KILLER: An Unfit Hero Novel Read online

  KILLER

  An Unfit Hero Novel

  Hayley Faiman

  Hayley Faiman Books, LLC

  Contents

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Stay Connected

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  PROTECTOR

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Stay Connected

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  KILLER

  Copyright © 2020 by Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer & Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  Proofreading: My Brother’s Editor. Rosa Sharon. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website: http://hayleyfaiman.com

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Hayley Faiman

  Men of Baseball Series—

  Pitching for Amalie

  Catching Maggie

  Forced Play for Libby

  Sweet Spot for Victoria

  Russian Bratva Series—

  Owned by the Badman

  Seducing the Badman

  Dancing for the Badman

  Living for the Badman

  Tempting the Badman

  Protected by the Badman

  Forever my Badman

  Betrothed to the Badman

  Chosen by the Badman

  Bought by the Badman

  Collared by the Badman

  Notorious Devils MC—

  Rough & Rowdy

  Rough & Raw

  Rough & Rugged

  Rough & Ruthless

  Rough & Ready

  Rough & Rich

  Rough & Real

  Cash Bar Series—

  Laced with Fear

  Chased with Strength

  Flamed with Courage

  Blended with Pain

  Twisted with Chaos

  Mixed with Trouble

  SAVAGE BEAST MC –

  UnScrew Me

  UnBreak Me

  UnChain Me

  UnLeash Me

  UnTouch Me-Summer 2020

  Unfit Hero Series –

  CONVICT

  HERO

  FRAUD

  KILLER

  Zanetti Famiglia Series -

  Becoming the Boss

  Becoming his Mistress

  Becoming his Possession

  The Prophecy of Sisters

  Bride of the Traitor-April 2020

  Esquire Black Duet Series –

  DISCOVERY

  APPEAL

  Forbidden Love Series —

  Personal Foul

  Kinetic Energy

  Standalone Titles

  Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

  Stay Connected

  FACEBOOK - https://www.facebook.com/authorhayleyfaiman

  READER GROUP - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433234647091715/

  GOODREADS - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10735805.Hayley_Faiman

  AMAZON - amazon.com/author/hayleyfaiman

  WEBSITE - hayleyfaiman.com

  TWITTER - http://www.twitter.com/@authorhayleyf

  NEWSLETTER - http://eepurl.com/b5a_1v

  BOOKBUB - https://www.bookbub.com/authors/hayley-faiman

  There is nothing I love as much as a good fight.

  Franklin D. Roosevelt

  Prologue

  LOUIS

  My name is Louis Kingston and I am a killer.

  One punch. That’s all it took to end a life. I didn’t hate the man. I didn’t even really know him. I was doing my job. I was doing what we were both trained for. I know where to hit and where not to hit. I’ve spent my entire life training to avoid this exact scenario.

  I still killed a man.

  Lifting the bottle of extremely expensive Louis XIII cognac to my lips, I take a long swig. It was a gift for winning from my agent.

  In fact, I have thirty that were gifted to me from my agent, one for every professional fight that I’ve won.

  I’m sure he has some kind of deal with the company, and until today, I’ve never even thought about opening one.

  Usually, I stick to beer and even then, I only have a few when I’m resting between fights. When I’m training, I don’t drink any kind of alcohol.

  I stay pure in mind, drink, and food. Even my body stays pure, I stay away from women in general.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the chair. There’s going to be an investigation. They’ve already taken my blood, already had the cops interview me and I’m supposed to go down to the police station tomorrow for an even more in-depth interview.

  The Association of Boxing Commissions and Combative Sports took my statement and the tape of the fight to look over. The referee is also being questioned along with the judges.

  I know without a doubt that I am not at fault, but rules are rules, and everything must be done to the letter. None of that eases my guilt. I will feel this guilt for the rest of my life. It will never disappear. It will never fade. I have taken a life.

  * * *

  Months have passed. The investigation has been concluded. The autopsy has been done and results have not only been released to me, the commission, and the police, but also to the public.

  The world knows that I didn’t intentionally kill this man. The world knows that a doctor told him, and made notes, that he was just a few punches away from death weeks before he entered the ring. He wasn’t forthcoming with the information, he was being cocky.

  None of that matters, because at the end of the day, my fist ended his life.

  They say that time eases the guilt. That eventually you don’t hear the sounds of the moment that changed everything in your life. They are wrong. I don’t think that I will ever forget. In fact, I’ve heard the noises, the sounds that circled around me that night on a fucking loop.

  Day, night, asleep, or awake. It doesn’t matter, it’s all that I hear.

  His funeral has come and gone. I had to stand there while his wi
fe and daughter sobbed, while his young son just stared blankly at the box that was being lowered into the ground.

  People can tell me every minute of every day that I am not at fault. They can say that he knew what he was doing, he understood the risks that he was taking and yet he walked into that ring anyway. They can say it over and over and yet, the guilt that I have for ending his life will remain.

  I snort to myself as I finish the fifth bottle of Louis XIII cognac. I haven’t worked out once in a month. Fuck, I haven’t even seen the sun since I went to the funeral. Some would say I’m wasting away here in Vegas, hiding away from the world.

  They would be right.

  I should be training, or at least maintaining my physique. I can’t though. All I want to do is drink and wallow in my own guilt, self-pity, and self-hatred.

  Dropping the fifteen-hundred-dollar, empty bottle to the floor, I close my eyes and the image that pops into my head isn’t at all unwelcome. For the first time in weeks, I don’t see the man I killed, instead I see her.

  Shorter blonde hair splayed out around her head, big blue eyes that look straight into my fucking soul. She’s naked, her tits a little less than a handful. Her waist small and her hips flared. Her thighs thick. Her skin silky smooth.

  Then she licks her full lips before they twitch into a small smile.

  “Louis,” her sweet faint voice whispers. She sounds like she’s miles away, but I can see her right in front of me.

  I let out a moan as she rises to her elbows, never taking her gaze off of mine. “Come back to me,” she exhales. “Please, Louie.”

  Inhaling, my eyes pop open and I let out a long groan, leaning forward to catch my breath. My heart starts to race inside of my chest. It feels like it wants to break free from my body as it slams against my ribs.

  “Fuck,” I growl. “Fuck.”

  It’s better than the image of a man’s death that I caused, but it hurts to see her like that, more than the guilt that consumes me. I fell for Tulip Fischer instantly and I got burned, badly.

  Standing, my body sways from my own imagination mixed with too much booze.

  I need to rid myself of this, all of this.

  Of everything.

  Tulip is the past. Antoni Byers is gone and can’t be brought back, even by my own crippling guilt. I need to forgive myself. Forget her and find a way to fucking survive this life.

  I need to go back home.

  TULIP

  Walking into the apartment, I cringe at the sight of the place. Joey is laying on the couch, one arm propped behind his head, the other shoved down his pants while he watches what appears to be an old episode of Sex in the City.

  I hear him groan, then flick my eyes to the television before taking them back to him. His arm is moving and I know that he’s jacking himself off to Samantha fucking someone on the show. I gulp, unsure if I should continue into the apartment or turn around and let him have his moment.

  “Come in and let me finish on your tits,” he calls out.

  My body jerks from his words, but my feet don’t move. Joey doesn’t stop touching himself or even glance in my direction. I continue to flick my gaze between his swiftly moving arm and the television until I hear his distinct groan as he climaxes.

  He lets out a puff of air, then lifts the remote control and turns the television off before he stands to his feet. I watch as he walks into the small kitchen and throws a paper towel away. He turns around to face me and tilts his head to the side with a chuckle.

  “Fuckin’ prude, babe. When will you loosen up? We’ve been together since you were fourteen and you’re still shy as shit.”

  I don’t tell him that I’m shy because he makes me feel like I’m not good enough. He criticizes everything about me, from my hair to my body, to my abilities in bed. Everything I do is wrong, is silly, and is stupid.

  “What’re you making me for dinner? I’m fucking starved,” he announces, changing the subject.

  My feet unstick from the floor and I walk into the kitchen just as he passes by me to resume his position back on the couch. I narrow my gaze at him, wondering why I let him back here. Not only in my house, but in my bed, and in my life?

  I worked all day long, from six in the morning until six this evening, then I have to go to my second job in a couple of hours and work until two in the morning. Four hours of sleep a night, that’s what I get. I work to support him, to support us, and he does nothing.

  My thoughts drift back to Louis, to the way that his arms felt around me. I didn’t deserve him then and I don’t deserve him now. I was selfish and let myself indulge in all that was him. But I knew that I couldn’t let it go on. It wouldn’t be right, because he deserves someone in his social class, someone better than me.

  I’m nothing but trash, always have been. My insecurities have destroyed my sense of self-worth, it has been thrown aside for a man who does nothing but take from me. He gives me nothing, not a single thing, not even orgasms.

  Louis Kingston deserves someone who knows her self-worth, who is strong and not weak like me. He should be with literally anybody but me. I’m weak, pathetic, and kind of sad, which is why I stay with Joey when I know that he’s worthless.

  Joey is easy. He expects nothing but for me to take care of the bills. And I expect absolutely zero from him. It’s a sad existence, but it’s easy and although he’ll hurt me, Joey will never destroy me.

  If I lost a man like Louis, I would become a shell of a person. I honestly don’t know if I would ever be able to survive losing a man like him. I don’t mean money-wise either, it’s just that he’s a good man. The best one that I’ve ever known.

  Granted, I didn’t spend much time with him, but I hear the way Channing, Exeter, and Hutton talk about him. He’s amazing and I’m just not worthy.

  Turning my back to Joey, I start to make dinner for the both of us. Tears fill my eyes with each move that I make. Tears of frustration, of pain, and of self-loathing fall down my cheeks.

  * * *

  ONE MONTH LATER

  LOUIS

  Inhaling a deep breath, I look around my condo and cringe. It’s a fucking disaster. It could give Beaumont’s house in Texas, at the height of his addiction, a run for its money. Enough is enough. I’ve spent the last three months lost in self-pity and loathing. It’s time for me to dust my fucking shit off and man the fuck up.

  Searching for my phone, I call a cleaning service to come and deep clean the entire place. I don’t allow them to do everything though. I created this mess, so I’m going to clean up the bulk of the garbage.

  I’m taking out my fourth bag of trash when my phone rings in my pocket. I expect it to be my agent, maybe my publicist or someone like that, but what I don’t expect is to have Wyatt on the other end of the phone.

  “Yeah?” I grunt into the phone as I heave the trash into the commercial dumpster.

  “Surprised you finally answered. Only been tryin’ to get ahold of you for four months,” he states.

  Chuckling, I lift my hand and run my palm over my bald head. “Yeah, been going through some shit,” I shamelessly admit.

  He makes a noise, then clears his throat. “Remember once upon a time that Beaumont was going through some shit too, and you were right there to help him. In fact, along with Ford, you were kind of pissed that he didn’t tell you what he’d been goin’ through earlier.” Wyatt reminds me of a time not long ago and he’s right. I was irritated and frustrated with Beau for not talking to us, to his friends, his family.

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  He hums. “Yeah is fuckin’ right. When are you coming home?” he asks, his tone demanding an immediate answer.

  “Don’t know,” I admit.

  “Be nice if you had an idea. No reason to hide away, not when your family can help you heal.”

  “Can you though?” I ask.

  I’m sure it comes off as a smart ass remark, but I don’t mean it that way. I’m not sure that they can help me. I fucking killed som
eone.

  “Rylan can,” he says, his voice low.

  I hiss, remembering that Rylan killed a pregnant woman several years ago in a car accident. He was under the influence and driving. Fucking killed her and the baby she was carrying. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath and let it out in a long whoosh.

  “Like I said, your family can help you, Louis. Come back to Gallup and let us be there for you. The girls are losing their goddamn minds because they’re not able to mother you.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head, startled by the sound of my laughter, even if it is strained. I haven’t heard my own laugh for months. Opening my eyes, I nod as if he can see me.

  “Got some meetings this week, then I’m coming home for a few months.”

  “Good. Text me.”

  Wyatt ends the call and I’m not surprised by his short departure. He’s not a guy who sits around on the phone and bullshits. He’s busy, he’s got a physically and mentally demanding job, he’s got a new baby on the way, plus a new niece or nephew coming right on the heels of his own.