Sinful Torment: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Tia Lewis

  "And now you're going to die."

  I closed my eyes and waited for oblivion, or whatever it was that happened to us when we died. I didn't want to die, no sane person ever would, but I wasn't going to be the groveling, pessimist that he created who begged him for scraps and attention anymore. If I were going to die, I'd make sure it was with my head held high.

  But then a familiar sound suddenly pierced through the rain. Louder than the thunder and lightning, louder than the sound of the fire alarm. Louder than the heart beats in my ear. A familiar voice tinged with his own rage. A sound I didn't think was capable from someone like him.

  It was Ethan.

  I opened my eyes as the barrel of the gun was held over my head. Nick's expression changed as he looked aside, to the direction I assumed Ethan to be in.

  Like a blur, I watched as Ethan quickly tackled Nick, diving forward as he crashed into Nick's chest with a loud gasp of surprise, sending both sprawling to the mud as they fought, and wrestled. Both men yelling obscenities to other as they tried to fight for control of the gun itself. Nick brought the gun up to point at Ethan's face.

  Ethan now kneeling over Nick, not wanting to fail, his hands both on Nick's hand with the gun as they rolled all along the murky ground.

  The trigger was pulled, and a shot veered off to the sky. I quickly turned and wrapped my arms around my head to protect myself. I struggled to stand up as I tried to regain my own footing. My eyes were wide with horror that Nick would kill Ethan.

  I was in shock, and I couldn't speak. The most I could do was watch. I saw Nick gain the upper hand as he pushed Ethan onto his back, trying to kneel down the same way that he did with me not too long ago. My mind raced, trying to make a decision of what to do. I never got to make that decision as Ethan managed to wedge the gun upwards as he yelled out for Nick to get off of him, and then the gun went off once more.

  I feared that it struck Ethan.

  Instead, a trail of blood poured out into a red mist behind Nick's head, and he fell back. All life leaving his eyes. No final words. No final comments. A hole in his forehead, and all of his essence trailing out of the back of his head as he fell backward and crumpled onto the ground. Dead.

  I finally yelled for Ethan, and he turned toward me breathing heavily. His face was bruised and battered. His shirt torn, his body disjointed from the fighting. Gradually, he rose to his feet in tune with mine, and I hopped to him careful not to stand on my twisted ankle and wrapped my arms around him. I tightly held him close to me, feeling his heartbeat pounding viciously against his chest.

  "I thought he killed you!" I shouted, the rain picking up speed and power above as it washed down on the scene below, suppressing the smell of blood.

  "Shhh... Shhh.." Ethan spoke, comforting me as he kept his embrace firmly placed against my body. "We're all alright. Don't worry. Lisa's safe. Brody got shot in the foot but he's alright. One of the criminals is unconscious; the other two fled but we're all alright, and that's all that matters."

  I nodded my head, and the tears started to flow. I feared I had lost Ethan due to my regrets and poor choices. Not wanting the best decision I made in a long time to be affected by my mistakes.

  “Jessica?"

  “Yes, Ethan?"

  “I should have told you sooner, but I love you."

  I looked up at him, and he planted a wet kiss on my lips.

  “I love you, too."

  The flashing blue and red of the lights bounced back behind us as we continued to hold each other. For the first time in a long time that I can remember, I felt free. Despite the confusion and shock that I felt and no doubt would always feel about this day. But for now, all I could do was hold Ethan in relief, and let the future come to me one moment at a time.

  Thank You

  We want to take the time to thank you for reading Sinful Torment! We also want to thank our author friends, cover designer, editor, book bloggers, ARC street team, beta readers etc. Without all of you, this wouldn't be possible. We’re truly grateful for your support and we have so many more stories to share with all of you! Make sure you sign up for our newsletters to stay posted with our latest news!

  Thank you again,

  Tia & Penelope

  About Tia Lewis

  Tia Lewis is an author of erotic and dark erotic romance. She enjoys writing about strong, possessive, dominant heroes and sassy, smart heroines. Her characters range from hot, dominant bikers, billionaires, to powerful gangsters, and all kinds of bad boys in between. You can find her cooking, reading, or traveling when she’s not busy working on her next release.

  www.AuthorTiaLewis.com

  Stay connected!

  @authortialewis

  authortialewis

  www.nextbookrelease.com

  info@authortialewis.com

  About Penelope Marshall

  Penelope Marshall was born in the Philippines, and raised in Southern California.

  She picked up writing in early 2016 and instantly fell in love with the craft. Her writing runs the romance gamut from sweet romantic comedies, to tough alpha male military suspense thrillers, with a little young adult, and paranormal thrown into the mix.

  A good plot twist is what drives Penelope’s writing, striving for that jaw dropping moment at the end of each book.

  DON’T MISS UPDATES ON NEW RELEASES AND BOOK DEALS, SIGN UP FOR PENELOPE’S NEWSLETTER: http://eepurl.com/cjdRuP

  Stay Connected!

  @AuthorPMarshall

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  Also by Tia Lewis

  Sports Romance:

  Draw Play: A Sports Romance

  Stadium of Lights: A Second Chance Romance

  Motorcycle Romance Series:

  The Blood Riders MC Series:

  Threat: A Blood Riders MC (Book 1)

  Reveal: A Blood Riders MC (Book 2)

  Creed: A Blood Riders MC (Book 3)

  Bad Boy Hitman/Mafia Romance Duology Series:

  The Hitman’s Possession: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 1)

  The Hitman’s Property: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)

  Alpha Billionaire:

  Dirty Hacker: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Author Collaborations:

  Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Misled: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Also by Penelope Marshall

  Wrath: A Bad Boy Mafia Romantic Suspense

  Indecency: A Bad Boy Mafia Romantic Suspense

  Betrayed: A Bad Boy Military Romantic Suspense

  Absolution: (Mr. Black Series)

  Unleashed: (Mr Black Series Book 1)

  Rosaline: A Vampire Romance

  The Want Ad: A Sweet Romance

  Teach Me: A Bad Boy Professor Romance

  Misled: A Bad Boy Mafia Romantic Suspense

  The Hitman’s Possession

  About This Book

  I'm a hard, ruthless, and brutal killer… but I'm not letting her go.

  I'm the most feared man in South Boston. I've earned that title and the nickname “The Animal.” Women may think it’s because I'm wild in bed, and one night with me and they’d f*cking know it.

  But there’s a darker reason for my reputation... I think nothing about ending a life. Feelings are a luxury I can’t afford.

  Until her.

  I hear Tess cry for help and I give into the urge to help her. One look at her and I knew I had to risk it all to rescue her. I'm no knight in shining armor; I'm saving her so I can keep the sexy spitfire for myself.

  But the mob wants her back. She wasn’t meant to live through that night.

  No f*cking way I'm going to let that happen. Tess ignites a fire within me like nothing I've ever known. Her legs are meant to be wrapped around me, and only me. I'll take on the whole Russian mob ―hell, the whole world―to keep the one woman who’s meant to belong to me.

  I'll kill every bast
ard that tries to take her away. She can try to run, but she’s not getting away from this hitman. She's my possession now.

  WARNING:

  The Hitman’s Possession is a full-length dark romance novel that's intended for mature audiences only. This novel address issues of a serious nature, including violence surrounding the nature of consent that may be a trigger for sensitive readers; contains disturbing situations, graphic language, violence and explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Cliffhanger warning.

  Author’s Note:

  If you don't like your heroes dark & brooding, and your sex rough & dirty, look away now.

  This book gets worse before it gets better.

  This book is followed by The Hitman’s Property which is the continuation and finale of this dark hitman/mafia romance duology series.

  Chapter One

  If it had been a man screaming, I would’ve just ignored it.

  You heard men screaming every time of the day in South Boston: some idiot who let a loan run on too long; some idiot talking shit about the wrong man’s girl; some idiot this, some idiot that. It was all the same to me. I’d grown up with the screams of men around me. One more cry of distress? This wasn’t even worth my attention. I would’ve kept strolling down the dark street, back to my apartment, and catch some sleep before the big job tomorrow, but, damn it, it wasn’t a man I heard. It was a woman.

  Now, what asshole was beating on a woman at this time of night? My first thought was some whore getting roughed up which was a common occurrence around these streets. So, why should I care? Yet, for whatever reason, something told me to stop and see what the commotion was about. So, I kept walking.

  The screaming continued.

  Against my better judgment, I decided to turn around and head back to the source of the disturbance. In hindsight, I should have known that doing so would bring me more heat than I ever bargained for.

  My expression was blank as I turned toward the woman’s screams and followed them down a dark alley. The alley was grimy, and the smell of week-old garbage lingered in the air. The walls were covered in gum and ash marks, and God knows what else. The further I walked, the dirtier the alley got. I had been in places which smelled and looked much worse. I wasn’t about to start panicking now.

  A cool breeze swept through the night, and I breathed in the smell of chaos. Ahh! I exhaled. Just another night in the streets of Boston.

  I was wearing a black leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans, boots and of course my prize possessions—two Heckler & Koch P30L pistols. In the past, I’d worn the same thing while killing. Heckler & Koch could never disappoint. The cold, hard nature of the guns on my waist assured me that tonight's results would be no different.

  The woman’s screams grew louder with each step I took. I wasn’t angry. My job kept me desensitized to anger. I wasn’t scared, either. Perhaps a little excited. Maybe my hairs stood up a half a centimeter as my body prepared itself for whatever was coming next.

  I yawned out of boredom.

  I knew I should’ve been taking this a little more seriously, but, fuck it.

  I was tired.

  “Help me! Please!”

  I double backed, rounded the next corner, and that was when I saw the altercation. Three men and one woman with a sparkling earring and long, flowing blonde hair. The men were holding the girl underneath a flickering street light, and by the look of it, these men were Russians. They had that Slavic look about them. They stood beside two trash cans which had spilled over onto the ground and spewed their waste.

  “Help! Help me!”

  She was desperate. Panicked.

  The men grinned at me as I approached. Russian mobsters always had that cocky confidence, like nobody could touch them. They thought I was going to back down and walk away because they were packing heat and were covered in tattoos. Instead, I just watched them, waiting to unleash the animal inside of me. I was a professional, and this confrontation didn't mean shit to me so I remained calm like the quiet before the storm.

  All three men were wearing black business suits. A tall and husky man stood at the front, looking me up and down, while the two shorter men were behind him. The husky man had a large tattoo of a snake climbing up his neck, and on his left hand, he wore two thick brass rings.

  A short man with a shock of white hair like he’d been electrocuted, was holding the distressed woman in a tight bear hug, trying to cover her mouth with his hand and attempting to drag her down the alley. He looked like Doc from Back to the Future, his eyes wide open and crazed while his hair stood up all over the place.

  “Let me go!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Shut your mouth you bloody whore!” The man shouted back.

  Just then, the woman elbowed the man in his mouth, and he grabbed a fistful of her long hair. He yanked her back and slammed her against the brick wall. She was now pinned against the wall squirming to break free. He used his forearm to pin her face to the wall while his other hand reached underneath her dress, and started groping her body. He struggled to unbuckle his pants, and I decided then and there that if it came down to it, I’d smash his skull first.

  The third man was also short and had a bald head covered with tattoos. He now stood next to the husky man and both of them were licking their lips, grinning and nodding their heads in approval at the other man.

  “Let go of the girl,” I said. My voice was low, still calm and reasonable, but ready to do my job. I knew that if my younger brother Kevin were still alive, he would’ve tapped the side of my head and said, “Brother, you can’t go around fixing everybody’s problem with your guns. Sometimes, you have to use your head.” My brother may have been right, but he was dead, and three Russian men were about to do something terrible to this woman. I wasn’t in the business of saving whores, but I guess I could use a little excitement tonight before hitting the sheets.

  “You hear this young lad, aye? He said, let the whore go!” The roars of laughter from the Russians echoes throughout the alley. The sound of their merriment amused me. They thought that I was joking, but I wasn’t fucking around.

  I will be the one who has the last laugh.

  “Please help me! They’re trying to take me back to him!” The woman was hysterical, desperately holding back tears. Her eyes implored me to intervene.

  The man holding the woman finally let go and joined the other two Russians. I stared at the trio as they walked towards me and I could feel my jaw clench and my temple pulsing. I could see the woman had nowhere to run; otherwise, she would have escaped off already. Instead, she crouched down behind a nearby trash can with her hands covering her head.

  “Young lad,” The husky one said. “You my friend need to walk away before we…”

  Before he could finish, I ran and lunged at him. A jolt shot up my arm when I punched the man in the side of the head. I heard and felt the bone in his jaw crunch, and the man fell back on the murky ground. I had moved like a lion leaping from beneath the cover of darkness. My expression was stone. The last thing you wanted to do was threaten someone like me.

  I backhanded one of the men across the mouth, sending him spinning. I turned and tackled the other man—the one who groped the woman— into the nearby wall. My arms flew, landing wild punches on his face until he slid down the wall.

  I heard feet crunching on broken glass. I spun, and my hand caught and crushed the fist of the husky man before it could connect with my head. My hand was smaller than the Russian’s, but my grip contracted on contact, made strong by years of fighting. The bones in the Russian’s tattooed hand cracked under the strain. He let out a whimper, and I kicked him in the balls, then kneed him in the nose when he bent over. Blood sprayed. I backed away from all three men, putting myself between them and the distraught woman.

  “Fucking pussies,” I spat, annoyed.

  Just then, the husky man reached inside his suit jacket, but I was faster. I pulled out two pistols from the inside my leathe
r jacket, leveling one at him and the other at one of the shorter men.

  “Try me,” I dared them to challenge me.

  “You’re a man with a death wish, yes?” The husky man lets out a wicked grin, slowly removing his hand from beneath his jacket. “Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

  “Don’t let them hurt me!” The woman cried.

  “Do you know who we work for?”

  “Nobody cares,” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t raise my voice. Only weak men needed to raise their voices. I’d already made my point. I held the pistols steady, and my fingers stroked the triggers like they were old friends. “Get out of here.”

  “Who the bloody hell do you think you are?”

  “Five, four, three…”

  The sinister laughter of the Russians echoed in the dark alley once again.

  “Two…”

  “We’re not going anywhere…”

  I was so over this shit. I let out a yawn, aimed my pistol at the husky man’s head and pulled the trigger, firing twice. He dropped, as they always did. Blood and chunks of brains blew back into the air and onto the ground, mixing in with the dirt and grime.

  “Oh, my God,” I heard the woman whisper underneath her breath.

  The two other men stepped back. A worry line had appeared at the head of the bald man. The man with the shock of white hair gaped at his former partner, staring at the holes which had appeared like magic in the center of his forehead. Smoke wisped up from the barrel of my pistol.