Contract Signed: Triggerman, Inc., Book 1 Read online

  Three assassins and a… baby?

  Triggerman, Inc., Book 1

  Noel “Ice” Cavanaugh’s method is foolproof. Get in, do the job, get out, melt away without a trace. Chill out until his next mark is assigned. Neat. Tidy. No mistakes.

  This time, though, something isn’t right. Two somethings. First a random attack that feels not-so-random. Then he discovers someone’s left a baby on his doorstep with a note claiming it’s his. And the sexy neighbor who found the boy first has too many questions in her eyes to ignore.

  When her handsome, mysterious neighbor suddenly asks her out on a date, Adeline Rose has suspicions he’s fishing for “help” with his bundle of…joy? By date’s end, she’s convinced Noel’s just as distant as he seems—until a scorching goodnight kiss ends with sex against the nearest wall, the heat between them burning away all thoughts of careful.

  Now Noel has more than one problem on his hands. Splitting baby duty between three badass assassins, figuring out how to fit more time with Addy into his no-room-for-error schedule…and keeping both of them safe from the danger he’s increasingly sure has followed him home.

  Warning: Beware a killer with a heart of gold, a baby who needs constant changing, and unrequited love that’s actually quite…requited.

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  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Contract Signed

  Copyright © 2017 by Marie Harte

  ISBN: 978-1-61923-639-4

  Edited by Noah Chinn

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2017

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Contract Signed

  Triggerman Inc.

  Marie Harte

  Chapter One

  Bangkok, Thailand

  The hotel suite, fashioned with expensive furniture, 800 thread count linens, and five-star cuisine sitting on a marble-topped table, was impressive. The guest…not so much.

  An older man with dark skin and beady eyes, wearing a military uniform that hung on his skeletal frame, asked in accented English, “What, asshole? Why you here?” He glared, his indignation at being interrupted from his entertainment obvious.

  On the bed, a half-dressed female with a vacant gaze lay drugged out of her mind, her age questionable at best. She could have been anywhere from twelve to twenty-five, but knowing this deviant, Noel would guess her to be on the younger end of that spectrum.

  He didn’t get angry. Instead, he remained focused on the mission. Cold inside and out, he answered, “My mistake, sir.”

  “You damn right it is.” General Jackass loved being waited on, and he loved even more bullying all the farangs—the white foreigners—working in the hotel. “Wattana,” he called for his guard outside. “Come. We have intruder.”

  Not worried in the slightest, Noel bowed low as he backed away, then withdrew his Jericho 941 from his jacket. He straightened, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. So gentle, so perfect… The 9mm round found its target—right between the eyes of the self-promoted general with plans to rape, rob, and pillage his way across a remote border highland in Burma to take over rival opium lanes.

  Some dickhead in D.C. had decided to shake hands with this egotistical maniac because his reelection campaign needed the money. Apparently, Senator Cleary had overlooked rumors of child abuse and murder in his quest for reelection funds.

  Noel had requested to terminate the good senator, but he’d drawn the short straw, stuck with the general while Deacon took care of the dirty politician. Noel glanced at the deceased drug peddler slumped on the floor, the camouflaged uniform making the body appear like the stain he’d been in life. “General” Sarawut Mookjai had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Hell, the guy had even kicked a dog on his way into the hotel.

  Noel checked the body for vitals. Once satisfied there were none, he took a photo with his phone. After he sent it off, he straightened his spotless server’s uniform and glanced around.

  Ah, yes, the girl. He made another quick call to his contact in the city and arranged for her safe passage and detox, if she wanted it, far away from here.

  Then he waited, and hearing nothing, proceeded with the plan.

  As expected, no one had responded to Mookjai’s order, or the silenced hit.

  Noel tucked away his gun, then walked out into the hallway. He passed several dead guards as he made his exit from the scene. The hotel boasted twenty-four levels, and only those with Mookjai’s personal access could step foot in the sole elevator leading to the top floor. Since Noel had taken care of the security cameras earlier, he didn’t worry about being fingered for the hit.

  He took the stairs, ignoring the itch at his temple. The wig didn’t fit right, and the glue used to adhere the stupid mustache over his lip was just as bad. Freakin’ Joe and his “I know a guy who knows a guy” method of acquiring supplies. Hell, Noel had no qualms about paying for quality camouflage out of his own pocket, but his handler was a stickler for protocol.

  “On the job, the Business pays for everything,” he could almost hear Big Joe reciting, the guy’s personal mantra. Because someone had to keep a record of events best kept unrecorded.

  Yeah, it still made no sense.

  He whistled to himself as he continued down the stairs, his hotel staff uniform as clean as it had been before the job. Once in the basement, he ducked into a closet to change back into his regular clothes. He tucked the uniform into a suit bag, then left as unobtrusively as he’d arrived.

  * * * * *

  Seventy-two hours later, standing in an alley in Seattle, Washington, Noel stared in confusion at the dead guy on the ground who’d tried to stab him with a needle seconds earlier. The needle intended for Noel stuck out of his assailant’s neck.

  He punched in a familiar number on his phone.

  Big Joe answered right away. “What’s up?”

  “I think someone tried to kill me.”

  “You think?” A low chuckle. “Someone’s always trying to kill you. And?”

  “And I’m stateside. In Seattle. In public.” Well, technically in public, though he stood in a darkened alleyway near the market. Since it was just past seven, and at this point in September the sun set earlier, he didn’t overly worry about onlookers.

  But this made no sense. Why come after him in the States when his death overseas would be a minor blip on anyone’s radar? For that matter, who would come after him in the city? The job in Bangkok had gone off without a hitch, his cover uncompromised. And as far as he knew, no one held a grudge against him, because no one but Big Joe and a handful of others knew about the work he did. Noel was slick and silent. They didn’t call him Ice for nothing.

  “So you almost got mugged. So what?”

  “It wasn’t a typical mugging.” Noel frowned. “No guns or knives. The gu
y tried to take me out with a hypodermic needle.”

  “A needle? Was the guy on medication? Or maybe some drugged-out whacko out to score?”

  “No. He was fully cognizant. He looks like a meth head—a little too much. I’d swear this guy was playing a part, not the real thing.”

  “Hmm.” Big Joe sounded interested. Finally. “Shoot me his photo and prints, and I’ll do some digging.”

  Noel took the dead guy’s forefinger and thumb and rolled them over his phone, then sent the electronic prints, along with a photo.

  “Be good, boy.” Big Joe’s trademark signoff as he disconnected.

  Noel didn’t want to be overly alarmed, because his assailant looked like a tweaker and smelled the part. Nevertheless, he had a feeling this was no ordinary robbery. No drug addict shakedown gone bad. The assault had been sloppy, but the perp looked way too kempt under the grime covering his body, and the method screamed professional.

  Besides, what druggie would waste his own drugs in an effort to score more?

  Tired, annoyed, and now frustrated that he’d ruined his own homecoming, Noel tidied up the crime scene before leaving. He did his meditation on the go as he headed for the ferry. While keeping one part of himself always on the alert, he let the rest of his mind drift into that calm, kill-free state, knowing he headed home.

  The one place on Earth that made him feel human.

  An hour and a half later, his head throbbing, Noel stood in Bainbridge Island, Washington, on the front porch of his Craftsman-style home. In the thick of the woods. Away from people.

  Well, most people.

  He stared at the mess on his doorstep. Or rather, at the mess in the arms of the most annoying woman on the planet.

  “I can’t believe she’d just drop him off like that.” Adeline Rose blinked her bright green eyes at him and shrugged a strand of blue-black hair off her shoulder. She shifted the bundle in her arms, letting the whimpering baby settle over her generous breasts.

  A wave of disappointment crushed him, though he shouldn’t have cared that his neighbor had apparently given birth since the last time he’d seen her. She hadn’t looked pregnant four months ago, but he’d been in a rush to get to the Sudan for an assignment. So who knew?

  Adeline blinked at him, her plump lips parting in question.

  As usual, the sight of his neighbor dumped his thoughts straight into the gutter. She had a half-Japanese father, who’d given her a lean build, porcelain skin, and a slight slant to her eyes. Cat eyes. Sexy eyes. From her mother she’d inherited her curves, at least part of her intelligence, and that mouth. He’d had dreams about Adeline Rose’s soft red lips…

  All the meditation he’d done on the ferry, his sense of peace—gone.

  She said something else, and he tuned her out, trying to be just another guy on vacation, any other businessman on a break from a chaotic job that was stressing him the hell out.

  “…your baby, and I couldn’t help…” she continued in that husky voice that aroused him every time he heard her.

  Adeline Rose or “Addy” had been a thorn in his side since she’d moved into her parent’s old house two years ago. His only neighbor for half a mile, close enough to borrow a cup of sugar, but he couldn’t see her place past the fence, trees, and a spot of distance he liked to think of as his Addy buffer zone. Yet she made her presence known whenever she so much as twitched.

  Unfortunately, Noel had a healthy attraction for the nosy woman. Hell. Who wouldn’t? Just his type, Addy had intelligence, beauty, and a fierce need to go her own way. He knew just about everything about her, since he’d created a dossier on the woman the moment he’d moved into the neighborhood four years ago. But knowing about her and meeting her in the flesh had proven what a difference reality could make. Words didn’t do this woman justice.

  He gave her a subtle onceover and wished he hadn’t. The sight of her breasts never failed to arouse him, and her ass had given him more restless nights than he wanted to admit.

  Then, to have her on his doorstep holding a…

  “Wait a minute.” He blinked. “What did you say?”

  Adeline held the infant out to him, and he stared blankly back at her. “He’s yours. His mother was dropping him off just as I’d come over to deliver a package mistakenly left at my place.”

  “What. The. Fuck?”

  She flinched. “Shh. You’ll upset him.”

  “Upset him?” Still, he lowered his voice, staring in shock at the bundle of—joy?—in her arms. “That’s a baby.”

  “Yes. A baby boy,” she said slowly. “He’s four months old.”

  “Not yours?”

  She sighed. “I can see this is news to you. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but according to the lady who dropped him off, he’s yours. She left a note with his things.”

  Noel followed her glance to the duffle bag at her feet.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m running a little late. I promised Solene I’d help her out with some cleaning at the daycare. If your little guy gets too overwhelming, call Ash Daycare and ask for me.”

  None of what she said made sense. But she’d already handed him the baby.

  He froze, not sure what to do with something so fragile. “Hold on.”

  She smiled and waved, then left faster than a human being should be able to move. She disappeared down his long driveway. Seconds later, he heard her car drive away.

  He didn’t know what the hell to do. A baby? This had to be some colossal mistake. Noel was no father. He always used protection when he had sex, because he didn’t trust anyone. And he hadn’t had more than a blowjob or two in months. Nothing full-on sexual since…

  He did the math and groaned. Not since Mexico a little over a year ago.

  Make that thirteen months ago.

  Another whimper forced him to glance down at the baby in his arms. It wore a hat and had a blanket tucked around it.

  Not it—him.

  “Jesus.”

  Panic, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since his first mission twelve fucking years ago, filled him. Noel had no idea what to do with a baby.

  Always in command of himself, if not the situation, Noel forced himself to concentrate. He cradled the child in his arms, knelt to grab the duffle, then let himself inside the house.

  The infant seemed to have fallen asleep between one blink and the next, thank God. He put the baby down on the couch and rummaged through the duffle bag. He found a mound of diapers, formula, some baby things he didn’t recognize, a locket, and finally a note.

  He scanned it and swore silently.

  Now he understood. It all made sense. This wasn’t his mess. At least, he was almost positive it wasn’t. This had to be Deacon or Hammer’s fault. That trip to Mexico, he hadn’t been alone. He’d been with fellow contractors. Not exactly friends, he and his Business associates had bonded over booze, a successful mission, and a need to sink into a hot, lovely woman.

  Obviously this woman had gotten Noel confused with the dark-haired Deacon and/or Hammer.

  Feeling much more relaxed now that he understood the situation, he centered himself and made some plans. First and foremost, to retrieve his own bag from the front step. Then a shower, unpacking, and figuring out what to do with this baby. How to take care of it—him—would be a good start.

  He gently scooped up the baby from the couch and took him into his bedroom. He didn’t think kids could move much at four months, but what if he put him on the bed and the boy rolled off and broke his neck? Not cool.

  No death at home. Not for Noel. And especially not for helpless kids or innocent bystanders. Nope. Noel aimed for the bad guys, and he never missed.

  After leaving the baby on a blanket on the floor, he retrieved his things from the front porch and locked the door behind him, resetting the security system. He found his laptop and tu
rned it on before warming up the shower. He’d been gone only a month, but it felt much longer.

  “Too damn long.” He sighed. Noel was tired, and he knew things had to change.

  A glance at the sleeping baby on the floor made him shake his head. Nah, not that kind of change.

  After Googling how to care for a four-month-old and mentally reviewing the baby supplies on hand, he felt much more confident. Enough to leave the kid sleeping while he showered. He let the water sluice over him and took his time rinsing off the grime from that other world—the one he worked to make a better place—the one he refused to let touch his real home. A haven where he was safe, alone, and happy with his garden and his fantasies about one particular Rose next door.

  Once clean and in comfortable sweats, he ordered a pizza and returned to the bedroom to stare at the four-month-old puzzle on his floor.

  Noel was a smart man. He could handle a baby. Well, at least until the kid’s real father came to collect him. He sat down to draft an email to the two suspects and waited for his dinner to arrive.

  Not exactly the homecoming he’d expected. But he couldn’t complain. Once again, Noel had conquered all obstacles in his path. A baby was no biggie. Neither was Adeline—Addy—star of his erotic fantasies.

  He’d give himself a month to decompress before heading out again. With any luck, he’d hand over the baby within the week, avoid his neighbor, and finally organize his garage before the cold weather really hit.

  Feeling much better about life, he even tipped the pizza guy more than usual.

  Noel snorted with derision at himself for feeling such panic. A baby. Really. How hard could caring for a kid be?

  Chapter Two

  Addy wiped down another table while Solene wrangled with a new handyman to fix the dryer since her old helper had retired. Addy listened to them haggle back and forth on price versus function, but her mind was on other things this Friday night.

  He was back.

  Noel “the Mystery” Cavanaugh had returned. Her neighbor of two years had proven himself to be quiet, absent, and, for the most part, coldly polite when in residence. He didn’t like to chitchat, had no use for guests, and had she not seen him eyeing her ass that one time, she might have thought him to be gay.