Hit Man Book Novels & Stories

I’ll talk to him about it later. “A hitman?” I asked, “What’s your codename? ‘Black Widow’?” She laughed, “That’s a terrible codename and no. It’s not Black Widow.” She grabbed the first aid kit and started going through everything. “Um, excuse me. Didn’t I say I would take care of you, Ms. Hitman?” I smirked and took the first aid kit from her and had her sit on the bed. I start applying ointment and then Reid asks, “Most hitmen have a specialty, right? What’s yours?”

“I'll wait for you there. See you, Kim!” Arriving at the coffee shop, I immediately ordered my favorite Americano. It seemed like a cozy place to refresh my mind. I pulled out my notebook, ready to continue yesterday’s research on Clostridium botulinum. It amazed me how something so tiny could pose such a massive threat to life. Shit! Even while working, I couldn’t stop thinking about that man. Who the hell was he? I was losing my mind, obsessing over him. This wasn’t like me. Even when Pedro kissed me before, it didn't have the same effect as that mysterious man.

“Wait? Are you insane, Teague?! Look what he’s done to my Ana!” I nod. “Yes, but death is too good for him,” I say, and before I hand him my gun, I snap a picture of the scene in front of us. “Kneecap and blackmail; he will never be the same man after this. Don’t allow him to pay for his sins with death; make him suffer. , make him suffer. Make this entire family suffer.” I say, then walk over to the man who dared to touch what was mine. “Key,” He nods, then looks down as he takes a key out of his pocket. I can’t help myself; I elbow him in the nose and feel satisfied when I hear the sickening crunch. “Asshole.”

Not on my watch. A man, wearing a bandanna around his head carrying a long gun walked towards Lucas in the middle of the disarray. Lucas had his back on him, aiming his own gun to a man about to shoot his member. Bandanna Man aims his gun, Lucas still clueless, just as I pulled the trigger of my own for the very first time. The glass wall shattered with a noisy and ear deafening sound but was left unnoticed because of the chaos inside. The man wearing a bandana fell with ungraceful ease as the bullet passed through his skull with the speed of a jet. Clean, straight, thorough. Lucas jolted and spun, surprised to see the man on the ground. His sudden distraction was enough time for the man he

“I don’t talk nor walk. How could I have killed him?” “You bastard!” Hunter muttered. “Hunter broke into the house and killed Ethan, that’s final,” Mr. Hamuumbu was still pointing the gun at Hunter. “No sir.” “Your choice, either you get to find out how the manuscript is accurately written or ….” “Wait…… What?” Ludo jerked. “You heard me dear,” Mr. Hamuumbu said. “I know the secret behind the manuscript, in fact I’m the mastermind behind it.” “How is that even possible?”

I close my eyes and down the content of my glass, and then look at her again. “I met with all the leaders of the mafia factions of New York,” I say, and she opens her eyes widely. I know she is painting a thousand scenarios in her head. “And I came out as Tobias' assassin, and it didn’t go very well,” I say, and she has one hand over her mouth. Shit, I don’t want her worried.

I twist, aiming low, but another hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off the sound before it can leave my throat. “Easy,” a voice murmurs near my ear. “We just want to talk.” I bite down hard. The man swears and tightens his grip. I fight anyway — knees, elbows, weight thrown back — but there are too many of them, moving like they’ve done this before. They drag me toward the van. This is it, a part of my mind notes distantly. This is the mistake. The door yawns open, dark and waiting. A gunshot cracks the air.

I feel my hands sweating with nervousness. I can hear the cars stopping in front of the house. Slowly I walk to the wall-size windows, and I peak out. I am curious to see my future dear husband. One thing is for sure. He should sleep with one eye open because I might kill him in his sleep and become a black widow. I have no problem with that. I close my eyes, shaking my head. I think my books have a bad influence on me. This would be a good plot. I make a mental note to write that story. A mafia story. Who knows. It might even be a best-selling story.

Writers may craft words, but readers are the true artisans of authorship. Just so you guys know, I have something planned for my next book and it's going to be about *Cough* everyone's favorite annoying, manwhorish, man-child, Scott Mancini. So, follow me on I*******m, I'll announce it there when it comes out because there's no announcement board here on Goodnovel. And lastly, please, please, please, pretty please leave a 5-STAR REVIEW! It would make me so happy also please tell me why you loved this book. I really need a confidence booster for this one.

The man who had just being pushed held on to his throat in pain, he knew that the boss would eventually set him free, but then one thing was certain, and that was the fact that had he even done as much as struggle to get free, his end would have being closer to him than the boss was. “What I need? I need blood. It’s been two days since my last murder, and I’m bored. I am tired of having to stay withiut seeing blood in front of me. Get me blood, that’s what I want.” He said, and the man stared at him, why did he have to be the one who had to attend to this man today of all days? Why did he have to be the one who had to attend to this man today that he was in the mood for blood? He swallowed,