Seduced by the Assassin Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  About Seduced by the Assassin

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Seduced by the Mafia Boss

  Wicked as Lies

  About Shayla Black

  Other Books by Shayla Black

  SEDUCED BY THE ASSASSIN

  A Forbidden Confession: Protectors

  Written by Shayla Black

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  This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.

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  Copyright 2021 Shelley Bradley LLC

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  Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly

  Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter

  Proofread by: Fedora Chen

  Excerpt from Seduced by the Mafia Boss © 2021 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from Wicked as Lies © 2021 by Shelley Bradley LLC

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  ISBN: 978-1-936596-79-9

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.

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  All rights reserved.

  ABOUT SEDUCED BY THE ASSASSIN

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  What lengths will he go to in order to claim his babygirl?

  I’m Ransom.

  I’m thirty four…and I’m in love with a girl who’s eighteen.

  Did I mention that Havana is my son’s ex-girlfriend?

  Yeah, this isn’t complicated at all.

  When I’m grazed by a Glock in a parking lot, she keeps me from bleeding out.

  We hole up in a luxurious hideaway that’s like a fantasy.

  Clear of danger and interference, I stop resisting her.

  And I get the surprise of my life.

  But if I don’t eliminate my enemies, we won’t see the sun rise…

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  Enjoy this Forbidden Confession. HEA guaranteed!

  Las Vegas

  March 6

  9 p.m.

  Ransom

  The woman I can’t forget is through that door, less than ten feet from me, working. There’s a lock separating us, but that’s not enough to keep me from her.

  Nothing is.

  I swallow, gripping the gift box in my hand. Will she be surprised? She’s smart; she should be expecting me. After all, I made her a vow. I splayed her thighs indecently wide on my kitchen counter, stared into her golden eyes, and promised I would come for her the day she turned legal. Then—somehow—I managed to tear myself from her kiss-swollen lips before I did something irredeemable, and I left.

  Now I’m here, and I’m done waiting. After seven agonizing weeks of putting space between Havana Smith and me, the unstoppable force of our attraction has me sniffing her out like a damn rutting dog.

  If she falls into my arms again, I won’t stop.

  So why am I standing out in the rain, hesitating?

  Because I’ve lost my fucking mind.

  I used to be a sane man. Well, as sane as anyone in my line of work can be. But now I’m certifiable. I’m probably on the verge of making the biggest mistake of my life and I don’t give a fuck.

  I’m thirty-four…and I’m in love with a girl who’s turning eighteen today. I’m in the middle of some really dangerous shit. Oh, and did I mention she’s my son’s ex-girlfriend? Yeah, this won’t be complicated at all.

  Suddenly, my phone rings. Cursing, I look at the screen and sigh. My brother Rush. He married his longtime crush a month ago, and they’ve been on a perpetual honeymoon since. I’m happy for them. Despite the fact their wedding was last-minute, it was perfect and moving.

  My brothers are happy now—all except Ridge, who’s too crazy for any woman to marry. But Rand and Rush? Good for them, even if I’m jealous as hell.

  You could be happy, too. Pick that lock, walk through that door, and lay your heart at her feet.

  Havana will probably laugh—and she should. I’m almost twice her age. The profession I’ve chosen means I’m destined for an early grave. Besides, she needs someone good. That’s not me. Unfortunately for her, that won’t change her fate.

  She’s mine.

  On the third ring, I finally decline my brother’s call and tuck the device away. I’ll ring him back later. I’m not in a hurry for him to rub my face in the happiness of his marital bliss, which I know he means to inspire me to find some nice woman who will spoil me and my son and make us the family we’ve never quite been. I should want that, I know. But Ethan is grown now. I’m too late. And Rush’s nudges in that direction only make me feel guiltier.

  Suddenly, the back of my neck prickles. It’s a warning. Danger.

  Someone has eyes on me.

  Pocketing the gift box and melting into the shadows, I scan the run-down strip mall in this crime-ridden part of northwest Vegas. Here, gang activity is high and police presence is low. I hate that Havana works and lives in this neighborhood. I want to take her from the crime and the danger and keep her safe.

  But gangs and thieves aren’t on my radar now. I’m the thing they fear, and they don’t fuck with me. Someone is, though. I’m definitely being watched.

  Jesus, I should worry whether I’m deluding myself into thinking I can give Havana the stability she needs—but I don’t dare now. In my line of work, even a few seconds of inattention can be fatal.

  Another sweep of this corner of shopping hell doesn’t put me at ease. Most everything is closed now in this seedy section of the city. Across the lot, a woman locks the door of an off-label clothing store and runs for her car like a deer sensing a hunter. As she drives off, I see a couple of blue-collar guys at the far end of the strip, eagerly heading into a dive bar on a Saturday night to stare at scantily clad waitresses whose tits they’ll never get to feel.

  They disappear inside. The light at the corner turns green. People go about their lives.

  But someone is trailing me. I need to lose him.

  How the fuck does anyone know where I am? Since I didn’t want to risk Havana, I didn’t tell a soul where I was going. No one should be on to me. Was I so fixated on her that I got sloppy and allowed myself to be followed?

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, a car screams across the lot, high beams blazing in my face. It swerves, spewing up oily rainwater in its wake. The sedan’s window lowers. Something dark and metallic emerges.

  I duck and roll as I hear the report of the first shot. The second is an instant behind. The bullet whizzes past my ear.

  He’s zeroing in on me, getting too close. I have to move or his third shot will tag me. I creep away from the darkened vet’s office where Havana is currently on a shift and plaster myself behind a pillar in front of an abandoned office supply store. Firing back isn’t my best course of action since I only have a handgun, and he’s in a moving car. I’m better off just GTFOing and slipping away in the dark of night.

  Two boarded storefronts over, a chain-link fence cordons off a section of the lot where the property owners tried to give this dump a facelift and gave up. If I hop to the other side, I can disappear around the back to my car, then melt into the traffic beyond the alley.

  Heart racing, I dash from the pillar on one side of the double glass doors to the other. The car screeches aro
und again. The driver’s window drops. He fires another shot at me, narrowly missing when I flatten myself on the sidewalk, going as low profile as possible.

  The second he misses, I’m on my feet again. It will be a race to the fence to see if he gets another shot off before I’m gone.

  I launch myself onto the chain link, throwing one leg over, and I’m about to hop to relative freedom—at least there he can’t chase me without doing a bunch of damage to his sweet ride—when the fucker squeezes off another shot.

  It rips through my coat and gouges its way up my arm, taking a hunk of my flesh with it. It burns. In seconds, blood wells and starts to soak my T-shirt.

  That’s going to leave a mark and fucking slow me down. Adrenaline will keep me going for a bit, but it won’t last. I have to find my car and escape.

  Or I’ll be as easy to pick off as a pinned target at a practice range.

  A quick scan tells me there’s nowhere to hide on this side of the fence. No portico or pillars. No corners or niches. My only chance is to run around the side of the building and disappear into the alley—three buildings over.

  The good news is, he’d have to be a damn good shot to hit me again. The bad news is, so far he’s proven he is.

  Heaving in a rough breath, I foot-race toward safety, rain soaking my jeans. A volley of shots follows. Apparently, this guy doesn’t care who hears his attempts to kill me. Then again, no one in this neighborhood bats an eyelash at gunfire.

  My mind races as I sprint for the corner. He’s squeezed off ten rounds with that Glock—I recognize the sound—and if he’s got a standard mag, he has five remaining shots.

  That’s a lot of bullets to outrun.

  Thankfully, he misses with the next two. Then he swings the car around, heading straight for the fence before plowing it over.

  So much for the front end of his shiny Mercedes. But that’s not my concern.

  He floors it, all the power of his horses zooming down on me.

  I press myself against the building, cursing the fact that the facade has been torn off, stripping it down to white. I’m wearing head-to-toe black. There’s nowhere to hide.

  I’m fucked.

  Another shot misses narrowly when it pings against the plaster less than a foot from my ribs. He keeps hauling ass, and the next round comes even closer, inches from my head.

  One more bullet in his mag, and the corner is in sight.

  Almost there…

  The guy—he might not be using an assassin’s weapon, but he shoots as well as one—takes aim. Finally, I reach the corner of the building, and I yank myself toward it and freedom when he takes his last shot.

  It digs through the left side of my neck, burning like a bitch.

  Blood spurts and seeps. If the asshole nicked my artery—and he fucking might have—I’ve got minutes to live.

  I can’t panic. I’m out of his view and, bleeding or not, if I intend to escape and call for help, it’s got to be now.

  I drag myself to my car, feeling warm blood trickling down my chest to be absorbed by my rain-damp shirt. I fumble for my keys, knowing this SOB won’t be far behind. He’ll change his clip and hunt me down. It’s what I’d do to my mark.

  But I see he’s already planned ahead since I have four flat tires.

  This isn’t random. He knows my car. He knows me on sight.

  He’s marked me for death.

  Fuck, I will not lie here and die in a goddamn wet alley, victim of some unseen shooter for a cause I didn’t have a chance to snuff out.

  But what about Havana? I can’t risk her. I can’t drag her into danger.

  But you want to claim her? Marry her? Breed her?

  I hope like fuck the would-be killer on my tail has no idea why I’m here. I have to warn her. If I can disappear into the vet’s office before my blood leaves a trail, he’ll be none the wiser. But I’ve got to be smart. I have to misdirect him before I dare approach Havana.

  Two stores short of the vet’s back door, I pick the lock on what used to be a drugstore and toss it half open. When I was casing the lot earlier, I noticed the space hadn’t been completely cleared of merchandise. If my pursuer gives chase on foot, he’s likely to think I holed up in there to find supplies that might stem the bleeding.

  Blackness floats at the edge of my vision. More liquid warmth mingles with the rain oozing down my chest. I can’t press a hand to it yet, or the second I touch the vet’s door handle, I’ll leave a bloody print for this fucker to follow.

  Limping and dizzy, I finally reach the doggy doctor’s back door. It’s not much of a lock, and I’m in ten seconds later.

  If I survive this night and Havana wants to keep working here, I’ll be installing something a lot sturdier.

  Breathing hard, I ease the door shut just as an engine revs and zooms down the alley.

  It never stops, simply roaring down the narrow pathway, almost careening into a dumpster.

  I dare to crack the door, and I understand instantly. Someone called the police, and a squad car now chases my assailant.

  That should occupy him for a few minutes.

  After I close the door again and lock it behind me, I look around. It’s a dark storeroom. I shouldn’t turn on a light in case the hired gun comes back, but I manage to fumble for my phone and flip on the flashlight. On the floor, I spot a length of nylon rope. It takes a shitload of my remaining strength, but I loop it around the door lever and secure the other half to a nearby metal storage rack.

  If he comes back, he won’t get in easily.

  Now I have to find Havana, make sure she’s safe, then grab some medical supplies and concoct a way out of here without my assailant being any wiser.

  As I stagger to the door, I catch my foot on the leg of another storage rack and trip. The shelves crash down. I stumble against the door.

  Blood pours like hot wax down my skin. The floor looks inviting as my consciousness begins to slide away.

  Get to Havana, keep her safe.

  Gathering the last of my strength, I wrench the door of the storeroom open.

  I hear a gasp. With bleary eyes, I look up. In the doorway stands the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever had the fortune to lay my hands on. The girl who’s haunted my fantasies and kept me hard for weeks. The girl who’s legally become a woman today.

  “Havana…”

  Then everything goes black.

  Havana

  This isn’t how I envisioned spending my eighteenth birthday. After checking on the animals recovering from surgery and tending to those we’re boarding, I sit under the dim light in the otherwise dark animal clinic where I work. At least I’ve got other people’s pets for company. But I’ve done my duty here for the evening. I should go home and chill. But then I’d be completely alone.

  Why didn’t he come for me today?

  I push thoughts of Ransom Garrison out of my head. Him waiting for me to be legal so he could sweep me off my feet, tell me I’m the love of his life, and make me his is a ridiculous fantasy. He’s a man in every sense of the word. I’m still a girl. Technically, I’m a woman today. In my head, I’ve been an adult since my parents died three years ago in a car accident, leaving me with a flighty aunt who decided I was “grown enough” when I turned sixteen. More like she hated the fact her flaky boyfriends showed more interest in me.

  When she tossed me out, I was almost relieved. But that forced me to grow up fast. I had to get a job to eat. I kept a roof over my head by relying on the kindness of friends and their parents who let me crash on their sofa for a night or two. The school janitor sometimes took pity on me and let me stay in the girls’ locker room overnight. But if I hadn’t left Aunt Tilly’s, it was a matter of time before one of those creeps she dated cornered me and tried to coerce me into something I never wanted.

  At least I never wanted it until I laid eyes on Ransom.

  The minute we met, all I could think about was sex. But my feelings quickly developed into something deeper.

 
I never meant to fall for him. His son, Ethan, offered me a place to crash when he found out I was between sofas. We liked some of the same movies. He also understood a dysfunctional household because his mom used to peace in and out of his life all the time, and his dad, while steady, isn’t always home. Ethan seemed cool and interesting, so when he asked, I agreed to be his girlfriend. But he always felt more like my friend than my bae. I never knew why.

  Then he introduced me to his father.

  Ransom and I only managed to keep our hands off one another for two short weeks. Then came that wonderful, horrible morning…

  When I entered the kitchen, I saw the lust on his face before he could hide it. After a night of fantasizing about him, of trying futilely to find orgasm, seeing the dark expression that said he wanted to put his hands and mouth all over me until I begged him to ease the ache in my pussy set me off. I couldn’t take the wanting anymore. I threw myself against him and pressed my lips inexpertly to his. I worried I was crossing a line, but he merely lifted me onto the counter, spread my legs like he couldn’t wait another second either, groaned my name, and delved into my mouth as if he was on fire and only I could save him.

  Then Ethan stumbled into the kitchen.

  Ransom wrenched away from me, and it ripped my heart in two. When he said I needed to leave, I thought I would die. Yes, he made sure I had a place to stay…but I didn’t want the scraps of his guilt. So I got my GED and found this job. It gets me a step closer to a career working with animals and it pays the rent.

  But Ransom swore he’d be back for me the day I turned eighteen. He promised.