His Prize

By Doris O'Connor

It’s the choice of her life—submit or die.

When Susie Elliot stumbles into the middle of a clean-up, undertaken by none other than Ellis Reynolds, she expects her life to be over. No one disturbs this ruthlessly efficient killer and lives to tell the tale.

The man they call Ren has no time for tender feelings, but there is something about the curvaceous redhead that calls to him. Rather than killing her he claims her as his prize. One night should be more than enough time to get her out of his system. However, Susie’s submission means Ren has to confront emotions, completely alien to him. Killing is easy. This relationship thing is fraught with problems.

When his criminal activities catch up with him, loyalties are tested to the max, and Susie has another choice to make—walk away, or stay and accept the darkness within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Apr 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781772338133

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Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 Doris O’Connor

ISBN: 978-1-77233-813-3

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For Susie, enjoy!

HIS PRIZE

The Cleaners, 1

Doris O’Connor

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Incoming bogies in five, Ren.

Ellis Reynolds, known as Ren to his friends and enemies alike, smirked at the crackle in his earpiece, and pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against. Pulling one long, last drag of smoke into his lungs, he threw the stub on the floor, stamping it out in the process. It wouldn’t do to give his position away by the glowing cigarette end. In truth, it was a filthy habit that he needed to break. With a wry grin and a nod into the CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the backyard to indicate he’d heard his boys’ warning, he gathered his shoulder length salt-and-pepper hair into a ponytail, and stepped back into the shadows behind the large trash cans.

He heard the fuckers before he saw them. The two goons made enough noise for a herd of elephants. They did have the good sense to stay in the one spot the CCTV couldn’t reach, which would only work in his favor. While it would be a matter of seconds to swipe the relevant data, he didn’t need evidence of his kill on camera. He was never that careless, which was why he got the big bucks.

The back entrance of the club creaked open, and his target for the night stuck her head out. Myrtle’s shiny ebony mass of hair hid her expression as she cautiously looked around, making sure to stay under the camera mounted next to the back door.

The devious little bitch shivered in the cool air, and goosebumps broke out across her dark skin. Clad in only a silk robe, which disguised none of the curves that made her famous at La Masquerade, her stunning figure hid an evil, money grabbing soul.

Ren had no problems with working girls. He rather enjoyed them, had lain between this one’s thighs a time or two when she first started working for La Masquerade’s owner. Owen Huntly was an old friend, and that made this cunt’s betrayal personal. No one stole from Owen and got away with it, least of all a woman London’s foremost crime lord had made a success.

Ren amused himself by visions of having his big hands wrapped around her throat as he squeezed the life out of her, while Myrtle took out her ever present chewing gum and stuck it over the lens of the camera. So, she thought she was clever, did she?

A low whistle alerted her to the presence of the two goons waiting for her ‘round the corner, and a slow, seductive smile spread across her face. Hips sashaying to and fro, she teetered over to them, as though she owned the fucking place.

It’s okay, you can come out.

Thug #2 was pulled back into the shadows by thug #1, who clearly had more brains then the youngster.

We’re good here. You’ve got the goods?

Myrtle pouted and dropped her hips, while she fished a small bag of crack out of her panties, of all places. Ren chuckled to himself and made a mental note to search all of the bitch’s orifices when he got rid of her, or maybe while she was still alive. It sure would be fun torturing her a bit. He’d have to cut her tongue off first though, ‘cause that bird sure could screech.

Right here, big boy, and I’ve got more stashed up there, but I need to see the money first. This wasn’t easy to come by.

Not here for your sob story. Thug #1 gave thug #2 a shove. Go, check it out, boy.

With a lecherous grin the youngster stumbled forward. Judging by the acne marks on his skin he could only be a teenager—poor bastard.

Ren suppressed a groan when the back door creaked.

Ah, there you are, Myrtle. The boss wants you on stage and … oh.

Another far too young person he’d be forced to kill now, dammit. He didn’t recognize this girl, and he most certainly would, had he seen her before, because she was just his type. Shoulder length red hair framed a heart-shaped pale face, devoid of any make-up. She was too thick to be one of the dancers, so she had to be the new waitress he hadn’t had a chance to check out. Owen had mentioned something about her being under his protection. Her blue eyes widened in fear, as it seemed to dawn on her what she’d stumbled into, and Ren readied himself to intervene. His gut twisted at the thought of killing such an innocent, but if she started to scream the place down this whole thing would be fucked, for sure.

Who the fuck is that? Thug #1 stepped out of the shadows, and Ren tensed when he drew his Glock on the girl. Of course, the fucker would have a gun. His type always did. There was no fucking skill in killing anyone with one of those, and besides guns could be traced so easily.

Amateurs.

Snapping on his gloves Ren came up silently behind the gun wielding idiot, willing the curvy redhead to stay silent.

Ah, she’s nothing. Kill the stupid girl, for all I care. Myrtle’s immediate dismissal of the redhead made Ren’s temper spike.

Oh, you’ll pay for that, bitch.

Thug #1 laughed.

Might just take her with. The boss likes the fat ones.

Hey, I do. More to hold onto when you fuck, and I bet she’ll scream nicely. Thug #2 added his foul mouthed assessment, and the girl they were so carelessly discussing blanched. Hands up in the air, she took a step back until Thug #1’s barked order stopped her retreat.

Don’t you fucking move, bitch, or I’ll blow your head off right now.

A strangled gasp escaped the redhead, and her eyes grew to impossible size when she spotted Ren. Their gazes locked, and Ren held his finger to his lips as he silently came up behind the little group. With Myrtle’s attention on the girl and Thug #2 distracted by checking the merchandise, the pathetic trio had no idea he was there. Ren silently willed the terrified girl staring right at him not to scream. Shivers overtook her, but she didn’t say a word as he came up behind the thug, who lowered his gun and chuckled.

I do like a chick who can take orders. You and me wi—

The sound of his neck breaking put an end to that little speech of his, and the redhead clamped her hand over her mouth as though to stifle a scream.

Good girl.

Ren winked at her, as he let the now lifeless body of Thug #1 slide to the floor. The astonished expression in the other man’s dulling eyes made him smirk.

What the fuck? Argh.

Swinging around he shattered Thug #2’s kneecap with one well-placed kick, before the goon even had a chance to pull his gun out. Another kick to his windpipe shut off his screech, and this guy, too, went down, silently twitching his last on the floor.

Ren cut off Myrtle’s scream of terror by clamping his large hand around her throat. He indulged himself for a second, holding the lying bitch off the floor. Her hands clasped around his wrists in a desperate effort to get free, and he drank in the sheer terror in her eyes before he brought his free fist up to her temple and knocked the bitch clean out. He flung her on top of the now dead Thug #2 and turned his attention back to the redhead.

She still hadn’t screamed, just stood there, both of her hands now held up in a defensive move, which was really rather adorable.

Ren smirked and advanced on her. The fear that literally poured off her curvy frame made him hard as nails, and he made up his mind there and then. This little