Page 92 of Hannah and the Hitman

“Sal Reggiano.”

My pussy clenched. My whole body did, at the name.

I sat up and glanced at Jack. Mouthed who it was. His eyes flared and he tugged at the tie that bound his wrists.

Reaching out with one hand, I undid the knot. It had been too easy, which meant that Jack could have freed himself at any time but chose to remain at my mercy. He was giving me so many opportunities for building my self-confidence. It was working.

I was talking to a mafia boss. Naked. With Jack’s dick buried inside me.

That was a new one for me.

As soon as he was able, he snatched the phone from me and pressed the speaker button.

“What do you want, Mr. Reggiano?” I asked. If my mother had wanted Jack to call her and my dad Mr. and Mrs. Highcliff for being a dinner guest, I assumed Sal Reggiano wanted the same courtesy, regardless of whether the respect was deserved.

“You.”

Jack wrapped an arm about me and lifted me off him. Isettled beside him on the bed, his cum starting to slip from me. He probably felt as skeeved out as I did having sex and then hearing the man wanted me. Gross.

“Joey Brains told me about you.” His voice was deep and raspy as if he was a chain smoker.

I met Jack’s gaze. “Oh?”

“How you disappeared on him. I didn’t believe him, obviously. The man’s dumber than a box of rocks. But no way would a woman get away from him.”

“If you want me, then I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t succeed.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you dead anymore.”

Jack’s jaw was clenched so tight, he’d have to see Brittany to fix cracked molars.

“I also saw what you did with Eyebrows.”

I tried to understand how that was possible considering Eyebrows was dead, but he meant security footage. There had to be cameras in the parking garage.

“I didn’t believe that either, but Smitty sure had a lot to say.”

Jack closed his eyes and was probably praying to the false God Perry preached about. Maybe going with Jack and Dax to visit Smitty the Cheater had been a bad idea.

“Oh?” I asked, filling in the silence.

“While he might be behind on a loan for a shark, who do you think that person works for?”

I bit my lip, eyed Jack. He nodded. “You?”

“Through my son, Paul. He’s finding his place there in Denver.”

I cleared my throat. “You, um, must be proud.”

“You’ll come work for me. Use your impressive talents. No one’s going to expect a woman like you to be a fixer.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. For a thrilling moment–like any woman would–I felt exceedingly proud of myself that the head of the Vegas mafia wanted me to be a fixer for him.

It was absolutely ludicrous.

Except he was serious.

“You’re the perfect supervillain.”