Forbidden Target – A Stalker Romance Read Online Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)

She was supposed to be a target. One look, and I knew this innocent angel would never plan a terrorist attack. Canceling the hit isn’t a problem, knowing that they will just send someone else shouldn’t be either.

The closer I get to her the more I know that I won’t let anything happen to her. I’ll risk everything to make her mine and I’ll kill everyone who tries to get in my way. About Forbidden Dreams...Hot professors, devilish billionaires, irredeemable mob bosses, and off-limits rivals. They all have one thing in common… even flirting with them is strictly forbidden. Just one risqué glance will drag you into a thrilling world filled with wickedness and excitement.The Forbidden Dreams world is filled with secret crushes, filthy rich playboys, brutishly handsome grooms, and oh so grumpy bossholes. Fill your life with steamy, red-hot romance by one-clicking them all today!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



With my rifle, I lie perched on top of an apartment building, looking through my scope at the university campus below. Dread settles in the pit of my gut as I watch my mark. Something about this hit doesn’t feel right. Morgan Thomson doesn’t look like the usual targets I’m sent to eliminate. She’s much younger than I expected, probably around nineteen years old. That’s not to say that a young person couldn’t be a terrorist; anyone had the potential to be one. But nothing about this woman raises any red flags in my mind or screams danger. When I was given this assignment, I thought I was going after a disturbed outcast looking to hurt as many innocent students as they could. I hadn’t expected to see a blond bombshell who didn’t look like she’d hurt a fly.

This has to be some kind of mistake. I zoom in a little more to get a better look at her. I’m usually good at reading people, but nothing about her showcases the threat The Hotel thinks she is. I watch her as she makes her way across campus, a pair of rose gold Beats on her head as she clutches a couple of books to her chest. Her long, golden locks shimmer in the sunlight as if strands of spun gold naturally grow out of her scalp. She’s dressed in a peach-colored tank top and denim jeans that mold themselves to her body as if perfectly tailored to her curves. I zoom in even farther, homing in on her piercing blue eyes framed by long dark lashes. A light dusting of freckles is visible across her nose and cheeks, almost invisible due to her tan. Something foreign stirs in my chest when my gaze falls to her full pink pout, but I quickly rein myself in to focus on my task. The first thing they teach us in training is not to get distracted in the field, as distractions can lead to fatal consequences. If she’s the threat I’ve been sent to eliminate, I can’t afford to have my thoughts run away from me—no matter how gorgeous she is.

The longer I look at her, the more wrong this feels. The innocence radiating off her makes it hard to see her as someone who plans to blow up a school. All the intel we’ve collected so far points to her being the organizer of the alleged terrorist attack happening here on campus, but nothing about her screams danger or makes me believe that her main objective is to hurt as many people as possible.

She smiles and waves at passing students, even stopping to take a photo with a couple of students who ask her. A slight frown settles on my lips as I watch her pick up some stray pieces of trash off the ground before tossing them into a nearby trash can. She spins around a couple of times before skipping along the sidewalk in a rhythm that I imagine correlates to the music flowing from her headphones. Potential bombers don’t usually skip along the sidewalk to pop music if they plan on killing innocent people. They also don’t stop to take photos with random people, especially if they know the person may end up dead because of them. With each minute that ticks by, that nagging voice in the back of my mind grows louder.

Yeah, something definitely isn’t right about this.

I connect my earpiece to my phone and place a call to The Hotel, the shadow government organization I’m contracted with. My eyes remain on Morgan as the call rings, a million and one questions swirling around in my head. I’ve been on this rooftop since early this morning, watching Morgan move around campus, but I can’t find anything that warrants this hit. I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve second-guessed a potential mark, but my gut tells me things aren’t what they appear to be.

And I refuse to have another failed mission on my conscience if Morgan isn’t the person we’re after.

I retrieve the folder with Morgan’s information from my bag and look over it. There are pages upon pages of information gathered on her, from the other people involved with her, the potential organizations funding her, as well as potential dates for when the bombing would happen. I pause when I reach the black-and-white photos of her. She looks nervous or on edge in all the photos we have of her. She’s always looking behind her as if she has to constantly watch her back to ensure no one is on to her and her scheming. Her photos make her look as if she has something to hide, as if she’s sneaking around in preparation for something that’ll take many lives once initiated.

“This is Natalie speaking,” a soft voice says when the call finally connects, breaking me out of my thoughts.