The Hitman's Baby: A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Novel Read online

  It’s not the smartest thing to cross the most powerful man in town but I’m not going to sit in Carmen’s chair one day by playing it safe. It’s time to prove to Carmen once and for all who the number one man is.

  It’s time to get that girl.

  two

  Sara

  “You didn’t have to pay for my lunch,” I say as I sit down at the table in the school cafeteria. I place my heavy backpack full of thick, boring textbooks on the empty chair next to me.

  “It’s my pleasure Sara,” Dave says, his cheeks flushing as he sits down in front of me.

  I poke at my quinoa and black bean salad with a plastic fork as I pull up the front of my shirt. I don’t want Dave getting the wrong idea about us, even though I’m a few weeks too late.

  “Are you ready for the exam?” he asks as he digs into his veggie stir-fry. A piece of rice doesn’t make it to his thin lips and lands on his flat chin, sticking to it like a dead bug on a car bumper.

  “I think so,” I say, pulling a fat textbook out of my bag: Advanced Environmental Law. The reading is as dry as my salad.

  “Well I know you’re going to do just great,” he says, smiling at me and holding my eyes to the point where it’s uncomfortable.

  “I hope so,” I say shifting in my seat. I look to the side at the energetic students talking and laughing all around me. This place is a boiling pot full of enthusiasm and excitement. These same idealistic, positive kids will be unrecognizable in a few years after the real world beats the passion and spirit out of them.

  I wish I had even an ounce of their spirit. But they want to be here in law school. I don’t.

  “Are you going to the party tonight?” Dave asks with a nervous swallow. His Adam’s apple bounces up and down in his throat like a fishing bobber.

  I get a slight shiver, knowing what’s coming next. I’ve been friends with Dave for the past year. He’s good to have around for help with homework and to study with but nothing more than that. We get along and share the same desire to help the poor and save the environment but there is no passion; no spark. At least not with me anyways. He drank too much gluten free beer at the Greenpeace rally last month and told me that he was in love with me. I played it off the next day like I was so drunk that I didn’t remember a thing. He left it at that but I knew he would try again.

  The renegade piece of rice falls from his chin back onto his plate as he leans forward, waiting for my answer.

  “Yeah I’m going with Rachel and her boyfriend,” I say nonchalantly. Time to change the subject before he suggests a double date. “Can you believe Mr. Vickers is only giving us a week to finish that assignment?”

  He exhales in defeat. “Yeah,” he says, moving his fork around his plate.

  The weird thing is that Dave would be perfect for me. He’s a nice, sweet guy who would treat me like a princess. He would never hurt me or raise his voice. We have all the same interests and I should be attracted to him. But I’m just not.

  We used to have so much fun together but it just got weird since he started laying on the weird, flirting vibe. Now it’s just awkward.

  I tell myself all of the time that looks don’t matter but I just can’t get past his skinny arms, flat chest, glasses, and ugly haircut. My body is drawn to muscles and tattoos even if my mind hates the type of guys that come attached with those characteristics. I’m attracted to a man that takes charge and doesn’t take any shit even though I hate aggression and don’t believe in violence. You see my problem? That’s why I haven’t had a boyfriend in years.

  We chat about homework while I quickly shovel down my food wanting to escape this awkwardness and get a bit more cramming done before my exam.

  I look away as Dave blows his nose into his napkin and drops it on his finished plate. His chair squeaks along the floor as he gets up. He anxiously grabs my empty tray, knocking over my bottle of Green Tea and spilling it on the table.

  “Oops,” he says as he throws some napkins on it, including the one that he just blew his nose with. “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay,” I say, looking down and trying to hide my red cheeks as eyes turn to us from all over the cafeteria. “I wasn’t going to finish that anyways.”

  We get the mess cleaned up and he insists on walking me to my exam. “So about that party tonight,” he says, not letting me off the hook.

  The classroom door is open and there are students already inside taking the fifteen minutes before class starts to do some last minute studying.

  “I’ll see you there,” I say slipping inside the classroom before he can ask me out. “Thanks for lunch.”

  I pray that he doesn’t follow me in and take a breath of relief when I turn and he isn’t there. I grab a seat next to my roommate Rachel whose bloodshot eyes are glazed over. I’d think she was high if I hadn’t been up all night with her studying for this thing.

  “Are you okay over there?” I ask.

  “If I look at another word my eyeballs will explode.”

  I understand her completely. “Dave was trying to ask me out again,” I say.

  “And?”

  I tell her about our lunch, leaving out the piece of rice stuck to his chin.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t just go out with him,” she says as she chews on her nails. “He’s a nice guy. He’ll treat you right.”

  The girl in front of us turns around and flashes us a nasty look.

  “It’s not a library,” Rachel says to her, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m just not attracted to him,” I say, leaning in and whispering. Rachel doesn’t get it. She has a nice boyfriend named Greg who is super thoughtful, intelligent and kind. He would do anything for her. I keep telling myself that Dave could be like that for me but I’m just not attracted to that kind of guy.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  “I wasn’t surrounded by those kind of guys growing up,” I answer.

  She raises an eyebrow, wanting more details.

  “I had a weird childhood,” I admit. “My dad wasn’t a soccer coach or the minivan driving type.”

  “What was he?”

  I hold my breath and hear my father’s stern voice in my head warning me: ‘Don’t trust anyone but family.’

  “He was an accountant,” I say turning back to my desk.

  My purse buzzes and I look down to see who’s calling. Speak of the devil. Why does my dad always call me when I’m in class? What does he think I’m doing during the day?

  I shut off my phone and toss it back in my purse as the teacher walks in the room.

  Talking to my father always gets me in a bad mood. I am so against my dad and everything that he stands for, including his new wife, the one who was a grade older than me at my high school. Why can’t he just leave me alone?

  I was so happy to leave his house for University and finally live on my own. It was a nightmare living with him since my mom died in a car crash when I was twelve. I’m thinking of cutting him out of my life completely once I get my diploma.

  I just can’t go back to living my life under his dictatorship.

  The teacher rubs his hands together and grins like a villain in a Batman movie. “Who’s ready for a test?”

  three

  Colton

  The last time I was on a University campus I killed a guy. My target was a janitor who liked to bet on sports with funds that he didn’t have. When I confronted him he bet that I was only bluffing. All that betting and all he won was a bullet in the head.

  I look up at the tall building in front of me. It looks like a medieval castle.

  There are kids everywhere. Their backpacks hang off their backs and shoulders like they’re filled with rocks.

  I look from building to building. From face to face. I don’t know where to start. I only have a name. No picture. No nothing.

  I grab the arm of an Indian kid walking past me. He jerks back and looks at me in shock through his thick glasses.

  “Do you know
Sara Price?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head so hard that his glasses slide down his nose. I roll my eyes and let him scurry away.

  I grab the arm of the guy behind him. Probably a football player from the size and hardness of his thick arm. He’s the only one out here besides me who doesn’t have any books with him.

  “Do you know Sara Price?” I ask.

  The jock turns his cinder block head and looks down at my hand gripping his bicep with cold eyes. The corner of his lip curls up.

  He’s taller than me by about half a foot, which is saying a lot because I’m 6’2. He’s got at least fifty pounds on me and I’d bet the two thousand dollars in my wallet that he isn’t used to having anyone grab his arm like I just did.

  He rips his arm out of my grasp and steps up to me, giving me a look that would make any other guy on the campus wet his pants. He’s lucky that I have a job to do because I could drop him before he had a chance to take the steroid syringe out of his ass and raise his meaty fists.

  “Do you know Sara Price?” I ask again, getting pissed that I have to repeat myself.

  “No but I know your mother,” he grunts out in an ogre voice.

  Ugh. Jock humor.

  I walk away shaking my hands out and letting him off the hook. The guy has probably had more concussions than I’ve had pieces of ass, which is a lot. I’m feeling generous so I decide to not give him one more.

  Kids are studying everywhere. I thought college was about partying and getting laid. Everyone here is just reading books that look bigger than them. I’ve never understood studying. If you want something then just take it.

  Three hotties lying under a tree catch my eye. They whisper and giggle as they watch me walk over. They’re laying on their stomachs but they’re studying my arms more than the words in the open textbooks in front of them.

  The brunette in the middle licks her lips as I crouch down in front of them. She thinks I can’t see her eyes through her dark sunglasses but I can see them moving all over my body.

  “Hi ladies,” I say in my sexiest voice.

  Two just stare. One answers with a gulp.

  “Do any of you know a Sara Price?” I ask. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

  The middle one taps a pencil to her mouth and traces it across her bottom lip. If she’s subconsciously trying to make me picture my cock in place of the eraser than it’s working.

  “No, sorry,” she says shaking her head. She arches her back up and squeezes her elbows together, amplifying her cleavage for me. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I appreciate the show and take a long, slow look at her tits. She’s smiling when my eyes finally come back up for air.

  “No,” I answer with a grin. “My little sister. I wanted to surprise her.”

  “Ahhh,” the three of them moan as if I just pulled out a puppy.

  The middle one tilts her head to the side and flings her brown hair back. “That’s so sweet.”

  I’m tempted to abandon the mission altogether and spend the rest of the late afternoon and evening sticking my dick in these three girls, alternating between their nine holes, but I have to find the boss’ daughter. I didn’t drive three hours all the way up here for a fuck.

  “Do you ladies know how I can find her?”

  “You can try Admissions,” the one on the right with the red hair and tight ass says.

  “And where’s that?” I ask, flashing her a smile.

  She giggles and turns as red as her hair before pointing at a blue door off the main building.

  The girl in the middle takes my hand and rubs my fingers. “You can always sleep over at my place if you don’t find her.”

  My cock hardens a bit as I picture her hand doing the same thing on my shaft. This girl is definitely down to fuck but I can’t get distracted now. I can’t let Ichiro win again. Not this time.

  I thank them and leave before I change my mind. Giggles erupt behind me and I hear one of them whisper, “I can’t believe that you did that Stacy!” and a “he must be gay.”

  It’s probably the first and last time that she’ll ever be turned down for sex. It pains me to do it but I’ll go get laid after the job is completed. Getting laid has never been a problem for me before.

  I walk into the blue door of the Admissions office and the auburn haired girl behind the counter perks up in her seat when she sees me. I jerk my head back and swallow hard when I see her image on the girl’s face. She has the same color hair. The color of autumn. A flash of a suppressed memory comes floating back into my mind. Olivia and I walking through an apple orchard. I was holding her hand and sipping on a hot apple cider while she rubbed her belly and whined that it had been months since she’d had a drink.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing the memory back down out of my mind where it belongs. I’ve gotten good at quelling the memories of her but when they do creep back up it feels like a kick in the stomach.

  “Can I help you?” the girl asks.

  I smile as I walk over. I take a breath of relief when I reach the counter. The girl really doesn’t look anything like her. She’s missing the soft blue eyes and the cute, light freckles that dusted Olivia’s upper cheeks. Her hair is similar in color though. Similar enough to bring her memory crashing back.

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine,” I say, leaning on the counter towards her. “I’m her neighbor back home and I came to surprise her.”

  A slow smile builds on the girl’s face. “That’s so sweet,” she says stroking her throat. She shifts in her chair, arching her back so that her chest is thrust out, presenting her little tits to me.

  “Can you help me find her?” I ask, rubbing my fingers over the trimmed stubble on my jaw.

  “Yes,” she says, sounding like she’s getting fucked. She swallows hard as she turns to her computer and stares at the screen with glossed over eyes. “Do you have her room number?”

  I shake my head.

  “Student ID number?”

  I shrug. “I came to surprise her.”

  “I’m not supposed to give out any student information,” she says with a pained look on her face.

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” I whisper. “Please. I drove so far to see her.”

  She looks conflicted as her eyes dart from me to the computer and back again.

  “Oh okay,” she says with a sigh. Fuck yeah. She begins to type into the computer when an older man with a lumpy gut and a cheap clip-on tie comes storming over.

  “She has a class in room 605 tomorrow morning at eight thirty,” she says. “And I’ll find where she lives-”

  “What’s going on Karen?” the guy interrupts, leaning on her desk a bit too close for her comfort. She leans away from him and holds her breath.

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine,” I say, staring into his pale eyes.

  “We don’t give out student information,” he says abruptly.

  “It’s just she’s a friend of min-”

  “Under any circumstances,” he rudely interrupts.

  I grind my teeth and try to keep myself from leaping over the table and squeezing his neck so hard that his beady eyes pop out of his head.

  I try one more time. “It’s her birthday and I wanted to sur-”

  “We. Don’t. Give. Out. Student. Information,” he says pausing between each word. “Is there anything else?”

  I glance at the girl who is apologizing to me with her eyes.

  “Good,” he barks. “Have a nice afternoon.”

  He follows me to the door and locks it behind me. He turns the Open sign over to Closed and gives me a dirty look before turning back into the office, probably to go sexually harass poor Karen at the front desk.

  The sun is starting to drop and the buildings seem to be closing one by one. I glance at my watch. Six o’clock.

  Students are leaving the campus in waves. I glance back at the tree to see if the three girls are still there and up for a foursome but there’s nothing
there but a crushed soda can and a forgotten flip flop.

  Shit. I’m not going to find her tonight. I’ll wait outside her class tomorrow, room 605, at eight thirty and get her to follow me.

  Until then…

  A guy walks by and thrusts a paper into my hand. He’s got a stack of them and is giving one to everyone that he passes.

  I look at the crumpled pink paper in my hand. Party Tonight at The Sloppy Wench Bar. Beers $3. Girls drink for free.

  I fold the paper and put it in my pocket. This night hasn’t gone perfectly but it’s starting to get better.

  Drunken college girls usually have that effect on a night.

  At least I’ll get laid.

  four

  Sara

  “What about that guy?” Rachel asks, pointing at a decent looking guy by the bar. They’re trying to find out what my type of guy is.

  My nose scrunches up when I see him. His watch has a Velcro strap. “Too nerdy,” I answer over the blaring music.

  Rachel and her boyfriend Greg scan the packed bar from the table that we’re sitting at. They’re looking for a new target. Greg points to a group of guys standing by the wall. “What about Mr. Date Rape over there?” he asks.

  The guy is good looking enough. Short cropped blond hair and muscular with a nice smile. He’s wearing a black polo and beige slacks. He looks like he comes from a nice family who likes to spend their summers at the family cottage in Maine. I can picture him throwing a stick into the water for his golden retriever to fetch. I place myself in the scenario, my arm wrapped around his as we walk down the beach. My nose scrunches up again when I see him take a sip of his grapefruit wine cooler. Ugh.

  “Too preppy,” I say.

  “The DJ?” Rachel asks, with a shrug.

  I take a look and shake my head. “His afro is too big. I can’t date a guy with an afro.”

  Rachel and Greg both laugh.

  “Then what is your type?” Greg asks in frustration.