Page 65 of Hannah and the Hitman

What wasn’t funny was that he was one. Jesus. He’dlied.The entire time.

“I was almost killed at work by a guy with horrible cologne and a gold tooth who wasyourfriend. Jesus, you should be thanking me for showing up, not kidnapping me.” Static electricity sparked from my pants rubbing against the leather seat.

“He sure as hell isn’t my friend and I’m not kidnapping you. We’re going somewhere safe until I figure this shit out.”

I had no idea where I was going and unless I teleported out of this car–which sounded really painful if I messed up and I had no idea how to even do it–I was at Jack’s mercy. A fucking hitman.

43

JACK

Ten minutes, and a shit ton of heavy silence later, I pulled up behind Apex Fighting Gym and into a parking spot between a concrete wall and a dumpster. We were west of downtown in an industrial area. There’d been revitalization, but it wasn’t residential. It got real quiet at night. Unless someone had a drone or tracker on Dax’s car–which I’d check as soon as I got out–we were safe from Sal finding us.

Hannah glanced around. “Where are we?”

“Big Mike’s place.”

“Dax’s dad? I thought you said he moved to Florida.”

“He did. Someone else runs the gym now but Dax owns the building. And the apartment that used to be Big Mike’s up there.” I pointed through the front window to the second floor. I glanced around to make sure no one was around. “Let’s go.”

I climbed out, letting Hannah open her own door as I checked for a tracker. She wasn’t the woman I thought, and I was pissed. I’d opened up to her. Completely. Even fallen for her. Took her to my place, fucked her in my bed. Read romance on my couch with her in my arms. Yet, she’d been playing me all along.

Finding none, I pointed to the metal stairs that ran diagonally up the back side of the building and waited for her to take the hint. She must’ve recognized she wasn’t getting far on foot and started up them. I followed, eyeing her ass–because it was still a fucking piece of art.

“I can’t figure out how you did it,” I said.

“What?”

“Got that middle seat on the plane as me. Wait. Of course.” It was so obvious. “Reggiano got you a seat, too. All of us in the same row. He sent you to spy on me? To make sure I was doing a good job? Eyebrows and Joey Brains weren’t enough.” Fuck.

“Who is Reggiano? He sounds like a kind of cheese.”

“Like you don’t know.”

She gave me a look that would shrivel a lesser man’s balls.

“He’s Vegas mafia,” I said finally.

“I don’t know anyone in the Vegas mafia.” She held up a hand and added for clarification, “Anymafia.”

At the beat-up metal door, I typed a code into the state-of-the-art security lock beside it. It beeped once and I yanked the door open. Reaching in, I flipped on the light switch.

This place, right down to the scent of it, reminded me of my youth. Of pretty much living here after the age ofsixteen with Dax and his dad. It was a huge loft space. High rectangular windows let in tons of light, but being high on the wall, you couldn’t see out. There was one main room, a kitchen, family room, dining room combination, then three bedrooms and three bathrooms along the back.

The appliances, the cabinets, the furniture, all of it, hadn’t been updated. Dax kept this place for when Big Mike came to town, or if we ever needed it. We paid Travis, the guy who ran the gym, to have his cleaning crew keep it spic and span and in fresh sheets and towels. I hadn’t been here in over a year.

It was an instant reminder of the boy I’d been and the man I was now. How my mother had worked so hard for a better life for me. Pretty much worked herself into an early grave. How I ended up being a fucking killer. I’d looked up to Big Mike. Dax and I followed in his footsteps. From a money standpoint, it was a solid career. I had more money than I’d ever need.

But that was all I had. Until Hannah. IthoughtI had it all with her.

Turned out, I had nothing.

“We’re going to stay here why?”

“Because it seems a client wants me dead.”

“And me,” she reminded.