Driven to the Edge: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (13 page)

W
ASTED

A Dirty Boys of Chicago Novel

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urn
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S
he was so fucking beautiful
.

There was no question about it—with her stunning dark hair and intoxicating hazel eyes, she was gorgeous. She had a unique look about her, unlike any of the other girls that I had slept with. Large doe eyes, with an innocence that I hadn’t ever encountered before. Nobody around me was that innocent. We all had our deceptions. Lies we told people to get by. But not Farrah. But I guess that was why I wanted her so badly.

She was forbidden.

I remembered my father telling me that once. I wasn't allowed to mess with any of the women in the family. Not that she and I were blood relatives. We weren't even related. But her mother worked for my dad, and that made her a part of the family, which meant she was untouchable. But it didn't mean that I didn't think about her. Her small hips swaying as she walked away from me. The way she flirtatiously glanced over her shoulder. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. She just didn't care. But I did.

I wondered what she looked like now. So much time had passed. Was she still so thin? So fragile? Or had she filled out?

I imagined she had. Beautiful curves that I could touch. Taste. Breasts that would fill my hand when I grabbed them. But fantasies didn’t satisfy me like the real thing.

I heard the clanging on the outside of the bars that startled me out of my restless sleep. I never slept well in jail. I should've gotten over that by now, having been in here for four years, but I hadn't.

I hadn't had one good night’s sleep since I had been locked up.

I opened my eyes slowly, trying not to appear disturbed by the noise outside, but I knew that the guards were just trying to get my attention. It was always one of the guards trying to assert his power. Dumbass. I could own them in a second if I wanted to.

I was part of the Santini family. No matter what the guards liked to believe, they didn't have full control over me, even if I was in jail. My father did. If he ordered a hit on somebody inside this prison, it would be my job to get it carried out, no matter the cost. If some stupid asshat guard tried to stop me, I’d have to take care of it, and quietly.

Luckily, my father hadn’t asked me to do any jobs lately. He just wanted me out of this hellhole. I didn’t think it was out of love or because he missed me—that wasn’t my old man’s style. I suspected it was mostly my mother putting pressure on him. She had convinced him that I deserved to be out, after all that I did for the family. The only reason I was in here was because of them, anyway.

But that was how it was in the Santini family. You did as you were told.

I waited for the noise again, but instead, I just heard the sound of someone clearing his throat.

“Santini, your lawyer’s here. Get your ass up.”

My lawyer? I wasn't supposed to have a meeting with him for another week. My parole hearing was next month, so there was no need for him to be here now. I wondered if this was some sort of message from my father. Shit, I hoped it wasn’t an ordered hit. While I was good at what I did, I didn’t want to risk fucking up my parole meeting.

“What the hell are you talking about, guard? My lawyer’s not coming today.”

I heard the keys jangling against the bars as he started to open up my cell. “Well, he's here now, so unless you want me to turn him away, I suggest you get your ass up and out here.”

I nodded as I wrapped my hand around the metal bedframe of the bunk above me and pulled myself up. I smiled at the empty bunk. I hadn't had to share a cell with anyone in a few weeks; I think they were scared to put anyone new with me. It wasn't my fault that the last guy had gotten a broken nose. If he hadn't been such a dick about taking up the mirror all the time, we wouldn’t have had a problem. I just let them know that taking up the mirror wasn’t going to help him with his looks.

The guard cleared his throat in annoyance.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.”

I turned around and stuck my hands behind me through the bars, which was the protocol. I knew he would have to cuff me, not that it mattered. If I really wanted to overpower this twerp, it wouldn't be that hard. All it would take was a swift knock to his head with my own, and he would be out like a light. It had been about a month since I'd last gotten tased, but I wasn't really in the mood to relive that experience right now. It wasn’t worth it to start anything with him. After he cuffed me, he attempted to assert his dominance over the situation and held me tightly by the uniform. You do that, bro, act like you’re the man. I didn’t really give a shit about this guard and his power pissing contest. All that I wanted to know was what my lawyer wanted.

I let my thoughts wander as we walked through the sterile halls. I hated the way this place smelled, like sweat and old piss. So instead, I thought about how she used to bake, how she and her mother would make pies and bring them in once a week. My favorite was the apple pie. I missed the warm, sweet aroma filling the office.

The office was where we held all the business. It was located under a strip club that the family owned. Growing up, I’d always gone with my father to the office; he wanted me to learn the family business when I wasn’t in school, so seeing naked women was never a new thing for me. The strippers didn’t take too much interest in me until I was in high school. That was when I finally filled out into my large frame. Several of the girls offered to teach me how to please a woman, and being a stupid high school kid, I took them up on their offers. Sure, those women were hot and always ready to go for a ride, but as I grew older, I realized that they were just assets of our family business. They weren't real people.

They certainly weren't Farrah.

As we walked the rest of the way to the conference rooms, I wondered what she was doing. Who she was with. Was she safe? I had spent hundreds of nights dreaming about her. Dreaming about what I would do when I saw her again. How I would take her and make her mine. It was one of the only things that kept me sane in this place. I would give anything to have those hazel eyes on me again.

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K
elley Carson is successful
, beautiful, and celibate. But that last part certainly isn’t by choice. Seems every time Kelley meets someone who might be able to help her scratch her physical itch something always goes terribly wrong.  

Then she meets Lawson; a hot real estate attorney, who by the looks of him doesn’t have a problem getting ladies into bed, and she desperately wants him to take her home.

Will she make it through one date without totally screwing it up? Or will she go home alone again?

E
xcerpt

S
o I call
this portion of my diary “Lawson” because it’s all about Lawson, that guy I met in the bar on Ladies’ Night. Yeah I met a guy on Ladies’ Night. Guys actually still come to those things. It’s not all just a bunch of women, that’s what I mostly thought it would be. Actually come to think of it, before meeting Lawson, I had a rather portly woman buying me drinks. I don’t think she honestly thought I was going home with her, but thinking back on it, maybe that brush on my butt was more of a love tap. Hmmm I wonder if I still have Joyce’s number around here somewhere.

But anyway, after Joyce had bought me drink number three and we were having a rather in depth conversation about the latest episode of The Bachelor I had to excuse myself to use the rest room.

“Be right back,” I said holding my drink up to her. She winked back and raised her Miller Lite at me. Geez how did I not see that love connection before?