Ruthless the puck boys o.., p.1
Ruthless (The Puck Boys of Brooks University), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Hannah Gray
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.authorhannahgray.com
Cover Designer: Sarah Grim Sentz, Enchanted Romance Designs
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
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.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Playlist
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
Epilogue
Other Books by Hannah Gray
Acknowledgments
About the Author
“Castle” by Halsey
“Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani
“Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone
“The Crow & the Butterfly” by Shinedown
“Heartless” by The Weeknd
“Loud and Heavy” by Cody Jinks
“Staring at the Sun” by Jason Aldean
“Shallow” by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper
“Lies Lies Lies” by Morgan Wallen
“Unsteady” by X Ambassadors
“Close to You” by Gracie Abrams
“Broken” by Seether, featuring Amy Lee
“Black Cadillac” by Shinedown
“Pretty Little Poison” by Warren Zeiders
I’ve been shot at many times. I’ve been nicked or grazed with a bullet too. That hurt like a bitch. A mean, bitter, coldhearted bitch. But this? This is different.
I don’t feel anything. Well, besides one thing.
Death. This feels like death. At least what I imagine dying feels like.
It should hurt.
Why doesn’t it hurt?
The fact that it doesn’t hurt makes me thankful in a way. Because I know when she died … she didn’t feel a thing—that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. But how can I know for sure? They say time heals all wounds. But six years later, I feel like I’m just reliving that same day.
I was never going to win this war. That’s something I’ve realized in the past few seconds. Though I think somewhere deep down, I’ve known it all along. With people as powerful as the Romano family or Beckett Benson, I was never meant to come out on top. But the further I got into this quest, the more wrapped up I became in it all. I became obsessed with being the hero. No, being her hero.
Briar James made this entire mission one thousand times more complicated than it was supposed to be. All by just being here. And by being herself.
Like tree roots in the ground, spreading their way through the soil, that’s how this world is. Every deal I’ve witnessed, every crime I’ve seen committed, has brought me further and further in. And now? I’m no better than the rest of these cocksuckers. Why? Because I stood by so many of them. Not stopping them because I truly didn’t think I had the power to do so.
Take an already-impossible task and then add her. Briar came into the mix, and I knew this was a suicide mission for me. Because despite how fucked up things have become, I couldn’t leave her.
The room begins to spin, and my vision blurs. And as much as I want to fight the darkness that so badly wants to take over and try to stay alert, I begin to fall headfirst into the land of nothingness. Drifting off into a serene space, and I’ll admit, it feels nice. Because right now, I’m so fucking tired. And maybe, if I let myself go … I’ll see her again.
My body suddenly feels heavy, like I’m stuck here in this spot. I feel like I weigh a million pounds as I slowly begin sinking into the floor. A warm, tingly feeling spreads across my chest.
Blood. That must be blood.
“Hudson!” my sweet Dove screams, reminding me she’s here. “Hudson! Wake up!”
I feel so torn. On one hand, she’s here. And I don’t want to leave her. On the other hand … I know my first true love is waiting for me. I’ve betrayed her by falling for Briar James, but I think she’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway.
Her voice isn’t calming like it usually is. Instead, she sounds scared. No, traumatized. I try to open my eyes to assure her I’m okay, even though I know I’m not, but it’s useless. And the more I panic, scared that I’ll never see her beautiful face again, the further I fall into this pit of nothingness.
I should have saved her from this place. And from these awful people. We could be on a beach right now. Sitting in the sand while she works in her sketchbook with those fancy colored pencils I got her, sipping a girlie drink. I imagine her in a bikini, her hair blowing in the breeze as she runs toward the ocean. I can hear her laughing, even though I know it’s all in my mind. Still, somehow, the thought of her happy keeps me calm, knowing I’m about to die.
Her scent faintly hits my nose, and she lays her head on my chest and cups my cheek. “I love you,” her sweet voice cries. “Stay with me, Hudson. Please, don’t leave me here alone.”
Even though I know it’s wrong and I’ve fought it off for weeks, I want to tell her that there’s nothing more I’d love in this world than to stay with her. Forever. I want to say I love you too. That way, she knows. Because I’ve never gotten the chance to tell her. I’ve known it for a while now, but I was too fucking scared to say the words out loud. Too ashamed because I felt guilty about loving another woman who wasn’t my wife. Now that I want to yell out the words, everything fades to darkness, and I know I won’t get the chance.
She will never know.
And just like my first go-around with love, I’ve failed. It’s all I seem to do.
I never wanted our love story to end like this, yet here we are. And if I could go back and change it all … I wouldn’t. If protecting her means dying, I’d do it. Every. Fucking. Time.
Four Months Earlier
I reach my hand inside my pocket, and my fingertips touch the chain and the pendant that hangs from it. It’s only for a second, and then I pull my hand away. But it’s enough to remind me of the man who gave it to me, telling me it would keep me safe. My dad.
I remember the day vividly. I was just a kid who didn’t have a clue how much it meant to him or why. And even now, half the time, I want to bury it somewhere deep in the ground, where it can never be found. Because it might have kept me safe for most of my life, but it should have been keeping someone else safe. Instead, I kept it for myself, and I’m here, and they aren’t.
Folding my arms over my chest, I keep my eyes focused and my shoulders relaxed. I need to look like I’ve been in this situation hundreds of times. Thousands even. I need to act like I belong in this room. Because as far as every motherfucker in here knows, I do. I need to seem like I am just like them.
Fearless. Soulless. Merciless.
Ruthless.
Whatever the fuck other words have less at the end, in their eyes, I am it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here, watching one of the largest drug deals I’ve ever witnessed happening before my eyes.
I’ve worked some events for the man who brought me here—Beckett Benson. A plastic surgeon who’s widely known as Dr. Boobs because of how many sets of implants the man has given women. I’ve also traveled with him on a few business trips. I’ve met his wife a few times—who definitely got the family discount and had some watermelons installed.
When he called me a week ago to offer me this job, he didn’t give me details. All I know is that he, his wife, and his niece, whom I’ve never met, landed in Italy this morning, and he told me he’d fill me in on the rest when we met up. Until then, he offered me up to work a shift for his thug Italian friends during a drug deal. And seeing’s I’m an undercover agent investigating not only the Romano family, but also Dr. Boobs himself, it was the perfect opportunity.
In settings like this, I’m known as Hudson Hercules, the newest protector of some of the Mafia’s fiercest dudes, brought in by US reality star and plastic surgeon Beckett Benson. Who certainly isn’t the good guy the television paints him to be. Well, aside from him being responsible for installing many, many sets of tits. And fake or not, who doesn’t love a nice set of tits?
For a while now, some of the most powerful families in the US have deemed me a trustworthy guard who takes no shit and will protect his clients at all costs. And now, here I am in Italy, working with some of the most despicable human beings I’ve ever seen.
I stand here
Beckett has more money and power in the States than he could ever need. Yet it still isn’t enough for him. No, he needs to build connections here too. Putting his wife’s and now his niece’s lives in jeopardy. And in his head, he thinks he’s got Dillion Rossi—a longtime friend of mine and also an undercover agent—and me on his side too. He brought us here to protect him and his niece. Little does he know, us being here was all part of the plan to take him and every other man and woman involved in this drug cartel down. Everything has slowly fallen into place, landing us here in Italian territory.
I know the risk of going undercover with villains like this. Most days, I wake up and wonder if I’ll ever see my family or friends again. I worry that my mother will receive a phone call that her only child is dead.
Who am I kidding? With the people I’m running with now, no one will ever be able to confirm if I’m dead or not. I’ll just vanish without a trace—the way so many others in my situation have.
The thing with this line of work is, it can become a suicide mission before you can say the words oh shit. But I have to take one for the team and play the part. Shutting down these gangsters and protecting anyone else from getting hurt—it’s going to take time. I’m just not sure how much.
Living a double life isn’t easy. And being Agent Hudson Hale one day and security guard Hudson Hercules, protector of evil, the next is a lot.
But when I was a kid, my own father was shot simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, killed by thugs. And not just any thugs, but those working for the Romanos.
So, taking down these monsters isn’t a choice; I decided that I had to do it a long time ago. And seeing as I don’t have anyone at home waiting for me anymore, I don’t mind taking on the most dangerous jobs.
The degree of Beckett Benson’s involvement with the Romanos is still in question. But we know his family has been dipping their toes in illegal affairs to make money and gain power for decades, and now, he’s tied himself to the Romanos too. I already have enough evidence on Beckett to put him behind bars for a long-ass time. But I need him to lead me deeper into this mission. To gain more intel and put Marco Romano and his son, Enzo, away for life. Because pieces of shit like them? They don’t belong in this world, roaming free. And if I had it my way, they’d both be dead.
And hopefully, once this mission is over, that’s exactly what will happen.
“You are an honest man, Dr. Benson,” Marco Romano coos, looking me up and down in a way that makes me want to vomit all over his expensive suit that I think he might have soaked in the world’s strongest cologne. “She is a beautiful woman.”
My skin crawls as he continues to rake his eyes over my body. I want to rip his eyeballs from his head and then run out of here and catch a plane back to the shithole I grew up in. Because even a run-down, rat-infested shack in Georgia sounds better than this. Heck, a trash can sounds better than this right now. Just call me Oscar.
Finally, Beckett and Marco walk to the corner of the room, whispering back and forth, and I gaze around at the photos on the wall, taking in the pictures of his family. Somehow, every one of them makes them seem normal.
I’ve played dumb for weeks, ever since it was brought to my attention that I was going to have to travel to Italy and marry into one of the most powerful and evil families over here—the Romanos. I’ve feigned ignorance because of two reasons. One, since I was a child, I’ve wondered why my mother ran away from home at a young age to escape her parents. And why her brother, my uncle Beckett, not only stayed, but still praises his parents to this day. And, two, I have a feeling my uncle is wrapped up in some bad, bad shit. And as ignorant as it might sound now that I’m physically here and I can see how deep I’m in this, I thought I could maybe take him down for whatever crimes he was committing. Now, I’m wondering how on earth I could have been so naive to think it would be as simple as showing up here, pretending I’m some sort of badass detective, and figuring it all out.
I was trying to be a tough bitch. Now, I just want to go home, put on my sweatpants, and watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns—only the ones before McDreamy dies.
My mother and my father passed away years ago when they overdosed. They had not been perfect people by any means. Their flaws ran deep, and their demons were dark. But they’d loved me and my brother, Walker, more than anything. And I know they wanted to get clean and sober for us. They just couldn’t do it. But part of me has always wondered if, deep down, my mom’s demons were born because of her childhood. And because her brother, Beckett, still lives similar to how my mom grew up … I felt compelled to fall into my uncle’s trap and see what he was doing behind the scenes. Even though I know how stupid that is.
“All righty, missy,” Uncle Beckett drawls in his thick Southern accent. “Time to go meet your fiancé.”
“Great,” I utter as I try to hide my gulp, and my heart begins to race. There really is no going back now.
I feel like every person, at one point in their life, has done something they can look back at and say, Why did I think that was a good idea? Or, How on earth did I ever believe that could work?
Yeah, that’s me right now. And I wish I could click my heels together three times and be back in the United States.
I follow them out of Marco’s office and down a long hallway on shaky feet. I do not know what the hell I’m in for next, but I know I’ve put myself in an impossible situation. One that could have been avoided if I had just let the past be in the past and been more like my younger brother, Walker.
Walker has always done whatever he had to do to keep our uncle at arm’s length. He’s never trusted him—rightfully so. And he’s paved his own path. He lives just a few miles from Sunset Drive, where we grew up, and attends Brooks University in Georgia. He’s playing hockey as the Wolves’ newest center. He’s living his dream while I’m putting myself directly in the middle of a nightmare.
But I won’t be able to wake myself up from this nightmare, like I do with the others I often have.
As Marco pushes the door open, my eyes take in the man who has his cheek pressed into the wooden desk and a gun to his back. Even from here, I can tell he’s sweating and panicked.
“Where the fuck is the rest of it, Andre?” a man with thick black hair growls, pressing the barrel of the gun against him harder. “Did you save it for yourself to shoot up? You greedy fucking piece of shit.”
My stomach churns, and I feel sick. But I keep my composure because Beckett warned me in the car ride from the airport that if I act like I’m scared, I’ll make him look like a fool. And if I run, these are the type of people who would find me and kill me without flinching. So, I keep my face unchanged as best I can, and I try to pretend like there isn’t a dude about to get killed in front of my eyes. Maybe if I stare long enough, my mind will convince me it’s just like I’m watching an episode of CSI or True Crime.
“Enzo, son,” Marco says, keeping his voice calm, though it’s laced with warning, “let someone else handle this. Your guest has arrived.”
His eyes don’t lift right away but instead slowly rise until he’s looking me dead in mine. All the while, he keeps his gun positioned at the man’s back with so much force that it has to hurt.
His eyes are dark. So dark that they are almost black. Despite being a monster, he is attractive. But that doesn’t take away from the one gaze from him that makes me feel ill. Because those eyes? They are pure evil.
“Hercules,” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes solely on me. “Take this man out back and finish him off.”
“Yes, sir,” a deep, calm voice says like it’s a completely normal thing being asked of him. Nothing to see here, just your usual … finish him off type of stuff.
When the man comes from behind the others, grabbing the dude who was about to be shot by the arm before hauling him backward, I can’t stop staring at him, wondering what is going to happen next, even though I already know. He’s going to kill him. And to be honest, he seems completely unfazed by that.
I look at the Hercules man directly in his face to search for any sense of compassion, but I find none. His eyes never look my way. Not once. His shirt stretches across his chest and shoulders, hugging his muscles in a way that makes my heart speed up. He’s covered in tattoos, and his dirty-blond hair falls perfectly on his head. His skin is sun-kissed, and his lips are full, but not so much that they are too big for his face. A face that has stubble on it.
