One Last Hit Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Maia Dylan

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-569-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: CA Clauson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Marshall and Aaron’s story was inspired by two friends of mine who knew they were meant to be together from a very young age, but their families were determined to keep them apart. I was lucky enough to witness their second chance at love, and am proud to say I even played a sneaky hand in helping it happen! So to my lovelies, M and A… this is for you.

  And for my hubby.

  ONE LAST HIT

  Romance on the Go ®

  Maia Dylan

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Marshall was sure he was about to pass out. And if he did he might as well take the gun he was carrying, put it under his chin and pull the fucking trigger himself. Suicide wasn’t in his nature, so passing out would just have to fucking wait. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself against the pain that came with moving, he pushed off from the wall and made his way to the empty treatment room he’d just seen a patient being wheeled out from. As long as the orderly they sent to clean up wasn’t too efficient, he might have time to fix himself up before he got there.

  As soon as he was in the room, he pulled the curtains around the treatment area. He dragged one of the chairs leaning up against the wall at the side of the room over to the drawers and started pulling out what he’d need. The bullet wound on his side was a through and through. The fucker who had jumped him outside the hospital just now had only winged him. Not life threatening, but hurt like a bitch. Especially when the bastard followed it with a few well-aimed punches. As soon as he found Aaron, they’d be in the wind. Or at least Marshall hoped they would be. That might take some convincing.

  He managed to clean the wound without passing out, and was reaching for one of the pressure bandages on the medical tray when the door to the treatment room opened. Marshall froze, knowing he had nowhere to hide. If this was another one of the bastards Franklin had sent after him or Aaron, then it was all over. He’d even left his damn weapon in the bag at his feet. How fucking humiliating that an assassin with his credentials would be killed without a weapon in his hand.

  He was more prepared to welcome his own death than he was for Aaron to be the one to slide back the curtain. The two men, once best friends and lovers, stared at each other for a long moment without a word passing between them.

  “Marshall?” Aaron’s disbelief was clear in his voice.

  Marshall nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. In all these years, whenever he imagined talking with Aaron again, this wasn’t quite how he imagined it going.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Marshall sighed then looked down at his wound, intent on finishing what he’d come into the room to do. Aaron cursed and stepped forward, pushing Marshall’s shirt up even higher to inspect the wound himself.

  “Is that a bullet wound?” Aaron asked incredulously. “How the hell did that happen?”

  Marshall pushed Aaron’s hands away and slammed the pressure bandage onto the wound, biting back a groan of pain at the move. “The usual fucking way. A trigger-happy son of a bitch hellbent on taking my ass down fired a weapon at me and by some stroke of luck actually managed to hit me.”

  Aaron stepped back, glaring at him. “Still a damn smart ass I see, hell, you always were.” Aaron frowned then and Marshall knew what was coming next. “How are you still alive? I saw you walk into that damn restaurant moments before it was blown to kingdom come and back.”

  Marshall sighed, dropping his shirt and wondering how to explain it all. “I know you have a lot of questions, but I’m just not sure we have time to go into all the details.”

  Aaron frowned. “What do you mean time? Are you going somewhere? That needs to be cleaned out properly and you might need stitches.”

  Marshall stood up, and was about to reach for the custom-made pack on his back when the door swung open again. This time, the person entered swiftly, not letting the door swing open completely and Marshall had only a second to assess the man. He wore a white coat, and that might have been more believable if it wasn’t a couple of sizes too small. The man’s fight suit and military grade combat boots said he wasn’t merely a doctor doing his rounds. The silencer equipped Sig he raised was a large giveaway as well.

  Marshall moved into his target as a pfft of air signaled a shot fired, and he heard Aaron gasp behind him. Marshall cursed as he slammed his elbow into the shooter’s jaw and used his left hand to lift the weapon up and away, slamming the man’s hand against the wall, even as he took a punch to his gut. He ignored the white-hot pain the strike caused his wound, and continued to attack hard and fast, looking for an opportunity to take the man down for good. It came when he sensed movement that drew his opponent’s attention for a second.

  But that was all a man like him needed. He slammed his hand against the man’s throat and elation flooded his system at the choked sound the guy made as he reached both hands up to his now crushed windpipe. Marshall stepped behind him, wrapped both hands around the man’s head and wrenched in opposite directions. The sound of his neck snapping, overly loud in the sterile room.

  Marshall helped the man’s body to the ground, not wanting to make too much noise and looked up at Aaron. He was staring at the man Marshall had just killed, his expression a mixture of horror and shock. Sickened that he’d had to show Aaron what he had become in such a brutal and vivid fashion, Marshall stepped closer, choosing to ignore the fact that Aaron flinched out of his way.

  Aaron was visibly trembling. “You just killed that guy.”

  Marshall heard the shock in Aaron’s voice, and knowing that he was to blame, he stepped in and reached up with both hands to cup Aaron’s face. “Baby, I know this is frightening and confusing as hell, and as soon as we get somewhere I can protect you, I will tell you everything. I promise. But you have to trust me. We need to go. He will send others, and he will come himself.”

  “Who?” Aaron whispered, but Marshall had a feeling Aaron knew exactly who he was referring to.

  “Franklin.”

  Aaron jolted, fear swimming in his eyes. “He knows I’m alive? Where I am?”

  Marshall nodded as he moved to grab his pack and pulled it onto his back. “I’m sorry baby, I tried to make it so you were safe, but everything’s turned to shit. Right now we need to get the hell outta here. Franklin will know I’ll come for you.”

  Aaron stared into Marshall’s face for a long moment. “And if he gets here, he’s going to kill me, isn’t he? No talking, no listening to reason. Just kill me.”

  Marshall held Aaron’s gaze and nodded. “He wants both of us dead, Aaron. And if we stay here, then odds are he will get exactly that.”

  “Did you get that,” Aaron pointed to his wounded side, “from someone he sent?” Marshall nodded. “Here?” Again Marshall nodded and fear blazed strong in Aaron’s eyes for a moment then was replaced with a grim determination Marshall had seen and admired before.

  “Then let’s go.” Relief flooded Marshall’s system at his words.

  Aaron turned to the cabinets at the back of the room, and Marshall noticed he was lim
ping.

  “Fuck, did you get hit?”

  Marshall went to inspect the wound, but Aaron pushed his hand away. “It’s just a graze Marshall, I’ll be fine. We’ll sort it out when we get somewhere safe.”

  Marshall wanted to refuse and make sure he saw someone that would help, but his brain kicked in, telling him they were running out of time. Aaron took off the lab coat he wore and pulled out a sweatshirt and a black backpack from the bank of cabinets in front of him.

  “Come on,” Aaron sounded a little breathless, “we’ll take my car. It’s a piece of shit, but it will get us some distance from this place a lot faster than running.”

  Marshall nodded, and followed Aaron out of the room. He’d brought one of his own trucks, but figured a change of vehicle couldn’t hurt. They were silent as they made their way to the parking level. Marshall pulled his Glock from the specially designed side pocket of his pack, thankful he’d left the silencer on it. Aaron was so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t even seen him do it.

  As they turned the corner, Aaron was a few steps ahead of him. When Marshall stepped out after him he saw the shooter immediately. Thinking fast, he pushed Aaron hard so that he fell between two cars out of the line of fire, before leaping to the side, crashing to the ground and rolling into cover.

  White hot shards of pain slammed into him when his wound made contact with the concrete floor, but he was pleased he’d managed to keep a hold of his gun.

  “Marshall!” Aaron cried out.

  “I’m good, stay where you are.” Marshall answered quietly, not wanting to give away his position. Pinned down like he was, it wasn’t the best advantage he could have, but he’d take it.

  “Just put your head out kid, and I’ll end it quick,” the voice with a strong Boston accent yelled from the other side of the deserted car park. “One bullet, right between your eyes and it’s all over.”

  Like Marshall was going to let that happen.

  Chapter Two

  Aaron shuffled back a little more, making sure he was behind as much cover as possible.

  “Why the hell would I want to do that?” Aaron called back in a voice he hoped sounded calm. “I don’t want you to end me at all, quick or otherwise. In fact, I would prefer to live. Me sticking my head out as you suggest would prove counterproductive to that as far as I can see. But I do have a question for you. What the hell have I done to warrant a bullet to the head?”

  Aaron figured keeping him talking would work in their favor.

  “Nothing, kid,” the shooter called out again. “Yah ain’t done shit to me and mine, but someone is paying me a huge sum of money to make it so that yah don’t draw breath any longer. It ain’t personal.”

  It’s not personal Aaron, its business.

  How many times had his father said that to him over the years? Usually it was while he was in the process of destroying someone in the business sense or killing them in a very physical way. Franklin George took great pleasure in making Aaron watch him as he systematically destroyed another human being. It didn’t take Aaron long to know that he didn’t want to live that way. He also wanted nothing to do with his father, but it wasn’t until Marshall came to live with them that he received any type of reprieve.

  “Feels pretty damn personal to me,” Aaron yelled back, trying to see Marshall under the car, “especially when a man I have never met is shooting a large ass weapon in my direction. I don’t know about you, dude, but killing someone always seemed personal to me.”

  Aaron spotted Marshall lying prone on the ground on the opposite side of the car and his heart stuttered slightly when he saw he wasn’t moving.

  “Marshall,” Aaron whispered urgently. “You going to do something about this situation we’ve found ourselves in? This guy doesn’t exactly strike me as the best shot in the world. It’ll be my fucking luck that his kill shot will only leave me a damn vegetable.”

  He heard Marshall’s soft laugh.

  “And we can’t have that,” Marshall’s voice sounded amused, but there was no missing the pain in it either. “Give me a distraction, and I’ll take him out.” He watched as Marshall pushed himself into a crouch. Aaron heard his hiss of pain, but marveled that he kept moving anyway. When he was up, all Aaron could see were his feet

  “Right, a distraction, what the hell should that be?” Aaron muttered quietly. It wasn’t like he had fireworks in his pocket, for Christ’s sake. Pulling his bag around to the front, he rifled through it for something that could classify as a distraction.

  “Come on, kid,” the shooter called out again. “Make a damn decision.”

  “Do fucking anything, Aaron, but do it now,” Marshall whispered urgently so Aaron grabbed the first thing he could.

  Lobbing the paper bag as far as he could in the shooter’s direction he yelled, “Grenade!” then dropped to the ground and prayed. Gunfire erupted around him and he panicked. Covering his head with his hands, he scrambled to his feet and moved as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

  Aaron hobbled for the stairwell in the far corner. Perhaps he could get some help for him and Marshall and then–

  “Shit!” Aaron cried out as his left leg gave out beneath him and he plunged to the ground.

  He rolled up over his left shoulder in an attempt to avoid further injury in the fall, but when he went to get to his feet, his left leg gave out again, and he ended up on his ass anyway.

  Groaning in pain, and no small amount of panic, Aaron pressed a hand to his thigh and winced at how wet his scrubs felt. Perhaps the gunshot wound he sustained was bleeding a little more than he thought.

  He gripped the wound without thinking.

  “You’re going to need to put a pressure bandage on that,” Marshall said in a tired voice as he approached him. Aaron noted he kept his back to the cars he walked beside, and his gaze swept the car park periodically as if waiting for someone else to come at them from the dark.

  “No shit!” Aaron snarled back, pleased that his anger seemed to be eclipsing his panic and pain. “I am a medical professional in case you’ve fucking forgotten. I’m not in any danger of bleeding out.”

  Marshall dropped to a knee beside him. “I know that, why the hell do you think I allowed you to leave that damn hospital.”

  Aaron’s jaw dropped. “Allowed me?” He made a fist and punched Marshall on the arm as hard as he could, yelping at the pain that ricochet through his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t get to allow or disallow me to do anything, you death-faking, boyfriend-leaving, heart-breaking son of a bitch! And you let that fucker upstairs shoot me,” he shook his hand trying to ease the pain. Aaron knew he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t care.

  Marshall lifted his gaze and leveled him with a glare.

  “I killed him quick before I knew he’d hurt you. I would have made him pay if I’d known. Then, I shot the douchebag back there because he was hellbent on killing you, and I would have thought you would have been grateful for that,” Marshall pulled something from a bag Aaron hadn’t even been aware he’d been carrying. “Why the hell did you run? Did you forget our earlier conversation? Franklin. Will come. For you.”

  Aaron gasped when Marshall pulled the waist band of his scrubs aside and placed a large gauze bandage against the bleeding wound. From the way it stung like hell, it had some kind of antibacterial medication on it.

  “I can’t believe you’d run,” Aaron concentrated on what Marshall was saying because it distracted him from the pain and then the nausea that had settled in his stomach. “You know me Aaron. You’re safe with me. Have you not heard of the saying ‘better the devil you know than the crazy fucker that sired you’?”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” Aaron ground out through clenched teeth. “Besides, the Marshall I thought I knew wouldn’t have faked his own death and left me behind. So maybe I don’t know you at all.”

  Marshall stopped for a moment, then lifted his gaze back to his, and Aaron saw sadnes
s and regret in the man’s expression. “The ironic thing about that, Aaron, is that you know me better than anyone. Not the person I am in my shitty life, but the real me. And you loved me anyway.”

  “I even mourned you when you died,” Aaron heard the clipped tone in his voice, but he figured he deserved to be a pissed off.

  “I mourned you, too, Aaron,” Marshall whispered, shifting his gaze to the ground.

  Aaron was so confused by that statement he did nothing to stop him as Marshall all but power lifted him from the ground in an impressive display of strength.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Marshall nodded. “I know you don’t. All you need to know right now is that your father knows you’re alive, he knows where you live and he knows that I will protect you with everything I have. By coming here, he can take care of two loose ends at one time.”

  Marshall moved, but stumbled and Aaron knew he was more hurt than he was letting on. He placed himself beneath Marshall’s right arm, surprised that he allowed it.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Aaron asked through gritted teeth. “Obviously we run, but to where?”

  “Somewhere I can see that bastard coming, and where I can keep you safe.” Marshall said with a determined note in his voice. “Franklin took everything from me, turned me into someone I never wanted to be. He and I are due a showdown, and I deserve my chance at vengeance. I want to make sure that when it goes down, I have the home advantage. He’ll be coming at us with everything he has, and we will only have each other.”

  Aaron was silent as they stopped beside a large black truck, letting that sink in. From the ages of fourteen through nineteen it had been the same. They only had each other to rely on, and up until the moment he thought he watched Marshall die, that was how they had survived.