Tool: A Hitman Romance, #1

By Claire St. Rose

This is book 1 of the Tool Hitman Romance Series! Books 2 and 3 are available everywhere now!

He's got a dangerous tool, and he knows how to use it.

MAYA

I thought my father hired Quinn to be my protector.

But it turns out that he's more of a prison guard.

It's Quinn's secret job to keep me under his watchful eye, so I don't do what I desperately want to do:

Run away from my mob boss daddy, who's trying to marry me off to the rich, arrogant son of some other mafia creep.

Quinn doesn't give a d*mn either way.

He's just there to collect a paycheck and get back to a life of whiskey drinking and one-night stands.

Until one night, we go too far and end up in the shower together.

Now, there's no going back to the way things were.

He says he's a loner with no room in his heart for love.

But I know that there's a man deep down inside him who feels something for me.

At least, I hope so.

Because if I'm wrong, then by sundown tomorrow, I'll be married to a monster.

Unless Quinn comes back to save me.

QUINN

The last thing I needed was a girl like Maya Butler.

A spoiled, high-maintenance brat who thinks she can tell me what to do just because her daddy's footing the bill.

But once I got a taste of her, she became an addiction that I couldn't quit.

I took her, claimed her, and made her beg me for more.

There's just one problem:

Some mafia scumbag thinks that she belongs to him, and he'll start a war to take her away from me.

But Mimi is mine. No matter who says otherwise.

I may not have started this war.

But I'm sure as hell going to finish it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393231875

Book preview

Tool: A Hitman Romance Book 1

By Claire St. Rose

He’s got a dangerous tool, and he knows how to use it.

MAYA

I thought my father hired Quinn to be my protector.

But it turns out that he’s more of a prison guard.

It’s Quinn’s secret job to keep me under his watchful eye, so I don’t do what I desperately want to do:

Run away from my mob boss daddy, who’s trying to marry me off to the rich, arrogant son of some other mafia creep.

Quinn doesn’t give a d*mn either way.

He’s just there to collect a paycheck and get back to a life of whiskey drinking and one-night stands.

Until one night, we go too far and end up in the shower together.

Now, there’s no going back to the way things were.

He says he’s a loner with no room in his heart for love.

But I know that there’s a man deep down inside him who feels something for me.

At least, I hope so.

Because if I’m wrong, then by sundown tomorrow, I’ll be married to a monster.

Unless Quinn comes back to save me.

QUINN

The last thing I needed was a girl like Maya Butler.

A spoiled, high-maintenance brat who thinks she can tell me what to do just because her daddy’s footing the bill.

But once I got a taste of her, she became an addiction that I couldn’t quit.

I took her, claimed her, and made her beg me for more.

There’s just one problem:

Some mafia scumbag thinks that she belongs to him, and he’ll start a war to take her away from me.

But Mimi is mine. No matter who says otherwise.

I may not have started this war.

But I’m sure as hell going to finish it.

Chapter 1

There are about two hundred people milling around where we’re standing - guys in long coats, families with kids, squads of teenage couples, and dozens of girls who look exactly like Maya. Their hair is the color of a Hawaiian beach and they’re wearing enough expensive jewelry to buy a private island in the South Pacific. Most of the girls are slightly taller than Maya, but that’s not saying much. You could fit Maya inside a straw or purse, and she’s light enough that you’d think the first strong breeze would send her flying. Hummingbird-light. Fragile as a China doll. Those were her old man’s words. Not exactly a comforting thought when this whole city’s just bursting with guys with big guns who’d do anything to get their hands on her.

I’ve got my eye trained on her alright. She’s the one chatting up the shop assistant outside the Yves Sainte-Laurent dressing room, talking so fast that you’d think she was afraid someone would steal her words before she got them out. The guy she’s talking to is telling her he gets his hair cut every three days by a barber named C—honest to God, C—who Maya knows, surprise surprise. She’s the one who set him up with his boyfriend, a designer for Dior. No danger here. She and this shop assistant are as peachy as a brother and sister.

But this guy wasn’t the one I was worried about. It’s this army of shop assistants she’s got working like camels that are making me nervous. It would be so easy to stash an Item beneath those designer pants or coats or whatever else she’s got the minions bringing her.

One crack of a weapon and the head don of the Mob Family would be minus a daughter, which means Quinn Tolliver would be minus a job, and in a few days, out feeding fish beneath the waters at Kingston Pier.

I set my copy of People magazine down on the chair next to me, and took out my carton, popping three Tic Tacs before crunching them with my teeth. This is right about the time I’d have a cigarette if I hadn’t given them up when I was seventeen. Worst decision of my life, and that’s coming from a guy who’s done a lot of dumb things. Things like agreeing to look after Maya Butler.

It’s only my second day on the job, but I’m wondering how in the hell I’m ever going to last if I’m sweating bullets just sitting in a department store. You’d think I’m crazy if I said I’d prefer just throwing punches. Or even taking them. I’ve gotten my face opened so many times it’s like one of those old books that you open and it flips automatically to the page where the binding’s been smashed down. The only difference is that I doubt anyone looks at my face and thinks library book.

Whatever Maya was looking for either she’s found it or she ain’t. She gives this guy C a little hug with a pat on the back. He has to bend down for her even though she’s propped up by six inches of heels.

Having a ball, honey-cake? she quips, hips swinging like a snake in a basket. I say nothing and take the four bags she’s got draped over her palm. Such a gentleman.

She puts so much stress on every word that I can’t ever tell when she’s being sarcastic, which is why my default is just to say nothing. Her daddy’s paying me to be her bodyguard. Not her friend.

Someone ought to tell her that, but I can hardly ever get a word in when she’s yapping on like this. So I shut up instead and do what I’m being paid two-and-a-half grand a day to do.

Guy in the blue navy coat. Nine o’clock. He’s done nothing but stare at you since you came in.

Is the guy in the blue navy coat cute? She cranes her neck above the shoppers pouring out of Gucci.

Bald guy. Mid-forties.

Bald can be sexy if you wear it well. Ever seen early Phil Collins? She gives up the search, turns back to the hall, and ignores me.

The bald guy’s got a black beard with little silver hairs in it like Christmas lights and a don’t-fuck-with-me-face. I try but have difficulty putting that face on an eighties Phil Collins. We exchange looks, and he breaks first to take a right into Ted Baker. Bald. Peacoat.

Maya stamps left into Nieman Marcus and takes the place by storm, all glittering smiles and greetings. Shopping malls and designer outlets are the same to this girl as sports bars. Everyone knows her, and she knows everyone, and from the sounds of it, everyone really is everyone. She asks about Darius’s cousin and Anton’s mother’s good friend, who just had a showing in Paris, and Mark’s recent breakup, which she was so sorry to hear about although she’d been wanting to say, ever since they’d all gone out with Lex, that she’d thought he was a total bitch.