Page 27 of Hannah and the Hitman

“It’s a three-game series with the Yankees,” I said, getting my head on straight. I’d had Nitro collect on the guy when I took the job. While I didn’t follow baseball and had no intention of killing the guy at a ballpark, I at least knewhow long he’d be in town. Which meant I had two more days with the guy in Denver. Two more days to finish the task.

“What’s the holdup?” he continued. “Eyebrows and Joey Brains are in town.”

Meaning they could off Turkleman instead. If he’d wanted them to do it, I wouldn’t have been given the task in the first place. It was an empty threat. Except why was he wasting his time calling me about some hit unless it was really important to him? I needed Nitro to dig further.

“I always complete a job,” I told him, clenching my teeth.

“Don’t disappoint.”

He hung up.

Fuck, I hated my work sometimes.

14

HANNAH

The next afternoon on my lunch break, Brittany and I were walking down Main Street, weaving around the influx of tourists. We’d finished our meal at our usual cafe–me a grilled cheese and soup and Brittany the chicken salad on croissant–and now had coffees in hand that we’d picked up from our favorite shop a block behind us.

It was our standing Wednesday lunch date.

“I can’t believe he showed up at the library! The guy from the plane.” She shook her head, then smiled and offered someone a quick hello. Because of our jobs, we ran into people we knew all over town. If I ever wanted to pick up condoms or get a surprise party gift, I had to order them online. “That’s insane… and it’s happening to you. I told you! This is unbelievable!”

It was that. Completely unbelievable.

“Mrs. Metcalf was all for me going out with him.”

“Mrs. Metcalf is a smart woman,” Brittany countered, then took a sip of her drink.

“She doesn’t care that he could be a murderer.”

“If he’s as handsome as you say,Idon’t care either.”

I gave her a look, although my vagina was in agreement with them.

“He went to your parents’ house,” Brittany continued. “That says a lot. God, I would have suffered through one of your family dinners to witness it.”

“He left,” I reminded. “He got a call and bolted in the middle of dinner.”

“After he told off your brother and fucked with your parents first. A mortician? Seriously?”

I’d given her a full recap over our lunch. She’d listened to the tale with the same eagerness as the little kids who came to Storytime.

“I have no idea what he does for a living. He could have been serious,” I reminded.

I scoped out the window display at the baby boutique as we went by.

She sliced her hand through the air. “If he’s as hot as you say, there’s no way he’s a mortician.”

I laughed, stopped walking and crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you saying morticians are all unattractive? I could say the same for dentists. You deal with halitosis and weak gums.”

She glared and patted her perfectly styled hair. “I’m saying his personality doesn’t match someone who embalms bodies for a living.”

She had a point. He seemed worldly and bold and dark and mysterious and not in a creepy, hearse-driving way. He smelled good, too, not like formaldehyde.

“He said he was going to call.” I started meandering down the sidewalk again.

“Then he’ll call.”