Taken by the Hitman: Echoes of Forever

By Nichole Rose

A little ball of sunshine just ignited this hitman's world.

 

Kieran "Ghost" Knight
No one sees me, even when I'm standing right in front of them.
Until I meet Savannah Greenway.
She's a little ball of sunshine with the sweetest smile.
She sees me even though she shouldn't.
Even though it's dangerous for her.
She thinks I'm a good guy. I'm not.
My past is littered with bodies.
When I think about the future though, all I see is her.
I have no business claiming her.
That won't stop me.
I'll walk through hell if that's what it takes to make her mine.

 

Savannah Greenway
Kieran Knight appeared out of the dark like an avenging angel.
He saved my life even though it cost him his job.
He thinks I don't know who he is.
He's wrong. I know he kills people for money.
I know that should matter to me. It doesn't.
My past is full of pain.
When I think about the future, all I want is him.
Maybe I shouldn't want him, but he was made for me.
And I won't give up until he sees it too.

 

If you enjoy growly hitmen, sassy heroines, and age-gap romance, you'll love Kieran and Savannah's sweet and steamy story!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nichole Rose
• Release date: Mar 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215642245

Book preview

Chapter One

Kieran

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I'm a ghost. Invisible. No one sees me. Even when I'm standing right in front of them, they look around me or through me, their gazes sliding away as if their very psyche finds my presence uncomfortable. I prefer it that way.

When you kill people for money, being invisible has its perks.

Yet as I stalk my next target through the dark streets, the delicate brunette at his side casts her eyes all around as if she senses me lurking in the shadows. It's inexplicable. She's barely out of her teens, far too young to have honed her senses enough to feel me stalking her companion like a lion. Yet she has.

Her companion certainly hasn't noticed me, and I've been following him for a week. I know when he shits and when he sleeps, what he eats and where. I even know how long it takes for him to beat off in the shower every morning. It doesn't take him long. Thank God. The sound of him grunting his way to orgasm isn't exactly a memory I need.

Learning a target's routines is a necessary evil. I haven't survived in this profession for two decades by leaving anything up to chance. The last thing I want to do is spend my time watching my targets go about their lives. But all it takes is one little mistake to fuck up a good hit.

I don't make mistakes.

Usually.

The brunette shot that record all to shit.

Somehow, I missed that my target had plans with her tonight…which isn't good news for her. I need to deal with the jackass beside her sooner rather than later. But I didn't get where I am by leaving witnesses. Which means I either walk away tonight and try again tomorrow, or I wait until he's alone later.

At which point, it'll be too late for her.

Jack Stinson is a real nasty son of a bitch. He lies, cheats, steals, whatever it takes to get girls who look like her to give him a chance. Once he gets them back to his place...well, let's just say there's a reason hell exists. It's for motherfuckers like him.

He couldn't pay his cartel buddies, so he struck a deal. He brings them girls to sell, he gets to keep breathing. I can't fucking stand men who prey on women and children. I may kill people for money, but there are some lines even I won't cross.

Jack Stinson hasn't ever found a line he wouldn't cross to save his own miserable life.

I'm looking forward to killing him.

The girl is a problem though.

She's the kind of beautiful you don't find often in a city like Los Angeles. There's nothing fake or made-up about her. She's petite and curvy, with a round ass and a rack that makes my dick throb. Her chestnut brown hair tumbles down her back in ringlets. Despite how gingerly she moves, as if favoring her right leg, she's still graceful as hell, captivating to watch.

It doesn't take much for me to read a person. One good look at the eyes, and I can tell just about everything I need to know. The fact that I haven't seen her eyes is pissing me off. I don't know what color they are, or what lurks in their depths.

She glances over her shoulder again, staring into the shadows behind her.

Does she sense me out here? Or is Stinson making her nervous?

I'm guessing she doesn't know the up-and-coming music producer at her side is responsible for the disappearances of no less than four other girls like her. This one is smarter than they were. Every time he tries to touch her, she moves away as if by instinct. She knows something is off about him and is reluctant to go back to his place.

He keeps pressing her anyway.

I want to kill him slowly for that reason alone.

Instead, I keep following along, hoping she'll make a break for it and I can kill him before she disappears into a world she should never know a single thing about. We're running out of time. They'll be at his place in five minutes. Once she steps through the doors, there's nothing I can do for her without causing myself a whole lot of trouble.

That's not sitting well with me.

I want this girl safe for reasons I can't explain.

I really should go, she says, her musical voice full of reluctance. I have an early class.

It's all good, Jack says. We're just going up to get this track for Saint and then I'll get you home.

Liar. If she walks through his door, she'll leave in the back of a van, headed for a life no human being should ever know. He'll slip his doorman a couple hundred and the security tapes will disappear, replaced by one of him arriving home solo. Someone who looks like her will stumble around campus for a while and then vanish into the night, paid just like the doorman to lay a false trail.

Like I said, Jack Stinson is a nasty son of a bitch.

I hate to break it to him, but I'm even worse. People may call me Ghost, but for guys like Jack, I'm their worst fucking nightmare. I've been putting people like him in the ground for almost twenty years. I was fresh out of high school when Rogue at Ruthless found me gunning for the same target his company was after. He knew what he was doing. I didn't.

I was shot five times.

He took me in, taught me everything he knew, and then set me loose on the men who murdered my parents. In exchange, I gave Rogue five years of service. I wasn't good for much back then. Turns out, I'm a hell of a hitman. Five years turned to ten and then to fifteen. Nineteen years in, this is the life I know.

It doesn't make what I do right. I'm not a good man. I have no illusions about that. I kill people for money and don't lose sleep over it. Let's be real. People don't usually pay millions to take out paragons of virtue. Most of the men who find themselves on the other end of my scope deserve it. They're like Jack, wastes of space.

Putting them down is a community service. The others…well, Rogue knows my preferences. He does what he can to ensure we get assignments we aren't morally opposed to following. Rogue has a rule. If you refuse an assignment, you're out. There are no second chances. So giving us assignments we aren't going to balk at is better for business than losing us over shit we won't do. Good hitmen are hard to come by and even harder to keep.

Rogue isn't stupid. He knows his shit.

Men like Stinson, those with ties to the cartels, are my bread and butter. Anything I can do to fuck up the day for cartel kingpins is cool with me. If I save a few lives in the process, well, it won't tip Anubis's scales in my favor, but it doesn't suck. Drug cartels are cockroaches, slowly overrunning the city. Drugs, guns, women…there isn't much they won't trade.

I was sixteen when they murdered my family. My dad worked in property management. He saw something he shouldn't have seen while looking at a property. Los Zetas sent their hitmen after him. They took out him and my mom. Had I been home, I probably wouldn't have survived either. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't home. I've been taking down cartel members and their associates ever since. The men who killed my parents were the first to go. Their deaths were slow and painful.

If Stinson is lucky, he'll go quick.

Five minutes, he says to the brunette, using his most charming voice. Please, Savannah? You'll be saving me a trip out to Calabasas to Saint's place.

Savannah. I fight the urge to repeat her name out loud just to hear it on my tongue.

I really need to go.

Saint needs this, Stinson says. It'll launch him right back to the top.

You really think it'll help him? she asks, clearly still reluctant.

I guarantee it will, Stinson promises.

Five minutes, she agrees after a split second of hesitation.

Motherfucker.

I stifle a curse, frustration seething through me. Maybe if I didn't know her name…no, not even then could I just walk away. There's a light to her, a brightness this world needs. Stinson has already ruined four lives. I won't let him ruin hers too. I'm saving this girl, even if it spells the end for me.

Rogue is going to be furious.

Sorry, old man, I think, cutting through an alley and then jogging toward the back entrance of Stinson's building. Looks like my time is up.

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By the time Stinson makes it up to his penthouse with Savannah in tow, I'm already inside. I crouch in an alcove, hidden by the grand piano. I've got my gun in my hand, the sound suppressor on the muzzle to keep the neighbors from hearing what's about to go down.

Lucky for me, Stinson had his place soundproofed when he put in the studio. It keeps his uptight neighbors from bitching about the noise. With any luck, it'll keep them from hearing the girl screaming the walls down around us. That part is inevitable at this point. It's also preferable to the alternative…the one where she disappears without a trace and Stinson moves on to his next innocent victim.

You want something to drink? Stinson asks Savannah, stopping not even five feet from me. He's so confident he's in control here, he doesn't look around. He's as arrogant as he is stupid.

No. I just want the track so I can go, she says, fidgeting from foot to foot. Even though she's clearly run out of patience for Stinson, she still has the voice of an angel. I hear the irritation though, the distrust.

Like I said, she's smart, her senses sharp. The other four followed him back here willingly from everything I've been able to learn. One couldn't seem to keep her hands off him. Not Savannah. She wants nothing to do with him. Every time he moves closer, she backs up, dodging him. I'm not sure how she ended up at dinner with him, but it's obvious she'd rather gouge her own eyes out than spend another five minutes in his company.

He's oblivious as he continues flirting. Men like him usually are. They ooze charm like cheap cologne. And like the cologne, the charm is manufactured bullshit. There are a thousand men just like him in this city. Users. Abusers. Liars. Cheats. Savannah is smart enough to have him pegged for exactly what he is, and she isn't falling for it.

She's tougher than she looks, which makes me curious as hell. Most people want the world to perceive them as tough, but underneath, they're soft. This one is different. She's pure as the driven snow, but life has thrown a few curve balls her way, just enough to forge her spine from steel. It's in the way she carries herself as