Bound by Blood (The Contract Book 3)
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Authors: Suzanne Steele
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©Bound by Blood
Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Steele
The Contract Series © 2013 Suzanne Steele
Stormy Dawn Weathers Series © 2013 Suzanne Steele
Published by Suzanne Steele
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced. It may not be used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the Author.
Cover photo © Dollar Photo Club
Cover Copyright © Suzanne Steele
Edited by Corey Amador
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Formatting by Suzanne Steele
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All content herein is protected under copyright law.
This e-book is Rated 17+
To the Reader
The men I write about are Alpha males in every sense of the word. They are the men society warns us about. They are dominant males with controlling tendencies. They are the men you know you should stay away from but yet
you are drawn like a moth to a flame. If you are looking for a sweet romance, you won't find it here. What you will find is dark passion. Many times my heroes carry what would be
considered an obsession for the women they love. Each and every character I write about has demanded their voice be heard. I have been true to that calling and I have stayed true to their personalities, which at times the reader may not always agree with. They are dark, they are gritty, and many times their love is dysfunctional but, none the less, it is real.
Stalk Me…
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Table of Contents
Stormy
I wonder if he would kill me—if he
will
kill me? When you look at him you think that he is the boy next door; I can assure you Miller is anything but. He is a cold blooded killer and banking on him being in love with me may prove to be my downfall. He may not have it in him.
I know the two rules: never fuck a woman more than once and never kill one… He has already broken one of those rules and only time will tell if he will break the other.
I know there is a possibility of him killing me if my training doesn’t measure up. I can only assume that is his reasoning for staying on my ass the way he does. Everything I do is scrutinized and he is always testing me. It makes reading the man, which was already difficult, damn near impossible.
We have a job coming up. I heard him talking to someone about a man holding a woman captive. That alone wouldn’t be very intriguing but, as it turns out, the man responsible, and the one we are being sent to kill, is a psychiatrist. He is holding a woman hostage for research. It sounds like something from a horror movie but it’s real. I’ll never look at therapy the same after this. That is some crazy shit. I feel more like I’m in a TV series about serial killers than living out my own life and destiny. I used to wonder where they got ideas for shows about crazy fucks who do the crazy shit they do; I don’t anymore.
I feel no guilt about what I do for a living. I have an innate trait no amount of training can give a hit man, or hit woman in my case—I truly believe the only way to rid society of the monsters is to kill them. I don’t believe a man who preys on women and children can be rehabilitated. They’re born fucked up and, if left up to Miller and me, they will die fucked up.
I make my way into the front room to view Miller cleaning his gun.
“That gun should be pristine as much as you clean it, Miller.”
“I haven’t cleaned it since I fucked you with it.”
“Yes you have... Miller? Would you kill me?”
“Yeah, I’m going to fuck you to death with my gun.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. Getting a straight answer out of this man is a challenge, to say the least. Suddenly, my attention is diverted by a reporter on TV with breaking news.
A local woman has been missing for two days. Her car was found parked in an alley behind a popular boutique in the Louisville, KY area.
Police state her personal belongings were still located in the front passenger seat of the car. They do not believe robbery was a motive, but rather that this was a kidnapping. Police are unsure at this time whether the perpetrator could possibly be someone who knows the victim, or if this is just a case of her being in the wrong place at the right time.
They are warning women to lock their car doors when out commuting and to be aware of their surroundings.
I’m certain Miller knows something about this missing woman so I begin to fish.
“You mentioned we are going somewhere tonight; where?”
“Diego’s club. Wear something sexy because the mother fucker can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. There isn’t anything I love doing more than making him eat his heart out because he can’t have you.”
“”That guy is too much of a player for me. I don’t know how Selena does it—being with a man who fucks somebody different every night.”
“Diego is a pimp, girl. You can’t have a stable if you don’t fuck your women; it’s how he keeps them bonded to him.”
“I’m not cut out for that shit; I’m too jealous.”
“What are you doing even debating it?”
“I’m not debating it—just making an observation.”
“Keep your fucking observations to yourself, Stormy.”
By now, he is glaring at me as if waiting for an answer. I make my way into the shower for self-preservation’s sake. Nothing I say right now is going to be right. That’s just the nature of the beast when it comes to Miller. Anytime another man is brought up, he gets pissed. Jealous doesn’t even begin to describe this man. He’s crazy and I have no intentions of crossing him. I’m much too busy with making sure I get my training right so he doesn’t kill me. The thought of dying isn’t something I relish even if it is death by pleasure or, as Miller said,
being fucked to death with a Glock.