The Executioner (Professionals 10)

From there, I got my hands on someone’s second hand laptop and started doing some looking around on the dark web, trying to find someone who could do the job for me. Which was a hell of a lot more difficult to do than find, say, illicit drugs or weapons for sale.

Eventually, I passed out cold.

For so long that I missed the whole day.

My stomach and the blinding headache from caffeine withdrawal were pretty fucking unhappy with me by the time I got showered, changed, and made my way back out into the city just after nightfall, in search of more coffee and snacks since I’d eaten up what I’d bought the night before.

“Good. You made it home last night,” Velle said by way of greeting. “Forgot to share numbers last night, so we could keep in touch,” he added, waving his phone at me. So we exchanged numbers across the store while I filled up the largest coffee cup they had and grabbed a pack of white powdered donuts before heading behind the counter with him.

“You look less dead,” Velle said, nodding.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat at that compliment,” I drawled, popping a whole mini powdered donut into my mouth.

And it was precisely that moment that my two worlds collided.

No, Brandon Adams hadn’t found me.

At least not that I knew of yet.

But someone else had.

My first thought upon seeing him should have been annoyance or frustration or even concern for how he’d found me so quickly. All I felt, though, was a bone-deep sort of relief. That Adams hadn’t found him. That Bellamy hadn’t paid for being in that house when I’d attempted to murder him.

It was stupid.

I mean, clearly, Bellamy wasn’t exactly innocent either.

But there was no denying that relief was the dominant emotion that swarmed my system as the doors opened and he walked his thousand-dollar-suit-wearing ass right into Lucky Corner Market like he didn’t stick out like a sore fucking thumb.

Suit aside, he looked rough. His face was a little pale. His stubble was coming in something fierce. And his stupidly pretty eyes were a little purple smudged from lack of sleep.

Hell, that perfect hair of his was even kind of mussed.

It shouldn’t have been hot to see him all messy, but there was no denying that was what it was.

“Hey, bud, I think you’re lost,” Velle called, sounding concerned. Likely because Bellamy had parked a damn Cadillac right in front of the store. If he turned his back for long enough, that whole damn SUV could be stripped in a matter of minutes.

Bellamy’s head turned, landing on Velle for the briefest of seconds before he noticed me.

And damn if the smirk he gave me wasn’t as hot as the relief that crossed his eyes.

Relief at, what? Finding me?

It was the only thing that made sense.

I shouldn’t have felt a thrill at that, but I absolutely did.

“You know, I don’t think I am,” Bellamy said, eyes going soft as he walked closer to the counter, gaze on me.

Which made Velle look at me as well.

He let out a snort as he reached up to tap his cheek, making me realize that the entire fucking mini donut was wedged in my damn cheek still. Hell, I probably had powder on my lips.

And I did not—absolutely did not—think about Bellamy licking that powder off. Because that would be ridiculous.

“Hey, love,” Bellamy said as I popped the donut out of my cheek so I could chew and swallow it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” I asked as soon as my mouth was empty.

“Isn’t she just the sweetest?” Bellamy asked, looking over at Velle. “Are the coffee cups over by the machines?” he asked, getting a nod from Velle.

“You are not going to drink Lucky Corner Market coffee,” I blurted out, making Bellamy turn back.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re wearing an eight-thousand-dollar watch,” I said, waving at it.

“You know, I think she thinks I’m a snob,” Bellamy said, shaking his head at Velle before walking off toward the coffee machine.

“Who the fuck is that?” Velle asked, looking at me.

“Bellamy,” I said, sighing.

“Boyfriend?”

“Oh my God. No.”

“But you want him to be,” Velle said.

“Fuck no,” I said, shaking my head a bit frantically.

“You know, I distinctly remember you saying those exact same words about Damon Walker when you were fourteen. And didn’t you end up losing your V-card to him on your fifteenth birthday?”

Ugh.

Damnit.

That was the downfall to having someone around who’d known you for far too long. They knew all your secrets and all your tells.

“If you must know, he once drugged and kidnapped me. Then held me hostage in his private villa in the Maldives.”

“Shawn, your hostage situation sounds a lot like most people around here’s dream vacation,” Velle said, snorting.

“Hey!” I grumbled, throwing a mini donut at him. “He totally kidnapped me, you dick.”