The Hitman: Medina Crime Family, #1

By Ellie Isaacson

She was the daughter of my worst enemy.

I was the hitman hired to take her out.

 

She was broken, frightened, and guarded, and the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I vowed then and there to take away her fears and keep her safe. But she lied to me, giving me a fake name before she disappeared from my sight.

 

The contract that hit my phone gave me her true identity and a second chance at finding her. Hunting her down was no easy feat, but leaving her alone wasn't an option. It wasn't just my family of hitmen I needed to protect her from, it was the man who wanted her life.

 

Digging into the past revealed secrets so dangerous they put all our lives at risk. For me, she was worth it. For love, it was a chance I would take. But would I be enough to save her, or would our pasts tear us apart?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellie Isaacson
• Release date: Mar 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781952606007

Book preview

1

LIA

Warmth seeped into my fingertips, fighting against the frigid cold that clenched my soul. It dove deep, seeking, driving out the demons that have lived there the past few years. Demons I’d been chasing away with little to no effect.

Red clouded my vision, my eyelids closed to the horrors I wished were behind me. But I knew. These horrors would always be with me. Even this warmth, foreign but hardly benign, couldn’t make them disappear.

It was a reminder. Of just how far I’d come, but that I could never truly escape.

I curled my fingers, clutching at the comfort as a whimper broke loose from my throat. Red reminders flashed, the warmth like blood trickling over my skin. An uneasy pattern traced down the back of my head and another whimper shook loose. A tender hand gripped the back of my neck.

I froze, fingers digging into warmth, the dry, soft cloth confusing me. The grip on my neck tightened a fraction before loosening, that same uneasy pattern continuing down my back.

I waited for the pain, but it was only inside me.

A quiet shh whispered across the top of my head, bristling the hair on my forehead. Another hand gentled against my arm, tugging me into a crooked embrace. My spine twisted, aching muscles cried out against the bite of hard plastic at my side, and that quiet breath tried to soothe.

I felt like a foreigner in a strange land. Gentle was not a word in my vocabulary the past few years. And this? The warmth? The quiet caress? It had me reeling.

My eyes flickered open, finding dim light seeping through the sleepy eyelids of the airplane’s cabin windows. The soft black fabric beneath my head, crushed in my fists, was strangely inviting. My fingers clutched tighter and a hiss brushed across my hair.

Startled, I lifted my head, my eyes finding warmth and gentleness, kindness as alien as the honey-brown eyes staring back at me. All that gentleness wrapped up in an inviting half-smile.

My eyes roamed, searching for an explanation to the man beneath my fists. Finding not an explanation but a dream. Those eyes searched mine with something like concern. His brow furrowed, a tiny crease deepened by the slash of a faint scar. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered across tanned cheeks, licking at the flop of unruly brown hair dangling down his face. And his jaw, strong but hidden beneath thick, dark hair. His full pink lips met with the dart of his tongue.

Are you okay? The words tumbled out with a slight accent across those full, wet lips. My hands clenched, grabbing fistfuls of soft, black cotton shirt. He flinched and hissed once more, and my eyes dropped to his chest.

Dark hair, the same as on his head and jaw, peeked out above the open neckline of his Henley. His grimace fell from his face as I released my grip, and his hand rubbed gently at my arm.

Who are you? I asked, my throat still tight with restless sleep.

The right side of his lips twitched up into a smile. His thumb rubbed across my cheek as he lulled softly, Just the man who protected you from your nightmare. My eyes caught the smudge of black clinging to the pad of his thumb. And you are?

I sat back, pulling away from the warmth of this man, this protector, who unknowingly slayed more demons than he could ever imagine with just his simple touch. A touch that lingered across my back as I righted myself in my own chair.

Apparently the girl who molests unsuspecting men in her sleep, I mumbled, rubbing at the crick in my side while dabbing at my dampened cheeks.

Quiet laughter rumbled from deep in his chest and my empty stomach fluttered.

You’re only making it worse. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and brought it to my face, chasing away my tears on a wave of cedar and spice.

Shocked, I pulled back from his touch and the warmth it offered. It was foreign, unfamiliar in its restraint and compassion. It was nothing I had come to expect over the past few years, and I fought to suppress the shudder that threatened to overtake me.

Those honey-brown eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he pulled his hands away from me. His head tilted to one side as he sat with his shirt still held in his hand, watching me with unwarranted concern.

I, um… I felt flustered, thrown by the man next to me. Grabbing my purse from beneath the seat, I tossed the thin red blanket off my lap and pushed to my feet. I need to go clean up.

He stood, his long legs unfolding and pushing back against his seat. I squeezed past, careful not to touch him as I exited our row.

I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I rushed down the darkened cabin toward the restroom at the back of the plane. He didn’t bother trying to hide it, had yet to turn around as I risked a glance back at him before I could disappear into the safety of that tiny restroom. His eyes locked with mine and I ducked my head to avoid his gaze.

The dingy mirror held the horror of my face. Black streaked across my cheeks, the smudges like the remnants of war paint after a lengthy battle. A battle too real, the fight for my life. Each casualty could be found staring back at me through dark blue eyes. Haunted. Hated. The residue of my fear on full display, even in the dull lighting shining down from above.

I scrubbed my face, trying to wash some semblance of peace across my features. Applied my mask in blacks and subtle browns, a swipe of pale pink to coat my counterfeit smile. I tugged my white-blonde hair back into a ponytail but released it again to fall in a quiet wave around my shoulders. I felt too exposed with it up, the skin of my neck bared like my soul.

I shivered with the reminder of his touch across the back of my neck, this man I didn’t know. This man who had shown more compassion toward me in five minutes than I’d known for far too many years.

Long minutes passed in that tiny room as I tried to compose myself. My mind searched for some semblance of the strength I once had. Strength that was once ripped from my bare hands. Strength I thought I’d regained, but now felt as if it were slipping from my grasp.

All because of a touch from a man who promised without words to be the strength I was lacking.

The quiet aisle of the plane was bare of his gaze as I returned to my seat. But he sat there, eyes appraising, as I slid past him into my seat. My foot caught his as I turned to sit. My hands splayed, ready to brace myself against my fall into the lap of my fellow passenger. Instead, strong, warm hands grasped my hips, catching me so I could right myself.

I turned to him and the corners of my lips twisted into a shaky, tentative smile. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before they slipped away, the heat from his touch diminishing slowly.

Thank you, I said as I took my seat.

My pleasure, his rough voice grumbled back, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine.

A quiet moment passed as I averted my gaze from the handsome stranger. But like a bee, my eyes were drawn to the honeycomb tones that searched my face. I offered a self-conscious smile, about to turn away when his voice stopped me.

Yanny.

Pardon?

My name, he clarified as he extended his hand to me. The corner of his mouth tugged up as his tongue darted across his bottom lip. Yanny Perez, protector of beautiful women from their horrible nightmares.

Blood rushed to my cheeks as his large hand closed around mine. My heart hammered in my chest even as my body relaxed at his touch.

Lia, I told him, swallowing hard before spitting out, Lia Bryant. The lie tasted like copper on my tongue, the familiar flavor tensing my muscles with a rash of bad memories. I shook my head to rid my mind of that pain. I’m sorry, I don’t usually…

Climb into the arms of unwitting travelers? he finished for me, his smile growing wider. So I’m the lucky one?

I pulled back from his grasp, my hand tangling in my hair before I forced it back to my lap. And Yanny, he missed nothing. His eyes followed the movement, reading my insecurities as if they were spoken out loud.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—

No, I said, stopping him. It’s not you, it’s—

You mean I’m not the only one? His quiet laughter rumbled deep in his chest.

My cheeks burned and I wanted to bury myself deep in my seat and hide under my blanket like a child. I took a deep, calming breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it.

So quiet I barely caught it, the word pity was murmured across his lips.

Confusion swirled around me at the word. I was torn between wanting to yell, I don’t need your pity, and hoping he wanted to be the only one whose arms I climbed into. Shaken, I grabbed my airline blanket off the floor by my feet and wrapped it around myself once again. I pulled it up over one shoulder, then the other, only to have the first side fall off. Yanny noticed my struggle. He turned to me and tucked the blanket behind my shoulder. His fingers glided across the bare skin of my neck, his eyes narrowed minutely at my flinch. He sat back, though I felt as if he were wrapped around me, that scent of his invading my senses.

Whenever I travel, I always have nightmares. He spoke in a quiet, calming tone, as if his words were a secret only for me. I turned my face to the front of the plane, both wanting him to go on and to leave me alone. Nightmares like mine were horrible because they were real, they happened, and I lived with the fear they could happen again. When I didn’t respond, Yanny continued. I always dream I’ve missed my flight. It’s terrifying.

How so? I asked, struggling to find a place for my eyes to rest. Not wanting to watch him, not wanting to look away.

You know those dreams back in school, where you’re standing in front of the class without any clothes on?

Mmm? Like a fear of public speaking?

Worse. He chuckled under his breath and leaned in, casting a curl of his cedar scent straight to my nose. In my nightmares, it’s everyone else that’s naked.

Oh, well… I guess that’s better?

He threw me an incredulous look, one dark eyebrow lifted and those honey-brown eyes warmed my skin. He tossed a glance over my shoulder and my gaze followed, my body creeping toward the warmth of him as I shifted subtly in my chair.

Beside me slept an old man, his pale skin sagging from his cheeks and jowls, blue veins popping out of his liver-spotted hands. Wrinkles cut like canyons through his skin, and tufts of fuzzy white hair puffed like cotton from his ears and nose. Thick bottle-cap glasses rested on an overgrown nose, and drool pooled on the lapel of the knitted brown sweater at his chest.

You say that, Yanny whispered close, but did you see all your fellow passengers?

An involuntary shudder overtook me as tendrils of my hair floated on minty breath across my cheek. I turned back, bracing myself for any manner of pain, only to be greeted once again with compassionate eyes and a kind smile.

You don’t want to see that naked, no? He chuckled at my grimace and threw a thumb over his shoulder. There are others worse than that.

My chest grew tight at the thought of naked bodies close to mine, old and wrinkled or otherwise. My fingers clutched the hem of my thin sweater under the blanket and my eyes clenched shut.

Hey, hey, sweetheart. His whispered endearment fell upon me as his finger chased a tear from my cheek. What is it? Did someone hurt you?

Did someone hurt you?

Those words breathed life into the scorched embers of my heart. Memories of my mother hit me. Her unwavering love and support. Her gentle, kind soul.

The quiet sob that wracked my body was muffled against Yanny’s chest as he pulled me to him. I found myself in the same position I was in when I woke up: tears flowing down my cheeks, fists clenched in his shirt, head against his strong chest as he held me in his arms and tried to soothe me.

I didn’t know this man, and he didn’t know me. And yet the comfort he offered was everything I needed.

You’ve really never had one before?

Yanny gave me an incredulous stare as I hovered over my latte, the first I’d ever had. His long legs were extended under the table, nudging against my own. It’s how he’d been since the moment the flight attendant came to request I sit up and buckle in for landing.

Hovering.

Protecting.

He’d guided me from the plane, rolling my carry-on along with his free hand at the small of my back. Gentle fingers grazed against me as he led me to a small coffee shop in the concourse.

I shook my head and gave a weak smile before raising my cup to my lips to take a sip.

Bittersweet. Like the ancient memories that came with it. Memories of my mother, her hand wrapped around a mug of black coffee as she watched me and my sister play. Memories of the strength she tried to instill in me as I grew up in a harsh, unforgiving world.

Will you tell me now? His voice broke me from my dive into the past, his hand on my arm anchoring me in the present. I looked up from my latte and found him leaning closer.

I shrugged to cover my flinch, and his hand fell away, my eyes following to hide my shame.

It was my... ex. A sip of my hot coffee was my attempt to cover the emotions boiling inside of me.

Again, Yanny didn’t miss a thing. Concern and understanding filled his voice. He was bad for you.

He was a fucking cocksucker. The words spit from my mouth like venom, poisoning the air around me. I flinched, expecting judgment. Ridicule. The sharp slap of a hand across my face.

But this was Yanny. Gentle, kind, caring Yanny.

The honeycomb tones of his eyes darkened as they swept across my face. Tension rolled through him, a visible wave washing across that gorgeous face and down his chest. An ebb and flow of anger that had me back on guard.

As fast as his anger hit, it disbursed into thin air. His hand crept toward mine but stopped the second I raised both my hands from the table with my coffee in tow.

An apology flashed in his eyes as he raised his own cup, tipping it toward me, encouraging me to go on.

He wouldn’t allow me things, I told him when I could. My throat tightened as repressed memories of Emile assaulted me. I swallowed hard and motioned with my cup. Coffee, chocolate, makeup. I had nothing of my own.

I shuddered at the thought. At the full truth behind that simple fact. The extent to which I went without, the severity of the punishment for simply wanting. The loss of basic needs - food, water, air to breathe.

How long? The slight nudge of his leg against mine brought awareness to his question. I took a long swallow and set my cup back on the table.

I was consumed by him for years. But the last two were the worst.

I don’t know what compelled me to open up to this stranger. To talk when I’d not spoken to anyone in so long. To choose coffee in an airport café over the bare, empty apartment awaiting me. Perhaps it was desperation. The need to feel like I wasn’t alone. A need to connect in some small way with another human being. Perhaps it was just Yanny, his visible concern. The way his attention never wavered. I soaked it in like a dying plant desperate for water.

You’re home now. His tone was meant to reassure, but I couldn’t help the huff of breath that escaped me.

I’m not sure I have a home anymore, I whispered, the words bathed in the uncertainty that filled me.

Why?

I couldn’t have hidden it from him if I wanted to. I unburdened my soul upon him as I fought the flow of tears that prickled my eyes.

My family… my mom and sister were killed in a car accident years ago. And my father and brother…

I hesitated, because that truth wasn’t as easy.

I think they’re gone, too.

Yanny sipped his coffee, watching me. Compelling me to continue. And like a fool, I gave in to the urge.

There was an… accident. I sipped my drink, wishing the words I wanted to say could fall from my lips. Wishing they’d never meet the light of day. I haven’t seen them since. I don’t know what happened to them.

He wouldn’t tell you?

Pain hit me full in the chest.

You don’t get to ask questions. You are nothing.

No. It wheezed out of me, the memories threatening to consume me.

You do what I say when I say, and you fucking like it.

A gentle hand brushed my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I looked up and was met with warm honey. He can’t hurt you now.

My head nodded as my throat bobbed on a swallow. He can’t hurt me now. That whispered truth was my new reality. The one thing keeping me going. Keeping me strong.

I would find that strength my mother taught me, and give up these feelings of helplessness.

I would find my way out of the darkness that had become my life and step back into the light. He’d never, ever hurt me again.

I made sure of that.

2

YANNY

The slap of skin against skin filled the air. Hit after hit as sweat dripped and blood fell, the blows bouncing off as if cushioned by a cloud.

Until a sharp jab to my ribs brought a wave of intense pain.

Are you okay?

She looked at her hand rubbing absently at her side before glancing up at me. That shy smile pulled at the corners of her pale pink lips. Just a crick from the armrest. It’s not as comfortable as you.

I dodged a kick and went in for a punch of my own. Slow. Too slow. I caught nothing but air. I spun, arms up, covering my face. Blocked a punch before faking right and throwing left.

A slice of pain across my knuckles.

The small carry-on dropped, its weight more than I expected. I felt the blow the instant before she reacted. That flinch, as she pulled back and cradled her left hand in her right against her chest. That flinch, smaller than others I’d seen caused by her mental anguish.

I’m so sorry.

It’s nothing. She was a good liar. Composed, her spine straight. Elegant neck extended as her chin thrust out, showing all that strength and courage that blocked out all her fear and pain. But her dark eyes betrayed her.

Let me help. I set the carry-on on its wheels and ushered her up the aisle, my hand at her back. Grazing. Touching. Unable to stop.

I shook my head instead of my hand. Never show weakness. Protect yourself at all costs.

Protect. That intense desire had bubbled up from down deep. I was a fool to think I had protected her at all. Protected her from her nightmares. So clear those nightmares haunted her days.

Who was I to offer protection when I’d failed so heavily in the past?

I saw what I believed was an opening. Thought those arms were up too high. Dove in with a jab of my right fist. An undercut. Hard. Too fast and too slow. Didn’t see the fake until it was too late, didn’t see that elbow pull back, didn’t see the knuckles fly until it hit me.

Pain radiated from ear to ear, my eyes seeing flashes of intense white light before a wave of black rolled through.

Dark blue, the color of the ocean just before the sun completes its descent below the horizon. That was the color of her eyes as she studied my face. They lingered on the scar that ran down my forehead and through my right eyebrow. Her fingers danced as her hand reached out, gentle butterflies fluttering across the mark.

What happened? The sound came out a whisper. The flush of pink in her cheeks as she pulled back, casting her eyes away from me down the concourse, sent warmth down my spine.

A fight.

A knife fight.

My head jerked back and I eyed her as she cocked her head to the side. Why do you say that?

It’s not jagged. Perfectly straight. The line is thin.

It’s old.

Then it was deep.

I wondered what had happened in her lifetime to give her this kind of knowledge. The thought that it was her ex flashed through my mind, then died just as quickly. I couldn’t ask. Not yet. Not without causing her to retreat, as she did every time he was mentioned.

Her shell was breaking, thinning. She’d touched me. Questioned me without prompting. The first time in the hours we’d been sitting there. I wasn’t ready for our time to end. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again, and I wasn’t ready to let go.

Yanny!

The light slap of a hand against my cheek roused me. I blinked, blinked again. Kept my eyes open and found a ghost at my side.

You okay? G held his hand out to me and helped me off the floor.

I’m good.

He didn’t believe me. The man hovered as I walked a slow pace to the chairs at the side of the mat.

You dropped your hands again.

I huffed a breath, then grabbed my water bottle off the chair next to me. My eyes lingered on my phone, my stare only broken by the bump against my arm.

I took the bag of ice from him and held it to my eye. Let the cold sink in.

What’s going on with you?

I pulled my eyes away from my phone and took in my oldest friend. My brother. We’d been through everything together. Knew each other better than anyone else.

Guilt riddled me. That I’d kept this secret from him. That I’d allowed my secret to affect me.

But how could it not?

Her beautiful smile flashed through my mind. The pink flush to her cheeks. The sweet innocence in those eyes. I’d tried everything to ignore the sensual curve of her waist, focusing instead on her sunken cheeks, her pronounced collarbone, the frailty in her thin wrists. The things about her that called to my head, not my cock.

But something had stirred inside of me, and it wasn’t in my pants. I wanted to be the protector I’d proclaimed to be. I wanted to hold her and keep her safe, to fight off whatever it was that haunted her.

As much for her as to make up for my past.

Nothing, I responded after a beat. After a moment to try to set my mind straight.

My ass.

I lowered my bag of ice, turning my face to my friend. Eyes narrowed, I waited for the apology I’d never get. Not from him.

Instead, haunted, grey-blue eyes stared back at me. Each second under his gaze reminded me why we held no secrets.

I leaned close, my voice just a whisper. I met someone.

Seemingly unaffected by my words, G sat back in his chair. He ran a hand over his bald head, and that gesture alone told me everything I needed to know. His disappointment that I’d kept this secret from him. His shock that someone had broken through when I’d been shut down for so long.

Since Mila, there’d been no one. Nothing could heal the wound the loss of her had left in my heart. It was a pain known to the both of us. One we would hold with us forever. One that would never let us go.

I watched my friend, allowing him the silence he needed. His eyes tracked Mateo, Jet, and Diesel across the wide-open training room. Mateo grabbed a bag to hold it steady before Jet started pounding away. Diesel took a chair