Page 1 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

Ruthless Desires Prequel

Elira Firethorn

Chapter one

Oliver

August

Here’s the thing about being a hitman: you experience the world very differently than everyone else. Something as mundane as walking into a new coffee shop on a Friday morning can have your mind whirring with possibilities.

We look normal—me, Elliot, and Rhett, that is. But underneath our sharp suits and our cover of being investment bankers, we’re lethal. It makes me wonder about everyone else in this bustling little shop. Students studying in one corner, friends catching up in another.

Or so it seems.

But the truth is, you never know who someone is at a first glance. You can only make your best guess.

Elliot nudges me while we wait in line. “You good? You’re awfully quiet this morning.”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” I shoot him my signature grin. Itisa little odd for me to not be more talkative, but I’m in a rare introspective mood this morning. There’s a lot to think about.

How far we’ve come.

How far we still have to go.

My hopes for what the future will look like.

And, of course, who else in this coffee shop is pretending to be someone they’re not.

A laugh fills the shop, light and sweet. My eyes are drawn to the woman taking orders behind the counter. She’s probably no more than a few years younger than us, and her eyes are sparkling with delight at the little kid in front of us who’s swiping her mom’s credit card.

The sight sends a pang through my chest. Yet another reminder that things aren’t always as they seem. That even when life is just beginning to look up, you can have some of the most important things stolen away from you in a heartbeat.

Thankfully, the feeling dissipates quickly when the woman behind the counter beckons us forward. We’ve lost a lot, and a lot has changed. But one thing that’s always stayed the same? A beautiful woman, even if she could kill you, is still beautiful.

I don’t think the pretty barista behind the counter has murder in her blood, though. But I suppose there was a time when I thought the same of myself.

“Morning,” I say as I saunter up to the counter. “Having a good day so far?”

“A pretty busy one,” she replies as she grabs a sleeve of cups to refill a near-empty holder.

I take a peek at her name tag. “Well, Wren, I hope things slow down for you.”

Her expression is surprised, but she covers it with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, what would you recommend for someone with a sweet tooth?”

“Hmmm. Our caramel cappuccino is pretty popular.”

“I’ll have that, then. Maybe with extra caramel?”

“Sure,” she says with a little laugh, punching in my order.

Something about the way her smile widens has me standing a little taller. Food service is hard and miserable work. Knowing Wren’s morning just got a little bit better—and knowing it’s because ofme—causes satisfaction to slip into my veins.

“And are you three ordering separately or together?” Wren asks, her eyes flitting between the three of us.

“Together.” Elliot steps up to the counter. “If you could add two black coffees, please?”