Page 58 of Hannah and the Hitman

We talked about a lot of things during our time together, but we still hadn’t talked about his work. He’d distracted me with his dick. And his mouth. And with his hands. And with his very snuggly body on his couch. He never once brought up the men from the plane. I hadn’t thought about them again to even ask.

“Listen, doll, let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

“Make what difficult?” I asked, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

“I’ll make this painless.”

Blood rushed out of my head, and I began to shake. The hair on my arms rose. On my neck, too. The cloying scent of his cologne was filling the room, making me nauseated. I sneezed. Or maybe it was whatever it was he planned to do to me that would, I was sure,notbe painless.

Reaching out, I grabbed the scissors off the table we used to laminate and cover books. A painful zap of static practically arched between the metal and my fingers. I held them in front of me. It wasn’t the best weapon, but they were sharp.

“Cute.” He grinned. I hadn’t noticed the gold incisor when he was on the plane. He pulled a gun from behind his back, probably tucked in the back of his pants.

Oh, this was bad.

“What… what do you want?”

“You dead. I saw a cute chocolate shop on the way in, so I want to stop in and see if they have any caramels for after.”

I knew the place. “They do have good caramels. I’ve even got a punch card for the place I’ll give you if you don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

He cocked his head. “About what?”

About what? I couldn’t think clearly. “I don’t know. Why do you want me dead?”

“Jack’s taken a shining to you. You must be prettyfucking hot in the sack even though you’re a librarian and wear sensible shoes.”

I glanced down at my sandals. They were comfortable, not strappy or sexy. Still, the guy was a dick for pointing that out. No question he was single.

“You’re… you’re going to shoot me?” I glanced through the glass window to the empty lobby area. “Someone’s going to come in. This is a public space.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a library. Who the fuck comes to the library?”

He insulted my shoes and my job? I was scared, but I was also furious.

While the scissors weren’t an ax, I tossed them like one. One of the bars in town had a hatchet tossing area and I’d gone once with Brittany. They hit his chest and the tip sunk in an inch or so, although the weight of them had them falling onto the floor.

“Ow, fuck!” he swore, putting his free hand over the small hole in his dress shirt that was beginning to trickle blood.

He set the gun down on the table beside my grocery list and came at me with a growl.

I swerved to the left, but he caught my shoulder and pulled me in front of him. More static, but I barely felt the tingle of it for how scared I was. His hands went to my throat and squeezed. Holy shit. I was going to die.

I was going to die.

My skin started to tingle, and I felt sparks of electricity through my palms where I tugged at his grip.

Why was there no one coming into the library? Why did I ever want peace and quiet?

Why was he doing this? What had I done? Jack! I needed Jack.

I wouldn’t get to make him the tacos! I was so angry about dying like this. I survived a brain tumor only to be strangled? No way.

The small amount of air I could breathe was scented with bad cologne. Beneath his grasp, I sneezed. Then there was a sizzle.

And I was no longer in the library, but in international aisle of the grocery store staring at salsas.

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