Hitman's Secret Baby: A Bad Boy Romance (7 page)

“I’m okay,” I quickly assured her, leaning against the counter.

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Taryn,” I snapped. “Don’t treat me like a traumatized fucking kid, all right?”

She held her hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine, really.”

I wasn’t, and I didn’t even know why. All the things I’d done and a goddamn diner had defeated me, left me trembling and sick to my stomach. Maybe it came down to simple math: meticulous killing, I was good at; losing myself in sex, I was fucking great at; dealing with my internal emotional bullshit, and I became about as useful as a table with no legs.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Taryn said lightly.

“Well, I am.”

She kept watching me, the scrutiny torturous, and I thought about leaving, getting away from it. It was what I did—left. It was easier than dealing with the fallout.

I found myself unable to move, though. The need to stay with her was stronger than the urge to flee.

“Look,” I said reasonably, trying to get that damn scrutiny off me. “Let’s just get outta here. Go and do something else.”

Taryn raised her eyebrows. “Like a… date?”

I scoffed, realizing that—yeah, I’d basically just asked her on a date. “If you wanna put a label on it.”

“Let’s not,” she said thoughtfully, and a stab of disappointment pierced my chest so suddenly I took a step back. She corrected herself quickly. “I meant let’s not put a label on it. But sure, we can get out of here.”

“Cool.” I nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

We’d almost had sex again, but I couldn’t go back there so soon after my attack of—whatever that was. My nightmares invading my waking hours or something, my subconscious cock-blocking me like the piece of shit it was.

It felt good to get outside, into the warm evening air. I felt miles better with just one foot out the door.

“We could just go for a stroll?” Taryn suggested. “I can leave my car here.”

After my mom was murdered, I’d been paranoid for a long time about walking around town at night. Her murder chalked up to a robbery gone wrong, I’d seen criminals and thugs around every corner. In my eyes, everyone had a gun or a knife, everyone was out for blood.

I’d met Jay and his group of shady friends and learned to protect myself, and all over an invisible enemy who turned out to be a man who I’d respected more than most others; the man who’d seen my love of horses and hard work and offered to let me help out on his ranch for a few dollars every weekend, who’d treated me like a son despite having a son of his own. No stranger lurking in an alleyway, but a man who I had
trusted.

“I still don’t like walking around here at night,” I admitted grudgingly, knowing Taryn deserved some insight into how I was feeling.

“I’ve got your back,” she said, grinning up at me.

It gave me a great idea all of a sudden, and I grabbed for her hand thoughtlessly. “Hey, come with me.”

I started pulling her in the direction of the park. The smile stayed firmly on her face, and she squeezed my hand right back, like she was completely fine with it.

We walked the short distance to the entrance of the local park. It was locked at this time of night, but a minute with a lockpick and I had the rusty iron gate screeching open.

“That’s quite a trick,” Taryn quipped, giving me a bemused look.

“What, you’re not gonna tell me off?”

She shrugged. “Depends on what nefarious reason you brought me here for.”

I led her to the wooded play area and onto the soft green flooring there, and then I stood, my legs parted in a fighting stance.

Taryn raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna… fight me?”

“The lighting’s not great, but I figured I’d teach you a few self-defense techniques.”

Without the glare from the main streets, the night sky here was clearer and the stars more visible. The distant park pathways were scattered with low-light streetlamps, giving the play area a very faint, almost ethereal glow.

It was enough for the basics, though.

“Okay,” Taryn said, breaking into a smile. “That sounds fun.”

“Right.” I put my hands on her shoulders, turning her just off-side. “This is how you put more power in your punches.” I nudged her feet apart, guiding her to the right stance. “Make a fist for me.” She did, and I stepped behind her, gripping her wrist gently and drawing her arm back. “You wanna swing all the way through, putting all that momentum behind it.”

I showed her how a couple times, pressing my chest against her back and moving with her, feeling the measured in and out of every breath and the joint stretch of our muscles.

She did it just fine as I supervised, and I moved onto elbows and knees, where to angle a hit to put a guy on his knees.

“What if I get grabbed?” she asked, breathing a little harder now.

“I’ll show you.”

Sweat prickled along my forehead in the heavy summer night air. I walked behind her, stepping forward and wrapping my arms tightly around her in a bear hug.

“First thing,” I told her, muttering into her ear. I watched the flesh of her throat rise into goose pimples and I wanted to smile at the effect I had on her. “Jam your heel back into his calf and the top of his foot as hard as you can.”

She did the motions slowly, the heel of her tennis shoe raking down the front of my leg. “Like that?”

“Just like that.”

I leaned against her, heavier. My hands spread around her body, my face pressed into her sweet-smelling hair. I held her to my chest, her small figure in my arms, fitting too perfectly.

“What if he still doesn’t let me go?” she asked softly, turning her head at an angle so I could see her moonlit profile.

My mouth found her ear. “Then, I’ll kill the fucker.”

Her breath hitched and I
felt
it under my palms. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I know,” I said guiltily. “It scares you, I know that—”

“No,” she interrupted, sounding strained and uncomfortable at what she was admitting. “It doesn’t scare me.”

“I would.” I squeezed her tighter, and instead of a sexual impulse, I felt a protective one. A
possessive
one. If anyone ever tried to hurt her, I’d honestly kill them where they stood. I couldn’t bear the thought of it—it clutched at me like those memories of the diner. “They’d be sorry.”

Taryn sighed. “How would you even know if anything happened to me?”

I tipped my forehead to the top of her head and sighed. I had no answer for that, and it took the wind right out of my sails.

She was right, I hadn’t been here for the past ten years, and in what realistic world could I ever be here in the future? My feelings of protectiveness didn’t change the fact that it was just words, meant to convey some kind of pipe dream.

I’d had too many of those recently. Empty words and empty dreams. I wasn’t much fond of either.

“If he doesn’t let go,” I went on, my voice lighter, “drop your weight as hard as possible to unbalance him.” She threw down her weight and broke my hold on her, spinning out of my grip to stand a few feet away. “This would be the part where you run away as fast as you can.”

Taryn’s dark eyes watched me soulfully. “I never could run all that fast.”

“That makes you vulnerable.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I kicked a pebble away, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “We should get outta here. Before some real thugs come along and make trouble.”

Taryn sighed and we fell into step, some distance between us now.

“I’ll walk you back to your car,” I told her.

“No need. I can defend myself now,” she said dryly.

I chuckled. “All the same, I think I’d rather be sure.”

We strolled back to the diner, and I saw Taryn into her car, closing the door for her.

She wound down the window, looking like she didn’t want to drive away from me, and I almost said something, made a pass, asked to go with her,
something
, but I stood silently. It was safer that I didn’t, the introspective way I was feeling. I might have said or done something to upset this fragile balance we’d created.

I merely gave Taryn a parting smile and stepped back. “See you.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

And then she was gone. And I was alone in front of that dark diner, those memories fainter but still ever-present, wishing I had spoken up, wishing for more damn time.

Chapter Seven
Taryn

Justin looked at me with sympathy.

I didn’t appreciate it.

“Look,” I tried to explain. “I’m fine. Really.” He didn’t look like he believed me. “I’m
fine
. So my ex came back from the dead, told me he was a killer and a hitman, and dropped the news that my best friend’s husband was on a hit list. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Justin pursed his mouth. “Hmm.”

I sighed; even I didn’t buy that. “Okay, it sucks, but seriously, I’m okay.”

I watched Daisy run around the play area with the other kids. We’d come out for lunch to the place by the lake, taking an outdoor seat to enjoy the sunshine, but the barely touched remnants of my sandwich sat filling the plate in front of me and I pushed it aside.

Justin, of course, picked right up on that. “You never leave food.”

“I had a large breakfast.”

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

I did know that, and I’d already told him about Ethan, about Mason’s career trajectory, about Mr. Foster killing Mason and Anna’s mother. I sighed again, leaning my forehead against my hand. I knew I couldn’t hide the
other
little detail forever, not when I was so torn up about it and Justin knew me too damn well.

“We’ve been sleeping together,” I said flatly. Justin was silent and I couldn’t look at him, studying my uneaten sandwich instead. “It’s happened twice now, and it almost happened again the other night. Well, it kinda
did
happen. He used his—”

Justin threw up a hand in defense. “I don’t need to know the details!”

“Right.”

“You know that twice is a coincidence,” Justin said frantically. “Three times is the pattern, that’s the real kicker, and it doesn’t count if it’s only
kinda
so, really, all you have to do is stay away from him and not let his dick near you again and you’re fine, you’re not officially sleeping together.”

I raised an eyebrow in exasperation. “Are we in tenth grade all of a sudden?”

“I stand by it.”

“It wasn’t meant to happen the first or the second time, either! Clearly neither of us has any self-control around each other.”

“Do you love him?”

“God, Justin.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You can’t just ask me that.”

“Oh, fuck, you do.”

“No! I don’t even know him anymore.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it was relevant enough to my feelings to be a real issue. “He’s attractive and I have needs.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “That’s bull. There are tons of guys in this town who’d give their right arm to sleep with you.”

“I missed him,” I blurted out, instantly feeling ashamed, but I couldn’t stop it once it was out. “I got the guy I was head over heels in love with back from the dead. Tell me how I’m supposed to deal with that?”

My brother leaned across the wooden bench, putting a hand over my arm. “I know, sis. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

Ever since we were kids, Justin had looked out for me. He punched out the boy down the street who used to pull my pigtails; he held my hand as I told my parents I was pregnant with a dead man’s child at sixteen; and when I was raising my baby, he was always there, doing diaper runs and taking over when I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

When Mason had come into my life, Justin had been wary, but when he realized how much Mason loved me, he’d learned to trust Mason to the core.

That trust had been broken with Mason’s lies, though, and I knew how much it’d hurt my brother, even if he never showed it.

“I know you’ll never stop worrying about me,” I told Justin. “But you said you trusted me to make good decisions. Just trust me to handle this, please?”

He nodded, giving my arm a final squeeze before letting go. “Okay, I’ll stop whining at you.”

“Good.” I smiled. “Now let’s get dessert.”

I called Daisy back to the table, and actually felt my appetite return a little in time for cake. After we paid the bill, Justin climbed into his car with Daisy, and I was left alone in the parking lot, watching them drive away.

For the first time in a long, long time I felt lonely.

Anna was on her honeymoon, Justin was taking Daisy to see our parents overnight, and the diner was in the hands of my weekend staff.

And I was stuck here, too anxious to leave town in case something happened with Mason, some new development I’d need to know about.

I got in my own car, slumping at the wheel. My phone tempted me, the knowledge that Mason was only a phone call away something I couldn’t
not
think about.

You’re not dating,
I told myself sternly. Calling him up to spend time with him felt a lot like dating. He’d done it to me a couple of days ago and look how that had ended. The other night had been strange; we kept getting close and then pulling away, and Mason had definitely pulled away.

Maybe he wouldn’t even want to see me. I felt kind of pathetic, yearning after him so badly.

Despite myself, I quickly grabbed up my phone anyway. If he acted like an ass, then so be it.

“Hey,” came Mason’s voice, warm on the line.

“Hey.” I was pretty much stuck at that. “Um. How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you… busy?”

He laughed. “Kinda. Are you busy?”

He was making fun of me and it helped me realize I was being ridiculous; there was no reason to be afraid of what he’d think if I called him. We were so far past that.

“I’m in a parking lot deciding what the hell to do with the rest of my day,” I told him dryly.

“I was gonna spend the day drunk in a dive bar on First, so your parking lot thing doesn’t sound so bad.”

That was more revealing than Mason probably intended it to be.

“Daisy’s gone off with Justin to our parents’ place,” I said, and realized that was far more revealing than
I’d
intended it to be, too.

“Sounds lonely.”

“I suppose I could always walk around my house naked without having to worry about anyone knocking on my door.”

Mason chuckled deeply. “Well, in that case, I might have to alter my plans.” He already had me grinning to myself like an idiot; how the hell did he do that? “That is, if you don’t mind the company.”

“I could squeeze you in.”

“I have to meet with someone this afternoon, but I can swing by your place later?”

“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.”