Broken: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Guns and Glory Book 3) Page 6

  She pouted a little and said, “Well, how long do you think it’ll take?”

  I lifted my shoulder. “Not long. I just need to drop something off for him, but I think he may have given me the wrong hotel, now that I think about it.” I pretended to think about it, then snapped my fingers. “I know! Would you be able to look him up and see if he’s a guest here?”

  She hesitated. Technically, asking if someone was staying at the motel was okay. It was when I started asking other questions that she would probably have to halt me to save her own job, but I’d wait on those. Maybe I would have to sleep with her to get her to do some things for me, but it was too early to tell.

  “Well, okay. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

  “Of course not. After all, he’s my friend and he told me to meet him. I just need to make sure he’s here and that I haven’t missed him.” I smiled at her reassuringly, and it worked.

  She nodded her head and said, “Hang on jut a sec. Let me check the computer. What was his name?”

  “Logan King.”

  The sound of typing filled up the room for a long moment, then silence. The computer was slower than a snail, but after a while it beeped at her. “Okay, looks like he was here.” She frowned. “But he checked out today. Sorry, I think you just missed him. He only stayed a night. Oh, that’s right! I remember him now. Blond guy, kind of cute—I mean, if you go for that whole wholesome thing, which I mean, I don’t.” She was rambling and looking me up and down as she spoke, making it clear that she was still very interested in me.

  “Do you remember anything else about him?”

  She blinked at me, surprised by my sudden interrogative question, and I silently cursed myself. I was pretending to be a friend, not a cop, and if she started to think I was lying to her, I would lose this. I forced a smile. “I just mean, do you remember him mentioning me? Or maybe leaving a note for where he’s staying next? I should have known I’d be too late.”

  She relaxed a little and said, “Oh, nothing like that. I remember he paid in cash and drove off this morning in that red pickup of his, you know, the one with the dented door?”

  I smiled at her. “You know, I’ll bet you his sister has his number. I’ll give her a call and figure out where he’s going. You’ve been so much help.”

  She looked a little put out. “You’re leaving?”

  I paused. She was looking at me hungrily. I considered going up to a room with her and just having my way with her. If she went down on me for a little bit, I would probably get hard enough to go for a while at least, though she wasn’t really what I found myself wanting.

  But it had been a while. And I wasn’t going to see Madeline ever again. I didn’t do relationships and I didn’t do second rounds with women, not even when they were that good in bed. If I wanted to take care of myself, I had better do it now.

  Yet when my gaze flickered to her fake eyelashes and her dull eyes, I just smiled and winked at her. “I have to take care of this first, but I’ll come back for you. After all, you did promise me a room and entertainment.”

  I left her giggling and all but panting after me, but I knew I’d never be back.

  Chapter 7

  Madeline

  I was sitting on the floor next to the door, because there wasn’t really any room for a couch. I was going to get a beanbag at some point, but just never got around to it. And I never had guests, so I figured it didn’t matter. Studying was done on my bed or at the library or some shop with Shawn, so what did it matter if I had a table or a couch or even a chair? I had a bed and a kitchen with a built-in counter. What else did I need?

  A crib.

  The thought came unbidden and I felt panic rise up in my chest as a result. A crib. And diapers. Baby clothes. Vitamins and doctor appointments and a million other things I couldn’t afford. Not to mention I would be doing it alone. I didn’t just mean the sexy Nikolai, but also my family. It was just my dad and my brother left, but neither of them would understand. Their value system was strict and unforgiving, making it perfectly clear that a pregnancy before marriage would be completely unacceptable.

  And I wasn’t stupid enough to think Nikolai was going to burst through that door at any moment to profess his undying love to me.

  Just the idea of it made my heart hurt with want, but I pushed it aside. I had other things to focus on, much more important than some stupid guy who I should have known better than to sleep with in the first place.

  There were three tests in the pregnancy kit I found at the store. They were all identical little sticks, each individually wrapped, and I ended up using them all. I read on the package that there was a chance for a false positive, though it was so low as to be nearly negligible, so I was really hoping that was the case. Except that when I went through all of those tests, they all said the same thing in a little pink line.

  Positive.

  Which meant it couldn’t be a false alarm. The statistics of getting that many false positives were just stacked against me. It was impossible, and I was most definitely pregnant.

  It explained the missed periods and the nausea—which I was now pretty sure was morning sickness. I was an unwed pregnant woman with the father nowhere in sight. Everything that would disappoint my father so much. The thought that my family would be so ashamed, so disappointed, filled me with sorrow. How could I tell them? What could I do?

  And that was the moment when it finally occurred to me that I had options. None of them were good, none of them appealed to me in any way, but I wasn’t without a choice. Years ago, in the past, that wouldn’t have been the case, but now…

  I could have the baby and give it up for adoption. I didn’t have to be a mother while I struggled through my last semester of college, debated going for my Master’s, and dealt with all of the judgmental stares I would inevitably receive. I could spend the next few months with limited contact with my family—just phone conversations and maybe Skype—and wear baggy clothing while in school. Then, I could have the baby, give it up for adoption, and tell people I’d put on a little weight at school because of all the stress. No one would think twice about it.

  The flaw with that plan, however, was the fact that Shawn was here. He’d been my best friend for a long time now and he was close with my family. Both my father and my brother knew him well and trusted him to the ends of the earth. Which was great, except in this instance. If I tried to temporarily shut my family out to protect my secret, Shawn was here to tell them all about it. He noticed everything about me. He’d definitely notice that I was putting on some weight, and there was no way I’d be able to hide it from him.

  Which meant I’d have to tell him and beg him to keep it all a secret.

  I didn’t think I could do that.

  Whittling down my options, I came to the last one, the one I dreaded the most: abortion. My family was against this, too, and would probably never forgive me if they ever found out, but it was my best chance at keeping a secret like this. I could…terminate it before the weight started to show, tell Shawn I just had a bug, and go on like none of it ever happened. No one would ever have to know.

  Except I would know.

  I pulled my legs up to my chest, keeping my back to the wall. What was I supposed to do? What was the answer? I needed a magic wand to wave around and fix everything.

  But there was no magic and I was stuck with the reality of the choices I had made.

  I was still sitting there when there was a knock on the door. It startled me, making me jump and scramble up to my feet. Who was it?

  Then Shawn’s voice came through the door. “I brought popcorn and movies.”

  I had cancelled the movie night plans, but it looked like Shawn didn’t care. He was like that sometimes, pushy and butting in even when I just needed a little me time. I loved him to death, but sometimes he was like a little brother who would just not leave me be.

  “Um, now’s not really a good time,” I called back, wiping at my face
and trying desperately to keep my voice even. If he heard the tears in my tone, he’d never leave. He’d stand there all night until I finally caved and let him in.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Uh-oh. Apparently, I had not successfully made myself sound normal. “Nothing. I’m…um, still not feeling great.”

  “I’ll make you some soup. Let me in, Madeline.”

  “That’s really not necessary. I think I’m contagious, you know?”

  “It’s fine. I don’t mind being sick. We can stay in together and watch stupid movies and pig out on ice cream. It’ll be great.”

  I winced. Sometimes his ideas of great were a little out there. Sure, the hanging out was good and all, but being sick to do it? I’d rather just slither under the covers and die there for a while until the sick passed. “Um, no, don’t do that. You don’t want to be sick!” But even as I said it, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Now that I was here and he knew I was sick, that was it. He wouldn’t give up.

  “C’mon, just let me in. I’ll take care of you until you feel better.”

  Sighing, I relinquished. I’d have to let him in. So, I made sure that my eyes were at least dry and I opened up the door, forcing a smile as best I could. It didn’t work. As soon as he saw my face, he knew something was up.

  “Madeline, what’s wrong?” he asked, pushing his way in and putting the popcorn and movies on the counter—right next to the pregnancy tests. He froze.

  I closed my eyes, steadying myself, before opening them and looking back at him. “Oh, Shawn, I don’t know what to do!” The tears came full force then and I threw myself into his arms. He tensed for a second, but then his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. For a while, he just made soothing sounds as I sobbed. Eventually, I got ahold of myself and pulled away, still sniffling. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  He frowned, then asked, “Do you know where the father is?”

  I hiccupped, thinking of Nikolai. I hadn’t seen him since that night and I didn’t think I ever would again. Even if I could somehow find him, I knew it was a lost cause. He didn’t want anything more to do with me now that he’d had his fun; he made that perfectly clear So I shook my head and told Shawn, “No. He’s…he’s not in the picture. He doesn’t want to know anyway.” I couldn’t say that for sure, but I was close enough to positive that it didn’t matter. I sat on the floor again, this time Shawn following me. Easing my head onto his shoulder, I muttered, “I don’t know how to do this. Where am I even going to find money for an abortion?”

  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d messed up. Shawn’s family was just as fundamental as mine was and he wouldn’t approve of that choice any more than my own father or brother would.

  Risking a glance at him, I saw a frown on his face, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t look angry. Upset, maybe, or thoughtful even, but not angry. That was a good sign.

  “Is that really what you want?” he asked me seriously. “An abortion?”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t think the answer was yes, but I’d already thought of the other options and they weren’t very good. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted tearfully. “But I just can’t be a single mother, Shawn. I can’t. With school and how my family is…I’d lose everything!”

  For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t understand. That he’d condemn me for even thinking of something like that and tell my father, leaving me destitute. But when he spoke, he said something amazing—and sort of strange.

  “I’ll marry you.”

  I blinked, thinking I’d misheard him. “What?”

  “I’ll marry you and we’ll take care of the baby together,” he repeated, thinking it through and starting to nod. “We’ll get married quickly, so no one thinks anything about it. Your dad will be cool with it, since he already knows me—hell, I’m practically family already. By the time the baby’s born, no one will even think twice about it. They’ll just be so proud of you for being a mother.”

  Proud of me. I frowned, the words sinking into me. That didn’t really sound like a great idea, though I couldn’t entirely say why. On the one hand, it fixed all of my problems, erasing my emotional and moral dilemmas without hurting anyone. And I’d known Shawn for all my life; of course I could trust him, right?

  But… “I… are you sure?” I managed to get out, not sure what else to say.

  He offered me a wistful smile and ran the back of his hand across my face in a surprisingly tender caress. “I’m positive. I want things to be okay for you.”

  He seemed so earnest—this was Shawn; he was earnest—but somehow, I couldn’t shake the sense that this was all wrong. But what other options did I have? Finally, I said, “I…I need to think about it. This is all too much and…I just need some time. Is that okay?”

  I saw a flicker of what might have been annoyance, but it disappeared so quickly that maybe it was just my imagination. A second later he smiled gently at me and nodded his head. “Take your time. I’ll be here when you decide. Do you want me to stay?”

  I shook my head. “No, I need time to think things over. You should head home and get some rest. You’re always taking care of me.”

  He shrugged it off like it was nothing, then winked at me. “It’s what I’m good at.”

  I smiled at him, then watched him go, wondering if I could really do this.

  Chapter 8

  Nikolai

  The red truck was helpful only because I had connections to the Department of Motor Vehicles. They were very helpful, as well as discreet as far as looking up certain vehicle information for me whenever I needed it. The red truck itself didn’t help a lot. Sure, we were in the city, but there were still plenty of people who liked to have trucks of varying sizes and colors. So, it narrowed it down, but not enough. The fact that it was dented in the hood, however, was helpful. The woman had mentioned that Logan had been complaining about it being new, too, and he couldn’t believe he’d already dented it. Which meant the truck was a recent purchase, but that the accident was recent, too. Which meant he could have called in a claim and possibly exchanged insurance with someone. Since I had his name already, it went a long way towards filtering out all the useless information, but I needed more to go on and was hoping the car might be helpful, since the only working address I had for him thus far was some farm out of the city.

  Clearly, he wasn’t staying there.

  “Do you have any address listed for the truck?” I asked Cory, my contact at the DMV. He was looking up the truck along with the information connected to Logan’s name.

  “Uh, yeah, hang on. Let me bring it up.” He paused a second and all I could hear was the sound of clicking. “Ah, here it is.”

  Eagerness bubbled up within me. This could be it, but I tried not to get my hopes up, lest I become disappointed. “Is it here in the city?”

  “Yeah. Some art district downtown. I don’t know the area myself, but it’s near the art school, the one off Main? Anyway, do you want the address?”

  “Yes. Go ahead and list it off for me. Is there a number attached to it?”

  There was a pause and some more typing. A second later, “Yeah. Looks like he’s got a bunch of them, do you want them all or just the most recent?”

  “All.”

  By the time I hung up with Cory, I had a half a dozen phone numbers and just one address written down on a scrap of paper. I began trying the numbers as I got into my car. I needed to check out the address in the hopes of finding him. If he was staying at a hotel, there was a good chance he wouldn’t go home, if he had one here in the city, but if this address belonged to him, maybe I could find a clue in his home. I’d break in, take a look around, check to make sure he wasn’t there, then see if he left anything that might tell me where he was going. People did stupid things when they were on the run, like leave receipts and ticket stubs and check receipts behind, indicating where they were going, what they were doing, and when they were leavin
g or coming back.

  I had the distinct feeling Logan would be no different.

  The first number was a bust, disconnected or something, so I tried the next as I started the car and plugged the address into my GPS. I knew where the art school was, but didn’t know the area well enough to be sure where this address was located. It was some apartment building, I knew that much, but I didn’t think I’d ever been there before.

  I tried the second number and got an angry woman who only spoke Spanish—until I told her I was the police, then she informed me in perfect English that she didn’t know any Logan and her son’s name was Jordan. I decided she wasn’t covering for Logan, since she sounded like an older woman and was a mother. My target’s mother was dead, that much I was sure of.