Hitman's Secret Baby: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  “Okay. That sounds good.”

  We hung up and I sighed, tipping my back against the headrest. I couldn’t believe how much better I felt, knowing I could see him later. It had taken so little time between me not wanting to be anywhere near him and actively seeking out his company that my head was constantly reeling with every tiny shift in our relationship.

  I grabbed some groceries at the local store, visited the diner to check on things, and then went home to put the stuff in the fridge.

  Later on, when I was sure Justin had gotten to our parents’ place safely, I video called my brother to catch up with them.

  My dad’s face swam into the picture as he snatched the phone from Justin.

  “Your mother wants to know how come you couldn’t get your ass out here with your brother?” he griped, and I chuckled as my mom nudged him.

  “Ignore your father,” she told me. “He misses you and doesn’t know how to say it.”

  “I know, Mom. Dad, I miss you too.”

  My father grumbled. I saw Daisy drawing in the background and Justin reading the paper. I felt sad that I couldn’t be there, but I had a hell of a consolation prize coming around later.

  “I have work things to do,” I explained to my father, hoping Justin would back me up if they started to grill him later.

  “Sometimes I wish we’d sold that damn diner so you two didn’t have to deal with it.”

  “I love the diner, Dad. Don’t say that.”

  If he only knew that Mason had been in there just nights ago. Recklessly, I thought about telling him, but I wouldn’t put it past my parents to drive all the way here themselves just to chew Mason out for what he’d done.

  We wrapped up our conversation in good spirits, though, and then I finished up some chores around the house until Mason knocked on my door.

  I wasn’t naked, but I could tell he was part-expecting it.

  “You changed your plans, too,” he said slyly, and I laughed.

  “For now.”

  I let him in, but barely one step through the door he seemed uncomfortable. I realized that the last time he’d been at my place, I’d walked into Daisy’s room to find him crying in there.

  It had shaken me to the core.

  I wondered if he was remembering it, now. As he eyed the photographs lining my hallway, his daughter and sister staring down at him from all the events and family vacations he’d missed, I suspected that was the case.

  “We could head out,” I offered, grabbing a sweater off the stand. “Go for a walk.”

  “How about a drive?” he suggested.

  I grinned; that sounded perfect. I’d spent too long in my empty house of late anyway.

  We climbed into his car and started along the road. As teenagers, we used to drive for miles sometimes—mostly getting to know each other, often making out in the backseat by the woods. We had sex a couple times, too, but I pushed that out of my head, trying to heed Justin’s words from earlier, if nothing else but to shut him up and tell him I tried.

  “Do you remember when you first came to work at the diner?” I asked Mason, wanting to share my nostalgia with him.

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “In your ripped jeans and baseball cap,” I recalled.

  “God, don’t remind me.” Mason turned the car onto the country back roads, winding slowly up into the hills on the outskirts of town. “I remember the first time I saw you.”

  “Yeah?” I asked eagerly.

  “In your little waitress uniform, coffee all down your apron.”

  I looked at him but his profile gave away nothing but amusement. “You remember that?”

  I certainly didn’t.

  Mason smirked. In the waning evening light, he looked like some bad boy out of a movie—one arm leant out of the rolled-down window, his dark hair caught in the breeze, those full lips pursed in a cocky smile.

  I wondered if he knew what a striking picture he made; everywhere he went, he caught people’s eye. It had always been that way. When he’d asked me out, I’d been both wary and thrilled. I knew his reputation, but after working with him, I’d seen how sweet and kind he really was. And he was the hottest guy in town.

  That certainly hadn’t changed.

  “I remember ’cause I thought to myself: damn, that chick’s got a nice rack,” Mason told me.

  I choked on my own laughter. “Tell me that’s not the first thing you thought about me.”

  “Sad, but true.”

  I hit him on the arm with the back of my hand. “You little pervert.”

  Mason shrugged. “I was.” And then, more seriously, he told me, “Afterwards, though, I just wanted to take you out and treat you right.”

  I smiled fondly. “I remember you asking me out.”

  “I was shit scared, I tell you.”

  “You? Scared?”

  Mason quickly glanced at me. “Yeah, your dad kept catching me looking at you and he kept giving me the stink-eye and I knew if I screwed up, he’d have my balls.”

  “That sounds like my dad.”

  If Dad only knew…

  “I wonder what he’d think now,” Mason said, self-deprecation creeping into his voice.

  I shuddered a little. How would my parents react to the news of what Mason did? I’d never be able to tell them the whole story, but a man faking his own death and leaving their pregnant daughter to pick up the pieces wouldn’t exactly go down very well, regardless of the other details.

  They’d mourned him, too. He was like a son to them when he and Anna became homeless after the death of their elderly aunt, their only other guardian.

  “Would you even wanna find out?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Mason drove on and said nothing. He knew what I was really asking.

  The scenery passed us in waves of shadowy trees and dotted farmhouse silhouettes. The Fosters’ ranch was up here, once upon a time, before it burned down. Mason avoided that area, though, driving us along the winding roads as the moon came all the way up and the stars blinked in full force.

  I turned us away from the subject of parents and back to reminiscing. I was surprised by how much Mason remembered of his old life.

  “I’m still me,” he said simply. “My memories didn’t just disappear when I walked away. Sometimes I think it’d be easier if they had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He fell silent again, giving the road a renewed focus. Eventually, he shook his head. “I swear there used to be turnoff here somewhere.”

  I wanted to push the issue—I wanted to push a lot of issues, in fact—but I didn’t. Mason never did react well to being pushed. I felt I even had some right to, after everything, but it didn’t seem fair to wield that right like a weapon.

  If Mason wanted to talk, he’d talk.

  I looked out of the window. We were high up now, the town a twinkling scatter of lights below us, getting farther and farther away. He was taking us away from civilization, it seemed.

  “Where are you even going?” I asked.

  “Nowhere,” Mason said. “I like to drive around sometimes.”

  “You still do that?”

  “Don’t get much opportunity in New York.” He shrugged. “But when I’m on a job, yeah.”

  Mason used to go for drives when he was stressed out or upset. When his mother was killed, he jacked a neighbor’s car and went for a joyride, being too young to own one of his own.

  Some things really did never change. I’d told Justin earlier that I couldn’t possibly love Mason because I didn’t know him, but Mason was making it difficult to keep up that protest. He just kept demolishing all of the preconceived notions about him that I’d built up since the day of Anna’s crashed wedding.

  As we sped through the country roads, past the thick trees and open fields, I found it more and more difficult to take my eyes off him. My hand crept out like a thing possessed, touching his thigh, spreading over the denim.

  I watched him swallow
and lick his lips in profile.

  “You’re like two people, you know that?” I said suddenly, my voice coming out without any forethought.

  “How’s that?”

  “When you came back, all I could see was the hitman,” I admitted. “And he’s terrifying and sexy and I hate myself for thinking that.”

  Mason stared ahead for a moment. “And who’s the other guy?”

  “Just you. Mason who laughs and jokes and likes to drive his troubles away.”

  My hand tightened on his thigh, slipping over and between his legs. It was reckless, but that was what he made me feel: total reckless abandon.

  The car slowed and it seemed he had enough sense to try to find a place to park. I felt the anticipation in my stomach, knowing exactly why.

  “It’s not like you’re ever gonna stop being a hitman, right?” I prompted, my fingertips finding the shape of his cock under his jeans.

  “Taryn,” he sighed.

  “What?” I said lightly, curling my hand over him. “It’s just a question.”

  “You can’t ask me that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s none of your fucking business,” he snapped, and then he winced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  I pressed down with the flat of my palm and felt his cock stiffen, cutting off his apology.

  I didn’t care. He could get angry all he wanted, but all it meant was that he was thinking things through and coming up with conclusions that made him question himself.

  “I can’t figure out which of those guys you are,” I told him in a low voice, rubbing his stiffening cock through the denim until he gasped.

  “Whichever’s gonna get me laid right now.”

  I scoffed, biting my lip. If I didn’t want him so bad, I might have stopped touching him just to make him suffer, but I hadn’t gotten to have him the other night and like I told Justin—I had needs.

  Between a patch of cherry blossoms, in a wide ditch off the side of the fairly obscure road, Mason finally came to a stop.

  The heel of my hand brought him to full hardness and, with the feeling of seclusion and being shrouded in darkness a heady mixture, I leaned over, pressing my mouth against his ear. “Show me the hitman.”

  He yanked me from my seat and into his lap, gripping my hips with his hands like branding irons.

  Our mouths hovered close and Mason bit my lower lip between his teeth, dragging it outwards. “You sure about that?” he growled.

  “Yes.”

  I already felt yielding against him. I knew I was playing with fire, asking for this side of him, but I wanted it.

  “Is this why you wanted to see me tonight?” he asked slyly. “Finish what we started at the diner?”

  “No,” I said honestly.

  Mason frowned, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Then why? Tell me.”

  The intensity of his gaze caught me off guard. I didn’t know if I could lie to him, and my mouth moved before I was fully ready.

  “Because I wanted to spend time with you.”

  His features went slack and he blinked. Quickly, Mason shook his head, making a fist in my hair and pulling me in for a brutal kiss that stole my breath away.

  He broke away, murmuring against my mouth, “Get on your knees.”

  My breath hitched. I swallowed, spit flooding my mouth at the thought, and I slipped off Mason’s lap and to my knees in the cramped foot well, pulling at his button and zipper and freeing his hard cock.

  I knew he was big, but up close I realized just how big. It didn’t scare me—it thrilled me.

  I stroked him with my hand, wet my lips, and took the head of his cock into my mouth.

  He threw his head back against the headrest and groaned. I looked up at him from my knees, slowly moving my mouth down to take as much of him in as I could manage, watching his eyes slam shut and his teeth sink into his lower lip in pleasure.

  It felt good to have this kind of power over him. A killer of countless men and I had him melting in my mouth. It was intoxicating, a terrible addiction, and I slid my tongue around the head of his cock, sucking soft kisses down the shaft.

  “That’s good,” he moaned, his hand so gentle in my hair. I reeled from the praise, taking more of him into my mouth, the head hitting the back of my throat. “God, Taryn.”

  I hummed around him, slurping back up and taking him right back down again. What I couldn’t reach, I stroked with my hand, and it wasn’t long before his thighs were tensing.

  “Stop,” he told me.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, looking up at him through my lashes. “Tell me what you want.”

  He growled again, tugging me upwards. “I want to fuck you.” He opened the car door, the muggy air hitting us, and climbed out, pulling me with him. “Spread yourself out over the hood.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from groaning. His voice was low and rough, sending heat flooding between my legs.

  I did what he said, standing at the front bumper and bracing my palms against the hood, still warm from the engine. I was bent over it, my skirt pulling up with the position and my ass in the air for him.

  He stopped somewhere behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see him taking me in.

  I caught his eye and he grinned wolfishly. “Damn hot, Taryn.”

  His scrutiny was intense and my elbows locked, my arms trembling where they held me up. I ached to be touched, throbbing between my legs, but still he looked and looked, raking his eyes over my vulnerable position.

  Suddenly, I felt him grip my ass cheek, his fingers sliding underneath my clothes. “I’m gonna nail your tight little pussy,” he promised, stretching over my back to nip at the nape of my neck with his teeth.

  “Please,” I begged. God, I wanted it. He was driving me crazy.

  “You’ll have to beg prettier than that.”

  He pushed up my skirt, kneading my ass and dragging his denim-covered cock against me. It was rough, scratching at his zipper, and I loved it.

  “Please, Mason,” I whimpered, almost a sob. “Please, please fuck me, I want it so bad.”

  “That’s nice,” he praised, stroking my back. I heard him fumbling the fastenings on his jeans and my heart kicked up in anticipation. “That’s real nice.”

  His voice was like a purr, the car was hot under my palms, and the air was sticky on my skin. I was overwhelmed, and when Mason merely moved my underwear aside and pushed his cock into me, I felt like a million live wires were sparking under my skin.

  This version of him was merciless; he didn’t start slow or seem to care at all about whether or not I was okay.

  He pounded into me, stroke after hard stroke, and I loved every bit of it, arching my spine and scratching up the paintjob, begging for more.

  Mason gripped my hips and took my body for his own, using me to pleasure his own cock.

  “You like that?” he asked roughly.

  I moaned helplessly, rippling with sensation. “Yes.”

  His fingers curled around my front and over my clit where he rubbed me, just short of too hard. “How about that?”

  “God, yes,” I groaned.

  In seconds, I clenched around him and came, my voice jerking out of me with every brutal thrust of his cock. He kept his fingertips over my clit, kept fucking me, and the oversensitivity started to hurt.

  I gasped, ready to pull his hand away from me, but he bit into the back of my neck, telling me, “You’re gonna come again.”

  He didn’t let up at all, and I was arching, half to get away and half to get closer. The pain felt like pleasure, the pleasure like pain. My every nerve ending was on fire. I was a barely lucid mess, senselessly begging Mason to keep fucking me even as I could hardly keep my legs under me anymore.

  Mason held me around my waist, angled his thrusts perfectly, and sent me over the edge again.

  “That’s it,” he told me, his voice losing its steadiness now. “That’s it, baby.”

  I
cried out one last time, trembling incoherently, unable to take any more of this, and Mason finally came, his cock held deep inside me until he was spent.

  When he released me, I slumped against the hood of the car, my face smushed against my forearm.

  “Good god,” I said hoarsely.

  Mason tossed the condom into the trees, still somehow standing.

  “You okay?” he asked smugly, and I rolled over right there on the car to look at his pleased little smirk.

  “Not bad,” I drawled.

  “You look like you’re struggling a bit, there.”

  “Shut your face.”

  He reached down to grab my wrist and pull me up into his arms. I was slack, trusting him to hold me up. He may have just given me a taste of the hitman, but he was Mason through and through in how he held me close.

  I leaned up to kiss him, a sated and lazy kiss that sent warmth all through me.

  Mason pulled me off my feet and walked to the passenger side of the car, setting me down there and opening it up so I could climb inside.

  I slumped in the seat, exhausted. This whole night had felt like a powerful release, and I was better for it, much of the tension I’d been holding in my body just dissipating.

  Mason climbed in and started the engine and got back on the road.

  I switched on the radio and tuned up the volume until the music was blasting out, tossing Mason a carefree grin that he returned.

  If things could always be like this, like we were kids again, sneaking off and having sex in the car, driving around listening to too-loud music…

  But they couldn’t, could they? My smile felt melancholy. Here, we felt like the only two people in the world, but out there people wanted to hurt Ethan and take Mason away all over again.

  I reached over and took his hand, squeezing it briefly, just wanting to touch him.

  Mason chuckled. “I’d better get you back home.”

  It sent a stab of disappointment through me. I knew it couldn’t be any other way, though, and I told him, “Okay,” and let the motions of the car lull me into a kind of peace.

  Having him inside me had made me feel less on edge. Sharing memories had been nice, too. Mason’s company had gone from rage-inducing to a thing I craved in such a short period of time, and I did worry how far this would end up going.