Page 25 of Hannah and the Hitman

“And what’s the story with all the dead animals?” He tipped his chin toward the squirrel on the wall above the mirror. It was standing on its hind legs on a wooden base, front little arms raised as if to attack. It’d been there for as long as I could remember and never noticed it anymore.

“My dad’s a taxidermist,” I explained. “When people don’t claim their projects, he puts them up around the house. Fun, right?”

He frowned, studied me. I wasn’t sure if he was eyeing me closely to see if I might turn crazy like my family. The chances were high. “What’s this surgery you had and why did it affect your memory?”

Oh. That.

I waved it off. I wasn’t going to tell him I had a brain tumor while we stood in my parents’ powder room. “I had a little problem with my brain a few months ago.”

His eyes widened, then roved over my face. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

I felt his concern in the same electrical charge between us.

Now that I had gamma knife radiation to zap a brain tumor, yes. Instead of saying that aloud and have himdecide to take my sister up on her undressing offer, I nodded.

He sighed, ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I need to get the hell out of here.”

Oh.

I knew it. Of course, he was leaving.

My heart dropped. I didn’t blame him one bit. In fact, he made it a lot longer than I anticipated. Who wanted to be with a woman who had crazy running rampant in her gene pool, as well as brain tumors? I didn’t know how excited I was about him until now, when it was over.

Over? What a silly thought. It hadn’t even begun. At least he was honest and hadn’t cheated on me.

“Right,” I said, glancing at the wood floor. I didn’t want to look at his gorgeous face any more than I had to. Not when he was leaving, and I’d never see him again. “I understand. Um… go ahead and I’ll tell my family you left because you got called out for a dead body or something.”

His body tensed, which had me looking up. He was frowning, his look almost startled. “What? A dead body? Why would you say that?”

“Mortician,” I reminded.

He sighed, almost relieved. “No. No dead body.” He pulled it his cell from his pocket, read the display. He must’ve had it set to vibrate. The change was slight, but I noticed the way his face closed off. It was as if he’d become a different person. As if he’d showed me a certain side of himself. “I have to go.”

I nodded. He’d already said that.

“Do you have your phone on you?” he asked.

I shook my head. It was in my purse on the kitchen counter.

“What’s your number?”

I told him and he typed it into his cell with his dexterous thumbs. The phone chimed again. He took a second to read whatever the next text was, then his dark eyes met mine. Held. “I’ll call you.”

Then he was gone.

13

JACK

I almost had a fucking coronary in the bathroom when Hannah had offered a dead body as an excuse for me leaving the dinner. She had no idea how on-target she’d been. It’d taken her prompt that I’d told her family I was a mortician for me to chill out.

It wasn’t only the words, but how calmly she’d said it. As if she hadn’t cared that I dealt in dead bodies all the time. That, to her, it was no big deal.

But it wasn’t true. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t laugh, she’d be horrified.

Most people…normalpeople, were horrified when someone died.

Hannah was normal. A good girl.