Monster In The Shadows: A stand-alone dark romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Trigger Warning

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Thanks for Reading!

  Playlist

  Also By Laura John

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Laura John

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  Independently published.

  Editor/Interior Formatting: CPR Editing

  Proofreader: Kaye Kemp Book Polishing

  Cover Designer: Destiny Productions

  This is a dark romance set in a dark world. If you are easily triggered, please tread with caution.

  I WANT TO DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIENDS WHO BELIEVED IN ME. WITHOUT THEM, THIS BOOK WOULD NOT BE SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY.

  The casket is lowered into the ground, and with it, my heart.

  I had been clinging to the hope that one day I would find my sister and save her. Instead, I’m standing in the rain with tears streaming down my face as I lay her to rest.

  I don’t cry, ever. At least with the rain, no one will be able to see my weakness.

  I knew this day would come, but I didn’t want to believe it. When they showed me the picture of my sister, blue and lying on the floor, I screamed at the top of my lungs. It’s been years since she went missing, but I was praying that a god actually existed somewhere and wouldn’t do this to an innocent girl.

  I couldn’t even look at her again, so I kept the casket closed. No one needed to see her like that. I wanted to keep the memory of her young and full of life, but the vision of her lifeless body in that picture keeps flashing in my head.

  My mentor, Winston, places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a curt nod before walking away. I don’t move, though. I stay there, staring at the dirt.

  I failed her.

  All I ever wanted was to take my sister by the hand and run away. Leave this life of death and disaster behind. But I couldn’t save her, so I followed in the footsteps of my father, avenged his death, and spent every day of my life looking for her…until I found out she’d been murdered.

  After God knows how long, I wipe my face and finally leave the graveyard. I feel empty, hollow. Ciera was the only thing left that had me clinging to any humanity. And now she’s gone.

  They thought I was dangerous before. But how do you hurt a man who has nothing to lose?

  “Speak,” I bark into the phone, recognizing the number immediately.

  “I’ll be leaving a package for you today. I want the assignment completed this week. Half of the money is already in your account. The other half will be paid after the assignment is complete. Have a good day.”

  The line goes dead, and I huff out a breath. Time to get to work.

  Marcus and I have been working together for a long time. He wants to keep his hands clean, and I love the sound of a man screaming as I push in his eyeball. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s willing to pay a handsome amount for my services.

  “Get out,” I growl at the woman lying in my bed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want another round?” she asks, batting her eyes and trying to act sexy.

  I’m not in the mood.

  “I said get the fuck out. Now, either you listen, or I’ll make you fucking listen, and you aren’t going to like it.” I grab her throat and squeeze.

  She should be scared, but I can tell she’s turned on. I toss her aside and move to get dressed. She pouts before finally complying. She’s a slut who likes a dominant man; she knows the drill.

  Most women feel like they can change me. That they’ll be the one to melt my heart and make me fall in love. What they don’t seem to get is that I don’t have a heart. It was cut from my chest the day my sister died.

  After I get dressed, I confirm with my maid that the woman—whose name I can’t remember—has left, and make my way to collect the package I need.

  Walking through the garden, I see all the happy couples laughing and smiling. Most people wouldn’t choose such a public location for a drop-off point, but it has always worked out well for us. So many people come and go that a man walking around by himself won’t draw attention.

  People come here on their lunch breaks to get away from work. It’s not just a specific group of people, either. It’s always changing, so it makes it the perfect place. I casually walk to the bench that I know will have an envelope taped beneath it. Once I get there, I sit down and take the newspaper from under my arm and start to read. I’ve done this so many times, it’s like second nature to me. I read the paper for a couple of minutes, then casually reach under the bench and grab the envelope. Trying to remain inconspicuous, I read for a while longer, then leave.

  Once I’m back in my parked car, I open the envelope to find out who they have hired a hit against today.

  Eduardo Bellini, an old Italian man.

  I read the small bio and information provided, gaining a small amount of knowledge on my mark. I’ll have to do more recon before I make my hit, but this is a start.

  I don’t need to know why they want him dead. I don’t ask questions. I just take care of business. The only people I will not kill are women and children. Everyone else is pretty much fair game.

  I do research before carrying out the hit so I can make sure I’m not walking into a trap. Every time, I’ve learned more about the man than the person who hired me knew. Not in a good way. There are plenty of scummy men in this world who deserve to be killed.

  Pulling out a picture, I realize Eduardo Bellini is no different. I grind my teeth as I examine the evidence closer. Bellini has his cock buried in a child’s mouth. My face heats from my anger. The young girl—who can’t be more than thirteen years old—looks terrified, and Bellini has a slimy grin on his face.

  I am going to enjoy killing this piece of shit. Hell, if I had known about this sick pig, I would have killed him without a hit. Women and children are off fucking limits.

  As I sit in my car outside an abandoned warehouse, it takes everything in me not to storm inside and kill every last one of those motherfuckers. I’m gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles are white. I need something to ground me, or there
will be a lot of dead men tonight.

  My job is to kill Eduardo Bellini. That’s all I was paid to do. But I already know that it is going to be my mission to kill every one of those men in there. I don’t care if I start a war.

  Drugs, I can deal with.

  Murder? No big deal. I mean, that is my job. I get off on watching men die.

  Fucking around on your wife? I don’t give a shit.

  There isn’t much that bothers me, but running a human trafficking ring is where I draw the line.

  Chicago has been free of this shit for a long time. I need to find out who the fuck decided to start it up again. And when I do, I will kill every last one of them. Hearing them scream will be music to my ears. I’ll laugh as I tear their skin from their bodies. Smile as they beg for their lives. And I’ll take so much joy out of watching the life drain from their eyes.

  Bellini walks out of the building, looking smug. I can’t wait to wipe that look off his face.

  Smirking, I put the silencer on my gun and quickly walk over to him. When I get there, his security guard panics and doesn’t even get a chance to fire his gun before a bullet lodges in his forehead and he falls to the ground. The sound of his lifeless body collapsing makes me smile. I wish I had time to watch the blood drain from his body, but there’s another asshole I have to deal with.

  Bellini is crouched by his car, cowering in front of me.

  “Don’t do this. I can pay you whatever you want,” he stutters, sounding like a scared little boy.

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before fucking little girls,” I snarl before putting a bullet in his head.

  I’m pissed that I can’t slowly kill Bellini. I wanted to make him beg me to end the pain. I wanted him to suffer like those women and children he abuses do. But I need to get out of here quickly, and I want the rest of the animals in this building to know they’ll be next.

  I pull a black rose out of my coat and drop it next to the bodies as a message. People in this business know it’s my calling card. Word will be getting out soon, and a war will start.

  This may have started out as a contract, but it’s so much more now.

  “Thanks, so much for locking up tonight. I know you have studying to do and an early class for your nursing program tomorrow, but I seriously feel like I’m going to throw up,” Leanne states, looking green.

  “It’s not a problem. I promise. Evenings are always quiet, so I’ll get my study time in and we’re only open until nine. It’s not like that’s going to keep me up too late. Anyway, get out of here before you get me sick,” I tell her.

  She laughs, then quickly grabs her stomach, and I hope she doesn’t vomit right here.

  “You’re the best!” She waves and quickly rushes out.

  I’m happy she’s gone; the last thing I want is to get sick.

  As predicted, the night drags on at the library. A couple kids come in to study for an exam, needing a quiet place. A regular gentleman comes in to borrow another old war book. Other than a dog barking uncontrollably outside, it’s an uneventful evening.

  At nine on the dot, I lock up and head to my car. A shiver runs down my spine and something feels off. My mom used to always tell me that I had the best instincts and that I could sense when things weren’t quite right. And something is definitely off right now.

  I adjust my glasses, trying to see if I can make anything out, but all I see is darkness. I’m almost to my car when movement in the bushes pulls my attention.

  It’s a man lying there, barely moving.

  I freeze. I should call 911.

  “Are you okay, sir?” I ask, rushing over to him to see if I can use any of my nursing knowledge to help.

  “I’m fine,” he murmurs, but winces when he tries to move.

  Moving closer, I step in something wet and kind of sticky. I’m pretty sure it’s blood.

  Fuck. That’s not good.

  “I’m going to call you an ambulance,” I tell him, grabbing for my phone.

  “Don’t call the police,” he growls.

  I stare at him and see blood pouring out of his side. He must have been shot or stabbed. However, I think I would have heard a gunshot in the library. I think he’s delusional from the blood loss.

  “You need a doctor. I’m not letting you die,” I insist.

  He opens his jacket, showing me his gun. A lump gets stuck in my throat, and I feel the blood drain from my face. What is this guy into?

  “I can’t let you die,” I repeat.

  Think, Paige. He’s clearly telling you he’s tangled up in bad shit and doesn’t want the cops involved.

  Maybe I should just call the cops anyway and leave him here. Run while I still have a chance. Of course, that isn’t how my mother raised me. She taught me that if someone’s in trouble, you help them in any way you can, and this man needs help.

  I run to my car and grab an old shirt. When I get back, I lean down and press it to his side.

  “We have to get you in my car,” I finally say, hoping I’ll be able to stitch him up at my house. Hopefully, whatever happened to him didn’t cause internal damage.

  “Fuck off and go,” he spits out.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Either you get in my car or I call the cops. It doesn’t look like you’re in a position to argue. You might be a big, scary man, but you can barely move right now. I know I’m tiny, but I think in your state, I could take you.”

  He glares at me and doesn’t attempt to move.

  “We need to hurry, or you’re going to die. So, get the fuck up and let me help you,” I bark.

  He stares at me, and his gaze falls to my breasts. Great. Even dying, he’s a fucking pig. Maybe I shouldn’t help him.

  “I’m going to count to five, and if you don’t get up, I’m calling the cops and leaving you.”

  We stare at each other, neither one of us breaking eye contact.

  “One, two, three, four…”

  “Fine,” he growls, starting to move.

  I help him stand up. Fuck, he’s heavy. He must be made of pure muscle. I try to carry as much of his weight as possible. Thankfully, my car is close. Maybe I should have moved it closer before helping this man up.

  Way to think, Paige.

  “Keep pressure on the wound,” I tell him once he’s in my car.

  I drive off fast, but not too fast, since I don’t want to draw attention. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I think I’m going to pass out the second the adrenaline stops coursing through my veins.

  “Where are we going?” he asks quietly.

  “To my house. I’m a nursing student and I think I can help stitch you up,” I tell him, taking the turn to my street.

  “This is a horrible idea,” he murmurs.

  “Well, it’s your only choice, so shut up and let me drive.”

  I pull into my driveway, thankful that I live alone. My mom left me the house when she passed away, and it was already paid for, so I didn’t have to get a roommate.

  I take a quick glance around to see if anyone is walking by. The last thing I want is someone to see me hauling a bleeding man into my house. They would call the cops. This is a family neighborhood, and we take care of each other.

  “This place isn’t very secure,” mystery man mumbles.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s a fine place. Now, hurry up. I don’t want anyone to see you.”

  I rush him into my tiny house and close the door behind us, then help him to the couch and let him fall onto the cushions. He doubles over and moans in pain.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell him, running to the bathroom to wash my hands and grab my first aid kit.

  After I drop it on the coffee table, I move to my kitchen for vodka, scissors, and towels. I frown at my pretty towels; they’re going to be ruined after this. Why do I have to be helpful?

  I cut his shirt open and cringe at the sight. There is more than one stab wound, but luckily, they don’t seem deep.

  “What the
fuck did you do to piss someone off this bad?” I ask, not really wanting an answer.

  “You don’t want to know,” he says, wincing when I touch the wound. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah. Kind of,” I whisper at the end.

  His eyes go wide. “Great. I’m going to die anyway. You should have just left me in the parking lot.”

  “You’re not going to die. Just let me get my textbook. I want to make sure I’m doing this right.”

  I scramble to my room, and I hear him curse, which makes me giggle. No, this isn’t funny, but his attitude kind of is. I’m trying to save his life. You think he’d be at least a little grateful.

  “I thought you said you were a nurse,” he fumes when I come out with my textbook.

  “No, I said I was a nursing student. I’ll be a nurse one day. Just not today.”

  “Great. So I’m your fucking guinea pig?!” he shouts.

  “Listen,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “You didn’t want me to call the cops, so lie back and shut the fuck up. I’m all you have. I could have left you to die, but my mama raised me better than that.” I grab an extra towel off the coffee table and hand it to him. “Put this in your mouth. This is going to fucking burn.”

  He glares at me and grabs the vodka from my hand, taking several large gulps.

  “What the fuck did you do that for?” I yell. “Alcohol thins the blood.”

  He shrugs. “It also numbs the pain.”

  I glare at him, but turn my attention back to the wounds and pour the vodka.

  “Motherfucker!” he screams.

  I can’t help but giggle. “I warned you.”

  After I have the wounds cleaned and stitched, I grab some Vicodin from my bathroom, thankful that I never threw out my mom’s pills.

  “I’m sorry. This is the strongest pain pill I have. You’ll need to change the bandage in the morning. I can check it to make sure there is no infection. The stitches need to come out in a week. You can do it yourself or come back and see me. You know where I live. I’d tell you to leave, but clearly, you need to rest.”

  “You trust people too easily,” he mumbles.