Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 39

39

HANNAH

It was always extra quiet in the library after Storytime finished. The void the group of toddlers left behind after they picked out books with their grownups was always pleasant. The hour-long program was its own form of birth control for me. It was a weekly prompt that I wasn’t ready. So when the last finally left, I took my lunch break in the back room and read in peace and quiet.

Did he want kids? He’d had a brand-new box of condoms that we made a huge dent in, indicating I was a foregone conclusion, but also that he made birth control something he took responsibility for and made it a high priority.

Today, my mind was occupied with Jack. The day before, we spent the day together, reading and making out on the couch, until I had to leave to drive back to Coal Springs. I had to work this morning and I hadn’t brought extra clothes to stay with him a second night.

After only either eating out or from food deliveries from Denver restaurants, I wanted to make him dinner. It was something a girlfriend did. We’d never put labels on what we were, but he called me his girl and his good girl, so I felt messing up his kitchen might be okay with him. I’d never done it on a counter before, so maybe I could be his appetizer.

I couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

I had a piece of notepaper on the desk beside my leftover salmon–the one from dinner the other night we never got to finishing, for very good reasons–that I was jotting down what I needed from the store. I wasn’t the best cook, but I didn’t have the money to eat out all the time.

Then it had me wondering about his stomach issues. Was he gluten free? Did he have lactose intolerance? I didn’t want to make something that would bother him, so I would have to ask him. Lots of sex and reading about sex made me forget.

I grinned a little more.

Maybe tacos. I assumed he ate tacos. Who didn’t? I could do corn tortillas and skip the cheese. I didn’t want to make him the kind using the little seasoning packet and a jar of generic Americanized salsa, so I would go and find a cookbook in the non-fiction section and pore over a few recipe books for a more authentic option.

As I was wondering if Jack liked things spicy–in the kitchen, not the bedroom because I knew very well he liked it caliente –I heard someone behind me. Whipping around in my chair, I glanced through the glass window to the circulation desk to see who it was, but motion out of the corner of my eye had me turning further.

What the–

It was the man from the airplane. Not Jack. Not the one shaped like a beer keg with the BO. The other one. The farter. The one who’d helped me with my suitcase, called me doll and smelled like a bottle of cheap cologne.

In a suit, he looked respectable-ish, but it was the look in his eye that had my hair standing on end.

I stood, suddenly uncomfortable.

Because I’d been having my lunch, I hadn’t paid attention to who else was in the library. It was possible we were all alone.

“Um, hi. Your friend Jack isn’t here,” I said, rubbing my hands together in front of me. Looking at him made me nervous. Wait. How had he found me? Had Jack told him? If he didn’t, then how–

“Good.”

Good? This was so not good.

I blinked, then moved to the right, away from him. He followed.

“Did you um, want me to give him a call?” I asked, making sure he knew I could have Jack on the phone in seconds. “Tell him you’re here? Were you supposed to meet?”

We talked about a lot of things during our time together, but we still hadn’t talked about his work. He’d distracted me with his dick. And his mouth. And with his hands. And with his very snuggly body on his couch. He never once brought up the men from the plane. I hadn’t thought about them again to even ask .

“Listen, doll, let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

“Make what difficult?” I asked, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

“I’ll make this painless.”

Blood rushed out of my head, and I began to shake. The hair on my arms rose. On my neck, too. The cloying scent of his cologne was filling the room, making me nauseated. I sneezed. Or maybe it was whatever it was he planned to do to me that would, I was sure, not be painless.

Reaching out, I grabbed the scissors off the table we used to laminate and cover books. A painful zap of static practically arched between the metal and my fingers. I held them in front of me. It wasn’t the best weapon, but they were sharp.

“Cute.” He grinned. I hadn’t noticed the gold incisor when he was on the plane. He pulled a gun from behind his back, probably tucked in the back of his pants.

Oh, this was bad.

“What… what do you want?”

“You dead. I saw a cute chocolate shop on the way in, so I want to stop in and see if they have any caramels for after.”

I knew the place. “They do have good caramels. I’ve even got a punch card for the place I’ll give you if you don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

He cocked his head. “About what?”

About what? I couldn’t think clearly. “I don’t know. Why do you want me dead?”

“Jack’s taken a shining to you. You must be pretty fucking hot in the sack even though you’re a librarian and wear sensible shoes.”

I glanced down at my sandals. They were comfortable, not strappy or sexy. Still, the guy was a dick for pointing that out. No question he was single.

“You’re… you’re going to shoot me?” I glanced through the glass window to the empty lobby area. “Someone’s going to come in. This is a public space.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a library. Who the fuck comes to the library?”

He insulted my shoes and my job? I was scared, but I was also furious.

While the scissors weren’t an ax, I tossed them like one. One of the bars in town had a hatchet tossing area and I’d gone once with Brittany. They hit his chest and the tip sunk in an inch or so, although the weight of them had them falling onto the floor.

“Ow, fuck!” he swore, putting his free hand over the small hole in his dress shirt that was beginning to trickle blood.

He set the gun down on the table beside my grocery list and came at me with a growl.

I swerved to the left, but he caught my shoulder and pulled me in front of him. More static, but I barely felt the tingle of it for how scared I was. His hands went to my throat and squeezed. Holy shit. I was going to die.

I was going to die.

My skin started to tingle, and I felt sparks of electricity through my palms where I tugged at his grip.

Why was there no one coming into the library? Why did I ever want peace and quiet ?

Why was he doing this? What had I done? Jack! I needed Jack.

I wouldn’t get to make him the tacos! I was so angry about dying like this. I survived a brain tumor only to be strangled? No way.

The small amount of air I could breathe was scented with bad cologne. Beneath his grasp, I sneezed. Then there was a sizzle.

And I was no longer in the library, but in international aisle of the grocery store staring at salsas.