Lure (A Hitman's Bait 1)

“I’m sorry, but it can’t be tonight. Maybe some other time, but I’m sure Liam would appreciate it.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“I think I’ll have something going on then too.” Please don’t force the issue.

“How about you choose the date?”

Just the mention of the word date was enough for me to take a step back. “That’s not a good idea, Bait. I told you I’m straight. Plus, it would be unhealthy to get into a relationship with someone like you.”

He sucked in an audible breath, blinking away tears. So much for him insisting that he never cried. He thought he was some tough guy who could handle life, but he was one of the sweetest persons I’d ever come across. Not only wasn’t I gay, but we worked together, and I was keeping things from him that no relationship would survive.

It was better this way. He might not understand, but it was for his own good. Being with a man like me would put him in jeopardy. He was already in relative danger, given he worked for me.

“I understand. I won’t ask again.”

He walked stiffly into the house and closed the door behind him way too quietly. The Kit I knew was full of passion. I’d at least expected him to slam it so hard the windows would have rattled.

On the drive home, our conversation replayed in my head. The pained expression on his face wouldn’t leave my mind. He’d seemed more hurt than I’d expected him to be.

“Son of a bitch.”

It hit me as I parked in my garage. He hadn’t been hurt because I didn’t want to go out with him. Maybe a little, but I’d bet every dollar I had in my offshore account that he thought I didn’t want to go out with him because until a few weeks ago, he’d been selling his body on a street corner for a pimp.

Plus, it would be unhealthy to get into a relationship with someone like you.

I groaned, boinking my forehead on the steering wheel. He had taken my words all wrong; I was sure of it. The urge to return to him and explain what I meant was strong. I almost did it. I had the key in the ignition, but I forced myself to remove it. He might hurt now, but he would get over it. At least he had a good reason to stop flirting with me and find someone more available for him.

Maybe even Liam.

Fuck, I needed a drink, but I had a job to do.

I didn’t have that liquor I’d wanted earlier, but I had something even better later that night. My fist connected with the gut of the man strung up to the ceiling of the warehouse, and all I could see was Kit’s hurt face. I’d hurt him, and I hadn’t even explained. But it was all for the best.

The frustration of my spiraling thoughts had me unleash my rage at the man I was supposed to be teaching a lesson. His body was bruised, already turning red in the areas where I’d hit him over and over: his kidneys, his ribs. For sure, I cracked a couple of those. From his wheezing, one might have even punctured his lung.

It didn’t matter. He was a dead man anyway. The pointless beating before the act carried the terror of the Pinelli name to any who thought to double-cross him. They had me to deal with.

Pulling back from the man, I flexed my fingers. It was just the two of us. A quick glance at my watch showed I still had an hour to kill before the cleanup crew would arrive. No need to make haste, then. His sentence had already been determined. A bullet through the mouth for informing on Don Pinelli. Because of his flapping lips just to get some greens, the local police held the family under closer scrutiny.

I removed a pack of cigarettes from my jacket, which I’d draped over a chair. No need to get it all bloody. Ninety percent of the time, I was just another guy who didn’t smoke, but when violence surged through my blood, I craved them. I’d stopped myself asking why a long time ago and gave in to the urge.

I lit up a cigarette and walked up to the man.

“How about a cigarette?” I asked. “You know how those facing the electric chair get to pick their last meal? This is my offering to you. A cigarette.”

“You won’t get away with this.” He coughed up blood and spat it on the concrete floor. “The minute I turn up dead, all your identities will be revealed. Everybody will know the sick, twisted fuck you are.”

I shrugged. “No cigarette, then. At least I offered.”

“Let me go!” His shout ended with him wheezing, hacking up more blood.

“You know what, Mitch? I’m curious how you could do something so stupid as to broadcast Pinelli’s affairs the way you did. Tell me the truth. You had a death wish, didn’t you?”

He cried. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”

“Men who can’t hold their liquor and have secrets to keep shouldn’t be drinking.”

“What good is that to me now? I’m as good as dead.”