Page 12 of Hannah and the Hitman

The week before over pancakes, after taking out Thorndyke the fucking Trafficker, we looked up what “TBR” meant. We quickly ruled out Total Bed Rest and Total Business Return for To Be Read. The t-shirt made perfect sense, but because of the randomness of the search, I’d had to tell Dax the full story about the flight. About the woman. About her shirt. The sexy book. All of it. Notallof it. I left out the way her tits had stretched the letters on her shirt. Or how she blushed when she learned I’d been reading over her shoulder. Or how she told me her fantasy was to get railed.

Yeah, railed.

I’d imagined that every day since and my obsessionwasn’t getting any better. My dick got hard every time I thought of her, and it was sick of my hand. Maybe it was because the life of a hitman was boring. Or that my life wasn’t all people imagined. A sweet glimpse of innocence and filth in one lush, feminine package and I wanted more.

I wanted my hands on her. I wanted my dick in her.

I gripped the steering wheel with one hand as my dick got hard… again, then shifted gears with the other as I blinkered and slowed down onto the highway’s off-ramp. “Coal Springs.”

I was pulling into the small town an hour from Denver, nestled quaintly in the mountains. Based on the cars with various license plates, tourists seemed to have flocked to the picturesque Main Street for overpriced, handmade ice cream, chainsaw-carved bears, and views of the Rockies. The banners on every ornamental light post pronounced this was the “Quaintest Town on Earth.” Vibrant flowers overflowed from hanging baskets and… was that a crossing guard at the intersection?

It was like I fell into a Disney movie set that got a shit ton of snow in the winter.

The crime rate had to be nil, and I was probably the only murderer in town.

“Coal Springs? Why?” Dax prodded.

I followed the directions from my SUV’s display onto a side street.

If a woman said to him,I want to get railed,he’dvolunteer for the task.Thisspecific woman who’d said that to me was different. She was so far out of my league. Like Mary Poppins, except she read graphic sex scenes.

Disney plus librarian did not equal a hitman’s girl. Or fling. Or anything.

Yet, I was still on my way to the library.

“Wait… it sounds like you’re already there. Hell, you’re going to visit the librarian you told me about last week, aren’t you? The one from the plane. Miss TBR. Do you even have time for this? Aren’t you supposed to be turkey hunting this week?”

Shit. Yes. He meant Turkleman from Texas. “Yes,” I muttered. “And yes, I’m in Coal Springs for Miss TBR.”

“Did you at least have Nitro look into her?”

Nitro was our go-to IT guy. His home office looked like a command center for NASA with more monitors than I could count, multiple keyboards, and a high-tech chair. Dax and I had been to his place once. I leaned against his desk, hitting some button that probably took down the Federal Reserve, and we weren’t welcomed back. Ever. Now we did business over phone calls and encrypted emails.

Nitro could find anyone, change anyone’s grades on a transcript, resolve any IRS debt, and from what I heard, he took over the tracking of Santa from NORAD last December.

I didn’t know his real name. I knew better than to ask.

“I don’t need him to look her up on FAA flight records,” I told Dax. “There’s one library in Coal Springs. I figured that out myself.” Unlike Turkleman, whose info I got back from Nitro, one quick internet search was all that was needed to find the Coal Springs Public Library. Based on the sign out front and the GPS voice from my dash, I’d arrived. I pulled over across the street from the entrance and parallel parked.

The library was an old brick building. Two cottonwood trees flanked the front entry along with a bike rack and a bulletin board with town notices and community flyers.

“It should be easy to find the hot librarian now that I’m at the library.” I checked the time. A little after five, which was when the place closed. Hopefully, I hadn’t missed her.

I wanted to see her face again. To see the dark color of her eyes. Watch how I could make her blush. Breathe in her soft scent without Joey Brains’ farts killing us.

“Have you heard yourself lately?” he asked.

My eyes roved over the entrance. All was quiet. “What?”

“Call up the service, tell them about your new hot librarian fetish and get it out of your system.”

I had zero interest in anything he just said, and I hadn’t made use of the exclusive agency of escorts in recent months even though they took care of me without questions, entanglements, or expectations.

I didn’t have afetish.I had a hard-on that wouldn’t quit for one woman who just happened to be hot and a librarian.

I wantedher.Whatever her name was. I wasn’t going to remind Dax of that fact because he’d be even more hellbent on steering me away.

I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the plane. About the book we’d read together, whether she’d finished it–of course she had–and touched herself imagining the character Colin fucking her like he had the heroine in the book. Maybe she moved on to that werewolf storyline she mentioned.