Saving the Hitman (Men of Ruthless Corp)

I slapped my brother in the back, sympathizing, as I sat down on the couch. I knew his nightmares sometimes manifested themselves in the real world. Downright violent, and I’d gotten a shiner or two in childhood from Mav’s type of sleepwalking. It wasn't his fault, he didn't know where he was when they happened. He regressed to the past in his dreams, a dark fucking nightmare we'd all been trying to run from our entire lives. I exercised my demons by killing them. Mav buried his deep down in a desperate attempt to forget them.

Repression never worked for me, so I learned how to kill instead. I hunted the chosen targets and killed them for the three of us boys; for Mav, for Rafa, and for myself. We couldn’t defend ourselves when we were kids but we sure as fuck could protect ourselves now.

The need for vengeance never went away, but when I took a man's life, I slept like a goddamn baby for that night. Don’t knock what you haven’t tried.

"I've got a gig, and I'm leaving tonight. I'm actually on my way to a town called Valor. There's an MC there, and I wanted to know what you can tell me about them?"

"The Valor are good guys, not scared to get their hands dirty if need be, but they walk pretty much on the straight and narrow. Big on stopping corruption and helping the town. If you need a contact, I can introduce you. I know Malcolm Miller well enough. He's part of the brotherhood but works as the DA in Valor now. Your target isn't a member of the MC, is it?"

I stared at Mav as I scrubbed my jaw. A sly grin crossed my lips. "Relax, Gabe. I know not to fuck with your shit. The job itself is there. I'm tracking down a girl and taking out the mark who's allegedly got her."

"You need my help?"

"You thinking about switching professions?"

"No, but I want to make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"I'm good, Gabriel. I haven't missed a target yet, have I?"

"Just be careful," he told him. "You want to go grab some grub before you hit the open road?"

"I can't. Time isn't on my side, and I want to make sure to get the girl out safely before I make my move. This one is personal. Gabe, the fucker is known to do some really sadistic shit to women, some even underage. I want him six feet under as soon as possible—before he hurts anyone else."

"Call if you need me," Gabe said before giving me a hug.

Chapter 2

Trudy

"Trudy, there's a new charge here and I'm not sure what to do with her," Cassy said, popping her head in my office. I liked Cassy. She was a sweet girl but completely incompetent. She'd been working at the shelter for a year, and she still didn’t know up from down. But I liked her enough to keep trying. Trauma affected everyone differently and I believed in second chances.

"Get her situated."

"She's asking to see someone in charge."

I sighed and put down the paperwork I was filing. I followed Cassy to the intake office, where I saw a young girl who looked like she might be on the cusp of aging out. I hated to turn anyone away or send them to an adult shelter, but we only took kids up to eighteen, and I was going to have to see her ID.

She looked tired and run down like all of our guests, but in her eyes, I saw something more and it unsettled me right away. Fear. An emotion I knew all too well from personal experience. This girl was on the run and immediately my heart went out to her.

"Hi," I said softly as I approached her. I didn't want her to get spooked and take off without some resources. The shelter was safe and it was protected. I didn’t blame a young girl like her for avoiding an adult shelter. She was wearing a hoodie and had a septum piercing as well as a hoop in her lower lip.

"Are you in charge here?" she asked. Her voice was stern and she made intense eye contact.

"Hi, I’m Trudy, a resident counselor here. Nice to meet you." I stuck out my hand to shake hers.

She didn’t take my hand so I dropped it.

"I’m Tatum. I shouldn't have come here. I just didn't know what else to do."

"You're safe here. I promise you."

"I know, I did my research. I know who's connected to the place," she whispered the last part as her eyes darted around the room. The way she leaned against the wall, her eyes taking in everyone and everything in her space, told me the girl was used to looking over her shoulder. Whatever she was running from wasn’t a parent or a truancy officer, this girl feared for her life—right now in real time.