Falling for the Hitman: Men of Ruthless Corp. Read online

  Falling For The Hitman

  Heather Dahlgren

  Shattered Souls MC Series

  Shattered

  Redemption

  Kace

  Riley

  The Change Series

  Changed

  Commitment

  Conflicted

  Sexy Series

  Behind the Lens

  Behind the Book

  Behind the Lies

  * * *

  Dancing Hearts

  Renegade

  Perfect Tenn

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Shattered Sneak Peek

  Copyright © 2021 Heather Dahlgren

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design By: Yoly Cortez from Cormar Covers

  Chapter 1

  Cash

  * * *

  “Great job, Cash,” my trainer says, wiping the sweat from his brow. He sweats more during our sessions than I do. “Go hit the weights, I’ll be over in a minute.”

  I head over to the weights and just as I lay on the bench, my phone rings. I grab it off the floor and see it’s Rogue, my boss and owner of Ruthless Corp. This is a call that you don’t ignore.

  “Hey, Rogue,” I say, holding the phone to my ear.

  “Where the hell are you?” he mumbles.

  I look around at this gym that is almost like a second home to me. There’s a boxing ring over to the left and the rest of the space is weight training. There are weight benches, chest press machines, leg press machines, and free weights. There are other rooms off this one for individual training. Each room is different depending on what you are training for.

  It’s an older building that’s been well preserved. The walls are all exposed brick, the floor is concrete but there are mats placed around for safety. The windows are up high and let little light in but there are large metal lights that hang throughout.

  It’s dark, cold, intimidating, and rough, sort of like me. But to me it’s one of the most relaxing places.

  I sit up, straddling the bench. “I’m at the gym.”

  “Get your ass in here now. I’ve got a job for you.” He hangs up before I can reply.

  When I stand up, my trainer tosses me my shirt. “Gotta go, huh?”

  “Yeah, not sure how long I’ll be gone for, so I’ll call when I’m back in town.”

  He’s used to me coming and going. Sometimes it’s only days and sometimes it can be weeks. It’s part of the job and I happen to fucking love my job. It’s not a job a lot of people could do. Killing someone isn’t easy, but it’s not random. There’s a process that needs to be followed. We don’t just go hunt for someone that screwed over a loved one. No, these guys are cold-blooded, sadistic, assholes. Rogue wants the money, he doesn’t care about anything else, but he sure as hell isn’t just sending us out to shed blood that isn’t deserved.

  I walk into Ruthless Headquarters in downtown Los Angeles, nodding to a couple of guys as I make my way to Rogue’s office. I notice a few new pieces of artwork along the walls of the luxury warehouse. Rogue is always bringing in new pieces. I’m not a lover of artwork like he is, but I can appreciate the creativity.

  I knock on the large door of his office and he barks out for me to come in. The solid wooden door slams behind me as I walk in, taking a seat in front of his desk. The light from all the windows in his office shines behind him and it emphasizes the scars on his face.

  “What do you have?” I ask, nodding toward the folder.

  He opens the file and looks up at me with his hard eyes. “It’s in Arizona. She killed a mob boss after fucking him and stole the keys to his warehouse. She cleaned it out. Everything from electronics to drugs. They don’t want her blood on their hands. They want it quick, clean, and to make sure she’s never found.”

  My eyes are wide as he finishes, and I scrub my face. I glance up at him as I sigh. “A woman?”

  He leans back in his leather chair causing the leather to crunch beneath him. “Is that a fucking problem?”

  I know my place. You don’t say no to Rogue. You can bitch about it to someone else, you can share your feelings about it to someone else, but you never, ever say no to Rogue. If you say no, you’re out of the corp. It’s that simple.

  I stand up and shake my head, grabbing the file off his desk. “No problem.”

  “Give me a call when it’s done,” he says, dismissing me.

  I don’t bother stopping to talk to anyone on my way out. The weight of what I’m about to do is pressing down on me. I’ve done countless hits over the years. None ever bothered me. I did what I was hired to do. This is the job I’ve been trained for. I never allow my head to get involved. I just do what needs to be done.

  However, I’ve never laid my hands on a woman before. I respect, adore, and desire women. It’s why I’m not in a relationship. I realize that being with me for more than a good fuck, could be dangerous. There’s no way I would put any woman at risk. So, I avoid relationships knowing that no one will be hurt because of me.

  I’ll no longer be able to say no woman has ever been hurt at my hands.

  When I enter my downtown LA loft, I grab a beer out of the fridge. I head straight for my office, tossing the file down on my desk. After the beer is cracked open, I take a long pull, willing the cold liquid to relax me.

  Once I’m in my black leather chair, I open the file to read through it. She’s twenty-eight-years- old; ten years younger than me. Everything that Rogue already told me is staring back at me as well as a photo of her. I pick up the picture and study it. She’s absolutely beautiful. Long blonde hair, green eyes that pop against her fair skin, and tiny as hell. It says she’s only five-foot and two inches tall. I tower over her at six-feet tall.

  I lean back in my chair and really examine the photo. She looks so innocent. There is no hard look in her eyes; they are soft and shining. Her lips are slightly raised in a soft smile, almost like she’s shy. A deep breath escapes me as I toss the picture on my desk. She doesn’t look like she’s capable of overpowering a large man long enough to kill him. Although, I’ve learned looks can be deceiving.

  My cell phone rings, and I grab it out of my pocket. I grin when I see it’s my brother, sliding my finger across the screen to answer it.

  “Hey, man,” I answer, sipping my beer.

  “Hey, I’ll be in town in a few days. You gonna be around?”

  We don’t see each other nearly enough. He got married, stayed in Florida, had a few kids, and runs a successful business. I’m happy for him, but I miss him.

  “Damn, no I’m going out of town tonight,” I say.

  “It’s
cool, we’ll catch up next time. Where you headed this time?”

  Obviously, I never give details, but I will tell him where I’m going.

  “Arizona,” I say, sighing.

  “What? You hate Arizona?” he asks, laughing.

  I drag my hand down my mouth as I lean back in my chair. “No, it’s the first time I’m questioning things.”

  “Why?”

  I glance back down at the picture, shaking my head. “Just a feeling I have, I guess.”

  “You’ve never questioned anything before, maybe there’s a reason you are.”

  “It’s not that.” I take a deep breath as I squeeze the back of my neck. “It’s a woman,” I whisper.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles.

  “Yeah, and I can’t fucking say no, so I’m screwed.”

  “Maybe it’s time to say no, especially if you’re questioning shit,” he says.

  I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No fucking way. This is my life. I’m not giving it up because one job is hard. That’s part of it.”

  He’s quiet for a minute and I check to see if I lost him. “You make great money, you live an exciting life, you are happy with the various women that you see. I get all that. I’m just wondering if you will be able to live the same life once you have a woman’s blood on your hands. Just think about it.”

  Frustrated, I slam my fist on the desk and squeeze my phone. “I have no blood on my fucking hands. I’m hired to do a job and I do it better than anyone. The money and women are a perk, not everything. I’m capable of keeping my feelings out of it. It will not affect my life after the job is done. Don’t ever fucking suggest otherwise to me again.”

  “Chill, brother. I never questioned your abilities. You’re getting pissed off and that should tell you something, that’s all I’m saying,” he replies.

  I am pissed, but I don’t even know why. Maybe it is because she’s a woman or because I’m questioning if someone with those innocent eyes is capable of such horrible things. Either way, it’s not up to me to judge. I’m hired to get a job done and that job will get done.

  The rest of it doesn’t fucking matter to me.

  Chapter 2

  Leslie

  * * *

  The sunlight hits my eyes through the small gap behind the plywood that covers it. I moan, rolling onto my side. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark surrounding, but once they do I sit up. My body hurts from sleeping on this crappy, old couch. I miss my evening runs and gym workouts. I miss a lot of things. Mostly my freedom.

  I head toward the bathroom wishing at the very least I had coffee to help keep me awake. Sleep doesn’t come easily and even when it does, it’s limited at best. I’m constantly alert, so the smallest of sounds has me jumping up.

  A groan escapes me when I see my reflection in the dirty mirror. The lack of sleep is evident with the bags under my eyes and my hair is in desperate need of a good washing. I can only use what I brought with me and my shampoo is just about gone at this point. My green eyes look vacant, which isn’t surprising anymore. I’m a shell of the person I once was.

  I turn the faucet and stare as nothing comes out. “No! Come on,” I groan.

  The building I’m in is vacant and I guess the town finally got around to turning off the water. I hang my head as I grip the sink with my fingers. How the hell am I supposed to survive without water? It means I’m going to have to leave the safety of this shitty apartment. I’ll need to let my presence be known.

  It’s been two months since I’ve left this place. I stocked up on enough food and supplies that I thought would get me through. I’m almost out of food, but I could’ve made it work. Without water I’m screwed. I can’t cook, shower, or even go to the bathroom.

  I’ve gotten used to the silence, the darkness, and the loneliness. I hate it, but I’ve gotten used to it. I started to feel safe and that’s a problem. I’m not safe and I don’t think I ever will be.

  My hands shake as I stand straight, leaving the bathroom. I need to figure out a new plan and fast. There’s no way I can stay here. I’ll need to find somewhere new, somewhere just as secluded, somewhere no one will look for me.

  It’s not easy because I know I’m being looked for. I’m being hunted. My life is on the line and there’s nothing I can do about it. The regrets I have are enormous and endless. They have literally cost me my life.

  I’ve learned a lot in the last few months. No one is trustworthy. Love does not exist. Things can get worse. Fear is fucking real.

  A tear runs down my cheek as I look around to see what I can afford to take with me. When I came here, I brought a lot of things from home to try to keep me grounded. Photos, clothes, pillows, and blankets. There’s no way I can take it all this time. I can’t afford to waste time dragging several bags with me. I’ll need to limit it to one bag, and it won’t fit much.

  I shake my head to clear the thoughts of leaving behind special things because they aren’t going to keep me safe. They aren’t going to help me get the fuck out of this town or state. They are memories of another life, a life that no longer exists. A painful reminder that I once had everything and now I don’t even have a bed.

  My eyes close against the tears forming. The day everything happened plays behind my eyelids, just like it does every time I close my eyes. I still feel the same fear, same pain, same shame. No one will ever understand, no matter how desperate I am to explain.

  I know I’m being hunted. That a bounty has been put on my head. When I still had use of my phone, I googled the man I heard was after me. I stand no chance. There’s no stats or data on him, because obviously, a hitman isn’t something you advertise online. But I’ve seen pictures. I noticed the hardness in his bright blue eyes, the massive muscles, the expressionless face. He doesn’t come off as someone who doesn’t get the job done. Unfortunately, I’m the job and I know for sure my luck is running out.

  Sometimes I think about just going outside and letting it all happen. Just getting it over with. Let the end be here already so I can finally have some peace. But I have a story to tell, and I won’t go down without someone hearing me out.

  Even if it’s, Hayden Cash.

  Chapter 3

  Cash

  * * *

  I’ve been in this shitty town for almost a week now. When I was driving here, I figured this would be an in and out kinda thing. The longer I’m here, the more aggravated I’m getting. I thought for sure she’d be easy to find, kinda oblivious to it all. That doesn’t seem to be the case. She’s well-hidden and believe me I’ve been searching.

  I checked all the places I have addresses for. All the contacts I have, places she’s known to frequent, people who know her, have also been visited. I’m starting to realize I may have judged her all wrong. Those innocent eyes lied.

  The photo of her I’ve stared at so many times mocks me on the bed. I don’t even need it anymore, so I have no idea why the hell I keep looking at it. Every detail of her is etched into my memory.

  I push the photo off the bed and stand up. Tonight, I’m going out. I need to relax, and a few drinks will help with that. Maybe I’ll pick up a woman and fuck this tension out of my body. I pull my hat lower over my eyes, shove my wallet in the pocket of my jeans, and grab my cell phone. I’m determined to have both tonight.

  The hotel I’m staying in is a short walk to a local bar. I’ve visited it already looking for my target, so I know it’s a little run down, full of horny women, music loud enough to drown out any thoughts, and exactly what I’m looking for.

  When I push open the large wooden door, I step inside, heading straight for the bar. I grab the first vacant stool and sit down.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

  “Whiskey neat.”

  He smirks as he pours the drink, placing it in front of me. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

  I sip the drink, keeping my eyes on him. “No, I’m definitely not.”

&nb
sp; “Where you from?”

  “Here and there, just passing through,” I say, pushing my empty glass toward him. “Another.”

  This time he just fills it and moves on. I spin on my stool and even with the loud music and half-dressed women, my eyes bounce around looking for her. At this point, I know she’s not here; I know she’s hiding, but I can’t help but look anyway.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  I turn my head to the left and bright blue eyes stare at me. She’s clearly drunk. Her eyes are glassy, she’s unsteady on her feet, and even in this bar I can smell the alcohol coming off of her.

  “Hey,” I say, turning away from her.

  Her hand touches my arm and I snap my eyes toward her. She laughs at my reaction and steps back slightly. “I thought maybe you just looked intimidating, but that’s clearly not true.”

  “You think I look intimidating?” I ask.

  She laughs, grabbing onto the bar as she almost tips over. “Hell yes.”

  “Good, because I am.” I toss back the rest of my drink and focus back on her. “I suggest you stop drinking and go home before you wake up tomorrow full of regret.”

  She shakes her head, walking away. As much as I want to fuck this frustration out of me, I sure as hell won’t do it with a drunk woman. When a woman is in my bed, she’s well aware. I’m used to control and order, which is not easily achievable with a drunk woman.

  I watch the crowd around me. People are laughing, dancing, and flirting. They are all so relaxed and a part of me is envious even with two drinks in me I can’t feel it.