Hitman (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by C. Hallman

  Cover Design by C. Hallman

  Bleeding Heart Covers

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  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.

  Blurb

  Welcome to Hell, little one.

  ALARIC

  Monroe was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.

  But instead, to make her keep my secrets, I took her freedom and made her my captive.

  She swore she’d hate me forever, but that was before I stole her innocence, too.

  Now she knows how good my forbidden touch feels, and it won’t take long before she transforms into the broken toy I’ve always wanted.

  And after that, there will be no going back…

  MONROE

  The first time I met Alaric, he fired a bullet into an innocent man’s head.

  He’s a hitman. The worst scum on the planet. He kills for a living and wrecks lives for fun.

  Now he’s my jailor, the only one who holds the key to my gilded cage.

  He says he’ll never let me go. He says he’ll force me to keep his secrets. He says I’ll kneel for him. But even he knows I’ll never, ever love a monster.

  And Alaric’s the devil himself.

  USA Today bestselling authors C. Hallman and Isabella Starling present Hitman. This is a full-length, standalone dark mafia romance set in the Black Hearts world.

  1

  Alaric

  "Please, man. I'm fucking begging you. All I need is a few more days. Can't you just tell your boss that?"

  "You had days." I cock the gun I have aimed at him. "You had weeks. Months. It's over."

  "Don't do this." The man runs his fingers through his graying hair, and I watch him impassively. All I have left to do is pull the trigger because nothing he says will change my mind. "Please, man, fuck! Don't fucking shoot or—"

  I don't let him finish his sentence. I fire the gun and watch the bullet bury itself between his eyes. Blood spurts from what used to be his head and soils the dark alleyway. I'm not cleaning up this mess. This is a shitty part of town, so no one's going to give a damn anyway.

  Kneeling next to the body, I take his wallet and phone. No one will suspect foul play because I’ve made it look like a robbery.

  I throw one last look at what's left of Daniel Newman. He’s had this coming for a long fucking time now. The person who ordered this hit has been trying to get his money back for years. Nobody will miss Daniel, either. Being single with no kids, he’s left no mark on this sick, twisted world.

  I pocket the wallet and phone and head around the back alley with my gun tucked in the back of my pants. This particular alley does not contain security cameras, which makes it the perfect place for a hit. I've never been here before, but my curiosity is piqued as I round the corner and watch a group of barely legal girls in bondage gear enter the club.

  It's been a few days since I got my cock sucked, and I'm itching for a willing victim to bury myself in. Maybe I can stick around for a while longer and see what Purgatory has to offer. Judging by the bait outside, I'll find exactly what I'm looking for.

  Ignoring the long queue in front of the club, I cut to the front and smirk at one of the thugs guarding the entrance.

  "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he snarls at me. But all it takes to change his scornful look is one flash of the red ribbon tied around my wrist. He knows what it means. I work for the Lombardi family.

  Clearing his throat, the goon steps aside and allows me to pass. I walk inside the darkness, parting the red velvet curtains to enter Purgatory.

  The excitement in this place is fucking palpable. Girls are dancing in cages, and people mill about, eyeing each other. At least a dozen people wait in front of the bar to get an order in. Ignoring all of them, I push my way into their midst, my eyes searching for someone who knows how to mix a halfway decent drink.

  When I see her for the first time, my reaction is instantaneous. My cock jumps to attention like it wants to fucking salute her. Straining against the fabric of my black pants, I can feel the precum leaking out of my tip like a goddamn faucet.

  Her honey-blond hair falls off her shoulders in loose waves, and I have the urge to run my fingers through her locks so I can figure out if it feels as soft as it looks.

  "An old-fashioned," I request loud and clear. The sexy little vixen working the bar raises her baby blue eyes to mine, and I do nothing to hide the fact I'm fucking devouring her with my gaze.

  "Coming right up," she says, giving me a nod. I watch her mix the drink. She knows what she's doing, and my cock grows more, straining against my pants painfully. She presents me with the drink and holds out her hand for my credit card. Smirking, I hand her my black Amex and watch her swipe it without reacting. When she hands it back, I wrap my hand around her wrist, holding her in place. Even over the music playing, I can hear her sharp intake of breath.

  "Take a break," I mutter, loud enough for just us to hear. "Meet me out back in five. I'm going for a cigarette."

  "I..." Her eyes bore into mine. I don't wait for her answer before taking my glass and walking outside into the smokers’ area. Standing beside the two guys making out and the one lone wolf thoughtfully smoking a cigarette, I pull out my own pack and light the stick of poison, inhaling the smoke.

  That's the fucking shit. Nothing feels as good as the first inhale after a goddamn kill.

  "You wanted to see me?"

  I lift my eyes slowly, lazily, until they meet the waitress’s from the bar. I give myself ample time, allowing my gaze to drink her in. Every curve, every strand of light hair is instantly committed to memory. She's fucking sex on legs with a tight little waist, big tits, and an ass I want to palm over the fabric of her little black excuse for a dress.

  "Why'd you come?" I ask, putting out my cigarette. She takes a step closer, drinking me in. She seems observant enough. Yet it fucking amuses me to no end that she hasn't noticed she's talking to a fucking monster.

  "I was due for a break," she says. "Thought I'd get some fresh air."

  "In the smokers' lounge?" I smirk. "Sure, sugar."

  She blinks rapidly at the nickname, and a smile tugs on the corners of her lips. "Maybe I'm a smoker too."

  "You're not." I laugh.

  "How do you know?"

  "You seem too smart to be a smoker," I mutter, pulling back from the wall. "You want to make some money?"

  "Money?" Her brows knit together.

  "I have five grand if you want it."

  "For what?"

  "What do you think?" I smirk. "I want my cock sucked. I don't pay for pussy, but I will pay for you to wrap that pretty little mouth around my cock and suck it dry."

  "I'm not a whore," she spits out, turning around to leave just as the couple walks out. I grab her by the wrist and pull her back to me, and she doesn't even fucking fight it. I glare at the lone straggler left in the lounge until he rolls his eyes and leaves as well. Now it's just us. No fucking witnesses.

  I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to her now. My employers would cover my tracks, and nobody would know.

  I may be a hitman, but I'm not a fucking monster. When she puts her mouth on my dick, it'll be consensual. In fact, I won't shoot my load down her throat until she's begged for it.

  "You don't do this for money?" I mutter against
the shell of her ear. I can see goose bumps erupting all over her skin.

  "No," she hisses.

  "So you'll do it for free?"

  She yanks her arm out of my hold and glares at me. "I'm not going to suck your dick. Not for any amount of money."

  She's cute when she lies. She has a tell, too. She blinks fast, once, twice. I already know her biggest secret.

  "What's your name?"

  She looks like she won't answer, but then she changes her mind and mutters, "Monroe."

  "How old are you, Monroe?"

  Her eyes fill with panic. "What does it matter?"

  "You twenty-one?" She doesn't answer, just stares at me. "You shouldn't be serving drinks."

  "I do whatever I have to," she mutters.

  "So you do need the money."

  She doesn't reply. Her mouth thins into a line, and she glares at me. "Not that badly."

  "Really?" I smirk. "Everyone has a price, Monroe. What's yours?"

  "You can't buy me."

  "I can't? Not even a kiss?"

  "I..." She looks away. I can tell she's struggling with her decision. I'm fucking loving this. "I don't know."

  "Here." I pull out my wallet. It's thick with hundred-dollar bills. I peel off some and hand them to her. "Two grand. For a kiss."

  Her eyes widen at the sight of the money. "I can't take this."

  I grab her by the waist. Her eyes widen with a mix of fear and lust as I pull her against me. I don't wait for her to argue; I just fucking kiss her. Her lips are sweet and taste like bubblegum. She doesn't fight me. She even parts her lips for me, allowing my tongue to meet hers and fucking take whatever the hell I want.

  When I pull back, her face is flushed, and she looks crestfallen.

  "Here," I say, handing her the bills. "I owe you now."

  She eyes the money. Monroe seems hungry for it, but I can tell her pride prevents her from taking it. I tuck the bills into her bra without touching her skin, just the fabric of her lingerie peeking out from under her dress. My cock tightens again.

  "Thank you, sugar." I smirk, walking away from her.

  Just as I'm about to enter the club again, she calls out for me, saying, "Wait!"

  I turn over my shoulder as she catches up with me, eyes wide. She hesitates, but I can tell there's a question on the tip of her tongue.

  "Just say it." I grin.

  "Do you... do you have more?" Fearfully, she raises her sweet eyes to mine.

  "You saw my wallet, didn't you?" She nods, swallowing. "How much more do you need?"

  She stares into my eyes, her bottom lip trembling as she whispers, "A-All of it. P-Please."

  I want to laugh out loud, but at the same time, I'm consumed with fucking guilt. This shit doesn't happen to me. I don't have a moral code, yet this girl is making me question my actions just by batting her lashes at me.

  "What are you going to do for it?"

  "I..." She bites her bottom lip, perfect pearly whites digging into her juicy little mouth. "Whatever you want."

  I shouldn't go along with this. She's not even fucking twenty-one. She doesn't deserve for me to destroy her life, yet I can't stop myself. I want her. And she'll be rewarded, after all. It's not like I'm taking advantage.

  "You got private rooms here?" I grunt.

  "Yeah," she whispers.

  "Let's go."

  She walks ahead of me with purpose. But I don't miss the tremble of her hands when she retrieves a key card from behind the counter. I don't miss the way her eyes keep darting around the room. I don't miss any-fucking-thing.

  Unlike her, I'm calm as fucking ever. I follow her upstairs down a long hallway with several doors. She opens one of them and steps inside, and I follow her in. The room's a pretty basic BDSM dungeon with a huge heart-shaped bed and various implements and equipment peppered around the place. I can already think of a few very fucking fun things to do to Monroe in here.

  "W-What do you want to do?" she stutters, flushing.

  "I want you to make me another drink." I shrug off my jacket and place it on the bed. "Turn on some music. I'm going to watch you."

  She nods, eyes avoiding mine as she puts on some sensual music through the speakers. She starts mixing a drink at the bar in the corner of the room, but she's so nervous a glass slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.

  "Fuck," she whispers, leaning down to pick it up.

  "Leave it."

  "No, but I—"

  "Leave it."

  She obeys, and it pleases me. My cock is as hard as a goddamn rock right now, picturing her doing more for me, submitting to me. I wonder how fucking often she does this. How many times has she let a stranger pay for a kiss, a blow job, a fuck? I don't give a shit about any of the others before me. Tonight, Monroe is my property.

  I hand her another glass. "Drink, please."

  She takes a deep breath and mixes another old-fashioned. She hands me the drink, and our fingers brush as I take it from her. I sit down on a leather armchair and watch her nervously fidgeting with the hem of her tight little dress.

  "Don't you want to...?" She flushes at the sound of her own words. "You know..."

  I shake my head. "Not yet. First, you're going to do something for me."

  Taking out my wallet, I place it on my knee. It's bulging from the number of bills inside, and Monroe eyes it hungrily.

  "What do you want me to do?" she asks in a soft whisper.

  "I want you to dance," I say firmly. "I want you to look me right in the eyes, strip off your clothes, and dance for me. If you're a good girl, I'll give you more money. And other things, too. But you'll have to ask for it."

  Her eyes flash with anger. "You want me to beg for money?"

  "No, sugar." I smirk. "I want you to beg for my cock."

  2

  Monroe

  I’ve lost count of the number of times Lucian has asked me to work upstairs, to sell my body so someone could live out their fantasies. I’ve told him no, time and time again, insisting I’d never be that desperate.

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  I’ve never condemned the other girls from doing it, never thought less of them, but not in a million years did I think I’d be here.

  “Don’t let me wait, Monroe.” He says my name as though he owns it, then leans back into the chair as if it were custom-made for him. He exudes confidence in everything he does and every word he speaks. A confidence that I envy and admire deeply, especially right now as I am desperately trying to find my own.

  Swallowing down my anxiety, I let my fingertip dance over the hem of my dress and start swaying my hips gently to the rhythm of the music.

  While I do my little dance, I take a moment to check him out. He is tall with a handsome, rugged kind of face. From what I can tell with his clothes on, he stays in shape. He looks to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties judging by the few strands of gray hair. The rest of it is black, just like the clothes he is wearing.

  The sleeves of his expensive-looking shirt are rolled up, black ink tattoos wrap around both of his forearms, making a single red ribbon on his wrist stand out. I’ve seen a few people with the red ribbon before, but I could never figure out what it means.

  His eyes never leave mine as I let my hands glide up my body, tracing the outside of my breasts. Hooking my fingers under the thin straps, I slowly slide them down my shoulders one by one. Then I push them down my arms until they’re hanging by my side without a purpose.

  Reaching back, I fumble with the zipper of my dress, only then realizing how my hands are shaking. I keep a sensual smile plastered on my face, not giving away how nervous I actually am.

  When I finally get the zipper pulled down, I shimmy out of the tight dress and let it fall to the floor. Gulping down the lump that formed in my throat, I stand before this stranger in nothing but my bra, thong, and high heels.

  He rakes his gaze up and down my body slowly, almost like he is mapping every square inch of me. Even in the d
im light and with his eyes hooded, I don’t miss how his pupils are dilated and his hands twitch with anticipation.

  Reaching back once more, I unclasp my bra. My boobs spill out, and I can’t help but gasp at the way they feel heavier than usual. My nipples are tight, and there is an odd tingling sensation.

  “Keep moving,” he orders, making me realize I had stopped in the first place.

  I continue rolling my hips, hyper aware of how my unrestrained tits sway with every small move I make.

  My mouth goes dry, and a knot forms in the depth of my stomach as I lower my eyes briefly and catch sight of the massive bulge in his slacks.

  A low chuckle fills the space, and I drag my eyes back up to his. Amusement flickers in his dark gaze, but is quickly lost in the sea of desire… desire for me.

  Working at Purgatory meant I quickly got used to men ogling me with lustful eyes. But nothing has ever felt like this. Something is different about this guy. A darkness surrounds him like a thick cloak hiding him in the shadows.

  He is an enigma, and something about that mystery has me intrigued. Maybe that’s why I decided to take him up on his offer when I’ve turned so many down. That or the fact that I really need that money more than ever.

  “I’m losing patience. Get rid of your panties, and let me see that pussy you’re hiding.”

  Taking a deep breath, I dip my fingers into the waistband and push down the thin material. Cool air washes over my shaved pussy while my face feels like it has turned fifty shades of red.

  My thong joins my dress and bra on the floor, leaving me standing in front of this stranger completely bare. No guy has ever seen me naked before. No one except him—a man I don’t know.

  I fight the urges to cover up while forcing myself to keep dancing. Uncertainty worms its way through my body. This was a mistake. I have no idea what I am doing here since I’ve never done anything like it.

  I’m about to tell him the truth, but the thought of not getting the money has me pressing my lips together tightly.