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His bodyguard is already in motion, kicking the dining table over and using it for cover. “Stay down! Stay down!” he barks, shoving Franko’s body lower to the ground and taking aim with his own gun.

“Fucking kill the shooter!” Franko shouts. “Kill him!”

I have no memory of standing, yet I’m in the center of it all, instantly overcome by fury. There’s no point in seeking cover; the anger consuming me has washed away all thought. Franko has just been shot. In the arm. He’s not dead. He’s writhing in pain but not gasping for his last breath.

In the chaos, the hitman moves with quick, smooth motions. He steps out from behind the pillar, takes aim, and shoots again. The large chandelier falls, and glass shatters behind us.

A distraction.

He breaks down his rifle at lightning speed, his face briefly lifting as soon as he’s done. Our eyes catch. I inhale sharply. He’s not the rough, grizzled Mafia goon I was expecting. No, this man is striking. Magnetic. Broad shoulders and thick arms in a black tactical vest. A tapered waist and muscular thighs. He’s devastatingly handsome.

This gorgeous asshole just ruined everything.

Franko and his guard are starting to move. Fuck. There isn’t anything I can do now. I bolt. I take off through the dining area, past the kitchen, and out the emergency door. The chilly air of the empty alleyway hits my cheeks. I’m halfway to my car when a massive wall of muscles lunges from the shadows. The hitman slams me against the wall. A large, rough hand covers my mouth as his body presses me against the bricks.

“Easy now. It’s okay,” a voice rumbles against the shell of my ear. “I’ve got you.”

I thrash against him, kicking and pushing. His breath catches, and he shoves me harder against the wall, pinning my hips with his. He’s even more handsome up close. My gaze eagerly takes him in. Sharp features, dark hair, vibrant blue eyes. And his stare. Fuck, the intensity in his stare is so odd for mere strangers. The man practically screams dominance. I squirm again, beginning to grow hard in my pants.

Without warning, a sharp prick pierces my neck. “Hush now, Skylar. You’re safe.” His tone is protective, with a certain edge to it. The combination of his words and that stare causes my body to relax. Or that could be the fucking sedative he just injected into my neck. Either way, despite my anger, my body betrays me.

The next thing I know, the sexy, infuriating hitman has me bound and my wrists zip-tied behind me. He tosses me over his shoulder like I’m some fucking rag doll. This bumbling idiot with a bad shot has no idea he just kidnapped a serial killer.

Chapter four

Jericho

Irace through New Vernon’s bumpy back roads as if the speed alone will help me outrun my problems. Unfortunately, there’s no escaping the angry man I have zip-tied up in the backseat of my car.

Fuck. What the fuck was I thinking, taking him? My hands clench around the steering wheel, twisting hard enough for the leather to groan under my grip. I peer into the review mirror. His dark gaze is laser-focused on mine. Vicious and slightly hooded. How the hell is he awake right now? The sedative that I gave him wasn’t the usual amount I give some of my hits, but it should have been enough to knock him out for a few minutes, at the very least.

“Where are you taking me?” he demands when we approach a traffic light. That’s a damn good question, and one I don’t think I have an answer for. This is all new territory for me. I’ve never fucked up a job like this before, and I sure as hell never let a target escape.

I make a mental note to text Alessandro. Damn it, he’s going to be pissed. Thank fuck Sienna is safe, at least. I might not get paid, but at least Alessandro is a friend, so I shouldn’t need to look over my shoulder, waiting for retribution.

Fuck, Alessandro…

His words replay in my head. ‘It doesn’t matter who is in the way...’

I don’t want to kill Skylar King.

It’s not even the fact that he’s my favorite porn star. He’s young. And beautiful. He’s all smiles and so full of life. I follow him on social media for fuck’s sake. Stopping at the red light, I study my beautiful captive.

High cheekbones and large, familiar brown eyes. A five o’clock shadow that looks really fucking good on him. He’s wearing a black dress shirt that oozes wealth and looks like it was tailored to fit his toned frame perfectly. Too bad it ripped open at the top. His signature-styled brown hair is messy from our scuffle in the alley. He looks well-fucked, and apparently, my dick is on board with it.

Images of Skylar struggling against me as I pinned him helplessly against the wall have my cock twitching in my pants. I can’t be entirely sure, but it looked like I wasn’t the only one affected by our little tussle before I threw him over my shoulder.

No, it isn’t just because he’s Skylar King, or even the fact that he’s innocent. I want to keep Skylar alive because he reminds me of… him. Aaron.

Suddenly, different images come flooding in. Painful memories of the boy I lost twenty years ago. Sorrow and rage are a chaotic swirling vortex inside me. Emotions that should be fucking buried and forgotten. I gasp for air. How the hell have I never noticed all the similarities before? Skylar looks like the adult version of Aaron. That realization makes it really hard to breathe.

“Are you listening to me?” he snaps. “I asked a question, you big, stupid brute.”

The light ahead turns green, and I continue driving. At the last second, I turn left toward my place. It’s probably my dumbest mistake yet, but I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, and before I make any rash decisions, I need time to think. Thank god I already briefly searched the man for his cell phone and wallet. I tossed them into a special bag that has a metallic lining. It works like a signal jammer and won’t allow for any incoming or outgoing signals. No one should be able to trace Skylar while his items are in there.

He huffs in frustration when I don’t answer him right away. “Is this your first fucking job or something?” he taunts. “Because, news flash, buddy. You missed. You made a real hot mess of things, and to top it off, kidnapping a high-profile person like me isn’t going to bode well for you. Fucking amateur,” he whispers the last two words.

I cock an eyebrow. How the hell does he know how an amateur would act?