Page 104 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

“Something doesn’t feel, right. Why would she send me a text instead of call?” He paced to the other side of the room, cell phone plastered to his ear.

I guess he didn’t get through again because he yelled a curse and threw his phone to the ground. In my totally unprofessional opinion, Peter needed some anger management classes and vehement rounds of therapy.

Not that I would suggest that.

Suddenly, he charged over to me. My full bladder shuttled to the back burner as a more pressing concern reared its ugly head. My legs scrambled over the floor, a pathetic attempt to get away even though I was tied to a chair.

He loomed over me, so close I could see the sweat glistening on his chest and neck. Peter grabbed me by the throat.

I screamed, my fingers clawing and stretching within the zip ties.

Something clattered.

Peter froze, his eyes skittered to the door. In a hopeful tone, he mused, “Rhia?”

Instead of the older woman, something hissed. Smoke exploded in the room. Thick. Unfurling faster than I could blink.

Both Peter and I started to cough.

In the mist, I heard a metallic whisk.

A knife.

My bones stiffened when I felt the point against my wrist. I squirmed and fought, but a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t move, Angel. You’ll get hurt.”

I froze.

Deacon?

Suddenly, my zip ties snapped away, leaving a dizzyingly painful ache in my hands. As the smoke began to clear, I saw Deacon standing next to me.

I was angry, hurt and enraged after hearing the truth about who he was, but in that moment, all I felt was relief.

He wrapped his big fingers around the back of my neck and dragged my head into his chest. “Don’t watch honey,” he breathed against my hair.

I let him hide my face, but I felt when he raised his arm. Felt the tremor of the gun buck in his fingers. Heard the echo the shell made as it clattered to the ground. Heard the thump of a body as it fell lifeless to the floor.

He’d killed him.

Deacon killed Peter.

My brain couldn’t compute such a reality. I trembled and turned my head to confirm the theory, but Deacon’s fingers cupped my jaw and prevented me from spying.

I stared at him. “Is he…?”

Instead of answering, he scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the room. The hallway was bright and I ducked willingly into his shoulder to shade my eyes from the glare.

When I looked up again, I saw Miguel.

My eyebrows shot high. “Are you alright?”

Miguel seemed to understand and nodded.

Deacon shouldered the door and walked me to a car waiting on the front lawn. I glanced back and saw that the building I was in had been a warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

“How did you find me?” I asked. When I came to, I didn’t have my phone and I’d assumed Rhia had taken it.

“This.” He slid a pin from the confines of my ponytail. A light blinked from the end.

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