Tears poured from my eyes, “Dammit, Adrian, I’m not wearing waterproof makeup!” I said.
“Um, Danisha?” Adrian said. I realized he was still waiting for an answer.
“Augh! Yes! Of course, yes!” I cried.
Adrian swiftly placed the ring on my finger and stood, sweeping me off of my feet and kissing me. I didn’t know which made me dizzier: Adrian’s kiss or the cameras. Grinning dazedly, I picked up the scissors I had dropped at some point in the commotion and snipped the ribbon with one sharp click of the blades.
Adrian grabbed me by the wrist and we ran down the red carpet, jumping right back into the limousine. We giggled together as he opened a bottle of champagne.
“To the future Mrs. Danisha Ardic and her stunning business ventures!” he announced raising his glass. As we drank, I casually reached over to press the button that shut the partition.
“Come over here and we can discuss dates, Mr. Ardic,” I said slyly, patting the seat next to me.
Adrian slid over, pulling me into his lap. “I was thinking the day of your graduation from MIT—how does that sound?” he asked as he nibbled my earlobe.
“If you keep doing that, we can get married tomorrow,” I replied grinning.
“Anything you want, my bride…” Adrian said teasingly, but I knew he would if I really wanted to.
Adrian and I were together now, and we would live happily ever after.
My Hitman’s Secret Baby
The Complete Collection
Books 1-3
Bella Rayne
www.meadowrayne.com
My Hitman’s Secret Baby Book 1
Bella Rayne
Chapter 1
Cierra
It's 3 AM and I'm walking home alone.
I realize this is never a good idea for a single female, especially on the streets of Miami, but my apartment is only a couple blocks from my job. And since I don't have a vehicle, I make do. I am a waitress at one of the fancier nightclubs here in Miami Beach. The night shift is the worst, but the pay is pretty good. Since I need the money, I have to do what it takes. Walking home can be a little scary at times. You never know who's had too much to drink or who has seen you from inside a nightclub and will try to follow you home. I had a couple of jerks who have tried to do that in the past, and it's pretty terrifying.
Usually I try to take a cab, but I found that the distance is short enough for me to walk it. Overall, I'm not really a fan of the nightclub life. I know that many people enjoy it and they wait all week to go out, but my job is to be there when they come in. I serve them drinks so they can get drunk and sloppy. I really prefer living a healthy lifestyle and staying away from drinking and drugs, or anything that's going to shorten my life. Considering I grew up with an alcoholic mother, I could say that I learned her lessons without having to repeat them.
The city of Miami is beautiful. No doubt it has its great points, but a person definitely has to have some money in order to live in the worthwhile parts. This luxurious town isn't just for celebrities and those wealthy real estate moguls. It is also for the drug dealers, of which we have a very big problem here. There is a huge drug running operation that’s run by major criminal organizations. I have heard things in the club, and I've seen my share of money and drugs exchanging hands. I try to avoid seeing it or hearing about it. I don't need to get caught up in any of that. I just need to make my money. Clock in, clock out and go home. One day I'm going have enough money to leave this city for good. As of right now I am stuck. I was born here to parents who unfortunately made plenty of poor choices, enough to last us decades.
My dad left when I was young and ended up in prison. My mom stuck around, but she wasn't really emotionally available. She used drinking to deal with her problems and I pretty much had to take care of her until she got sick and died two years ago. I barely graduated high school and there wasn’t any thought or consideration of going to college. Waitressing was the only thing that I was eligible for since I had a pretty good figure and a nice face. They wanted model types working in their clubs down here on the strip, and I apparently fit their image of what that would be.
I was a tall, thin girl with long black hair and dark skin, thanks to my African-American background. Anyway, as long as I keep my head down and do my job, it’s tolerable. Still, I can't wait for the day to leave it all behind for something better.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts when I heard voices around the corner in the alley. It sounded like a couple of men arguing. Part of me didn't want look to find out, and the other part of me wasn't sure what was going on. As their voices rose I peeked my head around the corner, just in time to see a man get shot. There were two men standing there, one man was clearly holding a gun, while the other man was standing on the other side of the vehicle. They shot him three times.
I couldn't help it. I screamed. They turned around and looked at me and then the shooter pointed his gun at me. It was terrifying. I wasn't sure what to do so I took off running, dropping my purse along the way. I was so scared that I couldn't stop. It was terrifying, thinking that they were coming after me, and that they would possibly shoot me like they did that poor guy. There was nothing I could do to save him, but I could save myself.
I ran down the sidewalk along the Miami strip turning my head around to see them chasing me on foot. I wasn't sure where to go, so I ran as hard as I could until I lost them by crossing the street and hiding under one of the piers on the beach.
From that vantage point, I peeked across the street watching them. They had stopped running and were looking around for me. I tried to quiet my breathing even though I knew they couldn't hear me. I was terrified that somehow they could hear me and would find me. The shooter turned around and retraced his steps, picking up my purse. I watched as he rummaged through it. Fear shot through me. My wallet with my driver’s license was in my purse. Now they know who I am. I'm so screwed.
Giovanni
I walked into The Swank. It was one of Miami Beach’s prominent clubs, run by the best criminal organization Miami has to offer. The guy in the front knew who I was because I worked for his boss, Antonio Geremia. He was the biggest crime boss in the south Florida region. I walk past the girls in the tight skimpy uniforms working as waitresses, and headed past the dance floor where bodies were tightly packed and dancing to rhythmic music. I made my way to the back office where there was a security detail standing in front of the office door.
I always knew when my boss was in because he always had guys guarding him. The prick was able to take care of himself, but he had plenty of money to hire people to do it for him. This guy must have been new because I hadn't seen him before. To be honest, I was wondering why he hired him. He couldn't have stood more than 5'10" and was a scraggly little thing. Maybe he had a big gun to make up for the small penis he was compensating for. I started to walk through the door when he blocked my path.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he asked pressing his finger to my chest.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked him. "Are you new?"
"Yeah. What's it to you?"
"Well I'm not, so you need to move," I threatened.
"Sorry buddy, nobody gets in," he said.
"Giovanni, get in here," Antonio called me from inside the office.
I gave the guy a dirty look as he stepped aside and let me through. I'm sure that to pretty much everyone else, manners are the en vogue thing, but between us associates, insulting each other was just as good as a greeting.
I walked into Antonio's office. Apparently he spent big money hiring a decorator to jazz up this place, only to have it look like Donald Trump's penthouse suite. Tacky gold scrollwork everywhere with gaudy Greek columns and enough ugly, oversized furniture that didn't fit the room. It was his money so he could do what he wanted to with it. I would never tell him this to his face because he has a happy trigger finger when he is trying to get other people to do his work for him.
&nbs
p; I practiced keeping my mouth shut, collecting my money and staying as far away from this place as I could. I dropped off proof of my latest hit on his desk.
“Here you go, boss,” I said.
“How did it go down? You know I like to hear the story of how they left this world,” he said.
“He didn't go down complaining, I can tell you that,” I said.
It's not that I enjoyed killing or being a hitman, it's that it was good work, it was steady work, and there were plenty of people to kill on his list and I was his number one choice to get it done.
Antonio dropped ten grand in bundled cash on the desk.
“Here you go. That's for you.”
I picked it up and flipped through it.
“You want to count it? You don't believe me?”
“No boss, I believe you. It's good.” I let the green paper run through my fingers.
“Here take this,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked.
He handed me a driver's license picture. “This is your next target.”
I looked at it closely and saw it was a Florida driver’s license with a picture of a woman with dark skin and delicate features. She was beautiful.
“What's this? Why her?” I asked.
“What? I'm supposed to sit down and give you the back story? I'm giving you a job. Go to it,” he said.
I didn't answer him. Instead I put the driver's license picture in my pocket.
“You get your money when I get proof of death, same as always.”
“Got it boss.” I left through the same doors I walked in from and gave the guard another dirty look.
How I became a hitman is too long of a story. The shorter version is easier to understand, but basically I've been on the streets since I was young. I never knew my real parents and I never care to. If they didn’t give a shit about me, why should I care about them? I was shuffled around in foster homes for most of my life. I picked up most of my talents from being in a gang when I was a kid. Somewhere along the line I must have smartened up a little bit because I knew one day I would end up getting shot or killed by some random drive-by. I like to be in charge of those who want to kill me and those I whack.
In short, my childhood sucked. There was no opportunity for anything when you're in the slums of Miami. This job pays the rent and I don't mind the messy work. My only concern right now was the next mark and how I was going to get them. Before every job, I liked to scope out the victim or ‘mark’ as I like to call them. It's a lot less personal and more businesslike. I like to keep my mind on business. I usually follow them for a couple of days to figure out their routine and then put that together with the plan of how I can hit them without it being traced back to the Geremia family. They don't like it when there's messy work to be cleaned up. I've heard of hitmen being whacked by the very same boss they worked for and the Geremias do it better than any of them. I keep my work clean and make sure it doesn't get traced back to them. In order to do that, it requires a ton of planning and insight. Fortunately, I know how to do that and I know my way around the streets of Miami, so finding a way to make it look like an accident or be untraceable was my specialty.
Once I find the mark’s routine and get it down, I usually come out of nowhere. Most of the time that's the easiest way to do it. They don't see it coming. Literally. If something doesn't go to plan, I have a cleaner that I call to come in and take care of it. Usually I never need them. Like I said, I'm really good at my job. I’m not exactly an investment banker or millionaire. But what can you do? It's a street education and I paid attention.
This girl shouldn't be too hard to find, though. The driver’s license says it all. I have a buddy who is a private investigator who lets me use his software. Most of the time I don't need it, but does make it easier and faster. Anything to get my money sooner. It doesn't really bother me that she's a female. I will take out anybody for the right price. Usually it's lowlifes and thugs that deserve to be whacked anyway.
I was curious to know what she did. From her picture, she seemed very fragile and innocent looking. I knew better, though. Looks were always deceiving. People were never what they seem to be. She probably was in debt to him for some money, or stole money from him. I didn't know, nor was it any of my business. My only job was to clean up the mess and hide the bodies.
Chapter 2
Cierra
The harder I tried to run, the slower I moved. I could see them gaining on me. It seemed they were running at top speed while my muscles felt like heavy lead weights. One of the men reached out his hand, extending it to land on my shoulder. I tried to move away from him but an overwhelming force prevented me from moving. He grabbed me and turned me around as his partner caught up to us.
As if from a distance I watched him punch me. He cocked his fist back and then launched it into my gut using his body weight to reinforce the power of his punch. The strange thing about it was that I didn’t feel any pain. I watched the entire assault happen in slow motion. I looked down at my stomach and saw his fist make contact. I looked up and saw the strained expression on his face. I watched his partner attempt to come around behind me and pull at my hair.
I’m not sure how or where I learned the skills, but I managed to absorb the first guy’s punch while side-stepping the second guy’s attack. I punched the first guy in the face as I moved to his side and kicked the second guy right in the groin. They both reacted to the pain equally, stumbling back on their feet. I turned around and broke the first man’s neck. As he lay on the ground dead in front of me, the other man limped away.
I felt a sense of power that I don’t remember feeling before. Suddenly, there wasn’t anything that I found intimidating or scary about the world. I had the strength and courage to face whatever troubles headed my way. It was an amazing feeling. For the first time in my adult life, I felt safe.
The alarm clock buzzed violently in my ear waking me with a shock. I gasped and sat up straight in bed. The feeling of security swiftly drifted away from me as I looked around and realized that I was home in my bed. The previous memory was only just a dream. I mourned for a moment the lost feeling of happiness in feeling safe and the fact that I could make myself safe. It was something I had always wanted to feel but could never master.
My mind recalled the recent events that left me a nervous wreck. Was I ever going to feel safe again? How could I? Would I end up like that guy who had his head blown off?
I wiped the beads of sweat that gathered on my forehead and noticed that I had sweated through my sheets. There was no way I would be able to go back to sleep now. I removed the sheets from my bed and threw them in the washing machine. I wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door before closing it, dissatisfied with what I found. I wasn’t hungry, but looking for something in there that would never satiate me.
****
My nerves were on high alert the entire shift at work. My body was shaking and I could not concentrate. I developed a headache and I felt like I was going to pass out. Never in my life had I experienced something so dramatic and as terrifying as I had the other night. I couldn’t believe this actually happened to me. I have just never had any kind of problem like that. Yeah, I’ve dealt with family dysfunction, but never flat-out crime like this. I have never felt threatened for my life. I tried to keep my mind focused on what I was doing, but I kept screwing up drink orders left and right.
I guess not being able to sleep for two nights in a row would probably do that to you, but I was exhausted. Despite the blaring music and people talking all around me, I could barely keep my eyes open. I decided that I didn't want to walk home alone again. Those guys knew exactly where to find me and I'm sure they would come back. I wasn't sure what I was going to do about that.
I didn't have the money to move. I guess I should take a cab tonight, even though it's a short distance to walk. I think I would probably be safer, I just hated spending the money. I tried to get my hours changed at the club to work
the day shift, but there was really no money to be made for the lunch rush. There weren’t as many customers during the day. The night shift was where the money was made. On top of all this, I couldn't get the image of that poor guy out of my head. I watched the first bullet enter his chest, his head jerking back as he fell to the ground. The man on the other side of the car was laughing. He was actually laughing. Apparently he found the whole thing funny. I knew there were cruel people in this world, I just never witnessed that much cruelty in person. It was a terrible thing to witness and I hope I spent the rest of my life never having to witness it again.
I had to figure out what I should do. If they thought that I was any kind of risk, I’m sure they would have no problem coming back for me.
I knew about Miami's crime reputation, having lived here my whole life. Now with this new reality in my face, the thought of all of it chilled me to the bone. I canceled all my credit cards, knowing that these guys were probably thieves and weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of the situation. The only other thing I had to do was get a new driver's license, but I was just too shaken up to go to the DMV right now. In fact, I was too paralyzed to leave my house except for work.
***
Giovanni
I waited outside of the apartment on the other side of the street in an old beat up Toyota. It was a pretty regular car which was exactly why I liked it. I obviously didn't want to be spotted in anything that I could be easily identified in, so I always chose my vehicles based on their ability to blend in.
I was actually lucky enough to find a parking space that gave me a good vantage point to her apartment. Usually parking along the Miami strip next to the beach was hard to come by, but at this late hour, almost nobody was around. Most of this job consisted of waiting for people to show themselves so that I could follow them. I continue to follow them right up to the moment I make my move. A very small percentage of my job was execution - literally.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 91
