Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott Page A
Authors: Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott
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The real chore of doing a hit is all the prep work. And that’s why I’m out in the pre-twilight hours of the morning, tracking down my target for the hit. It didn’t take long to locate him, as rich guys live large and lavishly. A simple text to a source I’ve long relied on, and the address is mine. He even fishes up whether the guy is likely home or abroad. He’s likely home.
I pop over to the guy’s manor and get a peek at what vehicle he rides in. It requires me slipping in, balaclava and all, and this is the riskiest part. Because a fuckup here can ruin everything. But there’s just the one car, which thankfully makes things easier. I know what he’ll be riding in. It’s a sports car, two-seater. Which narrows things down. I know he’s only going to be in one of two places.
With that out of the way I slip away, the world's quietest yet least successful burglar, then get to work.
Remember that stuff about mechanics? Well, I fancy myself one part of the time, with some of the work I do. I ditch my car elsewhere in town once driving near my target, then swipe a car. It’s an easy thing, stealing a car, even these expensive new ones.
It’s a BMW, a model I’m used to working with. It’ll work great for what I have in mind, a nice sturdy, solid hood.
I drive the car over to a closed garage. Picking locks is something I learned back in Russia as a teen, and has always come in handy. Before any time is passed I’m inside and working on my new acquisition.
My jacket’s tossed aside, sleeves rolled up as I get down into the guts of the machine. I’m doing things to this beautiful car that no mechanic ever should. The person who owns this shop would probably shit himself if they saw. It won’t run long when I’m finished, but it won’t need to.
The only thing left is to drive over to my target’s place, and wait.
Sunlight is beginning to spill over the horizon, so it won’t be too bad. A good hit usually requires a lot of waiting, but I’m accelerating this contract. I want it done fast. Normally I’d never let myself rush a job, especially not on a high profile target like a rich white guy, but I want the club free of this nuisance so they can focus on helping protect my girl.
My girl.
Bozhemoi . I’m a fucking fool. Suckered in by her pretty, good looks, her creamy skin and sweet lips. Not to mention that wry sense of humor she has...
Just when I start coming to my senses, that maybe I’m being foolish to even toy with this relationship, she slips into my mind, like I slipped into her. And I’m as paralyzed by it now as we were in the moment. The way she gave into me when I tried to discourage her, how she sought to please me instead...
That thought gets choked off when I realize how much time has passed, and the gates to the rich prick’s property open up, his car pulling down the driveway. I can’t afford to think of pretty little Alicia, slumbering back in the motel bed. Now, it’s all business.
The car comes to life, the engine giving an uneven hum as it begins to build toward its end. Just hold on a little longer , I think to myself.
Luckily this guy drives like an old man. Despite living in the lap of luxury he handles his sporty vehicle like a porcelain doll. Edging into turns in a way that’s painful to watch. I could almost yell at him to take advantage of that beautiful car before it’s too late.
I don’t want to do this in the rich part of town. Police are probably itching to come to the rescue here, and my getaway on foot will be a nightmare. So I follow this miserable fuck into the heart of the city, into the busy downtown streets. Broad daylight.
Usually a hitman hides in the shadows, under cover of night. But time is of the essence, and sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best option.
I’m holding off a nice distance; he’s moving so slowly it’d be suspicious to even tail at my usual length. But I know my opportunity is going to come soon… and
The real chore of doing a hit is all the prep work. And that’s why I’m out in the pre-twilight hours of the morning, tracking down my target for the hit. It didn’t take long to locate him, as rich guys live large and lavishly. A simple text to a source I’ve long relied on, and the address is mine. He even fishes up whether the guy is likely home or abroad. He’s likely home.
I pop over to the guy’s manor and get a peek at what vehicle he rides in. It requires me slipping in, balaclava and all, and this is the riskiest part. Because a fuckup here can ruin everything. But there’s just the one car, which thankfully makes things easier. I know what he’ll be riding in. It’s a sports car, two-seater. Which narrows things down. I know he’s only going to be in one of two places.
With that out of the way I slip away, the world's quietest yet least successful burglar, then get to work.
Remember that stuff about mechanics? Well, I fancy myself one part of the time, with some of the work I do. I ditch my car elsewhere in town once driving near my target, then swipe a car. It’s an easy thing, stealing a car, even these expensive new ones.
It’s a BMW, a model I’m used to working with. It’ll work great for what I have in mind, a nice sturdy, solid hood.
I drive the car over to a closed garage. Picking locks is something I learned back in Russia as a teen, and has always come in handy. Before any time is passed I’m inside and working on my new acquisition.
My jacket’s tossed aside, sleeves rolled up as I get down into the guts of the machine. I’m doing things to this beautiful car that no mechanic ever should. The person who owns this shop would probably shit himself if they saw. It won’t run long when I’m finished, but it won’t need to.
The only thing left is to drive over to my target’s place, and wait.
Sunlight is beginning to spill over the horizon, so it won’t be too bad. A good hit usually requires a lot of waiting, but I’m accelerating this contract. I want it done fast. Normally I’d never let myself rush a job, especially not on a high profile target like a rich white guy, but I want the club free of this nuisance so they can focus on helping protect my girl.
My girl.
Bozhemoi . I’m a fucking fool. Suckered in by her pretty, good looks, her creamy skin and sweet lips. Not to mention that wry sense of humor she has...
Just when I start coming to my senses, that maybe I’m being foolish to even toy with this relationship, she slips into my mind, like I slipped into her. And I’m as paralyzed by it now as we were in the moment. The way she gave into me when I tried to discourage her, how she sought to please me instead...
That thought gets choked off when I realize how much time has passed, and the gates to the rich prick’s property open up, his car pulling down the driveway. I can’t afford to think of pretty little Alicia, slumbering back in the motel bed. Now, it’s all business.
The car comes to life, the engine giving an uneven hum as it begins to build toward its end. Just hold on a little longer , I think to myself.
Luckily this guy drives like an old man. Despite living in the lap of luxury he handles his sporty vehicle like a porcelain doll. Edging into turns in a way that’s painful to watch. I could almost yell at him to take advantage of that beautiful car before it’s too late.
I don’t want to do this in the rich part of town. Police are probably itching to come to the rescue here, and my getaway on foot will be a nightmare. So I follow this miserable fuck into the heart of the city, into the busy downtown streets. Broad daylight.
Usually a hitman hides in the shadows, under cover of night. But time is of the essence, and sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best option.
I’m holding off a nice distance; he’s moving so slowly it’d be suspicious to even tail at my usual length. But I know my opportunity is going to come soon… and
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