Page 87 of Hannah and the Hitman
HANNAH
An hour later, I was on the couch reading when a voice called from the entry. “Everyone decent?” Seconds later, Dax came into the living room.
“Hey,” I said, setting my e-reader down. The action had Pancake hopping onto the back of the couch, walking across it, then jumping down to go off and do whatever moody cats did. “You’re Dax, right?”
His brows rose in surprise.
“Oh, um, Jack called you by name in the parking garage.”
He caught on and his face cleared.
“Jack’s told me a lot about you,” I added.
He smiled. Nodded. Since Jack said they went to school together, I knew they were the same age. Both were also very attractive. Where Jack was dark, Dax was fairer. His lighter brown hair was shorn close to his head. Shorter andstockier and he reminded me of a boxer. Chiseled muscles. Thick shoulders, lean waist. Cauliflower ear.
Dax wore a tan suit with a white dress shirt and gray tie. He looked crisp and professional and not anything like I imagined a fixer to look like.
I hadn’t seen Jack wear anything but black–or jeans, or nothing–which was fine by me because he lookedmightyfine in that color.
“This is yours, right?” He set my purse, which I hadn’t realized he’d been holding, on the back of a couch.
“Oh! Yes.”
“I went to the library and picked it up. Your cell is tucked inside. Probably needs to be charged though.”
“Thank you so much. I can’t believe you went to Coal Springs for me.”
He replied, but it wasn’t the answer I expected. “You’re the woman who’s got Jack by the short hairs.” As if that explained why he drove two hours round trip to grab a purse of a woman he never met before.
“Okaay. The um… short hairs, I’m not sure about that.” I shrugged, then glanced up at him slyly. “He does like me touching other parts of him though.”
He laughed, deep and rich. “I like you.” He had an easygoing manner that Jack did not. I could see how Dax could tame Jack’s intensity. “Where’s Jack?”
“Shower.”
He lifted his chin in acknowledgement.
“Want to sit down?” I asked, playing nervous hostess. This wasn’t my apartment and Dax wasn’t my friend, so I wasn’t sure what was right.
He waved his hand. “Nah, I stopped by to see if he wanted to tag along on a project.”
“You mean your fixer work?”
Dax raised one brow, eyed me in a calculated way that I couldn’t tell was suspicion or curiosity. “He told you about that?”
For a moment, I realized maybe I wasn’t supposed to know that. Or maybe I wasn’t supposed to let Dax know that I knew. Or–
Oh, what the hell. The cat was out of the bag.
“Did you forget he told me he was a hitman?”
“No, but I didn’t expect him to share much. My mistake.”
“To set the record straight” –I set my hand on my chest– “I’m not a hitman.”
He grinned. “I knew that, but I wasn’t blinded by that spectacular rack like someone else.”
“Hey, cut that out,” Jack said, coming into the room and setting a hand on my shoulder. He kissed my head before he continued, “That spectacular rack doesn’t belong to you.”