by Eve Langlais
Bad Boy Holiday
A Bad Boy Inc Story
Eve Langlais
Copyright © 2020, Eve Langlais
Cover Art Razz Dazz Design © 2020
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais ~ www.EveLanglais.com
eBook ISBN: 978 177 384 1748
Print ISBN: 978 177 384 175 5
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email, photocopying, and printing without permission in writing from the author.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Introduction
Deliver a gift. A seemingly simple mission until Mathias runs into some complications. Namely a clumsy lady with an obsession for sweaters. A woman who knows how to heat his blood without even trying.
Snowmen aren’t the only ones with frozen hearts. Mathias, a career assassin, isn’t a man to give in to emotion. Feelings are messy, and a smart guy would run away. But that won’t get the job done. He needs to get closer.
Needs…her?
Blake knows she shouldn’t get involved with a client, but she’s lonely, it’s Christmas, and when he smiles a certain way, she throws caution to the wind.
After all, it’s only a holiday fling—until the guns come out.
Have you read the others in the Bad Boy Inc. series?
Chapter One
Winters the Iceman was a grumpy fucking soul, with a well-honed knife, a hidden gun, and an attitude darker than coal.
Lying flat on the rooftop, Mathias Winters lined up his sight on his target, Enrico Mazari. Mob boss. All-around asshole. Sitting down in a nice restaurant for dinner with his family. How nice for him. What about all the families he’d destroyed?
Not that Mathias really cared about the nameless and faceless strangers destroyed by this piece of shit.
He got a cool million on accepting the job. He’d get another once he iced the prick. This very public killing was to be a message. A bold warning to others who thought they could get away with worse than murder.
The dining establishment had great big windows and a prominent downtown location, which meant it was busy, especially this time of year. The end-of-year holidays always filled restaurants with people. Hopefully nobody moved when he fired, or that would be unfortunate.
Enrico Mazari stood, wine glass in hand, ready to make a toast. His wife sat to his left. His children beamed at their daddy.
They’d be traumatized for life. This would teach them that a life of crime didn’t pay. Unless you were an assassin for hire. Then it was really lucrative.
At times like these, when Mathias made the world a better place, he even felt good about what he was doing. Not enough to melt his frozen heart though. He inhaled.
Exhaled as he pulled the trigger.
The bullet sheared through the glass and hit Enrico between the eyes. The man wavered on his feet, but Mathias didn’t wait to see him fall. Not much point. Even a zombie wouldn’t rise from that shot.
Job done, he packed up his stuff: gun, tripod, and his concealing hood. Everything went into his shopping bag with a fluffy bear on top before he left the rooftop.
As Mathias skipped down the steps, he removed his dark coat and flipped it inside out to show a light gray. He slipped on a pair of glasses and placed a navy blue tuque on his head. By the time he reached the main floor, he looked like any other harried husband, doing some last-minute shopping. Just in case, the fake driver’s license in his wallet bore the name Larry Arbuckle.
Boy was that perception far from the truth.
He joined the people in the multi-story mall, most of them spilling out onto the sidewalk and road, drawn by the sirens. Emergency vehicles arrived, their flashing lights almost as garish as the lights strung along the street.
Fucking Christmas. A commercially driven joke, which was why he didn’t mind taking a job this time of year.
Assassins didn’t take holidays.
Ignoring the commotion on the street, Mathias walked two blocks to his rental, which had been paid for in cash and using his fake ID. The gloves he wore wouldn’t leave prints. His hair had been lightly sprayed so as to not shed.
A few miles away, he stopped on a dark street and packaged his gun before dropping it into a slot for prepaid package delivery. The cash transaction would leave no trail, and the present would make life a little more annoying to the prick who’d scratched Mathias’s car in a parking lot back home.
Mathias abandoned his rental at the airport, boarded his flight, and, by midnight, was asleep in his own bed. He slept soundly and without dreams because only shitty assassins had regrets.
The next morning over coffee and a perfectly cooked egg with a side of ham and avocado, he accepted his next job. By that afternoon, he was on a flight to Colorado. He had a car service drive him from the airport to a snow-covered ski town where the amount of goodwill and cheer made him itch to shoot something.
The carolers that disturbed his dinner were what shoved him over the edge. Later that night, when everyone in the hotel was asleep, he crept outside to relieve some holiday pressure. The stupid inflatable Santa with its jolly smile died, but he left the snowman next door—with his corncob pipe and his button nose—alone.
Chapter Two
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! – said NO ONE, ever!
The gust of wind caught Blake as she walked out the main door of the office building, darting up her skirt, giving her a chill despite the thick tights she wore. This time of year she didn’t shave. Winter was a time to let that hair grow long enough to braid. It wasn’t as if anyone but her cat would see her pasty legs. Which said a lot about her dating life. Lack of it, that was. In her defense, she’d not been living here long.
Her scarf, only loosely placed around her neck, lifted. As she grabbed it, her foot slipped, and then her other boot lost traction. Before she knew it, she was in danger of doing the splits. It might have gotten ugly, and truly painful, if she’d not been saved by a passing stranger.
“Whoa, there, little lady,” the man drawled as he caught her under the arms and hauled her to her feet.
A peek showed a rugged countenance to match. Holy handsome.
Way out of her league, and of course, he’d caught her at her best. “Thanks for saving me.”
“You wouldn’t want to bust that pretty face.”
Pretty? Probably something he said to all the ladies. That didn’t stop her from smiling at him. “Too late for that. As you’ve noted, I’m clumsy.” Athletics wasn’t her strong suit. Actually, even walking could be a challenge at times when her feet chose to tangle.
“Let’s blame gravity.” He winked as he steadied her then moved a step back, giving her some space. He was distinguished with his gray peacoat covering a lean body. His dark hair remained in place, combed with neat precision, defying the nipp
ing breeze.
“Also known as my greatest enemy.” Tied with her mouth, which kept opening and saying the dumbest things.
“And here I’d have called it a friend, given it allowed me to help a lovely lady in a storm.”
“You must be a visitor if you think this is a storm,” she joked. Poorly, yet he still chuckled.
“You caught me. I’m more of southern states kind of guy.”
She nodded. “You must have come for the skiing. I hear we have some of the best around.” Not that she knew personally. Again, the whole uncoordinated thing.
“I doubt I’ll hit the slopes. I am only here for a few days on business.” Again, he flashed those pearly whites. Was he flirting with her?
She probably imagined it. “Hope you enjoy the city.”
She went to take her leave, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. “Will you allow me to walk you to your vehicle?”
“I’m actually taking the bus.” She pointed down the street at the plastic shelter with the sign sporting the bus route number.
“A bus in this weather?” He eyed the slippery streets.
A shrug lifted her shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice.” Her car was in the shop and would be until a part arrived.
“Allow me to arrange a ride for you.” He pulled a phone from his pocket, and she arched a brow.
“While I appreciate the gesture, I have to decline.” He might be handsome, but as a woman, she knew the unspoken rules to keep herself safe.
“You can pay me back if it’s about money.”
“Actually, it’s more about me giving you my address, which is a no-no with strangers,” she sang, almost wagging her finger. “Not to mention, I don’t ride alone in cars with people I don’t know. It’s safer for a lady that way.” She winked.
“Are you always this paranoid?” he asked, slipping the phone back into his coat.
“It’s called being cautious.”
“Must make dating difficult.”
“What makes you think I’m single?” The assumption pursed her lips.
He eyed her hand.
“A lack of a ring doesn’t mean I’m not in a relationship.”
“No ring indicates whatever your status, it’s not fully committed.” His turn to grin, and it was as bright as the gaudy tree set up in the lobby of her apartment building.
“Does that apply to you too?” she asked, eyeing his hand, seeing no tan line that would indicate he’d recently removed one.
“I’m single. You?”
She should have said, “None of your business.” Instead her mouth had other ideas. “I’m not currently dating, nor interested.” This close to the holidays would only be awkward. Should she get him a gift? What if she did and he had nothing for her in return?
“How about eating? You do still eat, don’t you?” he asked, more persistent than expected.
“That is the oldest and lamest pickup line in the book,” she declared.
“Because it is tried and true. By having dinner, we can meet in a public place of your choosing so you’re comfortable.”
“Sounds good except for one thing.”
“What?”
“It involves eating with you. I’m not interested in casual dating, and you’ve already said you’re only here for a few days, meaning you’re looking for a fling, and I don’t do flings. At all.” Although he was handsome enough she almost wanted to forget that personal edict.
“I was just looking for some companionship at dinner. Nothing more.”
“Said every pushy guy ever.” She rolled her shoulders. “Still not interested, which is why I’m going to say goodbye now.”
“I’m sorry to have offended you. Have a good evening.” He inclined his head.
“Merry Christmas,” she called out as she headed for her stop, hoping in her haste to catch the approaching bus that she didn’t fall and land on her face or butt.
She made it onto the mass transit vehicle without mishap. A peek through the window as she found a seat meant she saw him staring at her then saluting her with a half-wave and a smile.
Maybe she should have said yes to dinner. And dragged him home for dessert.
Chapter Three
Winters the Iceman is a murderer they say. He was made to fight and takes great delight in sending you on your way.
Soundly rejected. If Mathias was the kind to give a shit, it might have been ego shattering, but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. He’d not come to this skiers’ delight of a town for pleasure but business.
After she left, on a bus of all things—disgusting mode of transportation that he only took in the direst circumstance—he glanced at the building she’d emerged from. It was several stories high, with a security guard manning reception inside. Side-by-side elevators plus opposing sets of stairs for entry to the upper levels. Only one staircase remained unlocked at all times for everyone’s use. The other one was supposedly under repair. Had been for months, according to the intel he’d gathered.
Rather than go inside, he kept walking. His hotel wasn’t far away, the downtown core full of the things he needed, like a liquor store, restaurant with some excellent Brazilian food, and a hardware store to buy the items he couldn’t bring on the plane. Rope. Carabiners. A screwdriver and a rechargeable drill, which he needed for the battery. No need to pay a fortune for fancy toys that might get spotted by TSA security when the basics did the trick.
Supplies acquired, and initial scouting mission accomplished, he headed up to his room, the penthouse of course, giving him the best view. As he stripped, he dropped his clothes onto a chair and paced his room, trying to keep his thoughts on the job. He didn’t quite manage it because he found himself strangely distracted by the woman with the wide smile and sassy attitude.
Pity she’d not said yes to dinner. She’d had nice lips, full and inviting. Her figure, hidden under her coat, hinted at curves. A woman with meat on her bones, just the way he liked it. And while he’d sensed her interest in him as a man, she’d not wavered in her decision to brush him off.
Perhaps she’d lied and had a significant other. An idea that didn’t sit well at all. Why did it matter? Why the interest in her?
Sure, it had been awhile since he’d had any interest in the opposite sex. Too long, which might be why the memory of this stranger aroused. He was horny. Plain and simple.
Since he had time to kill, he sat in a chair, legs partially spread, head tilted back. Hand on his hardening dick. It thickened in his grip, especially as he recalled the woman’s pert replies. If she’d only known she was talking to a killer, her expression would have been much different and probably not as sexy.
But he wasn’t the type to get off on fear. He preferred a woman unafraid to smile. Someone who could joke about her almost-mishap with a bright tone and sparkling eyes.
Would she have that same sassy grin during sex? Or would she be the type to moan as he played with her breasts? Which led to him wondering what kind she hid. Large nipples? Small? Pink? Dark? He liked them all. Especially when pushed together that he might slide his cock between them and poke it at a pair of lips.
He could picture her sucking him, taking his tip. He slid his hand up and down his cock at the thought. When he imagined her licking the pearl glistening at the tip, he pumped even faster.
Did she have a full ass, the kind to cushion a man if he took her from behind?
Or he could have her lying down, legs spread and welcoming, breasts peeking, lips parted, expression sultry, watching him as he slid his prick into her pink pussy. Pushing into her as she gasped, moaned. Called his name as she came.
Mathias.
He came, catching the juice with the tissues he’d thought to grab, but it was only as he flushed that he inwardly grumbled about how his fantasy ended.
Why would a woman, a stranger, calling out his real name be so sexy? So desirable?
Could he finally have gotten tired of living in the shadows? Mathias Winters, aka Iceman, who car
ed about nothing but the balance in his bank accounts.
Nah.
Mathias composed himself and shoved all thoughts of her out of his mind. It wasn’t as if he’d ever see her again. Their meeting was happenstance.
Rather than rehash it yet again, he loaded the schematics of this block, and the ones surrounding the hotel, including the one with that office building, into his laptop. He’d already mapped his course. Still, studying it again helped to steady him. He went over his routes. Plan A was the most favorable, but he’d also implemented backups in case things weren’t as they seemed.
As the hour for his departure neared, he dressed all in black, form-fitting so that no loose fabric could get caught on anything. Soft-soled, grippy shoes. Gloves. A full-on baklava that only had an opening for his eyes, over which he placed night vision goggles.
He didn’t exit the hotel via the hall outside his room. Opening his door would leave a record, and there were cameras on every level. The very lack of activity would provide an alibi if he ever needed it. Not that he planned to get caught.
The balcony outside his room had a high railing, but even better, it proved to be an easy climb to the roof. In this dense area of downtown, the buildings sat close together, which gave him a clear run to the building across from his target. He wasn’t about to go through the front doors. Again, too many digital eyes watching. In this era of technology, missions that required proximity proved harder and harder to accomplish.
He chose to enter via a less visible method. The rope he’d bought was tied into a lasso. He swirled and twirled it before flinging it across and watching it drop. It took three tries before it snared the solid metal ventilation chimney. He tugged to tighten it before wrapping and tying it off on his end. Then it was a simple matter of crossing hand over hand to the other side.
