The Hitman's Baby - A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (With extra added bonus novel for a short time only!) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Ashley Rhodes
nothing could be simpler than that conversation.
Chapter 4
The cash was enough for a night at a hotel and a plane ticket. Both required the use of Cassandra’s fake ID and the fake credit card she’d gotten to go with it. Those she would have to toss when she got to the next city, but this was what they were for.
She paced the hotel room, checking the clock every few steps as though it might speed up if she paced fast enough. It didn’t.
The plan was simple. Same as before. Go to a new city. Flash her eyelashes and pick up a job as a waitress—it was the easiest job to get in any city, if you were a pretty girl, that didn’t involve getting paid for sex. Use the local homeless shelter to take cover and have an address until she could get the cheapest apartment that would take cash and not require a lease.
Cassandra had done it eight times, and she would do it a ninth. She would keep doing it, again and again, as often as she needed to. What other choice was there? This was the way it had to be.
But something bothered her about this time. Initially, she had panicked and run but if someone could take out three targets from cover in an urban landscape then surely, if she was on the list, the killer could have taken her out too. Hell, she’d stood more or less perfectly still while she came to terms with what she was seeing. So what had happened?
It was possible that she hadn’t been the target. That was her first thought, once she settled into the hotel room. Maybe she’d jumped to conclusions. It could have been some kind of sniper vigilante coming to her rescue and moving on.
Like a scared rabbit, she’d bolted without a thought.
Still, she’d been here too long. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was time to start over. This time, maybe she could stay put, but not here. Not in Newark. Now that Papa was at rest, maybe she could rest too; just not in the last place she’d been while he was alive. It was the prudent choice.
She sucked in a breath and jumped when a knock at the door startled her. That breath stayed in her lungs as she pulled her can of bear mace out of her purse and crept up to the door to wait.
“Miss Aroja?” A polite, clipped voice came through the door. “I hate to disturb you, but I’m afraid there was a problem with your credit card.”
She could have pretended to be out, but he’d just have unlocked her door to collect her things and put them in the lobby. It had happened once before. So she sighed, set the mace down, and put her eye to the peep hole. The man on the other side wasn’t one she recognized from the front desk but he was holding a slip of paper and had that slicked-back Jersey style that was getting to be popular again.
She leaned her forehead on the door and breathed.
“Miss Aroja?” The man asked.
“Just a sec,” Cassandra said. She unbolted and unchained the door and pulled it open.
The man took a single step over the threshold and raised a hand. There was a gun in it.
“Very sorry, Miss Gonzales,” he said, “if my colleague hadn’t gone rogue, you wouldn’t have seen it coming. My condolences.”
Cassandra snatched the bear mace from the little table she’d set it down on and attempted to empty the can into the man’s face.
Immediately, he fired. There was a muffled, high pitched sound, and the air next to one ear snapped at her as a bullet narrowly missed. The next one went wider, into the wall. A third pierced the window.
Cassandra gathered herself to tackle the assassin—when it came to guns, you didn’t want to be far away—and empty the rest of the mace into his mouth directly, but she didn’t get the chance.
Someone rounded the door frame—a man, tall, wide shouldered, and perfectly calm—reached out almost casually and broke the flailing gunman’s neck, and then caught him as he slumped backwards.
“Pardon me,” he said as he dragged the dead man into the room. Cassandra stepped aside, still gripping the can of
Chapter 4
The cash was enough for a night at a hotel and a plane ticket. Both required the use of Cassandra’s fake ID and the fake credit card she’d gotten to go with it. Those she would have to toss when she got to the next city, but this was what they were for.
She paced the hotel room, checking the clock every few steps as though it might speed up if she paced fast enough. It didn’t.
The plan was simple. Same as before. Go to a new city. Flash her eyelashes and pick up a job as a waitress—it was the easiest job to get in any city, if you were a pretty girl, that didn’t involve getting paid for sex. Use the local homeless shelter to take cover and have an address until she could get the cheapest apartment that would take cash and not require a lease.
Cassandra had done it eight times, and she would do it a ninth. She would keep doing it, again and again, as often as she needed to. What other choice was there? This was the way it had to be.
But something bothered her about this time. Initially, she had panicked and run but if someone could take out three targets from cover in an urban landscape then surely, if she was on the list, the killer could have taken her out too. Hell, she’d stood more or less perfectly still while she came to terms with what she was seeing. So what had happened?
It was possible that she hadn’t been the target. That was her first thought, once she settled into the hotel room. Maybe she’d jumped to conclusions. It could have been some kind of sniper vigilante coming to her rescue and moving on.
Like a scared rabbit, she’d bolted without a thought.
Still, she’d been here too long. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was time to start over. This time, maybe she could stay put, but not here. Not in Newark. Now that Papa was at rest, maybe she could rest too; just not in the last place she’d been while he was alive. It was the prudent choice.
She sucked in a breath and jumped when a knock at the door startled her. That breath stayed in her lungs as she pulled her can of bear mace out of her purse and crept up to the door to wait.
“Miss Aroja?” A polite, clipped voice came through the door. “I hate to disturb you, but I’m afraid there was a problem with your credit card.”
She could have pretended to be out, but he’d just have unlocked her door to collect her things and put them in the lobby. It had happened once before. So she sighed, set the mace down, and put her eye to the peep hole. The man on the other side wasn’t one she recognized from the front desk but he was holding a slip of paper and had that slicked-back Jersey style that was getting to be popular again.
She leaned her forehead on the door and breathed.
“Miss Aroja?” The man asked.
“Just a sec,” Cassandra said. She unbolted and unchained the door and pulled it open.
The man took a single step over the threshold and raised a hand. There was a gun in it.
“Very sorry, Miss Gonzales,” he said, “if my colleague hadn’t gone rogue, you wouldn’t have seen it coming. My condolences.”
Cassandra snatched the bear mace from the little table she’d set it down on and attempted to empty the can into the man’s face.
Immediately, he fired. There was a muffled, high pitched sound, and the air next to one ear snapped at her as a bullet narrowly missed. The next one went wider, into the wall. A third pierced the window.
Cassandra gathered herself to tackle the assassin—when it came to guns, you didn’t want to be far away—and empty the rest of the mace into his mouth directly, but she didn’t get the chance.
Someone rounded the door frame—a man, tall, wide shouldered, and perfectly calm—reached out almost casually and broke the flailing gunman’s neck, and then caught him as he slumped backwards.
“Pardon me,” he said as he dragged the dead man into the room. Cassandra stepped aside, still gripping the can of
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