Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 15

15

JACK

“What the hell are you doing with your phone?” Dax asked.

His put-out tone had me glancing away from my screen. “Trying to figure out what to say when I text Hannah.”

He leaned his hip against the desk, crossed his arms, which made him look like Edward Scissorhands with the garden shears he held. “You’re holding a man’s arm down so I can cut his finger off. Is now the right time?”

We were in the back office of Jimmy McFee’s bar. He owed Dax’s client a shit ton of money after betting in an underground high stakes poker game and lost. A lot. Since he hadn’t paid up, Dax was taking payment with his pinky finger.

Today, Dax had been tasked with offering the guy a payment plan that included body parts. I glanced down at the man in question, sitting awkwardly–and very nervously–in his chair. I had his wrist pinned to the desk, a pile of invoices and receipts beneath. Sweat dripped down his face as if he was in a sauna. Imminent amputation of a digit did that to a person.

“Take all the fucking time you want,” Jimmy said, curling his fingers on his pinned hand into a fist.

My grip was firm while Dax tauntingly opened and closed the blades of the shears. Neither of us gardened, but yard work wasn’t the only use for the tool.

I was helping because it was pretty hard to cut a guy’s finger off when he was moving around. No one took the time to consider what was involved, but it was a two-person task.

As for Hannah, I wanted to call her instead of text, but she was at work. The library wasn’t a hubbub of activity, but I didn’t want to disturb her while on the job. A text made more sense and I sure as hell wasn’t waiting until after five when the library closed to reach out to her. But what did I say? I’m sorry about last night. I got a call from a mob boss and had to leave? I can’t stop thinking of you? I leaned further onto the desk, pinning Jimmy’s wrist more firmly in place. He grunted in discomfort and probably panic.

I’d be losing my shit if I was soon going to be nicknamed Jimmy Nine Fingers.

“You’re one to talk, Jimmy,” Dax said. “Taking too long is what got you into this mess.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” I snapped. “I don’t want to wait too long to get back to her.” The words were more feral growl than general conversation.

Dax held up his hands in defense, which was ironic since he was holding a pair of shears. “That dinner sounded like getting shot in the foot would be less painful. ”

I’d given him a highlight reel of what went down the night before.

“I’m not interested in her family,” I told him over Jimmy’s head. “I’m interested in Hannah.”

“Sure, but right now?” he countered.

“What’s the emoji again for fucking?” I asked, ignoring him. My thumb scrolled through the options. Would Hannah like that or was it too much, too soon? She’d admitted she wanted to be railed. I’d admitted I wanted to rail her. Hmm. Was there a railroad track emoji? That would work. Or would she have no clue what it meant?

Both men stared at me.

“Emoji for fucking? I have no idea. I’m not a college coed,” Dax grumbled, seriously annoyed.

“There isn’t an emoji for it,” Jimmy offered. He seemed to be sweating a little less now that Dax wasn’t making snipping sounds with the shears. “You need to use the OK hand sign and a pointer finger together. Or the eggplant and water droplets. Or a peach.”

“What’s the water droplets for? Jizz?” Dax winced. “I’m guessing, Jimmy, that you’re single because I don’t think any woman’s going to want that emoji in a text.”

“Jesus, not jizz.” Jimmy shook his head. “It’s to indicate a wet pussy. Or that she squirts.”

Squirts? That hadn’t come up in the book Hannah and I had read on the plane, but I wasn’t ruling it out in others in the series. I wondered if Hannah had ever squirted before.

Bad thought. No. I didn’t want to think of her with another guy, especially one who got her to do that. It made me fucking furious. If anyone was going to make her come so hard she squirted, it was going to be me .

Challenge accepted.

“Fine, no water drops. What would you say to a woman you’re interested in?” I asked Jimmy.

“Seriously?” Dax sighed, running his free hand down his face and sighed. “Interested? Next, it’ll be dinner and a movie. Kissing and making out and second base bullshit. We’re cutting a man’s finger off and you’re talking like a fucking teenager.”

I didn’t disagree. I needed help and not the kind from a mental health professional. I’d never had to talk to a woman before. Sex had always been transactional, light on the conversation. Nothing more. I was a decent looking guy. I had money. I’d never had to do more than crook my finger to have a few hours of fun. Often enough, I never even got the woman’s name. She never went to my apartment. Rarely went to hers.

Did it make me an asshole? Not when expectations were set up front. There were women who were only interested in a quick fuck, who didn’t want personal history to go along with a skilled dick.

Hannah was different. The pull I had to her was unexplainable. The air between us was literally electrified. Why her? It made no sense, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to fuck the hell out of her, no question, but I wanted more than that. I wanted her. I never imagined the whole picket fence thing before, but if Hannah was standing behind that fence, I was game. Thus, the stupid-ass texting questions.

“My advice?” Dax offered. “Skip the fucking emojis. Like I said, you’re not a coed.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, his eyes bouncing between me and Dax like a ball at a tennis match. “I have three ex-wives, so I’m not the best one to ask.” He looked a little more afraid. “I don’t want you circling back to me if it doesn’t work out.”

“How about this?” I asked Jimmy, leaning in and meeting his anxious gaze. “You help me come up with something good to text my new girl and I’ll keep my friend Dax here from taking that finger today. I can’t guarantee he won’t return though.”

Dax groaned and dropped the shears on the desk with a clatter.

I thought I saw tears in Jimmy’s eyes. Dax’s too since he wasn’t going to complete the job he’d been hired to do.

“Deal.”