A dissatisfied housewife. A gun for hire. He’s not looking to fall for his client…then again, he never had much choice. Wife. Daughter. Murderer?
He was supposed to be my knight in shining armor. He was supposed to be my deliverance. But now he’s just in my way. I need him gone, but despite my best efforts, he’s still here and I’m out of ideas. It’s time to call in a professional. I just wasn’t expecting it to be him.
I’ve been in the business of killing for as long as I can remember. And business is booming. But I’m ready to leave this life behind, get a fresh start. After one last job. It should be easy, quick, in and out. But nothing is ever that simple, and I wasn’t banking on her. How am I supposed to pull this off when it means breaking my number one rule: never fall in love?
If this is the hitman, I’m in trouble. My God, he’s gorgeous. Tall, around six feet, dark-brown hair that’s just long enough to curl around his ears and is full of soft waves that immediately spark my envy, and a body that, although hidden beneath well-fitting black jeans and a navy cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, projects strength and vitality.
I’m momentarily struck stupid, standing with one foot inside the car and one out, staring at him. Until he clears his throat and I lift my gaze, falling into a pair of piercing black eyes that are filled with disapproval.
“Right on time, Mrs.…”
The reason I’m here hits me suddenly, and I feel the nervous energy that I’ve been attempting to repress all day return. Stepping fully out of the car, I close the door softly and stand there beside it, twisting my hands. “I, um, would rather not give my name.”
He nods. “That’s wise. However, we’ll need to call each other something. An alias. You can call me…Cal.”
Cal. This gets me wondering what his real name is. He looks like a Cal, I guess. I bite my lip, turning over different names in my mind and finding them all too common. “Brenda,” I finally settle on because we can’t stand here all night debating over names when we have real business to discuss.
Standing under a bridge is conspicuous as hell, and I’d die a thousand deaths if we got caught. It might be a brazen move, hiring someone to commit murder, but I’m hardly a seasoned pro. This is all new territory for me. I don’t know the first thing about any of this. Only that I don’t want to get caught.
Yeah, I should have given that more consideration before contacting this guy, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I am, by the very definition, a desperate housewife.
“Okay, Brenda,” Cal starts, his feet carrying him closer. “Did you bring the coffee?”
“Yes,” I say eagerly, reaching for the driver’s door handle. “I’ll get it.”
“No. Let’s get in the car first. If anyone happens to come knocking, it’ll be easier to explain why we’re here if we’re together.”
I pause, wondering at his meaning before a picture of the two of us tangled in each other’s arms, his hand up my shirt and mine caught up in all of that luxurious hair enters my mind. I shiver with desire but quickly shake it off. I can’t think of him that way when what we’re here for is far from any kind of romance.
J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.
Living in the Northwest, she has three amazing children and far too many pets. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.