Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 26

26

JACK

As promised, I texted Hannah during the day with my address. I didn’t take any of Jimmy Almost-Nine Fingers suggestions and did my own thing. Fortunately, it worked because she’d unblocked me and written back, telling me Mrs. Metcalf had volunteered to close the library for her, so she was able to arrive earlier than I anticipated.

This was a good thing because I was fucking eager to see my girl. It was a bad thing because it meant showing up at the restaurant earlier than I expected. More time where Hannah and an arms dealer were in the same establishment.

Per Nitro, Turkleman spent his day in his hotel suite working. He had guards at the door and probably more inside we couldn’t see from tapping into the security cameras. It seemed illegal weapons traders had conference calls like every other businessman and they kept him busy until dinner. He had reservations at a popular Denver restaurant at five-fifteen to make it to the ballgame when it started at seven.

That meant my window to finish the job was about an hour.

And as I opened the door to the restaurant for her, that clock started.

“Um, am I dressed right for this place?” she whispered, leaning close. Her soft scent made my dick stir, which was a problem.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered in her ear, then kissed her temple.

I’d met Hannah in the garage of my building, the doorman having notified me that she was here. Instead of taking her upstairs to strip her out of her pretty blue dress and find out what kind of sexy panties she had on–which was what I wanted to do instead of going out to dinner and killing Turkleman–I had her leave her overnight bag in her car, led her to mine and drove to the restaurant.

I shared the fake last name I used for the reservation. I hadn’t told my real one to Hannah and with a large group coming in the doors behind us, I doubted that she heard.

“My friend Dax recommended this place, although, he probably knows which fork to use better than me.”

The place was high end, most likely with tiny, rabbit sized portions, lots of sauces and a wine and liquor menu longer than Cheesecake Factory’s. Knowing her favorite restaurant was a hole in the wall pizza joint, I could see why Hannah felt out of place. No one but a snooty grandmother or a pompous arms dealer would find this place charming or relaxed .

As we followed the hostess to our table, my hand at the small of Hannah’s back, I caught sight of Turkleman. His table was against the back wall, and he had two other men with him. Based on their size and similar suit choices as Joey Brains and Eyebrows, I took them for his guards.

I settled Hannah in the seat that gave Turkleman her back and when I sat across from her, I had a clear view of him eating oysters on the half shell. From Nitro’s report and photos, he was sixty-one, bald, and had virile Mediterranean ancestors. If Telly Savalas and someone’s Italian nonni got together, they’d have made this guy.

I barely glanced at the menu before I set it down. These kinds of restaurants always had steak.

I studied Hannah as she looked over the menu. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, with tendrils framing her face. Her dark eyes were enhanced with makeup and her lips were glossy and shiny in the soft light. She was so fucking pretty that it hurt. Why was she sitting with me? How had I even caught her interest? Sure, I’d gotten her off with my fingers, but I liked to think I was more of a catch than only sex-skilled.

A basket of homemade focaccia and a ramekin of butter were set between us.

Hannah set her menu down and looked my way.

“Tell me about Dax,” she said, taking a slice of the salt topped bread, she used her knife to smear a healthy coating of butter onto it. She picked off a piece and put it in her mouth.

I watched as she licked a spot of butter off her thumb.

“What?” I asked, transfixed .

“Dax,” she prompted, then stuffed the piece in her mouth. She moaned and chewed. “God, so good.”

Fuck. I had a hard on from watching her eat bread and listening to her practically have an orgasm over dairy. I grabbed a piece for myself. I didn’t skimp on the butter either and shoved half of it in my mouth. Over her shoulder, Turkleman was talking, gesticulating with his arms in a way that indicated he was talking about baseball or killing someone with a club.

“We met in elementary school,” I said, after swallowing. The bread was fucking good. “His dad had a fighting gym and since my mom worked all the time, I hung out there. When we weren’t off getting into trouble. We’re still best friends.”

“I can see you as a kid.”

“Oh yeah?” I wondered.

She nodded. “I bet you were adorable in the child-sized suits.”

I gave her a look that told her I wasn’t amused, but I really was.

“Your mom raised you on her own?” she asked.

As I answered, she buttered another piece of bread. “My father walked out when I was eight. She didn’t have much choice but to work two, sometimes three jobs. Because of that, I didn’t see her much. Then she died. I lived with Dax and his dad, so I didn’t go into the system.”

The smile was gone from her face, but I didn’t see pity in her eyes. She passed me the buttered bread slice. I took it from her, our fingers brushing. The static electricity was back with a little zap.

“So the suits are a new thing? ”

I shrugged, took a bite. “Dress for the job you want, isn’t that the saying?”

“You really are a mortician then.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing that exciting. Dax and I run a company that helps high end clients problem solve.” That was my standard line. Most people nodded and didn’t ask more. Not Hannah.

“What kinds of problems?” she asked.

Turkleman stood. He wore a white dress shirt and sports coat, no tie. From across the room, I could see the patch of dark chest hair peeking out of the open collar. He cut across the restaurant toward the bathrooms.

Now was my chance.

I looked to Hannah, offered her a small smile. “I have to use the restroom. Be right back.”

She nodded. I stood, then headed off to kill a man, a slice of Hannah-buttered bread in my hand.