The Hitman’s Redemption Read Online Sadie King

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)


You always remember your first hit. But you don’t expect to fall for his daughter…
For twelve years, I’ve been haunted by the girl with blue eyes flecked with amber. The girl who witnessed me kill her father.
When our paths unexpectedly cross, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to get close to her, even if it means pretending to be someone else. Someone better.
She must never know I’m the one who killed her father…

Full Book:



The butt of the rifle presses against my cheek, its sharp metallic smell reminding me of Iraq.

It reminds me of when I was crouched on sand-covered rooftops, concealed and patient, covering my platoon as they cleared another war-damaged village.

My job was to wait, and when the enemy showed up, as they often did, I was ready.

As the platoon sniper, my job was an easy one: kill the enemy before they killed my soldiers.

But I’m not in Iraq, and the person on the other end of my sight isn’t my enemy. They’re someone else’s enemy. I’m just the hired gun. The hitman.

There’re only two people I work for. Damon Fletcher, who saved me from the streets when I was a homeless army vet with no future. And my other client, Markus Johnson, who fights the war on drugs with his own brand of vigilante justice. He gives me the details, and I don’t ask questions. Any scum selling drugs to vulnerable people doesn’t deserve to live.

A car turns onto the street, a black Mercedes with tinted windows.

In the fading light, I can just make out the license plate. This is my guy.

A sudden breeze sends a plastic bag tripping down the street ahead of the Mercedes. It rolls across the grass and catches on the edge of a broken fence, snagging between the twisted wires.

The car pulls up outside the only dark house on the street. Other houses have rectangles of yellow light with shapes moving behind them, families finishing their dinners and kids dragging their feet on their way to bed.

It’s not a wealthy neighborhood. There’s graffiti on the side of a garage and a couch dumped on the sidewalk, the long grass licking its edges.

Hard working families live here. Parents doing their best for their kids while working two jobs just to put food on the table.

It’s the kind of neighborhood a man like the one I’m about to kill thrives on.

He’s got no business driving in here with his Mercedes, making every young man on the street look at him with envy and every mother tut as fear grips her heart.

This community will be shocked when they learn their new neighbor is—soon to be was—a notorious drug dealer. The house has probably already been made into a lab. It’s better to get this scum out of the neighborhood.

There’ll be a scandal about the shooting, and mothers will worry if their kids are safe. But they’ll be a hell of a lot safer than if this dirtbag had gotten a foothold in their community.

The drugs lab is just the start. Soon it would be recruiting bored teenagers looking to make a quick buck. Then there’re the free samples. It’s the vulnerable people in the community—the ones down on their luck, the ones with mental health problems, the army vets with nowhere to go, the single parents needing a few minutes of peace, the uneducated women who can only see one way to make a living and need a hit to block out their reality. Those are the ones men like this target. Those are the ones who’ll pay the price if drug pushers are allowed to take hold.

The car stops, and the driver’s door opens. My finger rests on the trigger of the gun. I’ve got to do it in the few seconds it takes him to walk from the car to his front door.

My body goes still, waiting for the right moment.

There’s movement in the corner of my eye. I swing the sight around, and a girl on a bike comes into view.

What the hell is she doing out on her own in this neighborhood after dark?

She’s got to be about twelve years old, her blond hair streaming out behind her as she rides.

The sound of a car door slamming snaps my attention back to the hit. He’s out of the car and jingling his keys as he walks toward the house.

I’ve got to do it now.

The girl rides toward the man, and he turns to give her a smile. She puts her foot on the ground and stops her bike to have a few words with him.

He’s in my sights. If I pulled the trigger now, I’d get him right between the eyes. A clean hit. But I’d also get blood on the girl.

My mind goes back to another hit from twelve years ago, my first hit after Damon Fletcher pulled me off the streets and gave my life a new purpose.