Free Hitman's Desire: A Bad Boy Romance by Megyn Riley Page A

in 24 hours. But I can guarantee you, Finn will be dead in that timeframe. And so will anyone else who puts a contract on me.”
    “Is that a threat?”
    “No. Just a statement of fact.”
    “By the way. I’ve got a source that hears rumors of you wanting to cut a deal.”
    “You know me. I’m not a snitch. I had to get them to think I was going to turn. It’s hard to break out of a jail cell. It’s much easier to ditch some federal baby sitters.”
    “That’s good. Because I hate snitches,” Nick says. “Do me a favor. The girl. The special agent. As a show of loyalty, kill her.”
    “Why her?”
    “I have my reasons.”
    There is a long moment of silence.
    “You’re not going soft on me, are you?” Nick asks.
    “No.”
    “Good. I expect to read about her death in the paper tomorrow. Good luck.”
    The line goes dead.
    I hang up the phone and grumble to myself. Then I dial another number. This business isn’t conducive for making friends. You have acquaintances, associates, enemies, and targets. There’s not much room for anything else. But Salvatore Rossa is the closest thing I’ve got to one.
    Sal and I go back a long ways. Back to the special forces. And he owes me one. He’s part of Falco’s crew. And now, by default, part of Finn’s.
    After a few rings, a gruff voice answers the phone. He’s got a thick Brooklyn accent. “What is it?”
    “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I say.
    “I don’t got any friends.”
    “Neither do I.”
    “You’re in a whole lot of trouble, Ryker.”
    “I didn’t kill Falco.”
    “I didn’t think you did. You’re dumb. But you’re not dumb enough to do that. And if you did, you would have covered your tracks better. You know, I could get in a lot of trouble just talking to you.”
    “Well you better not let anybody find out, then,” I say.
    “What do you need?”
    “You and I both know who did this.”
    “So?”
    “You just going to let that stand?”
    “You don’t think I want payback? Vic Falco was like a father to me. I want the son-of-a-bitch who did this dead. But you know the rules. You can’t touch a made guy without authorization.”
    “Since when do you follow rules?”
    “Since I like staying alive,” Sal says. Look, you get some proof. Take it to the commission. I’ll help you take out the scumbag myself.”
    “Proof. That seems to be what everybody wants. You guys are worse than the Feds.”
    “Hey, no need to insult me.”
    “Where is Dominic Finn?”
    “Sorry, pal. I can’t tell you that. I wish I could help you. But, you know how it is.”
    “We go way back, you and I,” I say, trying to illicit a little empathy.
    “And I owe you. I know that. But you can’t cash that chip in on this one.”
    “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
    Sal doesn’t say anything. He’s not the kind of guy who is persuaded easily. I don’t blame him. You look out for number one in this business. Or you won’t stay in it for very long.
    “Thanks, Sal. You’ve been helpful,” I say with a trace of sarcasm.
    “You watch yourself out there.”
    “Always.”
    I hang up the phone and scan the street. I see two guys in a car down the block, staring at me. I think, for a moment, that I’m just being paranoid. But then the headlights flash on, and the car screeches away from the curb. The engine clatters and the sedan roars toward me.
    I see an Uzi jut out of the window. The barrel lights up with muzzle flash. A stream of bullets rifles through the air, rocketing straight for me.

13

Scarlett
    I knew a girl in high school who could dislocate her thumb and slip out of almost any handcuff. She learned she could do it when her boyfriend handcuffed her to the bed post. They were playing the fun version of cops and robbers. Her parents came home early, and she panicked when she heard them pull into the garage. Her boyfriend couldn’t find the keys. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do. She was 18, and a senior,