Page 99 of Hannah and the Hitman
65
JACK
“He’s got a fucking gun,” I snapped.
Dax set a hand on my chest once more, holding me back. We were behind a big-ass tree in the Highcliff front yard, peeking around it like the Hardy Boys. We could see through the front bay window and into the living room. Sal was standing by the fireplace aiming a gun at Hannah. Her mother stood beside her. I didn’t see the others in the family, but I assumed at least her dad and sister were there.
“You can’t go in and shoot up the place,” Dax warned.
“As long as Hannah ducks, I don’t really care what kind of collateral damage there is.”
“Her family’s that bad?”
Even though I was going to lose my shit, I had to laugh. “Worse.”
“If we kill Sal ourselves, we’re dead. The entire mafia will come after us.” We already talked about this, but it wasa stark reminder. He turned his head and met my gaze. “We have to wait for Paul. He has to be the one to do it. It shows his strength to the entire organization and gives him the respect he needs to lead.”
“I know, but Sal’s pointing a gun at Hannah!” I stuck my arm out toward the house. “I need my rifle. I’ll put a bullet in his brain from here.”
“No kill shots. There’s a fucking lemonade stand right over there. You can’t shoot a rifle in front of little kids.” He sighed. “We’ll go in and save her. But no killing.”
Fuck. FUCK!
I stared at the house again.
“Fine,” I said, gritting my teeth. “We can’t kill Sal. But we can maim and contain, right? He definitely deserves to be maimed for holding my girl at gunpoint.”
Dax made a face as he considered. “We can do that. We can’t walk through the front door though, otherwise he’ll have his gun trained on us. Or he’ll shoot us as example to keep Hannah in line.”
It’d work better than shooting her family, I figured.
“Think they’ve got a shed out back with garden shears?” Dax asked. “He doesn’t need all ten fingers for Paul to take him off and dump his body in a concrete foundation.”
Backyard. Backyard. I glanced at the house.
“There’s gotta be a back door we can sneak in.”
BACKYARD. I glanced at the roof. Yes!
“I’ve got a better idea.”
66
HANNAH
“He has a gun because he’s a bad guy,” I said to my mother, answering her question about morticians and weapons.
“Why are you dating a bad guy?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I’m not dating him!” I tossed my hands up. “I’m going to work for him.”
“Embalming? I thought you wanted to open a bookstore.”
“I’m notembalminganyone.” I shuddered at the thought.
“At least working for this man should give you job security. Especially since the retail space you wanted is no longer available.”
“What?” My chest clenched. The space had beentaken? It was my space!