The Mafia's Hit

The Mafia’s Hit Copyright © 2023 by Shelly Morgan Cover Design by CT Cover Creations Editing by Hometown Editing This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Apart from quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Dedication I’d like to dedicate this book to my readers. Thank you for still believing in me and still purchasing this book, even though it’s been a while since I’ve released anything new. I love you all and thank you all for supporting me. I didn’t think I could do this anymore, but writing this book and seeing that I still have loyal readers inspires me to keep going. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Note from the Author Other books in the Mayhem Makers Series Other books by Shelly Morgan Chapter One Landing in Chicago, I make my way through the airport and out to the taxis waiting in line for their next customer. "The Hilton please," I tell the driver as soon as he gets behind the wheel after putting my bag in the trunk, and then we are off. Thankfully this driver didn’t try to strike up a conversation. I hate it when they do that. I’d rather not engage in meaningless conversation with someone I will probably never see again. It is pointless to me. I stare out the window, watching the buildings pass us by, but not seeing the beauty of the city. I'm too busy going over everything I need to do while I'm here before I move on to my next job. I know all there is to know about my target: Alexander Duncan, 43 years old, been married three times, no kids. His first wife died in a horrific boating accident three years after they married, and his second wife died during a home invasion eight months after they were married. Alexander was present both times, but miraculously survived both incidences. He played it off well, but I know he was behind both deaths, and I could prove it in a court of law, though where is the fun in that? He works at Reyes Holdings as an assistant to the CFO, with big hopes that once the old man retires, he'll get the promotion. But from what I've found, they already found a replacement; some trust fund kid fresh out of college who just so happens to be the nephew to the President of the company. Sorry for your luck, Alexander. Soon we arrive at the hotel, and I tip my driver before making my way inside. At the front desk, the man behind the counter smiles and asks, "Good morning, ma'am. My name is Jacob. How can I help you today?" I reach into my purse and grab the ID and credit card for this job. "Good morning, Jacob. I have a reservation under Clair Bente," I tell him as I hand him the cards. He looks at my ID and types something into the computer before handing the ID back to me. "Of course, Ms. Bente, looks like we have you booked for the week in the Executive Suite. Let me just get you your room keys and I'll get someone to help you with your bags," Jacob says. I won't be here the full week, but I always like to plan extra days just in case something goes wrong. Plus, it's good to have alibis too. A few clicks on my computer or some money slipped to the right person, and I can make it look like I've been here the whole time even if I leave tomorrow. A minute later, I took the key to my room and headed up to the top floor. Stepping off the elevator, I make my way towards my room, keeping my eyes on my surroundings. Even though I'm good at what I do, and I never look the same for any job, so I know no one will recognize me, you can never be too careful. Anyone could be around the corner waiting to strike. Plus, even though I've memorized the floor plan for this hotel, I like to make sure I know my options for a quick escape if I need it. When I got to my room door, I checked the lock and hinges to look for signs of any tampering before I swiped my card and entered the room. Closing the door behind me, I casually make my way through the room. There is a short hallway before it opens into a dining room slash kitchen area, with a basket of fruit on the counter and a card with my name on it. Walking past that, I make my way further into the room to where the bedroom is. It holds a king-sized bed and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from it. And lastly, the bathroom which is attached to the bedroom. Opening the curtains, I cross my arms over my chest and stare out over the city skyline. A few minutes later is when I hear it. If I wasn't listening for any sound, I might have missed it, but it was a very soft scoffing of the carpet. I don't move a muscle and I keep my