Page 74 of Hannah and the Hitman
“You want me to send the footage?” Nitro asked.
“Not a chance. What about the medical records I asked about?” I prodded. “Hannah had a brain tumor. Had a special radiation for it.”
“Medical records are sealed. I can get in, but it’ll take some time. I figured you only wanted validation that she was telling the truth instead of the specific details of her health, so I pulled up the security cameras of all facilitieswithin an hour of Coal Springs that did the gamma knife radiosurgery you mentioned. I got a hit on facial recognition for her arriving at a cancer center in Boulder. Several visits actually, back in… May and a few more since.”
“Cancer? She said it wasn’t cancer!” I panicked at the thought, running a hand over my face. Fuck me.
“The irony here is ridiculous,” Dax muttered, although he wasn’t laughing. Her being sick, whatever the condition, was not funny.
“The place does all kinds of radiation treatments, including the procedure you said she had. You want me to look further into it?”
Dax eyed me across the kitchen island. He’d started the inquiry, but it was my call if I wanted Nitro to dig deeper.
Anyone who lied about having a fucking brain tumor was mental. She wouldn’t do that.
“No.”
“So you agree now that your girl is exactly the woman you fell for?” Dax asked.
Except for her ability to lift a fridge and teleport, yeah. She was completely, totally my girl.
And I fucked it up. Big time. Epically. I leaned against the counter, dropping my elbows on the granite and resting my head in my hand.
She’d come to Denver with the intention to warn me but ended upsavingme. She’d kept the guy who killed people for a living alive.
Joey Brains was alive and Reggiano hadn’t gotten either of us dead. Which meant, this wasn’t over, and Hannah was out there somewhere, unprotected.
“If he wants me dead because I quit, then it’s prettysimple. The reason for a mafia hit isn’t usually very complicated. But see what you can dig up on Sal and Paul Reggiano anyway,” I told Nitro. “Father and son. And let me know if facial recognition gets a hit on Hannah anywhere. I need to find her.”
“To grovel,” Dax said, smirking.
“Give me some time on the Reggianos,” Nitro said. “But I can tell you right now where Hannah is.”
I jolted upright, as if zapped with a fucking cattle prod. “What? Where?”
“Your parking garage.”
48
HANNAH
The dead body was gone from the parking garage. Everything looked boring and normal. It was as if the whole assassin thing hadn’t happened a few hours earlier. Although an assassin in my mind was a cross between James Bond and a ninja, not smelly, overweight mafiosi.
Brittany parked Dr. Todd’s minivan in the visitor’s spot, and I hesitantly climbed out. I’d probably have PTSD about the assault later, but I still took a few seconds now to look around and make sure there weren’t any bad guys skulking behind concrete pillars.
Brittany didn’t seem scared, although she hadn’t dealt with not one, but two brushes with death today.
“That’s his car,” I said, pointing to the SUV.
“And that’s mine that I want back one of these days.” Brittany tipped her head toward her way-nicer-than-minecar that I borrowed in a visitor’s spot. Its return wasn’t high on my list right now.
I wanted Jack to be the man I’d fallen for over the past week, the one who seemed to crave me. Not the irrational man from earlier.
“Mr. Hitman drives a Maserati?” she asked.
I nodded.
“The best paying jobs aren’t talked about with college counselors,” she muttered.