Hitman's Revenge (a Forbidden Bad Boy Romance) Read Online Free PDF

better than anyone the dangers of my job. And I couldn’t put her in harm’s way—though my actual absence hadn’t helped much, had it?
    Balling up my fist, I smashed it into the wall next to me, feeling the satisfaction as it punctured the drywall. Even the job earlier hadn’t helped like I thought it would. This wasn’t just anyone missing or lying in the morgue. This was the only damn family I had left. These people, however convoluted my childhood had been, had given me a place to stay, someone who cared about my existence. Nixon had taken me under his wing without a second thought—he never said why and I never asked, but I’d always assumed it was some unpaid debt he thought he owed my parents. And Hazel, she had treated me like I was someone special in her life, even though I felt like anything but.
    My hand throbbed lightly. I pulled it out of the wall and proceeded on my original quest to locate an old key ring in Nixon’s top drawer amongst some old clothes. He thought I didn’t know where he kept it, but I had eyes—it wasn’t hard to figure out. The key dangled from the ring and brought a smile to my face as I clasped it between my thumb and forefinger. The motorcycle was going to have to be put up for now. I needed something with more cover, something with more room and with less risk.
    My reluctant smile grew wider as I opened the door to the garage, flipping on the overhead light and catching the covered object that sat lovingly in the midst of the chaos that was Nixon’s personal garage. I flipped off the cover, sending dust motes scattering into the enclosed space, and I took in the sleek black paint that covered the 1970 Pontiac GTO, restored to its former splendor with the original parts.
    Nixon loved this car. He bought it on a trade years ago with the hopes that Hazel would drive it one day. She had balked at the thought, and Nixon had been forced instead to buy her a truck, of all things. It was hard to think the same girl who’d begged for days to decorate her room pink wanted to ride around in a huge truck, but that was what she had gotten. All the while the Pontiac sat in the garage with Nixon and I tinkering with it on and off. I had offered to buy it once—secretly naming her Lucky—but he had shaken his head while running his hand over the hood. “It’s as much a part of me now as she is. I’d rather keep it.”But now he wouldn’t be missing it much.
    With an exhaled breath, I pressed the button on the garage door opener and watched as it slid upward, creaking and banging in its rails as it went. I made quick work of pushing the Harley in and transferring my bag over to the car. On the way over I had made some calls—pulled in a few favors—to ensure the place wouldn’t get ransacked, so I felt fairly confident the house would still be standing when Hazel came home. It was her birthright now.
    I climbed into the Pontiac and turned the key in the ignition, patting the dash of the old girl and momentarily grinning like a fool when she roared to life. A quick assessment told me everything looked good, and I pulled her carefully out of the garage, applying some pressure to the gas to hear her engine roar. Nixon hadn’t disappointed. Lucky was still in immaculate condition.
    Good job too, I needed all the luck I could get.
    After ensuring that the garage door closed tightly behind me, I turned back toward the south. Now I could concentrate on business, starting with Romano, and getting Hazel back.
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    R omano was slacking ; none of his goons were stationed out back in the alley behind the barbershop, and I crept into the back of the shop without any fuss. He obviously thought he was safe from harm—got a bit too big for his britches, in my opinion.
    I eased the door to, and wedged a small box to keep it open in case I needed a quick getaway. I didn’t know how Romano was going to react to seeing me, but I sure knew that he wasn’t going to embrace me with open arms, so I had