Page 42 of Hannah and the Hitman
Brittany was a fan of comic books and one three-day blizzard, I’d been forced to read all about Wonder Woman, who was her favorite. Paradise Island was where she was born. Then we watched the movies.
“Funny.” I had to laugh because I loved Brittany so much. She watched me powerlift her coffee table and was taking it in stride. I was the most boring friend ever, so perhaps she was finally glad I had some excitement in my life–which didn’t involve dying.
The action made a little wine slosh over the brim and onto my fingers. I took a few big gulps to get the level down inside the glass as I wiped my fingers on my skirt.
Brittany took a swig herself, then shrugged. “She’s stronger than the earth. That’s you, Wonder Woman.”
“Obviously, I love a good story more than most, but this isn’t fiction, B.” I shook my head. While I appreciated her lightheartedness, not everything was funny. “This is my life and there’s something going on.”
“Think you should go to the doctor?” she asked, her humor replaced quickly by concern. “I mean, it was only a few months ago you had a brain tumor. Maybe it’s something to do with that.”
It had crossed my mind, but I had avoided the irrational panic I felt sometimes when I had a headache, or I felt a twinge anywhere in my body. I shook my head. “I got a scan two weeks ago, remember? All good.”
She sighed. “Right. All good. Not a spider bite. Not toxic chemicals. Maybe–”
“Radiation?” I tossed out. It was the only plausible explanation, and then it wasn’t that plausible at all. Radiation treatments were done for all sorts of things, tens of thousands of times a day around the world. It was a serious thing, but it was common. I hadn’t heard once, ever, of anyone getting superpowers–as Brittany put it–from the procedure.
She was thinking the same thing because she asked, “Did they mention crazy strength was a side effect?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. But it’s not like I can call up the doctor’s office and tell them about this.”
“I’m sure they’ve heard it all.”
“A psychiatrist, maybe.”
“If you’re not sick, then who cares?” She finished herglass of wine, then shrugged. “I’m jealous that out of the two of us, you’re the one who got superpowers.”
“And got fingered in the library.”
“Bitch,” she replied with a grin. “Let me get more wine and you can tell me all about the good stuff.”
25
JACK
“The only window of time you’re going to be able to take care of Turkleman is at the restaurant,” Dax said. He wasn’t happy with his words, only honest.
I shook my head, even though we’d gone over the possibilities for hours. We were in my kitchen and Dax was opening and closing my fridge door as if something might magically appear in there to eat. I didn’t cook and there wasn’t more than yogurt and some old leftovers.
“I can’t bail on Hannah at dinner for a third time.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Then take her with you.”
Pancake hopped up onto the counter and I set my hand on his head for a pet. “To a hit? Are you insane?”
He shut the door, finally, and turned my way. “It’s a restaurant, not a skyscraper rooftop. Besides, it would justify you being there besides murder. An alibi. Justanother couple on a date.” Pancake started turning in circles, liking to get rubbed all over. Dax noticed and frowned. “Cats shouldn’t be on the counter.”
“This is Hannah. I can’t risk it having her anywhere near a job. And you’re well aware I don’t cook. You won’t get toxoplasmosis or tularemia or whatever it’s called.” Still, I picked up Pancake and set him on the floor. He walked off, tail high, like the snooty ass he was.
“She’ll be in a restaurant full of people.”
I sighed. I didn’t like the idea. Not one fucking bit.
“I’ll get him at the ball game later instead.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he countered. “There are cameras everywhere and thousands of witnesses.”
“Not in the can.”