Page 40 of Hannah and the Hitman

I didn’t want her to doubt me. Or what I felt for her. She took priority and leaving her like I hadwasmaking her one. From her perspective, though, it probably didn’t seem like it. But I had to deal with Sal and get that behind me. There was no way we could be together otherwise. It was too dangerous.

Maybe I was too dangerous for her. My job? Dangerous. Being with me? A risk.

But after her pussy clenched around my fingers and she bit my fucking shoulder…there was no going back.

My job had never been an issue before. Not once. I’d been taught to not have deep feelings for anyone. That it was dangerous. That it couldhurt.

Sitting in my car off the side of the highway, I understood what Big Mike meant. I was frantic for Hannah. I wanted to make that brain tumor never happen. But I couldn’t and that made me feel helpless. Probably like how Big Mike felt when his wife had been killed. Helpless.

Until he went vigilante and finished the guy who hit her with his pickup. I could go vigilante on Sal. On her parents.On her ex. With anyone who did her wrong. Unlike Big Mike, I could keep Hannah alive.

I also saw what my life was like, empty and cold. I saw what I wanted. I wanted peace. Quiet. The simple life where bad guys didn’t exist, or at least weren’t my problem. I never expected to find that with a Coal Springs librarian. Maybe it was time to figure out what to be when I grew up.

“She’s going to think you have the shits or something,” Dax said, cutting into my thoughts.

I winced, because he was probably right. That would be more believable than me telling her the truth.

“She’s offered to come down to see me tomorrow night.”

“Is that wise?”

My dick said yes. My heart–shit, did I have one?–said yes.

“She’ll need to stay with me. Ensure she’s safe in my apartment until I know Sal’s out of the picture.”

“I’ll come over,” he ordered. “We’ll figure out your plan to wrap up that project together.”

He might think I’m stupid for wanting Hannah, but he was helping me keep her anyway.

23

HANNAH

Instead of going to my apartment, I went across the hall to Brittany’s. Knocked on the door. She answered right away, a carton of Chinese food in her hand. Her feet were bare, but she still wore her business casual clothes from work.

“Lo mein?” she asked, stepping back to let me in, while she used chopsticks to fork more noodles into her mouth.

“No, thanks.” I shut the door behind me. “I had pizza with Jack after he fingered me to orgasm in the V through Z fiction shelves.”

A noodle fell from her mouth. She swallowed hard, then asked, “What?”

“But wait, there’s more.” She and I met for lunch the day before. Soooo much had happened in that short of time.

She went to her couch, dropped onto it and pointed at the other end, indicating I was to settle in for a long nightof her grilling me. Her apartment was better decorated than mine. More stylish chic than my IKEA garage sale style. “That’s not all?”

I shook my head. “There’s also this.”

Jack had made me forget I could lift heavy things.

Her coffee table was solid wood. Literally a two-foot-thick slice of a cottonwood tree. The top had been sanded and shellacked to a high gloss. It was rugged but was a fun contrast to the soft pink palette of her living room. It also took two burly movers, a dolly, a hefty tip, and a six pack of beer to get it moved in. Meaning, it was heavy.

If I was right, then I could lift it.

I squatted down like I was weightlifting in the Olympics, wrapped my hands around the bark covered sides, and picked that thing right up.

Two magazines and a scented candle slid off and onto the thick shag area rug.

As I settled it back onto the floor, I couldn’t miss Brittany’s stunned expression.