Shadowed: A Hitman Mafia Romance (Team Zero Book 4) Read online

  Shadowed Copyright © 2019 by Rina Kent

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Published by RK Publishing House.

  Edited by Annabelle Reid.

  Proofread by Nora Edmonds.

  Cover Design by Rolling Waves Designs.

  P.S. Pirates are bad. Not Johnny Depp’s Captain Sparrow bad, but seriously effing bad. Support an author by buying a book. Don’t be a totally-not-cool pirate.

  To A. My maddening inspiration.

  Contents

  Contents

  Author Note

  Blurb

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  What’s Next?

  Ghosted Excerpt

  Also By Rina Kent

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Author Note

  To remain true to the characters and the author’s origins, the vocabulary, grammar, and spelling of Shadowed is written in British English.

  Shadowed can be read as a standalone novel, but for a better understanding of Team Zero’s world, consider reading Crowed and Ghosted first.

  This book contains darkish themes and explicit, non-conventional sexual situations. Please don’t read if any of that offends you.

  Don’t forget to Sign up to Rina Kent’s Newsletter to get a FREE book.

  Blurb

  She ran from monsters but fell into the trap of the most dangerous one.

  Zoe

  Shadow is as untouchable as his name. A fighter. A killer. A mafia man.

  To avenge my mother’s death, I barge into his world head first.

  It starts as a game. A bet. A push and pull. But then it spirals into a web of secrets and forbidden desires.

  The more I get to know the man within, the harder he consumes me.

  He’s too much. These feelings are too much.

  I run, but can I hide from a monster?

  Shadow

  To protect my deadly secret, I drown in killing and madness. The facade hides my darkness and pushes everyone away.

  Not her.

  Zoe provokes me. Challenges me. She twists her fingers in my black heart and stirs a part I thought was long dead.

  Then she runs.

  She calls me a monster.

  Well, this monster will never let her go.

  Chapter One

  Lurking in the shadows is an addiction.

  I didn’t choose darkness. The darkness chose me. It seeps under my skin and flows in my blood.

  Stepping into the light is out of the question.

  Light is full of people and people are fucking annoying. Darkness allows me to watch everyone without their notice. I stab them and retreat back to the shadows as if nothing happened.

  I should’ve known that one day, someone would notice and it’d be all fucking over.

  Chapter Two

  Waking up to find both your parents dead doesn’t leave you.

  People say they love you and that they’d never hurt you. But then, they lock you up and asphyxiate you with gas.

  No matter how much I’ve tried to move on, I simply can’t.

  The time has come to do something about it.

  I look down at myself. My black, low-cut leather dress hugs my body and reaches to the middle of my thighs right above my leather boots. Strands of grey-blonde hair fall straight to my shoulders.

  Perfect.

  I pinch my cheek for encouragement and make my way through throngs of people.

  The underground fighting rings’ walls are a brownish colour and I’m going to take a wild guess that they haven’t been renovated for decades.

  There’s no need to, anyway. Boxers come here to fight and the audience is only interested in gambling. Pretty sure no one is interested in clean walls or floors in this poor side of East London. A few bulbs of light – whose naked wires are hanging from the ceiling – cast an eerie feeling on the place.

  The smell of beer and smoke and the occasional disgusting male musk waft in the air as I push my way through. Shouts, curses, and bets fly all around.

  A big match between two notorious fighters is tonight’s highlight and the reason why the place is jammed. The spectators are arguing about who will win and none of them speaks two words without a curse in between.

  When I pass by, a few stop and whistle or make some suggestive remarks. I rein in my discomfort and don’t pay them attention. Living on the streets for too long, with worse scum, taught me how to turn blind eyes to many things.

  Granted, this isn’t the ideal dress code for such a place, but if I’m to catch the attention of my mother’s killer, I need to look the part.

  But first...

  I round the corner and slip into the women’s fighting rings. Compared to the men’s rings, fewer spectators watch from the side lines, but the energy isn’t any less contagious.

  Leaning sideways, I peek over and grin as I stand amongst the crowd. Elle, my sister from another mister, is kicking a bigger woman’s arse. Her blue eyes are hooded – from the adrenaline, I’m sure. The crowd goes wild when Elle takes momentum.

  “Woohoo!” I yell along, placing both my palms near my mouth. “Go, Rage Ball!”

  That little sucker is as fired up as her nickname. My gut does that twisting thing that happens whenever I think about leaving her. My fingers snake to the lotus bracelet Elle gifted me when we were teens. She’s been my family ever since I lost mine, and the thought of lying to her splits my heart open.

  But I can’t risk putting her in danger. She’s already living in an adrenaline haze with all these underground fights. I can’t expose her to the monstrous world I’m heading into. I’m only one year older than her, but she’ll always be my baby sister who I’ll protect with all my might.

  “What did I miss?” Liam calls from a distance, his dark green eyes glued on Elle. He pushes the crowd to join me — or more like, they step aside to let him
pass. From the outside looking in, he’s tall, broad and intimidating as hell.

  Add in a well-groomed dark blond hair and a slight scruff and the ladies fall at his feet, but he’s too much of a workaholic to pay them attention.

  My smile widens. Liam is mine and Elle’s foster brother and the best brother in the bloody world. I’m forever thankful that he taught us how to take care of ourselves. Someone else would’ve said ‘I’ll protect you.’ Not Liam, though.

  Nuh-uh.

  He dragged us to the park and taught us our first punches. He kicked our arses on the way, too. I had the bruises to prove it.

  He always said, ‘I can’t be there for you the whole time’ – a lie, by the way, he never stopped being our big bro — ‘so you need to learn how to protect yourselves.’

  I’m forever grateful that he pushed us, but I hate him for how Elle decided to take this route. Whenever she comes home with bruises, I call and wake him up in the middle of the night to give him grief.

  Not that I have the right to judge her after the decision I made.

  “She’ll win this one.” I inch closer to Liam so no one overhears. “You sure it’s fine for the police to be here, lieutenant?”

  “Cheeky.” He gives a humourless smile. “Shouldn’t you say that to yourself, future police officer?”

  I gasp with feigned surprise and even place a palm on my chest. “And here I thought those who are still students don’t count. Will I be arrested?”

  “For being a pain in the arse? Absolutely.”

  “I love you, too, Li.” I interlace my arm with his and lean my head against his arm.

  Since I decided to forge with my revenge, I’ve become sappy around Elle and Liam. I can’t get my fill of them before I throw myself in the world of monsters.

  As expected, Elle wins. She accepts handshakes from the audience with an awkward smile as she makes her way out.

  Elle has never been good with social situations. From that plastered smile and quick physical contact, I’m sure she’s dying inside.

  The woman who lost against Elle refused to shake hands after the match. She staggers out of the ring, wiping blood from her busted lip.

  Once Elle reaches us, her inquisitive gaze takes in how Liam and I are standing, then she scrunches her nose. “Eww.”

  I lunge at her for a hug, but she holds me at arm’s length with a palm on my chest.

  “Come on, Elle. It’s just a hug.” I taunt, trying to reach and squeeze her.

  Panic appears on her face, and her eyes turn shifty. Even Liam bursts into laughter at how much she hates hugs.

  Except from me.

  Or maybe it’s because I make her.

  “I’m all sweaty and you’re all pretty.”

  I give her a coy smile. “Being diplomatic, huh?” I cast a glance at Liam. “I wonder whose bad habits rubbed off on you.”

  Liam is about to say something when I glimpse behind Elle. The loser woman is charging at Elle’s back with a raised fist. I yank Elle to the side and kick the woman in the face. She staggers and falls on her arse while holding her bloodied nose.

  I point a finger at her. “Learn some sporting spirit, bitch.”

  Violence is never my thing, but I’d unleash hell for Liam and Elle.

  The audience becomes silent, perhaps because I flashed them my underwear. Oh well. Small sacrifices.

  Elle touches my arm. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, sistah!” I turn her in the direction of lockers. “Go change. You owe me a big hug.”

  Elle’s lips twist in a horrified smile before she half-jogs in the opposite direction.

  Laughter bubbles free from me and Liam.

  “You scared her,” he says. “She won’t return to watch the fight.”

  “Come on.” I push his bulk to the men’s ring. Most spectators rush that way, too. Elle’s match was the last in the category. The rest of the night is dedicated to the pricks.

  Liam and I push the crowd out of the way so we can have walking room. They’re yelling and cursing and verbally fighting even before the match. What are they? Teenagers?

  We finally take seats in the podium above. It took lots of convincing – and bribing – to book these seats. Liam doesn’t need to know I used bribery. He’s so uptight about police values and all that jazz.

  I’m more interested in getting things done.

  From this position, we have a perfect view of the ring in which the match will happen, but that’s not why I chose this place.

  My gaze strays to the podium across from us and the reason I went through all this trouble. My mind becomes hazy as Mum’s words play in my head on a loop.

  Make him pay, Zoe. Even if it’s the last thing you do.

  And now… he’s here.

  He walks to his designated seat slowly and leisurely as if he owns the place and everyone in it.

  He probably does.

  A crowd of bodyguards – or more like gangsters – surround him. They’re all wearing black suits and appear as gloomy as England’s weather.

  The view of President Joe’s bald head is clear even from this distance. He’s wearing a striped double-breasted suit all complete with a blood red bowtie.

  The same blood he will be swimming in once he pays for what he did to Mum.

  I can’t make out his expression, but he’s clearly satisfied with the organisation since he’s nodding to one of his goons.

  President Joe’s full name is Joseph Taylor, late fifties, and self-made. He’s the type of bastard who sells drugs and owns places like this underground gambling and fighting ring.

  I thought the nightmare was over when he was arrested and charged for tax fraud three years ago. It wasn’t the best revenge but I accepted it. However, the rat came out so soon. The court couldn’t hold enough evidence to implicate his business. Now he’s back to said business without the least worry in the world.

  When he was arrested, I joined the police force and decided to stop the likes of him in lawful ways. Like Liam.

  But actual justice didn’t exist in the world. Not in the conventional sense, anyway.

  If lawful ways can’t stop President Joe, I’ll play as dirty as he is.

  They say you can’t fight a monster unless you become one.

  When Elle and I were children, before we met Liam, we had an abusive foster family. The eldest sister would deliberately break something in the house and then go crying to her parents that Elle did it.

  What did I do? I spent a whole day in the dirty swamp and gathered as many frogs as possible. Then I decorated her room with them.

  Of course, I was beaten. Of course, I smelled like the swamp for days. But that foster sister’s horrified crying was worth it. After that, she never crossed us again.

  I was never afraid to get dirty in order to have justice.

  President Joe did a lot more than blame someone else for his doings. His punishment will be worse than frogs.

  “Zoe?”

  I turn to face Liam, and he’s considering me with furrowed brows. “You completely erased me just now.”

  I laugh it off. “No, I didn’t.”

  He motions at my hand. My forefinger is twirling a strand of my hair.

  I drop my hand to my lap. The habit still gives me away even as an adult.

  “You nervous?” Liam cocks his head to where President Joe is.

  “Course not, Li. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  And yet, my finger is itching to twirl that strand again. I’m not scared. I’m not. I’ve been plotting this for months. I’ve dreamt about doing it for years. No. Decades. I’ve been obsessing over this since I woke up to find my parents dead and I’m twenty-five already.

  It’s that I’m scared about losing Elle and Liam. Maybe I won’t survive this and never see them again.

  The thought brings nausea to the back of my throat.

  “Just take care of Ellie once I’m gone. Yeah?” I try to sound as casual as possible, but my voice comes out emotional.
It’s a slim chance Liam didn’t notice that.

  “You can always stop this.” Liam’s eyes bore into mine as his index finger taps his thigh.

  “Come on, Li. This is the best chance the Metropolitan Police have to investigate Le Salon up close and personal.”

  “You’re doing this illegally.” He blows a frustrated breath. “You’ll never graduate if they find out you’ve gone undercover without permission. You can even be charged. I can’t believe you’re risking your future for this.”

  “Guess we should never let them find out, huh?” I grin.

  “Zoe.” His scowl holds a warning that makes criminals crack under his questioning.

  “You promised to purge all these mafia wannabe arseholes. I’m helping out here.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “We already argued about this a thousand times. I just want to know that you’ll be there for me.”

  “Of course I will.” His jaw clenches. “But there are rumours and reports about a new drug production factory. Whenever a new drug vein comes to light, gangster wars become nasty and knife crime increases.”

  “It’s one more reason to stop them. I’ll do everything in me to bring the factory down.”

  He taps his index finger on his thigh. “What can I do to make you change your mind?”

  “Nothing. I had an interview and I was accepted into Le Salon. It’s already done.”

  “If I suspect you’re in danger, I’ll report this. I don’t care if you have to be permanently suspended from the forces.”

  “Fine.” But that will also mean he’ll be brought down as an accomplice. I’ll have to make sure I’m not in danger. I won’t have Liam pay for my choices. His job means the world to him.

  He looks behind me and pauses. “Your new people are here.”

  My eyes stray ahead as another group of people dressed in black approach where President Joe is sitting.

  The leader of said group is a woman who looks no older than thirty. She’s wearing a long-sleeved tight green dress. Her flamboyant red hair is gathered in a French twist. On her left, there’s a younger man with model-like looks and a petite blonde hanging on his arm. On her right stands a taller man with dark, no-nonsense features.