Series: The Circle of Monsters Series by Sam Crescent
Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Galen King kills for a living, but it's nothing personal. He works for the Circle of Monsters, a group of ruthless contract hitmen. They do their job, no questions asked, and emotions never get in the way. Each hit is another payday until he has Skye Lewis in his sights—then nothing is the same.
Can he change the rules and keep Skye alive? Or will his boss demand he follow orders or pay the ultimate price?
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Chapter One
Galen King looked through his binoculars and caught sight of his target through the hotel window. She was a small thing, at least compared to him. To some she might have been considered fat, but he liked his women on the plump side. Her flaming red hair called to him first. It was a deep red, not something out of a bottle.
Looking away, he pulled out his cell phone with the necessary details. The moment this hit was completed, he’d destroy all evidence. That was part of his job. He was one of the exclusive members of the Circle of Monsters. Known assassins who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, unlike their counterparts, Killer of Kings.
For this hit, all he’d been sent was the woman’s basic details, the location, and when he was to end her life. Skye Lewis never had a chance, not when the Monsters got involved. He didn’t care that she was female. Some men might, but he knew women could be just as vile and disgusting as men.
The curtain twitched and her head appeared, looking left and right. Even from where he stood, he saw the fear in her eyes.
It was a shame she had to die. He could imagine spending a great deal of private time with her. That body was made to be fucked. And only twenty-five years old. He didn’t care what she’d done. The bounty on her head was quite extensive. Someone wanted her dead, and fast, because they were willing to part with three million cash. All the better for Galen.
All he had to do now was make the decision. Did he make the shot here or go to her hotel room? Would she answer the door? Would she scream? As he was making the decision, lining up his rifle to see if he could get a nice crisp shot, his cell phone vibrated.
“Yes,” he said, putting the cell to his ear.
“The terms have changed,” Viko Fedorov said.
Galen didn’t look away from his target. This never happened. Details of a hit never changed once he got the all clear. What if he’d already pulled the fucking trigger?
“Not good enough,” Galen said. “I can take the hit right now.”
“Then you’ll be doing it for nothing,” Viko said. “The money is fake. I have it in my office right now. She will be worth more to us alive.”
He didn’t like this. Killing her now would be ideal.
“I can take the shot.”
“Listen to me carefully. Take the shot, and you won’t get paid. Something’s going down.” He heard rustling on the line. “Petrov already has guys on the way to kill her.”
Galen frowned. “That makes no sense. Why hire us?”
“He’s playing us. There’s no money, and believe me, I’m fucking pissed about it.”
If Viko was pissed, then Petrov would soon be wishing for a quick death. No one got away with manipulating their boss. There was a reason Viko was the head of the Circle of Monsters. The bastard had more kills under his belt than anyone Galen had ever known—real or fictional.
There was so much about Viko they didn’t know. The only solid piece of information to go on was that money talked—a lot of it. They all had a price and Viko’s had to have a lot of ones and zeros before he lifted a finger.
“So what now?”
“Extraction. Bring her to me, and be warned, the people on the way to kill her might attempt to take you out.”
Galen couldn’t help but scoff.
“If that was a laugh, I recommend you not do it again,” Viko said, and hung up.
Well, it went from being the clean-cut kill that he loved, to one that was dirty and pissed him off.
He quickly disassembled his rifle, put all the necessary pieces away, stashed it in his bag, and threw it over his shoulder. Making his way out of the abandoned building, he hummed to himself as he joined the flood of people on the street below, mingling in.
A few people chanced a glance at him, but one look at his face, with the gnarly scar down his right cheek, and they soon turned away. Some women were not upset by his looks. The ink on his thick arms, not to mention the expensive watch covering his wrist, always had a magic way with the bitches.
Money talked.
He had a lot of it.
Galen liked nice things.
And he was prepared to do whatever it took to get those nice things. He’d been killing since he was fourteen years old. It was an easy profession. His parents had died when he was young, and he’d ended up in the foster care system. Maybe that was where his conscience died.
His first kill had been a foster mom who had been too handsy and liked to use her belt. One of the girls in the home with him had to entertain the male guests, and if she caused a scene while they were filming the rape, the woman would beat her to within an inch of her life.