. I never thought scotch would taste in such an erotic way.

  I’m acutely aware of how soft and small I am compared to his hard muscles and broad shoulders. My breasts brush against his strong chest, and heat smothers my arms and crawls down my back.

  Shadow isn’t kissing me back.

  His grip on my waist tightens, and his body becomes rigid, but I’m the only one who does the kissing – or more like pressing my lips to his pathetically.

  Humiliation digs at my chest and tastes like dust at the back of my throat.

  Thankfully, that snaps me back to reality. Still sealing my mouth to his, with less tenderness, I grab a fistful of Shadow’s T-shirt and shove him backwards towards a room.

  As soon as we’re inside, I break away from him and swing back. I blend against the wall and stare from the small crack. The Russian guard stands where I ran into Shadow a few seconds ago, his hard eyes searching around. His hand reaches underneath his jacket and clasps around something metal. A gun.

  I shiver and my fingers turn sweaty. We had practical training in the forces, and I know how to handle a gun, but to be on the receiving end is always bloody scary.

  The black guard shows up next. He mumbles something I can’t hear. It convinces the Russian since he says something back and then they both disappear from sight.

  A breath rips from deep within me.

  That was freaking close!

  Heat radiates down my back as a dark, sinister voice murmurs in my ear, “What are you doing?”

  I jerk and whirl around. The door clicks closed with the motion. Shadow is leaning forward with one hand in his trousers’ pocket while the other is inert by his side. It’s a bit dark in here, and I have no idea what room we landed in, but I can make out the gloomy energy surrounding his handsome features.

  The tiger tattoos are vibrant against the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. The strong veins in his forearms flex with tension or pent-up energy, I’m not sure.

  His hand, the one not confined in his trousers, clenches and unclenches as if he’s stopping himself from something. What, I don’t know.

  And I don’t want to find out.

  I conjure what I hope will be a convincing laughter. “Nothing. Just a ruse. Forget about it.”

  He leans closer, in
vading my space with his overbearing height and sinister, heart-wrenching look. He’s so much like the storm in his eyes – all mixed with a hurricane. It must be so easy for him to drag people in his orbit only so he can destroy them and spit them out.

  Up close, he smells of something strong, musky, and that head-turning scotch. Seriously, since when did Scotch smell so hot?

  His lips curve in a cruel smirk. “Do I look like the type of man who forgets, beautiful?”

  Of course not.

  What the hell was I even thinking? I could’ve pushed him without kissing him, now, couldn’t I? Only I wasn’t sure I’d take him off guard then, and I needed the element of surprise.

  He edges even closer, and this time, I step back. My shoulders hit the door, and my back is glued to the wood. Shadow slams his palm near my head. I flinch and regret comparing him to a storm because he does turn into one. His smirk vanishes. His eyes darken to frightening smoke that’s about to erupt and suffocate anyone in their orbit.

  His voice comes out chilling and monotone. “How do you intend to repay the psychological damage, Zoe?”

  “Psychological damage? Aren’t you being a bit too dramatic?” I laugh again, but it’s forced and awkward. Probably because he’s too close, and even his infuriating smirk is gone. I preferred that to this smothering darkness.

  My heart pounds, and I want nothing more than to run away from here.

  From him.

  “It was just a kiss,” I murmur. My fingers twirl a strand of my hair.

  I’m annoyed and ashamed about how everything went. I’ve never initiated a kiss before, and the moment I do, it isn’t even reciprocated.

  “Tell me, beautiful. If the roles were reversed and I kissed you out of nowhere, what would you do?”

  “I’ll slap you.”

  “Hmmm.” His wolfish smirk reappears. “So it’s not just a kiss.”

  I purse my lips. “Fine. What do you want? Slap me? Go ahead. I don’t care.”

  He raises his hand.

  My eyes widen. He’ll actually slap me?

  I clamp my lids and my lips shut. Better pay for my mistake and get it over with.