Honeymoon Hitman, page 1
Honeymoon Hitman
Jacob Chance
Copyright © 2021 Jacob Chance
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by Emily Wittig Designs
Edited and Proofread by Ink Machine Editing
This book contains mature content.
Behind every strong person is a story that gave them no choice.
Meghana Bellamkonda
Contents
1. Sadie
2. Cal
3. Sadie
4. Cal
5. Sadie
6. Cal
7. Sadie
8. Cal
9. Sadie
10. Cal
11. Sadie
12. Cal
13. Sadie
14. Cal
15. Sadie
16. Cal
17. Sadie
18. Sadie
19. Sadie
Epilogue
Changing The Player
Chapter One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Sadie
Climbing the stairs, I hear Brian grunting. What the hell is he doing? Is he moving our bedroom furniture by himself?
The door is pushed over but not closed all the way. Raising my palm, I place it against the wooden surface and freeze when I hear a very clear female moan.
Oh my God.
My knees go weak and my stomach goes topsy-turvy like I might vomit. Clutching the doorjamb with both hands, I barely stay upright.
I can’t believe Brian would betray me this way. Our wedding is only a week away.
The silence is punctuated by the sound of skin slapping and pleasure-filled groans. My anger grows with each second I stand there listening. It’s not long until I’m seething and on the edge of boiling over into a full-blown rage.
Soundlessly, I push the door open and step inside. Brian has someone bent over the end of the bed with his ass facing me as he pumps away. I can’t tell who she is from this angle.
Neither of them notice as I edge over to the dresser. Moving like a ninja, my bare feet are silent on the plush carpet. I pick up a hairbrush and a bottle of perfume that Brian purchased for me—oh, the irony.
Without hesitation, I throw the items at him, cursing and wailing like a banshee. The hairbrush strikes the back of his shoulder and the bottle whizzes by his cheek, landing on our bed.
Brian spins around with a horrified look on his face and his pecker pointing at me. He holds his hands up in front of him. “Sadie, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Fuck you.” Picking up another perfume bottle, I pitch the glass at him. It pegs him on the forehead and he bends over, clutching his head, giving me a clear view of our housekeeper, Leslie.
That bitch.
Grabbing anything and everything not tied down, I launch the projectiles at both of them. Unfortunately, one of the casualties is an urn with my grandmother’s ashes. I don’t realize my error until I’ve already chucked the vase. Brian throws an arm up to block his face, shattering the ceramic. Ashes explode in every direction, painting his hair and face a ghostly shade of gray.
Regret assails me, but then I snort out a laugh. Grammy Benson never cared much for Brian and wasn’t shy about letting me know. She told me I could do better and obviously, I can. I’m thinking right now, Grammy is applauding me from the great beyond.
Brian and Leslie take the opportunity to run from the room. I snap back into action, grabbing a baseball bat that was autographed by Big Papi himself, David Ortiz. I give chase all the way down the stairs and outside to Brian’s Mercedes that he’d backed into the driveway. I manage to get one solid swing in with the bat, taking out a taillight before they lay down rubber, peeling out.
I hold it together until I’m shut inside my house once more before falling to my knees with an audible sob. Tears flow, blurring my vision.
How could he do this to us?
No, fuck that.
How could he do this to me?
I allow myself a few minutes to cry, working the sadness out of my system. From this moment onward, I’m never going to shed another tear over Brian.
He’s dead to me.
I never want to speak to him again. What’s the point? Anything he’d have to say would surely be a lie. He’d probably try to convince me he was saving Leslie’s life with his dick or some other excuse that would somehow make cheating on your fiancée sound noble. Now that I know he’s a liar and a cheat, he doesn’t deserve another second of my time.
Wiping the wetness from my face, I rise to my feet. I drag in a long, deep breath and say, “I’m okay.” The reminder makes me feel a little better, so I repeat the words, “I’m okay.” This time, I believe it even more.
I’ve accomplished too much in my life to let this unexpected setback destroy me. And I refuse to let my new relationship status define me as a woman. Yes, it’s going to suck balls to cancel the wedding and inform all the guests; however, I’m still alive and breathing. Things could be much worse.
Losing Brian may have momentarily sent me to my knees, but I’m back on my feet. Losing me was the biggest mistake of his life.
* * *
ONE WEEK LATER
Staring at the small flame, I hold the match until the fire almost kisses my fingertips. Tossing it on the lighter-fluid-drenched pile of Armani suits, I watch as the garments erupt in a gratifying blaze. The waves of heat paint my cheeks, flushing them.
Mesmerized by the orange and gold flames, my thoughts wander to Brian. I’m doing well considering today was supposed to be my wedding day.
“Stop thinking about that asshole,” Nadia scolds me, as any friend worth their salt should.
“I’m burning his favorite suits,” I offer in explanation. “It’s hard not to think about him when I wish he were here to witness this. He’s so vain. His suits meant more to him than I did.”
Nadia scrunches up her nose. “No, you don’t really want him here. That’s like saying you wish you could see a steaming pile of dog shit.”
I laugh and sling my arm around her shoulders. “I love you for comparing him to dog shit.” I tip my head to rest on her shoulder.
“Fresh dog shit. Steaming,” she adds with a giggle.
“You’re right. I don’t really want to see him. It’s easier to be strong when I haven’t set eyes on him since that afternoon.”
“Is he still trying to call you?” she asks.
“Yeah. Yesterday, he asked me if he could go on the honeymoon with me and I told him to fuck off and then fuck off again.”
“Thank you, Jesus. If you had said yes, I’d have kicked your ass,” Nadia tells me. “And you know I’m not the violent type.”
“I’d have kicked my own ass too. He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’d let him anywhere near me.” Since it was too late to get a refund on the plane ticket and the hotel reservation, Nadia talked me into going on the trip alone. I’m in desperate need of a vacation and have been for ages. I’ve already rescheduled all my meetings for the next ten days, so I might as well take advantage of the opportunity and get away. Even though it was meant to be my honeymoon.
“You’re Sadie Fucking Benson, you don’t need any man.”
I turn to my best friend. “Come in the house with me. I could use your help.”
“What do you need?” she’s quick to ask. I hook my arm through hers and lead her from the patio where the suits are still burning inside a metal barrel.
We step inside the french door into my enormous kitchen that I love but hardly get to take advantage of. I continue on, trekking up the stairs, still holding on to Nadia. Entering my bedroom, I direct her into my bathroom and point at the box of hair dye on the counter. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve always wanted to be a brunette?”
Her surprised gaze meets mine. “Not a chance.”
“How about if I said I don’t want the paparazzi to recognize me?”
“That makes complete sense, but are you sure you want me to do this?” She looks between my naturally blonde hair and the box of dye. “I’ve never done this before. What if I screw up?”
“Do you think botching my hair color will send me over the edge or something? I promise you, it won’t even rank on my list of lowest points.” Nadia nibbles on her bottom lip, still looking unsure. “I almost bought pink,” I say.
She shakes her head from side to side emphatically. “No way. You’re not a pink person,” she states with the utmost confidence.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. “I love the color pink.” In fact, this bathroom has pink walls.
“I stu
“What does the color brown say? And if you say poop, I’ll never forgive you.” I grin.
“Brown means a sense of strength and reliability. It’s thought to be seen as solid and dependable, like the earth. All of those things say ‘Sadie’ to me. You’re strong and dependable. I can always count on you. Come to think of it, you should’ve gone brunette a long time ago.”
“Maybe this change is exactly what I need,” I offer.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough change lately?” Nadia cautions. “You’ve been a blonde your entire life.”
“I get what you’re saying, but this is on my terms. It’s a change I’m setting in motion, and it feels good, like a fresh start.” I hand Nadia the box of dye and sit on the bench in front of the vanity.
Nadia’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, her lips curving into a smirk. “I guess it doesn’t hurt that you're getting rid of your blonde hair, that same hair that Brian happens to love.”
I grin back at her. “Nope, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels pretty damn good.”
* * *
Having Nadia along for the ride to the airport is helpful. She keeps my mind occupied with entertaining stories about her sports agency. Sometimes athletes can be such divas, and I know that firsthand. My father owns the Charleston Pirates football team and I’m the Vice President of Operations. We deal with entitled athletes more than I care to admit. Of course they’re not all that way, and the ones who are don’t tend to last long on the Pirates. My dad doesn’t put up with bullshit.
“So what’s your main objective on this trip?” Nadia asks.
“I’m going to relax, get drunk, and find a gorgeous hunk of a man to climb like a tree. Maybe not in that order.” I tick the items off on my fingers.
“Normally, this is the point where I’d give you some cautionary advice like be careful or make good decisions. But under the circumstances of the last week, I say go for whatever makes you feel good. You deserve to have an amazing honeymoon, and you’ll have more fun without a groom by your side,” Nadia says.
“You know, I think you’re right. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching, as one does in situations like this, and I’ve realized what a dud Brian was. A woman can only take so much missionary position before it becomes boring. Plus, he couldn’t find my G-spot if Google Maps pinned it for him.”
Nadia snorts loudly. “Oh, jeez. That’s not good.”
I laugh at her reply. She’s always so freaking nice about everything. She’s the best person I know. “I knew you never really cared for Brian,” I state.
She sucks in a gasp. “You did? How?”
“You were more reserved around him. When you’re comfortable with someone, you become more outgoing over time. You never reached that point with him, no matter how many times you saw him.”
She looks ashamed, ducking her chin. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“That you knew I didn’t like him.”
“Oh, please. The only thing you have to be sorry about is that you didn’t tell me,” I say.
“Would you have listened?” she asks.
“Probably not. I was in love with the idea of being in love. It was nice to have someone to be with, and I overlooked a lot of his faults. I shouldn’t have sacrificed my standards just so I didn’t have to be alone.”
“I’m sure in the moment you didn’t realize you were doing that,” Nadia defends me.
I smile. “What did I do to deserve you as a friend?”
She waves her hand like I’m embarrassing her. “Oh, stop. I’m not saying anything that’s not true.”
I place my hand on top of hers and give a quick squeeze. “I don’t know how I would’ve made it through this mess without you. You’ve been my rock. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you from Flynn.”
“He completely understands.” She rolls her lips inward. “I have a confession to make… Flynn never liked Brian. He told me he was a weird dude. I told him that he made you happy so it didn’t matter what we thought.”
“Nadia, of course it matters. I trust your opinion. The next guy I get involved with will need your approval before I’ll consider anything serious. But I’m talking about years from now. All I want now is some sex with a hot dude who can make me come. Is that too much to ask?” I let out a long sigh.
“I don’t think so. As long as you don’t let orgasms cloud your judgement,” Nadia warns.
“Girl, I let having no orgasms cloud my judgement. I think that means my taste in men is shitty.”
She makes a face. “I didn't think of it that way. You’re definitely screwed.”
I wink. “That’s the plan.”
2
Cal
“Everyone thinks they know what a killer looks like. Isn’t that what you always said?”
I can’t quite pinpoint exactly where he is. It’s too dark and the acoustics in the old mill building are all wrong.
“Take your time, buddy. Let your eyes adjust.”
I think he’s behind me. And close.
I struggle against the bindings but stop when I catch a familiar scent.
“Uh-oh,” he taunts. I hear him quickly step in close from across the room. “You know what that is.” He’s right behind me now, speaking quietly into my ear. “That’s right, breathe it in, old friend.” He inhales a long, slow breath for effect.
“Smells good.” I hear him step back away as my eyes begin to adjust in the darkness. “Like an old friend, right?” his voice trails off.
Death has an unmistakable scent.
“Jesus Christ.” I'm seeing what looks like multiple bodies on the floor in front of me. “What have you done?”
“There can be only one,” he shouts in a deep, gravelly voice and laughs maniacally.
“Who the fuck is—”
“Oh no,” he cuts me off. “Wait, wait, wait, you’re going to love this.” I hear him fumbling against the wall and then on the floor behind me, like he’s feeling around for something.
“Here it is.” He’s found what he’s looking for. “Okay, are you ready?” He sounds giddy with anticipation. “And God said let there be light.” He flips a switch, flooding the room in front of me with blinding light.
The brightness is too much all at once. Again, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the drastic change.
When they do, I wish they hadn’t.
At first, it’s difficult to understand what I’m seeing.
It looks like he’s stacked the bodies across the floor, one on top of the other. But their limbs are contorted and intertwined in unnatural positions. And the heads are turned so I can’t see any of their faces. It’s disturbing.
“Have you figured it out yet?” he rasps in my ear. Fuck. He’s right behind me again. “No? Any guesses, or do we just move on to the big reveal?”
“What’s happened? Why are you doing this?” I shout.
“C’mon, Cal, you’re going to need to catch up.” His voice is laced with anger and a hint of what sounds like disappointment. “All of this wide-eyed bewilderment is such a letdown.” He’s moving again. “I expected more of you.” The light on my left is repositioned to shine directly on the bodies. “I really did.” He moves the light on my right as well, pointing it down onto the bodies. “All these years, I figured you’d be the one to punch my ticket when this day came.”
“Why would I—” I stop before I can finish the question as he pulls what appears to be an old painter's tarp off the wall directly across from me, exposing a full-length span of broken mirrors.
