Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 59

59

JACK

An hour later, we were in The Sip and Swallow, a shady dive bar in the seedier section of town. A back office was a consistent place where we did “business” since it never had witnesses, there was usually only one door in and out, and because every bar in town had one.

Dax had given Smitty a chance to fork over the cash he owed, but he only offered up half, which was still a big fucking chunk of change. Instead of pulling out the garden shears, Dax had introduced him to Hannah, who’d been standing quietly beside me.

The guy was dumber than Joey Brains because not only did he ogle my girl’s rack in that fucking too-tight t-shirt that should only be worn at home with me, but he’d also insulted her intelligence, her gender, and even her mother, although the last probably hadn’t bothered her.

She wrung her hands and unconsciously tucked herself against my side. This–not only collecting a debt, but also this bar–was not her turf. Not her lifestyle. Not her job. But she wanted to be here. Hell, she needed this. I could teach the guy a lesson for being a misogynistic lowlife, but that wouldn’t help Hannah. After the number her ex did on her, she needed to kick some ass. To put a stupid fucker in his place. It wasn’t Kevin the Cheater, but Smitty would be a good replacement. She had to do this herself.

Leaning down, I’d whispered a reminder. “Cheater.”

That has worked in the same way as shaking the bag of kibble did for Pancake. She perked right up, got an evil–and slightly scary–gleam in her eye right before she grabbed the fucker by the front of his stained AC/DC shirt and hoisted him in the air.

“Hey! What the fuck?” he called while flailing.

He wasn’t a big guy, probably weighing in at a buck fifty, but he was scrappy. He’d have beaten Hannah in a fight–both figuratively and literally–but she had the element of surprise. And a superpower. In her tee and yoga pants, she looked like she just picked up an acai berry fruit smoothie after yoga class. She might look like the girl next door, but my girl was so much more.

My dick got hard watching her.

“You sure she’s not a hitman?” Dax leaned close and tipped his voice low. The look he had on his face was as skeptical as his words.

“Yup, not a hitman,” I said.

Hannah looked more like Atlas lifting the earth than a mild-mannered librarian.

Smitty’s hands were pulling on Hannah’s grip, but nothing was working. His feet flailed as they dangled six inches above the ground.

“Then what the fuck? ” Dax breathed.

The room was small with a desk against one wall, an old metal filing cabinet against another, and a ratty couch along the third without the door. We stood close, ready to reach out and help like parents with a kid learning how to swim, but she sure didn’t need us. She jumped right into the deep end.

“She might be a fixer though,” I added, watching in awe. I had my gun in the back of my pants if he had to be put down.

“I heard you’ve got an ex-wife,” Hannah told him. Her chin was tipped back to look him in the eye since she held him so high in the air. One armed. Without breaking a sweat or losing her breath.

“What the–” Dax breathed.

Fuck, that was my girl.

Smitty didn’t answer, only glared and clawed, too insulted by being manhandled by a woman to realize–yet–he was in trouble.

“When a woman’s talking to you, be respectful, asshole,” I said.

“Yes!” he yelled. “Yes, I have an ex-wife.”

“Why’d you get divorced?” Hannah asked. “Cheated?”

“No.”

With a flick of her wrist, Hannah threw him against the wall with a hard thud. He slid down to the floor like in the movies.

“Whoa,” Dax murmured, wide eyed.

Smitty winced, a hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Cool as a fucking cucumber, Hannah walked over, leaned down and grabbed him again. He went right back up in the air, reminding me of a flag in the breeze.

“She eat her Wheaties this morning?” Dax asked, not tearing his eyes off my girl.

“Cheated?” Hannah repeated, giving him a little jiggle.

I may have heard his teeth clack together.

“Yes!”

“I don’t like cheaters.”

“She got fat with each kid,” he replied. He was definitely dumber than Joey Brains.

Hannah cocked her head, not liking that answer. Hell, I didn’t like that answer.

“Dude, I’m PMSing and I’m really cranky? You know how women get, all emotional and a little crazy.”

Dax snorted and I grinned.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he pleaded.

Now Smitty knew he was fucked, although too stupid to know how since he’d never been tossed around by a woman.

“Probably not as sorry as your ex feels about meeting you.”

“Don’t kill him, gorgeous,” I said, unable to keep the teasing smirk from my face. “At least not yet.”

She turned, which made Smitty swing about and have his feet hit the file cabinet. “What do you want me to do with him then? Although, I’m wearing Brittany’s clothes, and she won’t be thrilled if I get blood on them.”

Smitty, still dangling, made a pitiful sound, then started to cry. She winked at me .

I groaned, shifted my dick in my pants. She noticed and I winked right back.

Dax leaned toward me. “This is so much more fun than the garden shears.”

I nodded because I hadn’t had this much fun in a while either. At least since this morning when I’d had Hannah on her knees sucking my dick.

“How much back child support do you owe her, Smitty?” Dax asked.

The sum came out on hiccupping sob.

Dax held up the money Smitty’d forked over earlier. “I’m taking this to your ex. You’re back to square one with your loan amount. I’ll be back next week to collect. In full.”

“Ooo, can I come?” Hannah asked, then tossed the guy onto the ancient couch, which groaned, cracked, then collapsed in the center.

Smitty held his hands up to protect himself. “No! No, I’ll have the money.”

Hannah came to me. Her eyes sparkled with life. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked… alive. I cupped her face. “You good?”

I had to make sure. Smitty was a slimy fucker and she’d touched him. I wanted to make sure it was only skin deep.

“Oh yeah.”

“Time to go, gorgeous.” I leaned down, whispered in her ear. “I have to fuck you.”

She shook her head, then whispered right back, “I think I might have to fuck you.”