Viper: A Hitman Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

the nightstand, and cuff her to the bed frame.
    Professional or not, I have to admit, she looks good like that.  Stretched out on my bed, hands above her head, her back arched, chest out, every inch of her calls my name. 
    I know that, back in the parking lot that, I could've fucked her right then and there.  She wanted it.  Needed it.   She was shaking while she kissed me and her body was wound up so tight with tension that seeing her finally explode with release would be a beautiful thing.
    Jessica Roan, beneath me, screaming my name, writhing with my cock deep inside her.   The thought makes me so hard it hurts.
    Again, different circumstances, I'd love to get to know her.  But this is business.
    I make a pass through the house.  I secure the guns, I lock them away in the weapons safe in my office, and I make sure that any other obvious weapons are secure, because if this Jessica has herself on Michael Drax's shitlist, there is more to her than meets the eye.
    I come back to the bedroom. 
    Jessica's still awake, still looking at me with those doe eyes, but she's a lot calmer now.  Hardly even shudders when she breathes and the tears have dried up.
    Tough girl.  Good, I hate when the hot ones are all fragile.
    "Who are you?  And why have you kidnapped me?  What the hell is this all about?" she says.
    "My name is Ryker Blackwood.  You can call me Ry if you want, though I'd prefer you don't.  Most people call me Ryker."
    There's no harm in telling her my name.  I'm good, and I'm not on any watchlist.  You don't make it as far as I have by winding up on the government's radar.
    I'm an independent.  There's no organization out there to protect me.  No cartel to hide behind.  Which means, anonymity is the most important factor in staying alive.  Well, that and being a dead-eye with a rifle.
    I sit down on the edge of the bed. 
    I've learned that it pays to have a gentle hand with hostages.  Smack them if they get out of line, keep a firm hand, but don't go scaring them shitless.  Scared people get crazy, and crazy people are dangerous.  It doesn't matter if you're a curvy, lovely woman or a Burmese warlord with a pet tiger named Lucifer — if you're crazy, you're trouble.
    "As for question number two: I'm doing this because I was paid to.  Someone gave me your name, your location, and instructions to pick you up.  And so, you'll stay here and you'll cooperate, until they're done with you."
    She's steadier now.  Instead of freaking out, she's processing the info and I can see she's trying to put the pieces to the puzzle together.  I can respect that.
    "But why me?  I'm not anyone important.  I work behind a desk all day, I process paperwork, and I don't have any money.  Heck, I'm going to have negative money just trying to figure out my brother's treatment."
    Those are all good questions.  But I don't give a damn.
    I shrug.  "Not my job.  Not my concern."
    "So, what, Ryker, you just do what you're told like a good little robot?  Does a bigger man have you scared?"  Her eyes flicker at me.  She's trying to taunt me and get me off balance.  She's got some real fire to her.
    I like that.
    I smile.  "I'm a professional, Jessica.  I know when to ask questions, and I know when to keep my head down and do my fucking job.  It's simple as that."
    "That's it?  Don't you have a conscience?  Or a family?  What would your parents think if they found out their son was a hired killer?  Or your wife or children, what would they think?"
    I shake my head and make a casual show of toying with my gun.  "My parents are dead, so I doubt they care.  It's just me, Jessica."
    Jessica looks about to say something else, but I'm done with this conversation.  This isn't a counseling session.  We're not here to talk about my family, or my fears, my dreams, or what I see in the inkblots. 
    I stand up.
    "Stay here.  Stay quiet."
    Back downstairs, I take out my work phone and fire off a text back to the same