Ms. CEO’s Baby Daddy Is the Merchant of Death Episode 1

📖 The Story Continues

The highway unspooled beneath Connor Reed’s headlights like a black ribbon with no end. At three in the morning, there were no witnesses, no traffic, and nowhere for an enemy to hide. That was exactly why he liked the night shift. To anyone passing him, he was only a broad-shouldered trucker hauling freight in a battered Peterbilt, not the man who controlled Dominion Tech, a multibillion-dollar arms empire feared across the world.

His phone vibrated against the console for the third time. Connor glanced at Cypher’s name and answered with a curse, warning his lieutenant that one more interruption during a long haul might end with a semi rolling over his face. Cypher took the threat in stride. He had heard worse from the almighty head of Dominion Tech, particularly since Connor had traded tailored suits and armored convoys for denim, grease, and lonely highways.

Connor had not abandoned his empire; he was keeping it alive by disappearing. Someone with money, soldiers, and access to his movements had been trying to kill him, and every familiar luxury had become a target. Until he identified the traitor, the cab of an old truck was safer than any fortress. If he survived the hunt, perhaps he could finally step out of the shadows and discover what ordinary men did with peaceful lives.

Cypher’s tone sharpened before Connor could end the call. Their people had found the man behind the attacks, but the details were drowned beneath the shriek of brakes and a figure bursting into the road. Connor slammed his boot down, wrenching the wheel as a woman stumbled through the glare of his headlights. The Peterbilt shuddered to a stop barely feet from her.

The woman looked as though she had fought her way out of hell. Her elegant clothes were disordered, fear brightened her eyes, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Behind her, armed men crashed through the darkness and shouted that they had found her. Connor did not know her name or why they wanted her, but he recognized the raw terror of someone who had run out of places to escape.

She yanked open the passenger door and climbed into the cab. “Drive,” she ordered, offering him whatever price he wanted if he could lose the men pursuing her. Connor caught a glimpse of headlights racing toward them in the mirror. Questions could wait; survival never did.

The truck roared forward as their pursuers opened fire. Bullets struck metal, each impact ringing through the cab, while the stranger braced one hand against the dashboard. She demanded to know whether the Peterbilt could move any faster. Connor reminded her that six cylinders and several tons of steel were not the same as a Ferrari, but she shoved a handful of cash toward him as if money could rewrite the laws of machinery.

Despite himself, Connor almost smiled. “Let’s see what she can do,” he said, dropping gears and forcing the engine beyond anything its manufacturer had intended. The cab shook hard enough to rattle their teeth. Behind them, the pursuing vehicle gained ground, its headlights flooding the mirrors with white fire.

A concrete wall rose ahead where the road narrowed. The woman shouted a warning, certain he had trapped them, but Connor waited until the final heartbeat before spinning the wheel. The trailer swung wide with terrifying force and clipped the attackers’ path. Their vehicle veered away as the Peterbilt scraped through the opening in a shower of sparks.

Connor fought the wheel until the truck straightened. The pursuing headlights vanished, leaving only the growl of the engine and the stranger’s stunned breathing. He let out a triumphant shout, the reckless exhilaration of survival burning through him. For a few precious seconds, he was not a hunted king or a disguised killer; he was simply a man who had beaten death again.

When he finally pulled into an isolated stretch of land, silence closed around the cab. Connor checked the mirrors twice before declaring them safe. The woman did not answer. The fierce determination that had carried her into his truck was fading, replaced by pallor and a tremor she could no longer conceal.

She said she needed to lie down, then asked him to hold her. Connor caught her before she could collapse and guided her into the sleeper compartment behind the seats. Her skin felt far too warm beneath his hands. He told her the danger was over, keeping his voice low even as instinct warned him that something was wrong.

The stranger pressed closer instead of relaxing. Heat rolled from her body, and each breath seemed more unsteady than the last. Connor offered to call a doctor, but she refused immediately. Whatever had happened before she reached the highway had left her frightened, feverish, and desperate for something she could not explain.

Then she looked directly at him and said she did not need a doctor. She needed him. The blunt hunger in her voice sent a dangerous current through the narrow compartment. Connor had noticed her beauty from the moment the headlights caught her face, but attraction was one thing and taking advantage of a shaken woman was another.

He tried to put distance between them. She closed it, gripping his shirt and pulling him near enough that her breath warmed his mouth. Connor warned that they should not do this, searching her expression for uncertainty. Instead, she answered with complete conviction that she knew exactly what she wanted.

He asked once more if she was sure. Her impatient reply erased the last of his restraint, and she kissed him before he could say anything else. The terror of the chase transformed into a different kind of urgency, fierce and consuming. In the confined darkness of the sleeper, two strangers clung to each other as though the night had stripped away every reason to be cautious.

Connor had spent years training himself to feel nothing he could not control. Yet the woman in his arms reached past every defense without even knowing his name. Her touch made him remember that beneath the rumors, weapons, and blood, he was still capable of wanting something warm. That realization disturbed him more than the armed men who had chased them.

For Scarlett Hayes, the stranger was an anchor in a night that had become a nightmare. He had appeared rough, sarcastic, and infuriatingly calm, but he had risked his life without asking who she was or what reward she could offer. She did not know why safety felt like the hard line of his body or why his guarded eyes seemed lonelier than her own. She only knew she could not bear to let him go yet.

Hours later, the highway lay silent beneath the paling sky. Scarlett slept beside him, unaware that the supposed truck driver could summon armies with a single call. Connor watched her face and felt an unfamiliar reluctance tighten in his chest. For once, the life he had chosen seemed painfully empty.

Then his phone lit up with Cypher’s encrypted message. The location of the man hunting him waited on the screen, along with a narrow chance to end the war before it reached the woman sleeping beside him. Connor looked from the message to Scarlett and understood that dawn would force a choice. If he stayed, his enemies might find her; if he left, he might never see his mysterious girl again.