Her Hitman: An Instalove Possessive Older Man Younger Woman Romance by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2020-12-25T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Damian

I bolt out of my chair and glance at the window, my mind switching to hitman mode immediately. In the forest, the black of their jackets stands out clearly against the snow.

There are three men on this side of the cottage, and each of them is holding a semiautomatic weapon. I’m guessing there’ll be more on the other side.

“Motherfuckers,” I snap. “How did they find us?”

I grab Dakota by the arm and drag her to the stairs, leading her up and guiding her into the master bedroom, and then into the ensuite. Sparky knows enough to follow me when I move with such deadly purpose, padding at my feet with his tail perked completely straight up, erect and ready for whatever’s going to happen.

“Stay here,” I say. “Sparky, stay.”

Dakota looks around the bathroom, blinking as though slowly waking from a dream. Then she levels her gaze at me.

“I want to help,” she says.

“Help by staying here,” I growl. “I can’t do my work if I’m distracted if I’m worried about you … God, I can’t let anything happen to you. Keep Sparky safe, alright?”

“What are you going to do?” she whimpers.

“To the men who are going to try and kill me and take you to Andrei?” I growl. “What else? I’m going to execute them, Dakota.”

She nods shortly, accepting this fact. “I don’t know how they found us.”

“Neither do I,” I say. “I’ve gone to a hell of a lot of effort over the years to keep this place hidden. But … Oh, motherfuck.”

“What?” she says.

“I’ll tell you after,” I growl. “I need to get moving.”

I close the door behind me, and then lock the door to the master bedroom and stalk across the hallway to where I stowed the duffel bag.

I reach inside and take a gun with a silencer, making sure it’s loaded, and then return to the top of the stairs, aiming to the bottom and breathing slowly, calmly, focusing everything I have on the job at hand.

A memory stings me as I lie there, my mind drifting momentarily back to when I lay here as a child, a water pistol in my hand instead of a real one. I was waiting for Uncle Felix to come around the corner, and when he did I sprayed him real damn good.

Laughter sings out in my mind and I push it away, making myself cold and unfeeling.

Glass smashes downstairs and somebody growls something in Russian.

I watch and wait, and the moment a man’s hand comes into view, I fire with pinpoint accuracy.

“Ah,” the man cries, jumping out of view and letting out another scream.

His gun lies on the floor, dappled with blood from the wound.

“Bastard,” the man growls in Russian.

“Leave this place,” I snap in my best Russian. “Or you’re all going to die.”

“Idiot, there are five of us and—”

Another voice pitched low and urgent. “Don’t tell him how many of us there are, fool.”

I breathe steadily, inching back so that only my eyes and the barrel of the gun is poking over the edge of the stairs.

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