Prologue
Hate. By definition: intense or passionate dislike.
I hated him.
I hated him.
I hated him.
I hated him because I had to hate him. Right?
Was I just the stupid blonde girl if I dared to admit I didn’t hate him, despite everything he had done, not only to me, but to my family?
He was rude, violent, ruthless, and cold.
He was the number one hitman for the mafia, Ray Romano’s right hand. He had done unspeakable things.
I hated him.
I had to hate him. There was no other option. If I didn’t hate him, they would call me crazy. Maybe I was crazy, because after everything… There was a fine line between love and hate.
That line was nonexistent to me when it came to Collin Stevens. He was everything I was supposed to hate.
But I didn’t hate him. I was going to save him.
He was my demon, the one who haunted my dreams and thoughts, but I was his angel. I would bring him into the light.
Even if it meant letting him drag me into the dark.
Chapter One
Jeremy
“Does John know about this?"
I looked up from the dead body on the ground, the body of the leader of the Western branch of Ray Romano’s kingdom, to the baseball player. Dean Connors kicked in the door to Garner’s apartment five minutes ago, interrupting our interrogation.
He looked at me, something similar to disgust flashing behind his eyes. He was in no position to judge us.
The man went deep undercover for the FBI for five fucking years after faking his death to make sure his fiancée, Gwen Davenport, would be safe.
It didn’t work. Gwen didn’t move on. She couldn’t. None of us could move on after that, and the guilt that weighed on Agent Garner’s soul was almost too much to bear. He risked everything. He risked his sanity. He risked his happiness. He risked his relationship with—
“Is there something I can help you with, Dean?”
My eyes shifted to the man covered in blood, watching as he took out the empty clip from his gun while walking into the kitchen. We stood in silence as he grabbed a towel, setting the parts of the weapon down onto the countertop to wipe off the dark red liquid.
“James,” my friend damn near pleaded, “don’t go down this path.”
The rogue agent ignored him and addressed me. “Did you recognize any of those names?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I looked to the mangled dead man. “A few. Dontell and Leon will ask around,” I answered.
“Enough of this shit,” Dean hissed at me.
“Don’t mess with me, pretty boy. Today ain’t the day,” I warned.
He was in my face then. “You made him cross a line he can never come back from,” he growled.
