Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 42

42

HANNAH

I stared at Jack, my brain not processing.

“What?” I whispered, not able to get the word to come out any louder. I eyed the guy on the ground, then Jack. I’d never seen him like this before. Angry. Wild. It was all directed at me and not in a sexy sort of way. Then somehow my synapses started to fire. “You’re a hitman? ”

A hitman killed people for a living. Oh my God. The guy I’d fallen for, who I’d had lots and lots of amazing sex with, was a murderer. Mrs. Metcalf and Brittany were going to feel really fucking bad when I told them.

“Who sent you? What’s your angle?” he snarled. He set his hands on my shoulders, squeezed, pulling my attention back to him.

Dax, Jack had called him by name, the friend he’d mentioned, stepped closer and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a crisp suit, like Jack. Was a suit a hitman’s uniform? Obviously, Dax wasn’t fazed by what was going on. He’d said they were business partners, so was he a killer, too? The answer was yes since he’d just hit someone with his car.

“My angle?” I sputtered. What was he talking about? “You think I kill people? Four months ago, I had a brain tumor and was dying. I’m all for keeping people alive, thanks.”

“Jack, Paul Reggiano called,” Dax said, cutting me off. “Gave me a heads up that his father wasn’t satisfied with your work. Or that you quit. Would’ve been nice to hear about that.”

Jack eyed me for another few seconds, then turned his head toward Dax. “Turkleman’s dead. What can’t he be satisfied about? Plus, I quit after the job.”

“I told you not to stall,” Dax scolded, although Jack didn’t look the least bit contrite as they did a stare-off. “And since when did you quit ?”

Jack tipped his head my way.

“Oh,” Dax muttered.

“Reggiano sent Eyebrows to kill me.” Jack looked back to me. “But who sent you?”

I blinked. Was it possible to have a heart attack from freaking out? It was pounding so hard I was surprised they couldn’t hear it. “Jesus, are you even listening? Sent me? I drove myself from Coal Springs. I’m not a hitman!” I shouted. My hair raised on my arms in a familiar and now scary way. “I’m a librarian.”

“I think Reggiano’s too misogynistic to send a woman for a hit,” Dax commented. I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or pleased he was defending me .

“No one would see her coming. I didn’t,” Jack stated.

I felt like I’d been the one tossed across the garage. He really thought I was a hitman. That everything we’d done since the plane had been planned.

“You’re an idiot!” I yelled in his face.

He’d tracked me down.

He’d gone to my parents.

He’d seduced me.

He couldn’t see any of that though.

“Then how did you know he’d be waiting down here for me?”

“Because the other one from the plane came to the library to kill me, you jackass!”

“What?” Jack’s posture went ramrod straight.

I nodded.

The other man swore.

Jack murmured to Dax. “I need to get her out of here.”

I ducked beneath his arm and moved away from him. I could’ve tossed him aside with my Wonder Woman powers, but what would that do besides validate his foolish thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m going home.”

“It’s not safe,” Jack advised.

I arched a brow. “Oh, and I thought I was a hitman sent to kill you.”

Dax chuckled and both Jack and I glared his way.

“Until I figure out who you’re working for, you’re sticking with me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, indignant. “Aren’t you afraid I might kill you in your sleep?”

Dax all out laughed this time .

While Jack would be very disappointed when he found out I really did work for the city of Coal Springs as a boring librarian, he had a point about me being in danger. I hadn’t killed the guy who’d come to the library to murder me, unlike the guy on the ground not twenty feet away. He hadn’t finished his job. If he wasn’t in a mental health facility because I teleported on him, he’d probably come back.

But I wasn’t going anywhere with Jack. “I really like being alive, so I’ll go with him . He seems to be able to keep me safe.” I pointed to the body on the ground, then Dax. I didn’t miss the smirk on his face.

They stayed quiet as I went around the front of the car, then stopped right before I fell over the awkwardly sprawled dead body. Shit. SHIT! Carefully, I stepped over him and climbed into Dax’s car, slamming the door shut behind me.

Through the window, I saw the men talking. Then Jack went to the driver’s door and climbed in.

“Wait. I’m going with Dax.” I reached for the door handle to get out, but he flicked the locks. “Jack!”

He put the car in reverse, looked over his shoulder, and did a quick one-eighty in an empty parking spot. In seconds, we were out of the garage and weaving through traffic on a busy Denver street.

“I’m not going with you!”

“Looks like you are, gorgeous.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he said, teeth clenched. His grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled. His gaze shifted from the road ahead to the various mirrors. “Where you can tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Me? ME? I’m guessing you don’t have a lactose intolerance problem after all.”

I crossed my arms and fumed. I’d driven like a crazy woman to get to Denver as quick as possible to warn Jack. I’d been right to do so since the plane guy had been there to kill him, but still. He didn’t say thanks and then rail me over the hood of his car as a reward. He didn’t kiss me or even eye fuck me.

“Wait, you didn’t have intestinal problems. What were you really doing at that restaurant? It wasn’t to take me on a date, was it?”

He didn’t say anything, only clenched his jaw.

“Wow. Wow. ” I felt tears coming on and I blinked hard, willing them away. I was not crying over this. Over what I thought was a romantic dinner cut short. “And then after…”

After, we’d had sex. I’d given him my panties in his SUV.

“You had a spatter of blood on your shirt on the plane. Did you kill someone in Vegas?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God. Did you kill someone after leaving my parents’ house? What about the pizza place? Man, business as a hitman must be fantastic.

“Don’t be angry with me for keeping secrets,” he said.

“Why not? You’re a hitman! ”

“And what are you? Don’t tell me librarians can bench press mafia goons.”

He accused me of being a hitman? It was laughable. Completely insane .

What wasn’t funny was that he was one. Jesus. He’d lied. The entire time.

“I was almost killed at work by a guy with horrible cologne and a gold tooth who was your friend. Jesus, you should be thanking me for showing up, not kidnapping me.” Static electricity sparked from my pants rubbing against the leather seat.

“He sure as hell isn’t my friend and I’m not kidnapping you. We’re going somewhere safe until I figure this shit out.”

I had no idea where I was going and unless I teleported out of this car–which sounded really painful if I messed up and I had no idea how to even do it–I was at Jack’s mercy. A fucking hitman.