Page 21 of Bossy Baby

Mac

“Where are we going?” Hayley asked from the passenger seat.

Mac chanced a look at his boy. He’d gotten Hayley as comfortable as possible for the drive to his house. Hayley was still pretty loopy from the pain meds. “Home.”

“I’m pretty sure my home is in the opposite direction.”

“To my home.” Mac hoped it was their home someday soon. “You’ll be comfortable there. I’ll be able to properly take care of you.” He hadn’t been inside Hayley’s apartment. He knew his boy lived above the shop, but that was it. He hadn’t had time to properly secure Hayley’s building.

There was no way Mac would be able to relax and properly care for Hayley if he wasn’t comfortable in his surroundings.

“Okay.” Hayley laid his head against the glass.

Mac suspected that Hayley would be a lot more argumentative if he hadn’t been loaded up on pain meds. Mac was willing to take complete advantage of the situation. He drove into his neighborhood with pride.

The house he’d chosen was one of the nicest in the area, which said a lot, because this area had the best residences in the city. Money was no issue for Mac. Being a contract killer paid well.

Not that Mac had planned on spending his life the way it had turned out.

It had started when he was just eighteen years old.

Mac had been at a sniper level before he joined the Marine Corps. The Marine Corps took his natural talent and had expanded on it. He’d been plucked out of boot camp and his life had taken a drastic turn. He wasn’t just dropped into black ops—Mac had been shoved into a world he hadn’t understood at eighteen.

The military had gotten their claws into him. Trained him. Owned him.

Mac’s life was never his own.

Even when he’d tried to leave the military, Mac had still been indebted to them. He was often still called to do jobs even when he no longer wore the uniform. Mac had gone the private route after his honorable discharge, but his handler just worked for another branch of the government.

Until he’d walked away from it three years ago.

Faking his own death had been easy enough.

Along the way, Mac had made friends in low places, had picked up even more skills. Skills that even his handler didn’t know about.

The small group of assassins that had managed to both live and get away from the life looked out for one another. There were only five of them, Mac included, but survival was the goal.

It was Lance who had found Mac this city to settle in.

It was safe, low crime, had the university, and a small number of tourists. The most important factor was that the government had no contacts near.

The five of them were spread out around the world.

All of them kept a low profile.

If the government found them, they’d be dragged back in to do their handler’s bidding. Only Creed pushed the envelope; he’d gone into law enforcement under his alias.

Mac didn’t believe in law and order any longer.

Where was the justice in what had been done to him? He’d been an innocent eighteen-year-old boy who’d wanted to serve his country. Instead, they’d made him into a monster.

Finding he was squeezing the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white, Mac relaxed one finger at a time. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

Mac repeated the process until he was back in control.

Remembering where he was and what he was doing, Mac glanced over at Hayley.

His sweet boy had fallen asleep as Mac wrestled with the demons of his past.

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