Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family) by Kincade Parker

Author:Kincade, Parker [Kincade, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parker Kincade
Published: 2013-11-03T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

A rush of satisfaction washed over him. He couldn’t believe his luck. Months of waiting, planning, watching were about to pay off. His lip twitched as the damaged muscles in his face tried to form a grin.

Not always watching.

He’d haunted her favorite spots. The coffee shop on the corner. The honky-tonk just outside of town. She was too polite. When she saw him, she’d acknowledge him. It was her greatest weakness. Always looking out for the underdog. He’d used it to his advantage.

He rubbed a hand over his scarred face, any trace of the handsome man he’d once been burned away with the skin on his left cheek, jaw and neck. Had he been taken to a hospital instead of thrown into a hole in the ground, things might have turned out very differently. As it was, the man he’d been was dead, as was any semblance of goodness that might have lingered.

He toyed with the end of his pinkie finger, the smooth surface below the joint. The tip that used to be there now existed only in his mind. His body shuddered as the memories flooded his vision.

The smell of the earth, the rotting stench of flesh.

He’d been to hell. Lived in the darkest regions until it had become as much a part of him as his own breath. He could still feel the cold steel of the bolt cutters as they sliced through his finger as if it were butter; the warm bite of the leather strap against his back, his ass, the bottoms of his feet. The pain his body had come to crave had been an evil bitch back in those days.

But, he’d survived. And was every bit the cold-blooded killer they’d trained him to be.

That had been their last mistake.

He’d bathed in the blood of those who’d thought to control him. He’d struck them down, without mercy or remorse, and left their corpses as a message to anyone who thought to fuck with him again.

A religious man might say his destiny had been chosen, that this was the life he’d been meant to lead. He wasn’t religious, but if his scarred face earned him his prize, then he’d thump a bible and call himself the pope.

He wasn’t the average killer for hire. He’d honed his skills. He was patient, took whatever time he needed to learn his prey inside and out. He’d become a master at manipulation.

So, when he’d finally pretended to get up the nerve to talk to her, Samantha had been none the wiser. In fact, she’d been completely predictable. Sweet and kind, overlooking his puckered, damaged skin and staring into his eyes.

Not much of a challenge.

At first, they’d shared small talk over coffee. Then, a beer or two. He’d made certain not to develop a pattern, showing up randomly at places he knew she’d be. He’d been careful not to overwhelm her, keeping their contact casual and friendly. Every move was calculated to gain her trust.

He’d waited several months before inviting her to go check out another bar.

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