Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense Read Online Free PDF Page B

with that sharp tongue of hers. The not-giving-a-shit about what I thought. Women weren't like that with me. They either saw a big strong protector or a rich man who could provide them with their paycheck. If Gabi got to know me, she’d probably see straight through all of my shit. I thought of her plucking the cigarette right out of my lips and slammed my fist hard on the pavement next to me. The pain brought me back to my senses, and I stood.  

    I could leave now and still salvage the night. Gabi could take care of herself. But I had to find her first.

    I walked into the old mansion, the floors creaking underneath me. A few of the actresses and actors had begun to file in as the evening cooled off. There was still a spring chill in the air. If you could call spring a season here... which in my opinion you couldn't. It wasn't like New York, where the seasons followed a predictable pattern. Here, there were just times of year when everything was either slightly cooler or really fucking hot.  

    Gabi wasn't inside, and she wasn't at the bar on the poor excuse for a porch, either. I felt an edge of panic creeping into my consciousness, but this was probably nothing. There wasn't a reason for me to worry about someone like Gabi. She was used to this kind of shit, but still. There were bad people in the world. People worse than I was.  

    I walked outside and scanned the palatial back yard, noting that many of the guests seemed to have departed. Or maybe they'd gone somewhere else. That tiny bit of panic began to expand.

    She could be in trouble. Not that I would care. But her dad would fire me. Or worse.  

    I moved back into the house. Few people noticed me. Even though I was tall and considered myself menacing, I had a way of becoming invisible in a crowd. I’d perfected it years ago. In my line of business, it was essential not to make eye contact. Not to make an impression. I flicked my eyes over the living room again, noting the worn down antique couches and the animal print rugs. Probably from real endangered species. This guy was really out to make an impression.  

    Still, no Gabi.  

    I walked back over to the stairs, noticing a sign I hadn’t seen before.  

    “No guests allowed upstairs.” I must have been off my game if I hadn’t seen it. And perhaps it had been because Gabi had made my emotions flare, when I normally kept myself so tightly controlled. The sign was laminated, making it look like a prop for a third grade classroom. This fucking guy. I knew I didn’t like him.  

    I crouched, steadying my breathing, listening for signs of movement upstairs. There was a faint moan, almost beyond the reach of my hearing. I stood still, my stomach twisting in knots. Slowly, I put my hand on the railing and put my foot on the first stair. There was nothing to indicate that something untoward was going on. I could leave now and make it back home in no time. Or better yet, to the bars, where I was an anonymous rich guy in search of tail. That seemed far more comfortable right now than figuring out what was going on.  

    I listened again. Silence, and then a small thud. My muscles tensed, and I clutched the railing. I had an image of Gabi alone with that sleazy man she’d been talking to before. The fucking director. I leapt up the stairs without another thought, taking in the strange environment with my senses. I scanned the dark hallway, looking for a door that was cracked open, or one that had light coming from beneath the frame. Nothing. Fuck.  

    I stood still, tuning my ears for the cadence of the moan I’d heard before. I couldn’t go around opening doors, not in an old-ass place like this. If Gabi was in danger, and that was a big if, I couldn’t risk making noise. I knew this type of Hollywood scum. And they weren’t necessarily kind to young women. I closed my eyes, listening in the still darkness. There was another moan, followed by laughter. A male voice. And it was coming from the doorway