7. Paul
7
Paul
I t was a typical hotel room with a king-size bed taking up most of the space. End tables with lamps affixed to them were on either side. A dresser sat across from the bed with a large flat-screen television. Dark drapes pulled over the windows blocked Paul’s view of the night.
With Harper’s head on his chest, he stroked his fingertips from her shoulder down to her elbow and back up again. One of her hands rested on his stomach, the other wedged under her cheek. Her soft snores were adorable and the only sound in the room.
How the fuck was he supposed to do this now?
He shouldn’t have a problem doing what he’d been hired to do. Honestly, he was the best man for the job. The idea of someone else taking her out made his skin crawl. He knew who the other families and organizations had in their ranks. None of them deserved to breathe the same air as her.
It had to be Paul.
No one else was worthy of killing Harper. It was the only way to honor her.
It didn’t make him feel any better about what he had to do, though.
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“What did you do to get in this position?” he murmured to the beautiful sleeping woman.
He suspected he’d never get the answer to that. It wasn’t important. He’d never asked for the why before when he took a contract like this. All that mattered was someone had enough funds to make it worth the risk for him to end someone’s life.
The people who wanted Harper dead had more than enough money. The bounty connected to her would have everyone in Oklahoma champing at the bit to get a piece.
Sighing, he allowed his head to fall back against his pillow. Such a shitty fucking situation he found himself in. The woman who danced in his fantasies for the last twelve years had to die. There was no way around it. A contract that large wouldn’t go away.
It had to be Paul, no matter how bad a taste it left in his mouth. This was an inevitable part of his job. One day, he was bound to be tasked with murdering someone he knew. Unfortunately, today, it was Harper.
The buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand was the last thing he wanted to hear. Still stroking Harper as she slept, he stretched his free hand out and grabbed the burner. He tapped the screen and brought it to his ear.
“Yeah.” He knew what this call was about. He just didn’t know what he’d say.
“Is it done?” Eddie asked coolly on the other end.
Harper stirred against him with a sleepy groan, and his hand froze. Holding his breath, he did his best to keep still so as to not wake her. Shifting her head, tilting it upward so he got a better view of her features, she settled back against him.
It wasn’t long before her rhythmic breathing resumed.
“Paul,” his brother urged in a louder voice. “Did you do it?”
“I’m working on it,” he mumbled.
“What’s there to work on ?” Eddie scoffed. “Pretty sure we’re in a point-and-shoot situation here.”
Gritting his teeth, Paul tried to find an answer. His brother wouldn’t understand. Hell, Paul barely understood his connection with Harper. It wasn’t like they spent all that much time together—what, maybe two months over a decade ago.
Sure, they were explosive in bed, and up against shelving, but that didn’t explain the way his chest tightened around her. She took up entirely too much real estate in his brain. For years, he compared his partners to her. None held a candle.
Maybe that was reason enough to fulfill this contract. She was a liability he couldn’t afford. If someone else did it, he’d go mad seeking revenge. No one else could do it.
“Paul,” Eddie boomed again.
“I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
He ended the call and rested the corner of the phone against his chin. There had to be another way out of this.
“What was that about?” Harper asked sleepily.
“Business,” Paul responded flatly.
She snorted. “Sounded like you’re out on a job.”
“I am.”
She bristled against him. He did his best to ignore it and stroked the stray strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.
“Wh-what does that mean?” she asked, pulling away from him.
Dammit. Of course this had to ruin their romantic moment.
He refused to look in her direction. Instead, he studied a crack in the ceiling under the weight of her intense gaze.
“Am I like an alibi or something?”
“No.” So much worse. She’d never guess, though. Especially because it was him.
She inched away from him on her knees. “You know I’m a prosecutor now.”
“I do.”
“You’re aware I can’t get mixed up in your bullshit.”
“I am.”
“Then what the fuck ?” she demanded.
Her ire tickled his dick. He shouldn’t be getting a chubby right now, but he couldn’t help it. It was Harper.
“What’s the job?”
Swallowing, he blinked slowly before turning to face her.
Her expression was hard, and her eyes blazed. He bet if the lights were on, he’d be able to see the red hue in her flushed cheeks.
Breathing heavily, she glared at him. “Talk. I need to know what you’ve gotten me involved in.”
He considered her words. Technically, he hadn’t brought her into it. “I’m here for you.”
She furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?” she asked with an exasperated laugh. The kind of chuckle one does in the face of absolute absurdity.
“You’re the job.”