Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 62

62

HANNAH

“When I said I had a few ideas, one of them wasn’t having Hannah walk into her parents’ house, collect Sal Reggiano and walk back out,” Jack grumbled.

He was driving way too fast along I-70 toward Coal Springs. I was in the back seat of his SUV. Dax was in the passenger seat up front.

“I should go with her,” he added. His gaze flicked to mine in the rearview mirror.

We’d picked up Dax and filled him in, going back and forth with ideas. All of them were based on the fact that Paul needed to deal with his father, not Jack. Mafia took care of mafia, he said.

That was the plan that was agreed upon–at least by democracy and not consensus. Jack wanted to go in with a gun in each hand and shoot the guy. I had a feeling that was founded in his need to protect me versus being wise .

“We went over this,” I said. “I’d rather my family think you’re a mortician” –Dex snorted at that– “than a hitman. Weapons would be a giveaway.”

“He might be armed,” Jack countered.

We considered that and Sal Reggiano probably would be, but most likely wouldn’t be waving a gun around or holding my family hostage. At least that they were aware of.

“Reggiano won’t want to shoot up a house in Coal Springs. Nothing says bad PR than killing a family in a town that’s a hell of a lot like Mayberry.”

That was sad but reassuring. I didn’t like my family, but I didn’t want them dead.

“I’ll… disappear if there’s an issue.” I flicked my gaze at Dax.

“You sure you want to do that in front of your family?” Jack asked.

I shrugged, but Jack didn’t notice since his eyes were on the road. “They think I’m invisible anyway. If I disappear on them, they’ll think I wasn’t there to begin with.”

That sounded really sad, but true.

“When are you going to fill me in on this disappearing thing?” Dax used air quotes as he turned his head and gave me a look. I met Jack’s gaze again in the rearview mirror. He nodded.

“I have superpowers.” I said it as simply as if I said I had extra-long femurs or fake eyelashes.

“Like the lasso of truth?”

My lips twitched in amusement at his reference to Wonder Woman’s crime fighting tools. “No.”

“How about those bullet deflecting bracelets? Those would actually come in handy for this little outing. ”

“No shooting at my girl!” Jack practically shouted.

I agreed, but still grinned. “Those are accessories, not superpowers.”

“I’m guessing one of them is lifting Smitty off the ground and tossing him around.”

I nodded.

“And the other?”

Being strong was reasonable. Plausible. But the other? Hard to grasp. Still, I said, “Teleportation.”

“Get outta here.” He grinned like a boy who got a BB gun for his birthday.

“No!” Jack called. “Don’t get out of here. Stay right there.”

Jack was beyond nervous and protective right now. I loved it. I loved him.

Adjusting the seat belt, I leaned forward from my spot behind him and wrapped my arms around the seat and his shoulders. Kissed the side of his head before sitting back.

“Can you show me how to do it?” Dax asked.

“I barely know how I do it,” I countered.

“How do you do it?”

“I get angry. Riled up.”

“You’ve had this your whole life?”

“No. Just recently. Like in the past week.”

“Then what caused it?”

“I’m not sure, but the only thing I can come up with is my radiation treatment.”

“Like Spiderman!” he almost shouted.

“I wasn’t bit by a spider!” I said, going over the same conversation once more. I wasn’t sure if it was a guy thing, this superhero obsession .

“Well, I’m jealous,” he muttered. “I want superpowers.”

“If it means having a brain tumor to get them, trust me, you don’t want ‘em.”

He stayed quiet, although I wasn’t sure if it was because he agreed with me or because he didn’t. To him, a brain tumor may be worth the superpowers. Then again, he’d never had one or known the rough stuff that went with it to make an informed decision.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I asked him, not offended. I probably wouldn’t believe me either. Jack hadn’t.

He shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. But I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“No teleporting in the car!” Jack called out.

I wasn’t going to do it since we were going eighty and I had no idea what the “landing” would be like, so I changed the subject. “You said Paul Reggiano’s going to take care of his father.”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Take care as in, he’s going to kill him.”

“Yes.”

“Because–”

“Because Paul wants to take over. Mafia doesn’t mess with women and kids. When he threatened you, he crossed that line. Going after you isn’t enough to take him out because these guys do a lot of bad shit, but it’s enough for me to ask Paul for help. I’ve done work for him, and it would be disrespectful to me for him to let this slide.”

“It’s his father though.”

“Trust me, they don’t like each other,” Jack replied, and Dax nodded in agreement .

“This is the excuse Paul’s been waiting for then?” I wondered.

Jack tipped his head and shared a look with Dax.

“Paul’s learned that his father thinks you can hulk smash people and teleport.”

“Who’d he learn this from?”

“Me,” Jack said. “But probably also from his father directly. Joey Brains told Sal what happened in the library and the parking garage security feeds showed him how you threw Eyebrows around. Even with that first-hand knowledge, Paul thinks his dad might be losing it. Another reason to take him out.”

“I don’t want Sal Reggiano to die because of mental illness when he’s actually completely sane.”

“Is he?” Dax asked. “The guy’s filled the Vegas desert with dead bodies. He’s not a choir boy. He needs to die.”

I glanced at Jack.

“Remember I said we’re the good bad guys?”

“Oh, I like that,” Dax replied.

“This is one of those times,” Jack continued. “The earth will be a better place with him gone.”

I pursed my lips and considered. Could I go on with life knowing I had part in a man’s demise?

“How about this?” Jack prodded. “It’s you or him, gorgeous. He either wants you as a hitman or he’ll kill you. And your family. And me.”

“And probably me, too,” Dax added.

“Him or me?” I repeated.

There was no other choice. “Then I go in alone and bring him out to Paul.”

“Fuck,” Jack muttered.