Excerpt for One Last Hit by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

Copyright© 2018 Maia Dylan

ISBN: 978-1-77339-569-2

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: CA Clauson


WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


Marshall and Aaron’s story was inspired by two friends of mine who knew they were meant to be together from a very young age, but their families were determined to keep them apart. I was lucky enough to witness their second chance at love, and am proud to say I even played a sneaky hand in helping it happen! So to my lovelies, M and A… this is for you.

And for my hubby.


Romance on the Go ®

Maia Dylan

Copyright © 2018

Chapter One

Marshall was sure he was about to pass out. And if he did he might as well take the gun he was carrying, put it under his chin and pull the fucking trigger himself. Suicide wasn’t in his nature, so passing out would just have to fucking wait. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself against the pain that came with moving, he pushed off from the wall and made his way to the empty treatment room he’d just seen a patient being wheeled out from. As long as the orderly they sent to clean up wasn’t too efficient, he might have time to fix himself up before he got there.

As soon as he was in the room, he pulled the curtains around the treatment area. He dragged one of the chairs leaning up against the wall at the side of the room over to the drawers and started pulling out what he’d need. The bullet wound on his side was a through and through. The fucker who had jumped him outside the hospital just now had only winged him. Not life threatening, but hurt like a bitch. Especially when the bastard followed it with a few well-aimed punches. As soon as he found Aaron, they’d be in the wind. Or at least Marshall hoped they would be. That might take some convincing.

He managed to clean the wound without passing out, and was reaching for one of the pressure bandages on the medical tray when the door to the treatment room opened. Marshall froze, knowing he had nowhere to hide. If this was another one of the bastards Franklin had sent after him or Aaron, then it was all over. He’d even left his damn weapon in the bag at his feet. How fucking humiliating that an assassin with his credentials would be killed without a weapon in his hand.

He was more prepared to welcome his own death than he was for Aaron to be the one to slide back the curtain. The two men, once best friends and lovers, stared at each other for a long moment without a word passing between them.

“Marshall?” Aaron’s disbelief was clear in his voice.

Marshall nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. In all these years, whenever he imagined talking with Aaron again, this wasn’t quite how he imagined it going.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Marshall sighed then looked down at his wound, intent on finishing what he’d come into the room to do. Aaron cursed and stepped forward, pushing Marshall’s shirt up even higher to inspect the wound himself.

“Is that a bullet wound?” Aaron asked incredulously. “How the hell did that happen?”

Marshall pushed Aaron’s hands away and slammed the pressure bandage onto the wound, biting back a groan of pain at the move. “The usual fucking way. A trigger-happy son of a bitch hellbent on taking my ass down fired a weapon at me and by some stroke of luck actually managed to hit me.”

Aaron stepped back, glaring at him. “Still a damn smart ass I see, hell, you always were.” Aaron frowned then and Marshall knew what was coming next. “How are you still alive? I saw you walk into that damn restaurant moments before it was blown to kingdom come and back.”

Marshall sighed, dropping his shirt and wondering how to explain it all. “I know you have a lot of questions, but I’m just not sure we have time to go into all the details.”

Aaron frowned. “What do you mean time? Are you going somewhere? That needs to be cleaned out properly and you might need stitches.”

Marshall stood up, and was about to reach for the custom-made pack on his back when the door swung open again. This time, the person entered swiftly, not letting the door swing open completely and Marshall had only a second to assess the man. He wore a white coat, and that might have been more believable if it wasn’t a couple of sizes too small. The man’s fight suit and military grade combat boots said he wasn’t merely a doctor doing his rounds. The silencer equipped Sig he raised was a large giveaway as well.

Marshall moved into his target as a pfft of air signaled a shot fired, and he heard Aaron gasp behind him. Marshall cursed as he slammed his elbow into the shooter’s jaw and used his left hand to lift the weapon up and away, slamming the man’s hand against the wall, even as he took a punch to his gut. He ignored the white-hot pain the strike caused his wound, and continued to attack hard and fast, looking for an opportunity to take the man down for good. It came when he sensed movement that drew his opponent’s attention for a second.

But that was all a man like him needed. He slammed his hand against the man’s throat and elation flooded his system at the choked sound the guy made as he reached both hands up to his now crushed windpipe. Marshall stepped behind him, wrapped both hands around the man’s head and wrenched in opposite directions. The sound of his neck snapping, overly loud in the sterile room.

Marshall helped the man’s body to the ground, not wanting to make too much noise and looked up at Aaron. He was staring at the man Marshall had just killed, his expression a mixture of horror and shock. Sickened that he’d had to show Aaron what he had become in such a brutal and vivid fashion, Marshall stepped closer, choosing to ignore the fact that Aaron flinched out of his way.

Aaron was visibly trembling. “You just killed that guy.”

Marshall heard the shock in Aaron’s voice, and knowing that he was to blame, he stepped in and reached up with both hands to cup Aaron’s face. “Baby, I know this is frightening and confusing as hell, and as soon as we get somewhere I can protect you, I will tell you everything. I promise. But you have to trust me. We need to go. He will send others, and he will come himself.”

“Who?” Aaron whispered, but Marshall had a feeling Aaron knew exactly who he was referring to.


Aaron jolted, fear swimming in his eyes. “He knows I’m alive? Where I am?”

Marshall nodded as he moved to grab his pack and pulled it onto his back. “I’m sorry baby, I tried to make it so you were safe, but everything’s turned to shit. Right now we need to get the hell outta here. Franklin will know I’ll come for you.”

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