by Hamel, B. B.
His Touch
Pine Grove Book 4
BB Hamel
Contents
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1. Allie
2. Rowan
3. Allie
4. Rowan
5. Allie
6. Rowan
7. Allie
8. Rowan
9. Allie
10. Rowan
11. Allie
12. Rowan
13. Allie
14. Allie
Also by BB Hamel
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by B. B. Hamel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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1
Allie
I hear the front door crash open and I curl tighter into myself. I’ve been in bed for a couple hours now but sleep’s been hard to come by.
Dad’s drunk again. I shouldn’t be surprised since he’s drunk pretty much every night these days, but lately it’s been worse somehow. Like he’s trying to avoid something. He comes home stumbling drunk, eyes bleary, body sweating, and he’s angry.
He’s so damn angry.
I touch my eye where he punched me a few nights ago. It’s still bruised and I’ve avoided going out into public, just because I can’t answer the questions. It’s not the first time he’s hit me but it’s the first time he didn’t apologize for it afterward, and that’s more terrifying than anything else.
My father’s not a good guy. I know it, everyone knows it. Ever since my mom died ten years ago, he’s gone down into this deep spiral of gambling and drinking. I know he’s in debt to people but he never talks about it.
I get out of bed and sneak out into the hallway. I don’t know why I still live in this big, old house with that asshole. I should get out of here, find my own way, get a job, get a life, but I just…
I can’t. I didn’t go to college, I have no real-world experience. I have nothing. My father made sure of that, over and over. He won’t give me any cash, won’t let me get a decent job. I’m twenty as of last week and it’s time for me to get my own life, but I’m afraid that if I leave this place, he’ll wind up dead a few weeks later. Maybe of alcohol or starvation or… worse.
The house is big and old with ancient wood floors that creak under the slightest pressure. I avoid the worst boards and sneak to the staircase. This house has been in my dad’s family for generations and it’s the only reason we’re still surviving. If he had to pay rent or a mortgage, we’d end up out on the street. As it is, he can barely afford the taxes on this property, let alone basic house maintenance.
I sneak down the steps. I hear my dad grumbling something and a crashing noise. He grunts and there’s another crash.
And a voice cuts in through the otherwise quiet house.
“Joey Martin?”
I freeze on the stairs. I don’t know that voice. Nobody else should be in the house, and hearing another man’s voice scares the shit out of me.
“Who’a’you?” dad slurs.
“Are you Joey Martin?”
Dad grunts. “Fuckin’ yes. I’m fuckin’ Joey. The fuck you doin’ in my fuckin’ house, you fuckin’ prick?”
There’s another crash and my dad grunts. My heart leaps into my chest as I sneak down the steps, looking out over the bannister and into the living room.
My dad’s down on his knees, trembling. Standing above him is a man wearing all black and pressing a gun to my father’s forehead.
“Joey Martin,” the man says, his voice deep and almost sultry. “You owe Dean Fish a lot of money.”
“I… I… I can pay,” Dad says, sounding slightly more sober. “I can pay. I just need time.”
“You’ve been given time.” The man sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “You know why I got out of the killing business, Joey?”
Dad blinks. “I… I don’t know.”
“It’s messy. And it started to weigh on my fucking conscience. Can you imagine, a killer with a conscience?”
“You don’t have to do this,” Dad says quickly. “I can pack my bags. I can leave. My daughter, you can have her.”
The man’s eyes go hard. I clench my fists, angry that my dad would sell me out so easily.
“Have her?” the man echoes. I look closely at him and I’m surprised to find he’s actually kind of… attractive.
Like, really attractive. Lean face, muscular body, confident ease, thick dark hair. He looks more like a model than a murderer.
“Yeah. You know. Take her. I’ll skip down, disappear, you can… have her. She’s pretty.”
The man groans. “Fuck. You just made my job so much easier.”
He pulls the trigger. My dad’s head explodes and his body crumples onto the carpet.
I can’t help it. I let out a scream before clamping my hands over my mouth.
My dad’s dead body, his head broken into pieces, doesn’t move a muscle.
But the murderer turns in my direction and lets out another long sigh.
“Of course you’re home,” he says. “And of course I didn’t wear a fucking mask.” He starts walking toward me.
I get up and run. I turn back upstairs and bolt for my room, not thinking, not caring about my dead father. Part of me is happy the guy killed him, happy that I’m finally free.
Except I don’t think I’ll stay free for long, not if he gets his hands on me.
I slam my door shut just as the man reaches it. He pushes but I manage to turn the lock. I hear him sigh on the other side.
“Please just open up. I’m not here to kill you and I really don’t feel like getting more blood on my hands today.”
I run over to my window and throw it open. Before I can climb out, he slams the door open, strides across the room, and grabs me by the arm.
I stare up into the face of my father’s killer and for a second, I wonder if this is what an avenging angel would look like.
Slight stubble on his perfect jaw, light green eyes, perfectly formed features. He’s movie-star gorgeous and I can’t stop looking into his eyes.
He smiles sadly at me, like he’s exhausted. “Did you hear all that?” he asks me.
I nod, terrified and unable to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Men do things when their life’s at stake. It’s not always pretty.”
“He was a fucking asshole,” I hear myself say, almost from a distance.
And the gorgeous killer grins at me. I feel my body vibrate with that look.
“Yeah, I bet.” He cocks his head, looking at the shiner on my eye. “He give you that?”
I nod once.
“Asshole,” he mutters and I feel his eyes suddenly drink me in for the first time.
I’m self-conscious as he stares at me. I’m wearing only a pair of short cotton shorts and a thin white t-shirt. I’m sure he can see my breasts, my nipples slightly hard in the cool summer evening, my skin slightly dimpled with goosebumps. My hair’s long and dark and flowing around my shoulders. I’m not wearing any makeup but he doesn’t seem to notice as he takes in my body, finally resting his eyes on my lips.
“He wasn’t kidding,” the man finally speaks. “You are pretty.”
“Go to hell,” I manage to say. “You can’t… you can’t touch me.”
He laughs. “I can, but relax. I’m a killer, not a fucking rapist.”
>
He lets go of my arm and I stumble away from him, steadying myself on the windowsill. I stare at him as he watches me carefully, lips pursed slightly in thought.
“What are you going to do with me?” I look down at the gun in his hand.
“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Easy thing would be to kill you. I mean, that’s on me, honestly, I should’ve worn a mask. But I didn’t realize the fucker had a goddamn daughter.”
I bite my lip. “You could let me go. I wouldn’t tell. I hated him.”
He frowns. “I bet that’s true.”
“Really. I’ll leave town. I’ll run away.”
His frown gets deeper and he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. Fish probably knows about you and if I just let you leave, he’ll be fucking pissed.”
I clench my windowsill and stare at the gorgeous killer, terror ringing through my body. “You don’t have to hurt me,” I whisper.
“You’re right,” he says and I blink in surprise.
“I am?”
“You are,” he confirms. “Your dad offered you to me down there. How about you become my pet?”
That fear strokes through me again and I press myself as far from him as I can. “Your… pet?”
He laughs lightly but there’s something dark behind it, something I can’t totally read. “I’m fucking with you. Come on, you can lie low at my place for a while until Fish forgets about your old man then I’ll let you go.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me from the window. I want to fight and scream but there’s something about the way he moves, like things are decided and there’s no point in arguing anymore.
“Wait,” I say quickly. “I need things. Clothes.”
He grunts. “Two minutes,” he says, letting go of my arm and stepping back to the door. He holds his gun gently in both hands and watches me carefully. “Better get moving.”
I throw myself into action, not thinking. I’m in pure survival mode, I note from a distance. I grab a bag from my closet and shove clothes into it. Underwear, tops, bottoms, sweatshirts, sweatpants, anything I might need. I grab my makeup bag from my desk and reach for my laptop.
“Nope,” he says quickly. “No computers, no phones.”
I glance at him but I leave it behind. I wish my phone weren’t right out on my nightstand, right where he can see it, but there’s not much I can do about that.
I finish shoving as much into my bag as I can before facing him. “Toothbrush,” I say.
“Nope,” he responds, grabbing my arm again. “Sorry. I’ll get you that stuff later. We gotta go now.”
I let him drag me out into the hall. We move through the house I’ve lived my entire life in, down the steps, and past the corpse of my asshole father.
Part of me is sad that he’s dead. I didn’t want my father to get killed. I didn’t want him to die at all, despite being a total fucking prick. I’m not too upset that he’s gone, but he was the last connection to this place I had.
The man drags me out into the night. His truck is parked a little ways off the driveway, tucked behind a tree, which is why my dad didn’t notice it on his way in. Our property is pretty big, an old ten-acre farm basically gone wild at this point. Our family used to be wealthy, generations ago, but we haven’t had anything worthwhile aside from this house for a long time now.
“Get in,” he man says, pushing me up into the cab of his truck. I sit down and buckle myself in, bag on my lap, as he walks around and gets behind the wheel. He starts the engine and looks at me.
The moon comes in through the glass windshield and I swear his green eyes glint in it like flint. His smirk is terrifying and gorgeous and I’m so afraid and attracted to this man that I don’t know if I want to run or throw myself at him. I’m confused and in shock and he has all the power.
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Allie,” I say softly.
He grunts and puts the truck into gear. “I’m Rowan,” he grunts. “Nice to meet you.”
He pulls the truck forward and we’re on the driveway in a second, moving fast away from the house I’ve always known.
I wanted to be away from my father. I’ve always dreamed of it.
Now it’s happening. But I’m far from free. I stare at my captor, at the gorgeous man that killed my dad, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get away.
2
Rowan
I push open my guest room and drag Allie into it by the arm. I toss her bag onto the bed. “Sit,” I say, pointing at a chair in the corner.
She hesitates but walks over to it. She takes a seat slowly.
I have to physically force myself not to stare at her. That piece of shit Joey wasn’t wrong about his daughter. Allie’s fucking pretty, gorgeous actually. Her body’s tight and young and curvy in all the right places and those lips are full and pouty and her hair’s long and thick and fucking shit, I’m in over my head.
I’m not a take-captives kind of man. I’ve been a killer for a long time, although these last few years I’ve been trying to change. I never left people alive back in the day, and I’ve done plenty that I’m not proud of.
I was good at my job. Still am, really. But this is fucking stupid.
She should be dead. Instead, she’s sitting in my extra room.
“Stay,” I command and quickly walk back through my cabin. Doesn’t matter much if she decides to run, especially in the middle of the night. I live out in the forest around Pine Grove, out in the middle of fucking nowhere. She could run for miles and find nobody, but I’d catch her before she had the chance.
I find some rope in the garage and bring it back into the extra room. Allie hasn’t moved a muscle as I kneel down in front of her.
“I’m going to bind your wrists,” I say softly.
“You don’t need to. I’m not going to run.”
“I know,” I say, taking her right hand gently. Her skin’s soft and I feel a chill run down my spine. “But I’ll feel better if I do it.”
I quickly bind her wrists. I try not to make the rope too tight, but I can’t risk letting her get out easily. When I’m finished, I step back and stare at her.
Young, gorgeous, hands tied in front of her. Fucking hell, if I were a worse man, I’d fuck her tight pussy right now. Make her suck my cock until she swallows it.
But no, shit, no. I’m not that kind of man. If I fuck her, she’ll beg for it first.
“I’m going in the other room,” I grunt at her. “Stay in here. Don’t try to run.”
“I won’t,” she says quickly.
I sigh. Of course she’s going to try and run.
“Listen to me. Do you know who Dean Fish is?”
She shrugs. “I’ve heard his name.”
“He runs this fucking town. Your dad owed him a lot of money, I’m talking a lot of fucking money. Fish tried to get your dad to pay up, pay something, but…” I shrug. Debt usually doesn’t end in murder, since a dead man can’t pay, but her father must’ve been particularly fucking bad.
“I won’t run,” she whispers.
“If you do, and you manage to find your way back to civilization from out here, you’ll wish you stayed. Fish isn’t the kind of man to leave witnesses, and you’d best believe he knew about you.”
She bites her lip, her pouty fucking lip. She’s goddamn sexy and I have to stop thinking about that right now.
I’m not a piece of shit. I’m fucking not. Well, maybe I am, but I’m trying to be better.
“I won’t run,” she says again.
Clearly I’m not getting anywhere with this.
“Fine. Just don’t be stupid. If you do decide to jump out a window, I’ll hunt you down and tie you to the bed next time. So please, make this easy on both of us.”
She just nods her head, staring at me with those big blue eyes. My blood boils as I force myself to turn away. I leave the room, shutting the door softly behind me.
I head into my kitchen. My place is neat and orderly, just the way I like
things. I grab a mug from the cabinet and pour some whiskey from the bottle I keep under my sink. I sip it, grunting to myself.
This isn’t how that hit was supposed to go.
Shit, I thought it was gonna be easy. I mean, small town like Pine fucking Grove? Can’t be any guys worth being afraid of, at least not the kind of guy that would skip out on a debt owed to Dean Fish. This is the kind of place where the big dogs are really big, but everyone else is a puppy.
I’m something in between. I don’t have political power or a big crime machine at my beck and call, but I know how to get things done.
I guess I can’t judge Allie’s father too harshly. I’m in the same position as him in some ways.
I came to Pine Grove to start over. I left New York to get out of the killing business. I had a dream to start a restaurant, and I thought I’d bring some old school New York cooking to this little Midwest town, really blow these people away. So when I got here, I went looking for a loan.
Turns out, when you’re a contract killer, you got a lot of cash but no credit, which means the banks weren’t willing to give me enough money. I was pretty fucking down on myself, thought I’d have to go back home like a goddamn failure, but that’s when I met Dean Fish.
He said he was a small business owner, but I could tell right away that I wasn’t dealing with just any old loan shark. I could tell he was trouble, just based on the way people reacted to him. I figured out over time that Dean runs this fucking town, but back then I was blissfully unaware just how deep I was getting myself.
Anyway, I took his money and I opened the business. Almost two years later it shut down and I was even deeper in debt than before.
So when Dean offered me a job in order to pay off my loans, I took him up on it. Fuck, one more kill and I’d be done. I gambled on a dream and fucking lost, but at least I tried. Now I’ll dig myself out of this fucking hole and start over.
