Hitman's Secret Baby: A Bad Boy Romance (6 page)

Chapter Six
Mason

“I’m at work,” Taryn told me on the phone. “With Justin watching Daisy so much, I’m doing double shifts just to get the books balanced.”

I planned to meet her at the diner near closing time, a small curl of dread sitting in my stomach.

Not at her, though. Her I was excited to see, almost embarrassingly so.

The town was one thing, but that place, diner—my mother had
died
there. I hadn’t even walked or driven past it the whole time I’d been in the area.

Taryn had offered to meet me after she’d closed the shop, go for coffee by the lake place or even at my hotel room, but I’d declined. This homecoming had turned into something almost therapeutic, and I owed it to myself to confront this particular demon.

I hunched inside my jacket as I stepped through the door, the little bell over it ringing.

The place was fairly empty, just one booth filled with two tired-looking construction workers, empty plates in front of them and hands curled loosely around their coffee mugs.

The décor was different, cool blues and greens instead of reds, white Formica tables instead of gaudy black-and-white check, but the place
felt
the same, a familiar vibe. There was still the same old linoleum on the floor. There were still random napkin scribbles by the locals pinned on the back wall behind the counter. And Taryn was still in her blue skirt and white apron, at the register.

All the things that mattered still existed.

I was instantly twisted up with nostalgia, a gut-clutching feeling of powerful memories freezing me by one of the tables.

I’d bussed tables here for years, both before and after my mom died. I met Taryn here under the watchful eye of her mother and father. I was accepted into this family, along with Anna, when our elderly aunt had passed and we had nobody left to take us in, and only a future in foster care to look forward to.

And, right where I stood, I had seen my mother’s congealing blood after her brutal murder, staining the checked tables and the shiny linoleum floor.

“Mason?” Taryn said softly, appearing right in front of me while I was miles away.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to come in here. I told you I’d come meet you later—”

“No,” I said over her. “I’m okay.”

I walked past her coolly, taking a seat on a stool at the counter to collect myself. In the back, I could see a girl I didn’t recognize cleaning off the grill—the grill I’d cleaned countless times myself.

Those were better memories and I clung to them.

“You can get going, Zoe,” Taryn told her, peeling off her own apron and hanging it on a hook under the counter. “I’ll lock up.”

The girl thanked her, grabbing her jacket and leaving.

“How does it feel to be the boss of this place now?” I asked Taryn, struggling to relax. I felt like I was about to be attacked or something, like I was surrounded by ghosts baying for their share of my blood. Sheer paranoia, I knew, but being aware of what it was didn’t exactly eliminate it.

“It feels tiring,” Taryn sighed, pulling my attention back. “Since Mom and Dad retired to Florida, Justin and I usually share the responsibilities. Anna still does part-time management duties, but because of her honeymoon, I’m the last man standing.”

“I haven’t helped the situation, I know.”

“No,” she agreed wryly, a flirtatious smirk on her mouth that told me she was messing with me. “You haven’t.”

“How is Daisy?” I asked tentatively.

“She’s good.” Taryn nodded. “She loves it at Uncle Justin’s place. He lets her get away with murder.”

Her choice of words was not lost on either of us, and a heavy, pointed silence filled the air for a moment.

“You miss her, though,” I said.

“I see her every day, and she’ll be home with me soon,” she said brightly, and I didn’t know how she could stay so positive about all of this. Guilt gnawed at me and Taryn seemed to see it, putting a hand over mine on the countertop. She had an insatiable need to put everyone at ease, and I allowed her to do it, making my guilt weigh even heavier. “Hey. Stop that. You came back and you threw everything into a tailspin, yes, but you’re not responsible for the price on Ethan’s head. That would’ve happened regardless of you being here.”

“You said death seemed to follow me everywhere.”

“I was angry.”

“And you weren’t wrong,” I said firmly.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today,” Taryn quipped. “Here, have some pie.” She turned to grab a slice of apple out of the heated glass cabinet and slammed it down in front of me. “Our chef makes great pie.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Pie?”

“What, hitmen don’t eat pie?” she asked quietly, ducking down close to me to whisper it so the customers couldn’t hear.

I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. “No, we eat nails and rocks because we’re tough guys.”

Taryn tossed me a fork. “Then you’re in for a pleasant surprise.”

She cleaned up whilst I ate, and it was pretty damn good pie, I had to admit. By the time I was finished, the construction workers had thanked and tipped and left, and it was just me and Taryn and my slightly lighter mood.

“Told you it was good,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“It helped,” I grudgingly admitted.

“I know it must be hard being in here.”

“I’ve gotta get used to it,” I said idly, not realizing the implications until I saw Taryn flush pink. “I mean, I can’t let it haunt me forever,” I quickly added. “It’s better to deal with these things than let them fester.”

“Yeah. I mean—of course.”

She looked disappointed, and I didn’t know how to fix it. “I still miss her,” I blurted out instead, and Taryn’s expression turned to sympathy.

It wasn’t any better.

“Of course you do. She was your mom. I still remember the day it happened, too, y’know.”

She sounded haunted, connecting us in a way, and I felt myself lost to the memory again.

“The blood, the police everywhere, Anna screaming—”

Taryn, thankfully, interrupted my thoughts. “You were brave to come back and work here after that.”

I huffed a laugh. “This diner’s been a part of both our families forever. I guess I wanted to keep her presence here alive.”

I looked at the napkin scribbles on the wall behind Taryn. I hadn’t realized before, but one of them was mine—the wonky drawing of a boat on some waves, my name and the date scrawled underneath.

Taryn turned, following my eye-line, and smiled. “My way of keeping
your
presence here alive.”

The tightness in my throat made it impossible to speak. It felt like I was being choked by the pressure of memories piling up and up. I needed a distraction and I stood, leaning across the counter, sliding a hand into Taryn’s hair and drawing her towards me for a kiss.

She came eagerly, full of an aching sweetness. I savored her for a long moment, before tugging harder, kissing her more urgently.

“Someone will see,” she muttered against my mouth.

I didn’t care. I needed to drown out the memories with Taryn’s touch. “Fuck them.”

She pulled herself up onto the counter and swung her legs over the other side, seeming to decide she didn’t care either. I crowded her there, gripping the base of her back and pulling her to the edge where I pressed myself between her spread thighs.

I cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, pushing my tongue deep into her mouth like I was trying to get lost there. I was. Her taste felt like the only thing keeping me in the moment, and my hand in her hair held on so tight it had to be hurting her.

I tore my mouth away for a second, trying to apologize, but she grabbed the front of my t-shirt and yanked me back.

There wasn’t an inch of space between us, Taryn’s heel digging into my back to keep me against her. I kissed her, damp and wide open, and she slipped her hands under my shirt, the warmth of them raking across my sides and up the curve of my spine.

I felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen, my cock filling at the feel of Taryn like this, while the memories of my surroundings still tugged at me with ghostly tendrils, trying to drag me under.

Taryn framed my face with her hands. “Look at me.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d made that demand.

I did, breathing hard and staring into her dark eyes. She took my wrist, pressing my palm flat against her chest and urging it downwards, over the swell of her breasts and the flat of her stomach, and finally between her open thighs so I could feel how she was already soaking her underwear.

“It’s just you and me here,” she said. “Just like it used to be.”

I nodded, cupping my hand over the front of her panties and applying pressure there. Sex in the diner was something we used to have a lot of. When her parents left us in charge of the place, we’d shut up early and get off on the risk of being seen through the windows.

It was irresponsible and reckless and dumb as hell, but those were memories worth hanging on to.

Not the others—the blood, the death, the long years afterwards trying to come to terms with what had happened.

No
. I pushed it out of my head, leaned in to capture Taryn’s mouth again, stroking over her pussy through the damp cotton until she started to arch her back at my teasing.

My fingers itched to be inside her. With a powerful, single-minded focus, I wanted nothing more than to watch her come apart right now.

I needed it.

I moved her underwear to the side and sunk two fingers into her, pulling the most incredible sound out of her lungs and into mine.

She broke the kiss to moan, and I buried my mouth against her throat, nuzzling her erratic pulse and sucking on her neck while I fucked her slowly and purposefully with my fingers.

The noises she made helped keep me grounded. Her heel against my back and her hands on my shoulders kept me with her.

Taryn clenched her muscles around my fingers, begged for more and faster and harder, and I obliged her eagerly, wanting nothing more than to see her lose her mind.

I realized that whatever she needed, I was prepared to give her—nonstop pleasure, a constant stream of apologies, all the honesty I can muster. For a man as selfish as myself, the thought was frightening.

“Mason,” Taryn said, and I looked at her, buried in her up to my knuckles.

“I’m gonna make you come like this,” I promised roughly, shattering the concern in her eyes for unbridled
want
.

She moaned again, tipping her head back and leaning back against the countertop with her palms keeping her steady, and I renewed my efforts to get her off, flicking the pad of my thumb across her clit as I fucked her.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the line of her bared throat or the rapid inhale-exhale of her chest, the sweat starting to pool in the dip between her collarbones and the damp gasp of her mouth.

She tightened around me, her muscles starting to flutter, and as she began to shake, straining to come, I ducked down and buried my head underneath the tiny skirt, sucking the tight bundle of nerves into my mouth.

“Oh my—” They were the only words she seemed capable of as her orgasm hit her, and then she simply groaned, spilling liquid from her pussy over my fingers and jerking against my mouth.

I stayed on her until she relaxed, and then I stood with a smirk, slipping my hand free from her.

“Think anybody saw?” I drawled.

Taryn laughed, wisps of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. “I seriously hope not.”

In my jeans, my cock strained for her. Her eyes raked down my body, zeroing in on the bulge between my legs.

“But just in case,” she said, hopping down off the counter and heading for the light switch.

She plunged the diner into darkness, only the streetlamp on the opposite sidewalk bathing the place in faint, ashy light.

Burnt out—gray and crumbling down—

Taryn stepped so easily back into my embrace, like she’d never left it.

Except she had. Sixteen and pregnant and all alone, the smell of burning still toxic in my nose for days. It had to be done, because I could see blood on the counter, on the table, on the linoleum—

“Mason?”

In the dark, the blood looked like a pool of shining black. Like oil. I felt bile rise in my throat, a scream tearing at my lungs, my mother—

The sudden overhead lights blinded me and Taryn was bright in front of my face. “Mason!”

I took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. No blood, no fire, no ash. My hands were shaking;
God
, I felt like an idiot. I felt queasy. It was like waking up from one of my bad dreams, only I wasn’t sleeping. Ten seconds before I was hard and eager to sink into Taryn’s hot body, but my cock had lost all interest.