Taking down brooklyn, p.1

Taking Down Brooklyn, page 1

 

Taking Down Brooklyn
 


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font   Night Mode Off   Night Mode

Taking Down Brooklyn


  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Taking Down Brooklyn

  K.B. Andrews

  Kelly Moore

  Copyright © 2017 K.B. Andrews, Kelly Moore

  Taking Down Brooklyn

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise - without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

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

  Cover Designer: Creative K Designs

  Editor: Kerry Genova, writersresourceinc.com

  Formatting: Two Broke Authors Book Formatting https://www.facebook.com/TwoBrokeAuthors/

  This book is dedicated to our husbands,

  the people who keep us going and

  put up with our crazy ways

  on a daily basis.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  K.B. Andrews’s Acknowledgments

  Kelly Moore’s Acknowledgments

  Also By Kelly Moore

  Also by K.B. Andrews

  Stalk Us!

  Prologue

  John

  I prop my rifle up on the ledge of the building and look through my scope. He’s going to be stepping out any minute now.

  My heart is slowly beating. My breathing comes just as easily as if I were lying in bed. I’ve done this so many times, I’m not even fazed by it anymore.

  A black limo stops in front of the twenty-story, marble-clad building. It comes to a stop before the driver gets out and runs around to open the back door. A man with graying hair and dressed in an expensive suit steps out of the building with two massive security personnel on either side of him. If he thinks that will keep him safe, he’s about to learn a deadly lesson.

  I get him in my sight and slowly squeeze the trigger. The rifle fires and a second later, the target hits the ground with a thud that even I can hear from my hiding place.

  Panic arises on the street while everyone runs for cover. The guards bend down to check on their boss. They look around, trying to find me, but I’m not in their line of sight. I quickly put my rifle away and sling the bag over my shoulder, casually walking off to my awaiting bike with no fear of being caught. I’ve gotten too good at this game.

  My leather pants creak as I throw my leg over my bike. I adjust my ass on the seat and slide on my aviators, slipping earbuds in before I kick my bike into gear. I crank up the music to drown out the sounds of people screaming for help. My job is done for the day. Time for a little downtime with an old amber friend of mine.

  Chapter One

  John

  I’m sitting at the bar drinking bourbon after bourbon, trying to forget the night I’ve just had. Nothing can make me forget for very long, but a few drinks and a girl to take home will make me forget for a little while. I have my eye on one too. She has shoulder-length blonde hair and dark eyes. She’s sitting at a small table with a group of friends, easily carrying on a conversation. Every once in a while, she will look up, and our eyes will meet. Her plump lips turn up in a smile before she pushes her hair behind her ear and looks away. She’s toying with me, and I let her. I’ll let her play any game she wants as long as it leads to her climbing on top of me in my bed tonight.

  We play this game for a while. I watch her when she’s not looking, and she watches me when she thinks I’m not looking. When I catch her, she repeats the process of flirting and turning away.

  Just as I’m about to walk up to her, the bartender sets down another drink in front of me. I nod at him and take the glass, swirling the brown liquid. When I look up to find her, she’s gone. I quickly glance around the bar. I’ve invested too much time envisioning what she might taste like to lose her now.

  I see her exit the restroom and once again, our eyes lock. I flash her a teasing grin and look up and down her sexy body. She needs to know that “this” is all she will get from me. A drunken one-night stand, no relationship. This is all any woman has ever gotten from me. Because of my line of work, I can have no real connections to anyone, not that I even want to.

  She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes do the same to me. Stopping at the bulge in my pants, she licks her lips. Silently, she agrees whether she means to or not. I toss my drink back and set the glass on the bar. When I look over to her table, she’s standing right beside me.

  “You’ve been watching me,” she says in a sweet voice. She leans against the bar, giving me a view of her full chest that’s spilling perfectly at the v-cut of her sexy black dress. I briefly look further down to the red six-inch heels she’s wearing. Her long slender legs will look good wrapped around my waist.

  “You’ve been watching me.” I keep my gaze locked on her, not giving my attention to anything else in the bar.

  She places her hand on mine and trails her fingertips back and forth across my skin. “What is it that you’re looking for?” Her teeth graze her bottom lip.

  I take a deep breath, hoping she can handle the honesty I’m about to deliver. “I was looking for a little fun for the night.”

  She almost seems taken back. Her hand pauses on mine. “Most men would lie.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the action drawing my eyes back to where they shouldn’t be.

  “I’m not most men.” I run my hand down her arm.

  Something in her dark eyes changes and a grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You live near here?”

  I nod. “Just around the corner.”

  She gives me a seductive look. “Let’s go.”

  I hold out my hand, and she takes it in hers before I lead her from the flashing lights of the bar.

  The cool night air blows around us as we walk hand in hand down the busy street. My thumb seems to have a mind of its own as it rubs across the back of her hand. As I round the corner, I ask, “What’s your name?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” I ask as I continue to lead her down the sidewalk.

  “Don’t act like this is something it’s not. We both know what this is, and we don’t need names to do what we’re about to do.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

 
My mind goes at ease from knowing there won’t be any awkwardness between us.

  I pull her into the building, and we get on the elevator. I put the key in, and it takes us up to my penthouse suite.

  She rests against the wall, and I look up her long legs, over the short black dress she’s wearing, over her slender neck, and up to those dark eyes. “Penthouse, huh?”

  “Only the best.” The elevator dings and opens before she walks in ahead of me. She spins in a circle, taking in the place while pulling off her coat.

  She doesn’t seem fazed by the place, which makes me wonder more about her. Most women would be going on and on about how nice it is. Usually, they want to check out the whole apartment, take a bath in the Jacuzzi tub, play out some kind of Pretty Woman fantasy, but she doesn’t say a word. Her eyes aren’t flashing around to everything in the room either. She just watches me watching her. The same game we played in the bar except now we’re alone, in my space, which makes her mine for the time being.

  “Want a drink?” I ask, stepping past her.

  “Sure.” She tosses her coat over the back of the black leather couch and turns to face me.

  I pour us both a glass of bourbon and hand one to her. I drink the whole glass in one gulp before setting it down and removing my coat.

  I’m surprised when she throws back the liquid as quickly as I did. I love a woman that can handle her liquor.

  I hang my coat in the entryway closet, and when I turn around, she’s standing directly in front of me. Her hands run down my chest and latch on the bottom of my T-shirt. She yanks it forcefully above my head.

  When my shirt is removed and tossed on the floor, I wrap my hands around her and pull her against me. Our lips touch, and she willingly opens for me. I can taste the bourbon on her tongue as I turn her around and push her against the wall.

  I lace my fingers into her blonde hair, but she takes my hands in hers and pulls them away before spinning back around and pressing back against me.

  Clothes are pulled off at lightning speed until we are both completely bare. I take her legs and wrap them around my waist, causing her breasts to fall within inches from my mouth that waters with anticipation of my lips being on them. I walk her down the hall and into my bedroom where we crash on the bed. For the next several hours, we give one another exactly what we both need.

  The automatic blinds rise, causing the sun to come rushing in. I wipe my eyes and roll over, expecting to find her, but she’s gone. I lie on my back, thinking over the incredible evening I had with her. A part of me wishes I had gotten her name, even though the logical part of me knows it would’ve been pointless. No good would come of it. Plus, with my life, relationships are impossible. It’s better this way.

  I push out of bed and walk to the shower. As the hot water beats off my back, I close my eyes and relax. Images from last night keep flashing in my mind. Her beneath me, on top of me, her porcelain skin that seemed to call to me, all of it causing goosebumps to rise on my skin as I become hard just from thinking about her.

  I shake the thoughts from my head. “Get a fucking grip.” I’ve had more one-night stands than I can count. None of those women ever got an afterthought. Why is she different?

  I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. I wipe the fog off the mirror and take a razor from a drawer. I lather up the overgrown scruff on my face. There has been no time to shave until now.

  Once I’m done, I dry off my face. The dimple in my chin is visible now. I used to hate the damn thing until I figured out that women find it sexy along with my chiseled cheekbones. My hazel eyes stare back at me in the mirror. I much prefer the dark eyes that were locked on mine last night.

  As I’m walking into the bedroom, my phone rings. I pick it up off the dresser and answer it. “Yeah?”

  “We have another case. When can you get here?”

  “Give me an hour.” I hang up the phone before tossing it onto the bed. It looks like it’s going to be another busy day, and some poor unsuspecting bastard will lose his life at my hands.

  I dress quickly and head to the kitchen. I remove the carton of milk from the fridge and take a long drink. My eyes land on a note, lying on the countertop.

  “Thanks for the good time. Hope we meet up again. B”

  B. Her name starts with a B.

  My brain automatically starts running through any B names it can come up with, and it pisses me off. Why do I care so much? I pick up the note and wad it up before tossing it into the trash. I grab the keys to my bike and head down to the parking garage.

  Within twenty minutes, I’m pulling up to the nightclub. I park and walk inside. I’m greeted by the cleaning crew, but I pass them by and head up to the main office.

  “How you doing, John?” Miles asks.

  I shrug. “What do we have today?” I sit across from him. I’ve known Miles for years, and I’ve always hated the son of a bitch. He has a severe case of Napoleon complex with his short little stature.

  He laughs. “Always straight to business.” He spins around and picks up a brown folder before tossing it on the desk in front of me.

  I pick it up and start to unravel the string around the clasp to open it. The file slides out easily, and I flip through the pages until I see a picture of a beautiful red-haired girl with dark eyes. She has porcelain skin and rosy cheeks. Her red curls flow around her neck and shoulders, and her dark eyes call to me. She has a beautiful, wide smile. I stare at those lips – lips that were all over my body last night.

  “Her name is Brooklyn Warren. She’s the president’s daughter.”

  Brooklyn.

  B.

  I had a one-night stand with the president’s daughter, and now I’m being hired to kill her.

  Chapter Two

  John

  I study her picture. The short blonde hair she had last night was obviously a wig. This curly red hair is much more beautiful on her. It matches perfectly with her dark eyes and cream-colored skin.

  “The president’s daughter, huh?”

  He rests his elbows on the desk. “That’s right. I’ve already deposited a hundred grand into your account.”

  I close the file and toss it on the desk. “Since when do you pay before the job is complete? A hundred thousand dollars would not be near enough to take out the president’s daughter. It would have to be enough to completely disappear from the face of the earth.”

  He sits up straight and straightens his tie. “I knew you wouldn’t want to take the job. I figured you would need a little incentive. You’ll get the rest when the job is completed.”

  I sit back in my chair and rub my hand over my short dark hair. “Are you fucking kidding me? The president’s daughter? Like the president of the United States?”

  He nods curtly. “That’s the one. Too bad really, she’s a hot little number.” He grins with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

  I stand and start pacing. “Are you crazy? What makes you think I can even get close to her? She has to be heavily guarded.” She was so close, I had my hands on every part of her body. Why didn’t she have guards protecting her from the likes of me?

  He stands and walks up to me. “She’s not. She’s actually right here in Chicago.”

  “Tell me everything you know,” I demand.

  He leads me over to the sofa and pours me a drink. I take it from him and sit, my mind reeling. The woman I slept with last night is the president’s daughter.

  “Who did the hit come from?” I ask. Usually this information isn’t shared with me, but I have to know. I had only spent a few hours with this woman, but some part of me wanted her again and again, and still does.

  Miles sits back in his seat, crossing his short, stubby legs as he studies me. He takes a drink. “A higher-up in a major pharmaceutical company.”

  “Why does some pharmaceutical company want to kill the president’s daughter?”

  He stretches his arm out across the back of the sofa. “To teach him a lesson, of c
ourse.”

  His nonanswers are pissing me off. I lean in. “You better start talking. This is a big job that I could be killed over. I’m not going in blind. I want all the info.”

  “All right, all right.” He raises his hands in surrender and finishes his drink, setting the empty glass down on the table that sits between us. “President Warren is about to release some big news. His daughter has created a vaccine that will cure cancer.” He pauses, giving me a minute for that news to hit home. “She works for a small, independent company and discovered the cure, and together, they plan on saving as many people as they can. This cure is unbelievably cost-effective; anybody can afford it. This pharmaceutical company isn’t happy about that since it will cause them to lose billions of dollars each year. They’ve reached out to the president, but he won’t budge on the matter. He supports his daughter’s work one hundred percent. I’m sure you can figure out the rest of the story for yourself.”

  “So, what? They think killing his daughter will make him reconsider?”

  “We’re just a hired hand. It isn’t my place to question them. They paid the price, now the job needs completed.”

  I throw myself back and rub my hand over my jaw. I can’t fucking do this. I can’t kill the president’s daughter, the woman that I just had the most incredible sex with. And all because she is practically about to save the world. Millions of people could be saved with an affordable cure for cancer.

  I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”

 
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
Turn Navi Off
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Scroll