Faith (A Dark Romance Novel) (25 page)

Chapter 3

Elijah

In and out. Easy peasy. Well, ideally that would be the case, but not this time. The hit was at a hotel in Beverly Hills, which in itself was a pain in the ass. High-end hotels had lots of cameras and security. They had loads of workers coming and going, all more than happy to assist you with whatever they could. However, I’m pretty sure the limits of their assistance end when it comes to murdering someone.

But despite all the complications, Gavin McMurray was dead and I was silently exiting his suite. When the hotel staff found him in the morning it would appear he’d had a heart attack. That wasn’t the case at all, but it had to look like he died of natural causes. Why? I don’t know, as long as I get paid then I don’t ask the question why.

What I do know is that Gavin was the average, run-of-the-mill piece of shit who stepped onto the toes of the wrong people. One thing you need to understand is that I don’t just kill the average working joe off the street. Honest, law-abiding citizens will never see or hear from me. The people I kill usually have a body count of their own much greater than mine, but in many cases it’s not their hands that get dirty.

In other words, I’m the killer who kills the killers.

With my ball cap pulled down and my glasses covering a good chunk of my face I quickly walked down the corridor and to the stairwell. Once in the stairwell, I quickly made my way down the flights of stairs. Fifteen flights to be exact. I swear to God, it felt like it was never going to end, but finally it did. Instead of going through the lobby I headed for the back entrance. The lobby would have an insane amount of cameras, coming from all directions, but the back of the hotel wasn’t quite so bad.

I burst out into the warm night air and took a deep breath in and slowly released it, a smile creeping onto my lips. It was always such a relief to have it done and over with. Unlike other men who did what I did, I didn’t get enjoyment out of murdering people, not at all. I did it because it needed to be done. The men I killed were the kinds of men who always managed to stay one step of ahead of the law. Someone needed to stop them and it just so happened I got paid – paid quite well in fact – to do it, a happy bonus. Sure the people who paid me may one day become the mark. Hell, maybe one day I’d become the mark. I had no allegiance to anyone and trusted no one. It was a kill or be killed life I lived.

I was about to head through the hotel back parking lot when I caught sight of her, the angel who haunted my thoughts – Sidney Lopez. She was crossing the street in front of the hotel and entering a bar. Forgetting that there was a dead body in the hotel waiting to be found and that I should be putting as much distance between me and the crime scene as possible I stopped dead in my tracks and watched her. Like a moth to a flame I followed Sidney, running down the side of the hotel, crossing the street and entering the bar she’d disappeared into.

As soon as I entered the bar I was greeted by country music. This was a little out of place in this area of Beverly Hills, but it seemed to be pretty busy so what did I know. My eyes scanned the bar and found her; she was alone at the far end of the bar and was being passed a cocktail.

If she were any other woman I’d have no issues going up to her and starting a conversation, if the fancy struck me, but she wasn’t, she was Sid. So instead I made my way across the bar and sat at the other end of the bar from her, angled so I could get a good view of her, and ordered a beer.

Fuck, I’m a stalker. This was serious stalker behavior. I knew virtually everything there was to know about her, had a binder full of autographed pictures of her and followed her around the country attending conventions she was at, paying through the ass for it, just for a minute of her time. Fuck, yup, this was hardcore obsessive, I was looking at a stalker in the rearview mirror.

I watched as she drank the first cocktail down as if she were a dying alcoholic and that was the last drink she’d get before she kicked the big one. The first was followed by a second. The third drink came from a douche who approached her. I call him a douche because he approached her while I sat there like a prepubescent idiot with a hard-on watching it happen, not because I knew that for a fact. Maybe he was a great guy, I doubted it, but perhaps. Either way I hated him.

She accepted the drink and douche-boy took a seat next to her. Didn’t she have a boyfriend? I thought she did. Her boyfriend was a major fucktard, the typical egocentric Hollywood asshole, but that’s another story. Then why was she here?

I watched the two of them as I nursed my first drink. Douche-boy persuaded her to get up and dance. So I adjusted myself in my seat to watch them on the dance floor. Douche-boy did everything in his power to touch her, caress her, rub his body against hers. As I took a swig from my beer, I realized that my grip on the bottle was so tight my knuckles had turned white.

I forced myself to relax. That could have been me. I could have been the one to approach her, but I didn’t. It wasn’t his fault that he was an opportunist. But there was just something about him that didn’t sit right with me, he was too slick. Too smooth.

My jaw clenched. I wanted to pound his face with my fists. I wanted to put the barrel of my gun against his temple and pull the trigger.

Fuck, I was a stalker and had rage issues. Yes ladies, a stalker with rage issues, step right up and claim your dream man! I needed therapy. Actually, if I were to be completely honest I’d been there done that. Didn’t help.

A slow song came on and he pulled her into his arms. Her body tensed, but at his insistence she seemed to give in and embraced him. Once the song ended they returned to the bar. Mr. Douche was becoming more hands-on and although she was on her fourth drink she seemed to be becoming more uncomfortable with his attention.

After watching another fifteen minutes of her fending off his advances I was about to get up and end it myself when the bartender stepped in and after some heated discussion the man moved on and Sidney was alone again. She drank one more drink before getting up. I was expecting her to head to the bathroom, but she headed towards the side exit instead. As soon as she exited Mr. Douchebag followed behind along with a friend, both disappearing out the side exit.

A big, bright alarm bell rang off in my head, screaming danger, danger, danger.

I was immediately on my feet. A beautiful, intoxicated celebrity in a dark alley with a couple of half-drunk douches meant trouble. Luckily for her and unluckily for them I was about to stop whatever I feared was about to go down.

In less than a minute I was across the room and at the exit door. Before I exited, I pulled a pistol from the holster and attached a silencer. I’d rather not kill them, but I’d do what I had to. It was always good to be prepared. I inched the door open and a burst of rage rocked through me. One of the men had her pinned face first to the wall of the bar attempting to pull down her pants as the other watched with his back to me. She was attempting to scream, but douche number 1 had a gloved hand over her mouth, stifling her cries.

Bursting through the doorway, I headed straight for the watcher. Pulling my arm back I brought the butt of the gun down onto the man’s head with every ounce of strength I had in me. A crack sounded as he groaned and toppled to the cement unconscious and bleeding profusely from the head. If he didn’t get medical care right away he’d bleed out in the alley. Too bad. Not my problem. Rapist motherfucker. I stepped over him as if he were a piece of dog-shit I didn’t want soiling my shoes.

The sound of his groan and thump as his body hit the cement caught douche number 1’s attention and he spun around, holding Sidney in front of him, a knife to her throat. “Walk away, man. This isn’t your business.”

I raised the gun and pointed it at his forehead. “Kinda is. Let her go and I might let you live.”

“Please. Let me go,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks and leaving streaks of mascara and eyeliner in their wake.

“Walk away my friend.”

“Not going to happen…
Friend
.”

I was only ten feet away from him. I had no doubt I’d hit him right on target, but my only fear was that he’d fall backwards, slicing her throat in the process.

“Then I guess we’re at a standoff.”

“Well…” I looked down at his friend. “From the looks of it your friend only has maybe fifteen minutes before he bleeds out and dies at my feet. So if you let her go maybe I’ll let you take this piece of shit to the hospital. And just so you’re clear on this if you hurt her you’ll die. I’ll shoot you in the fucking head and once in the cock, just for being a raping piece of shit.”

The man looked down at his friend then up at me, indecision in his eyes. “Make the right decision
Friend
.”

He stood staring at me, rage in his dark eyes, but finally conceded. “Fine.”

Good decision, Friend
, I thought.

He gave her a push away from him and towards me. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her behind me shielding her from the scum, took aim at his left thigh and shot once. He crumbled to the ground with a low groan. 

She let out a scream and I immediately turned to her, covering her mouth with my hand. “Calm down. He’ll live.” Maybe not, but she didn’t need to know that. “I’m not going to hurt you Sidney.” As I tucked the gun back into my shoulder holster, Douche 1 moaned behind us. “Are you going to be quiet if I remove my hand?”

Despite the fear in her blue eyes, she nodded.

“Good. All right then. Let’s get out of here.” With my hand planted firmly at the small of her back, I steered her away from the men and rushed her down the alley and across the street. We needed to get as far away from there as humanly possible and fast before the men were discovered.

She didn’t say a word, but let me steer her to the back parking lot of the hotel and to my black Mercedes. I opened the passenger door for her, she got in and I closed it. Rushing to the driver’s side I slid in and started the car. There were no witnesses, which was a plus. I looked over at Sidney before putting the car into gear. She was staring blankly out the windshield. She was in shock; it was to be expected.

Sidney

What in the hell just happened? And why did I allow myself to be put into the car of a stranger who may or may not have murdered two men? I looked over at the man driving us down the highway; his eyes were focused on the road, but I could see his thoughts were far from here.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not sure I want to go home with you. I don’t know you. You may have killed someone.” Not like I had a choice, I supposed. I didn’t have much interest in jumping from a moving car. 

He looked at me and frowned. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “I saved you from getting raped and perhaps murdered. And as long as they get help they’ll live, but maybe I should have killed them, they would have deserved it. I can guarantee to you that you weren’t the first and chances are won’t be the last. I’ve a good mind to go back and finish the job. But I have to make sure you’re safe first.”

“Please don’t.” Maybe he was right and I wasn’t the first or the last, but I couldn’t have the deaths of two people on my conscience. It just wasn’t in me.

“I won’t.” He looked at me again and smiled. “I promise.”

We were silent for a while, both lost in our respective thoughts, I couldn’t even guess how long, but eventually I saw us turn onto my road and frowned as I saw my house come into view. “You’re taking me home?”

“That’s what I said. Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

“I thought you meant your home.”

Flicking on the blinker, despite no cars being behind us, he turned into my driveway and stopped at the keypad in front of the iron gates. “What’s the code?” My head was still swirling with a combination of the effects of the alcohol and what had happened, so much so that it didn’t even occur to me at that moment to wonder how he knew where I lived.

“I can’t go home.” 

He frowned as he put the car into park and looked over at me. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said, I can’t go in there.” There was no way I was going to face Anthony. Not right now. I’d endured enough for one night, thank you very much.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I’m staying at the hotel right now.”

He sighed, his frown deepening. “The hotel across from the bar I presume?”

“That’s the one. Can you take me back there instead?”

“Nope. The bar will be crawling with cops and reporters by now.”

The mention of reporters changed my mind on the spot.
Ohmygod
, it would be all over the news. I could see the headlines now,
Star of The Hunters Nearly Raped Behind a Bar in Beverly Hills
. The reporters and paparazzi would have a field day and the would-be rapists would be in the limelight – pseudo-celebrities. No. No way. I couldn’t let that happen. It occurred to me that I owed the stranger more than just saving me from being raped, he saved me from months’ worth of harassment and reliving the event over and over in the media.

“Thank you. For what you did.”

“You’re welcome. Well –” He put the car into reverse and back out into the road again. “– if you can’t go home for some unexplained reason and I can’t take you back to the hotel, where do I take you?”