Broken: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Guns and Glory Book 3) Read online

  It would be easy, but I restrained.

  I arched an eyebrow at him, waiting.

  Puffing himself up as big as he was able, he squared his shoulders—slighter, less impressive compared to my own well-defined body—and lifted his chin just slightly. It might have been a gesture of defiance if he weren’t so obviously shorter than me. Short enough that he had to look up to stare me in the eyes.

  It made me smile viciously down at him.

  “You need to leave her alone,” he said in what was supposed to be a menacing, in control tone, I was sure, but fell rather flat on my ears.

  His simple command made my body twitch with sudden, gripping tension. What right did this child have to order me around? He couldn’t call himself a man, clearly, since he hadn’t yet convinced Madeline the way I had. Sure, she was avoiding me now, hiding behind him as though that might detour me, but I knew better. She was only afraid of the deep well of desire that opened up whenever we were in the same room together. It wasn’t because of any love or devotion to this pathetic excuse of a man.

  I grinned at him, dark and menacing, as I forced myself to be calm, despite the growing need to pummel him. “I’ll give you one opportunity,” I told him in a calm that should have terrified him.

  I saw him shake a little, but he did his best to hold it back. It was the only impressive thing I’d seen him do yet, but it wasn’t enough to make me like him more. There was something slimy about him that made me want to wash my hands of this poor excuse for a human being. I couldn’t explain it, but it was there.

  “Opportunity for what?” he asked snidely.

  “To walk away from her.”

  At that he barked out a short, obnoxious laugh. He was clearly trying to be tough, but was inexperienced with it to say the least. I found him to be annoying at best, but I was determined—for Madeline’s poor heart more than anything else—to give him this single opportunity. Then I would show him what I did to people who tried to give me orders. I waited for an answer and it came swiftly.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” he answered, his thin lips pulling back in a sneer. Perhaps my repulsion was purely because he was moving in on my territory, but I found him to be an ugly young man. More so the longer I was in his presence. “She’s my fiancée and if you think for one second that—”

  I didn’t let him finish. As soon as fiancée slipped from his ugly mouth, I grabbed for him. My hands fisted themselves into his plain t-shirt and I shoved him backwards. He slammed into the wall and I lifted, finding him to be light as I pinned him against the wall for leverage. His feet dangled just out of reach of the floor as I got into his face.

  “I will tell you this once, so listen well because I will not have a second conversation with you,” I told him in a low, dangerous tone, my emotions getting the better of me. I didn’t care. “If you come within eyesight of Madeline ever again, I will have no choice. I will kill you. Don’t underestimate me, boy.”

  With that, I let him fall. He stumbled, then finally just slumped down against the wall, landing on his butt with his long legs spiraled awkwardly about him. He was wide-eyed and pale, looking like some gawking, awkward teenager instead of the man who was supposed to marry Madeline.

  I left him feeling sure that at least one problem was taken care of. He wasn’t brave enough to defy me.

  Chapter 21

  Madeline

  It took me a while to get myself under control. I couldn’t explain why I was so devastated by Nikolai leaving; after all, I’d been the one to tell him to do so. In fact, I’d lied through my teeth to force the issue. But my heart ached and heaved all the same at his absence. I blamed it on the hormones surging through me thanks to my pregnancy, but I had the feeling I was only lying to myself.

  This was something different entirely.

  Ultimately, I did get out of bed, though. It was the reminder that my brother was out there somewhere, that Nikolai was hunting him that brought me out of my bed in the end.

  Nikolai had told me a lot of things about my brother. Bad things. He’d accused him of murder and stealing and getting in bad with whom I could only assume was the mob. Part of me was inclined to think my brother was capable of some pretty awful things—tormenting kids in school who were nerdy or had problems at home, speech impediments, and even mental problems, not to mention throwing rocks at windows, drinking and driving through the neighborhoods while smashing people’s mailboxes—but stealing was a step up even for him. And it wasn’t like a little shoplifting. I didn’t condone that, but I could write that off pretty easily. My brother could get himself into some trouble pretty easily, but only the little things. I couldn’t see him stealing a lot of money from the mob any more than I could see him stealing a car or a gun or a TV. That was all just too ridiculous.

  And killing someone?

  No, never. Logan was a screw up in a lot of ways as a kid, but he had been evolving. Changing. He’d been getting his life together, hadn’t he? He wasn’t the same black sheep child he had been after mom’s death. He’d “gone straight,” as dad liked to say. He was working in construction now, paying his bills—well, most of them; I’d helped him out a time or two—following through with plans. That didn’t sound like the type of man who would get into trouble like this, did it?

  No. I decided Nikolai had to be wrong. Why wouldn’t he lie? Clearly, he was a murdering hit man. Was lying such a stretch from that?

  There was a weird, mutating thing in my stomach that told me not to be so quick to absolve Logan nor to condemn Nikolai. It reminded me that there were secrets flying around and lies, too. How did I really know my brother was as squeaky clean as I thought?

  Because I know Nikolai isn’t, I countered, but it still wasn’t enough. I felt uneasy about the whole thing, but in the end, I knew I had to get ahold of my brother.

  Whatever he’d done, he didn’t deserve to die. I had to protect him in whatever way I could.

  I quickly grabbed my phone, getting ready to dial my brother. There was a good chance he wouldn’t pick up. I’d tried to get ahold of him on and off for the last few years that I’d been in the city, and he only ever picked up a handful of times. He never called me back. Even so, I was hopeful that, given the circumstances, he might actually put a little more importance behind getting ahold of me.

  When I glanced at the screen, I saw I had missed several calls from Shawn. Irritation flooded me; couldn’t he just give me some space?

  Instantly, I felt horrible for it. He was doing everything he could to make my life easier, and while I knew for certain that I didn’t love him back, he did care about me a lot and was willing to put his own life aside for the sake of making mine easier.

  Not that he wouldn’t get what he wanted, too.

  I frowned. It was getting harder to figure out what was going on in peoples’ heads these days. Ignoring the missed calls, I went to my brother’s number and dialed. It rang a half a dozen times and I was sure that, just like every other time, he wouldn’t pick up. Thus, my surprise when there was a click, then a quick, “Hello? Hello? Madeline?”

  “Logan?” I asked in surprise. I really hadn’t thought he’d answer.

  I heard him sigh in relief. “Thank god. What’s going on?”

  I didn’t ask him about the “thank god” thing. Was he just really happy to hear from me or was he worried it was someone else calling? “I needed to talk to you about…about what happened this morning.” I bit my lip, uncertain how much was okay to talk about over the phone. It seemed paranoid on my part, but couldn’t people track phones and listen in on conversations? I didn’t really think Nikolai would have the opportunity to do that to my phone, but I had been unconscious around him on more than one occasion. I blushed as I thought about what most of those occasions had been the result of.

  “We shouldn’t be talking about it on the phone.” Logan’s voice seemed hesitant and not particularly happy.

  I shook my head, though of course he couldn’t see
that. “I know, but it’s important.”

  There was a pause, then he asked, “What is it?”

  “The man who’s after you—” I almost said Nikolai’s name, but wasn’t sure I wanted to yet. Was that good or bad? “—he’s been here.”

  “What?” Logan’s voice was incredulous and more than a little shocked, though there wasn’t necessarily the anger I’d been expecting. Not that it mattered, I just thought that as his sister, he’d be a little bit more concerned about my safety. Instead, however, he just asked, “You didn’t tell him anything, right? I mean, you didn’t tell him anything about me or that I’d been there, did you?”

  I frowned, but didn’t bother saying he was a bad brother for not being even a little bit concerned about my safety in all of this. Instead, I said, “Of course not! I would never do that. But…he definitely knows I’m your sister. And I don’t know if he knows you were here or not, but he’s come looking.” And looking for other things, but I didn’t mention that. Logan didn’t need to know I had had sex with Nikolai, nor that I was carrying his baby. That seemed like it would cause too many complications.

  He made a strangled, frustrated sound and I imagined him pacing, running his hands through his blond hair. Finally, he cursed and said, “All right. You’re going to have to get out of there. Go into hiding. For your own protection.”

  I softened at that, feeling guilty for assuming he didn’t care about me. He was my brother; of course he cared about my safety. But then I thought about it. “Hiding? Why? Why can’t you just talk this out or go to the police or—”

  Before I could even finish, he jumped on me. “No police!”

  I paused, letting a still silence settle over us. No police. A stone sank low in my gut, whispering to me that Nikolai had been right. Logan did do something bad. But maybe he didn’t kill anyone. Maybe Nikolai was lying and it was only money that he took. I wanted to believe that so bad, but why would Nikolai lie about only one part of it and not the other?

  “Logan, you need to tell me what’s going on.” My voice came out as little more than a tiny whisper, barely even making the trip through the phone to the other end.

  There was a pause, then Logan said, “Okay, I…I’m in a little bit of trouble.”

  “Trouble,” I repeated.

  “Yeah. I did something kind of stupid. Okay, really stupid. But it’ll all work out. I just need a little time and this whole thing will blow over.”

  I had the feeling that wasn’t true. This didn’t seem like the type of thing that would just blow over. In fact, it was beginning to sound like the kind of thing that was going to haunt my family for the rest of our lives. Biting my lip, I forced myself to ask the questions I was dreading. “What happened, Logan? What did you do?”

  “Madeline, don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t tell me not to worry about it! This is serious! Someone wants you dead! You need to—” But before I could tell my brother just what it was that he needed to do, the line went dead. There was a click and a moment later I heard a dial tone. My brother had just hung up on me, leaving me worried and more confused than ever.

  He’d told me to go into hiding, but I didn’t even know how to start to do something like that! Where would I go? What would I live off of? And what about the baby?

  My gut told me things were wrong. So wrong that I wasn’t sure they could be fixed. I knew that, whatever my brother had done, the only options were going to the police or trying to reason with Nikolai. I thought of Nikolai and his tall, masculine form. Of his bulging muscles and his sharp, piercing eyes. The kind of eyes you could get lost in. He was a solid man and I knew he was the kind of person who was used to getting his way.

  No, reasoning with him about this was out of the question. He had his sights set on Logan, and I didn’t think there was any way to get him to back down now.

  And Logan wouldn’t go to the police. I was left with no options—at least, no good ones. And that wasn’t even including what the hell I was supposed to do about the baby! How could I go on the run while I was pregnant? And when Nikolai found out I’d left, would he come after me? Would he be furious, dangerous even?

  I didn’t think so, but how could I know for sure? He was a hit man and he was after my brother. I could be the collateral damage that he just didn’t care about in the end.

  Exhausted, terrified, and not knowing what to do, I crawled back into bed and put my head down on the pillow. Grabbing the covers, I yanked them up over my head, wishing I could shut the rest of the world out just for a moment.

  What was I going to do?

  Chapter 22

  Nikolai

  My search for Logan wasn’t going so well. I had called Peter already, but he hadn’t seen anything since that night. In fact, he explained that the cops had stopped by and asked all sorts of questions. They’d canvased the place for witnesses, trying to ID the shooter, but no one was talking. That wasn’t a surprise either. Peter had managed to shoo most of the people who were still in the bar when I was about to tag Logan. Those who had lingered—like those women in the bathroom for instance—had been too drunk to really even remember what had happened, much less anything about me.

  I was in the clear as far as the commotion was concerned, but that didn’t really do me any good beyond making sure I could still move freely. But then, that had never been an issue either. I had contacts in the police department who would have made that little problem disappear long before any court date or arraignment was ever set.

  Still, I was grateful that Peter was putting in the time and effort. It made my job easier.

  I was disappointed that he didn’t have more, though.

  “What about the partner?” I asked him as we spoke over the phone. I was back at my apartment, getting showered and dressed—taking care of the hardness that had grown beneath my pants after my little encounter with Madeline—as I spoke to him, trying to dig up some leads.

  He made a sound in his throat, like maybe he didn’t care for all this crap. Really, he probably didn’t. Peter was one of those guys who, while in deep with people like Mickey, really just wanted to be left alone. He dealt with Mickey—and me by extension—because he had to, because this was Mickey’s city, or this section of it was, anyway, and he understood that to do anything successfully, you had to have some connection with Mickey. It wasn’t that Peter disliked the older man, but he just didn’t have a taste for some of the more illicit activities he dealt with.

  And me? Well, we had a complicated relationship in which he acknowledged that what I did was a necessary evil. We were tentative friends, both of us acknowledging that, despite our differences, we enjoyed the basic company of the other.

  “I don’t know what happened to the little shit,” Peter admitted. “He must have slipped out while I was still trying to get people out the door. Then the damn alarm went off.” Peter didn’t sound too pleased with that. “Anyway. By the time I got to that table, no one was sitting at it.”

  That was disappointing. I had really hoped Peter would have something on the partner so I could put more effort into finding him. I thought Mickey might have some info, but all he could say was that they’d allowed Logan to bring in some other guys to help with the work. In the end, those other guys either didn’t show or didn’t hang around for the heist. Only this one man showed up, an accomplice to Logan’s foolish crime. Mickey didn’t have a name yet; I was hoping Peter did.

  “So you don’t have anything?” I tried not to sound annoyed, but I probably did anyway. I hoped vaguely that Peter wouldn’t take it personally. It was easier to deal with people when they weren’t angry with you.

  There was a pause, then Peter said, “Well, I might have something. It’s not a lot, but—”

  “What is it?” Hope grew suddenly in my chest. All I needed was a name, a number, a fucking car color. Just something to go on.

  “Well, that asshole was flirting with one of my girls.” Peter called all of his waitresses his ‘gir
ls.’ Although maybe it was one of those insulting things for women of this day and age, I could never tell myself, he meant it affectionately. He hired the prettiest damn women he could find, young and flirty, because he wanted the customers to like them. But he wouldn’t let a single finger touch them if they didn’t want it. Peter was fiercely protective to the point where he’d started fights and kicked people out without answer or explanation. I appreciated that about him. “He was a little prick and I warned the girl off, but you know the rules. If they want it, it’s on them.” I could almost hear him shrug.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “Didn’t really think anything of it,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Figured she just wanted a better tip, that she was flirting and he wouldn’t take her seriously anyway, you know? Most of the guys come here knowing that the girls don’t really want them.”