Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2) (11 page)

Her hot, sweet pussy drew him on, teasing him, tormenting him until her head rolled back and his lips were on her cheek. She groaned loudly, smiling as her cunt spasmed around him, repeatedly, dragging him along for the ride. Will came with a loud, harsh shout, his face buried in her neck. He held on tight until the aftershocks faded away, until her pussy stopped pulsating around him. Until he thought he could act like a semi-coherent man again.

He brushed the hair from her sweaty cheek and kissed her temple.

“What a way to waste a day.” Her lips curved into a smile.

Will laughed, a part of him feeling silly and foolish for being unable to take his eyes off her and for not knowing how to respond.

“Where’d you go?” Sabrina asked, curling up against him. She rested her head on his chest.

“I’m here.” He smiled again, unable to help himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

His heart immediately seized up in his chest. Was she going to ask the dreaded
how did he feel about her
...or
where did they go from here?
“What?”

“Why—” She propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him. Curls hid most of her face, but not her eyes, which were a deep green, “—Why do you...” she hesitated, licked her lips. Finally, she met his gaze head-on, “—kill people? Really.”

This was the second time she’d asked him about his work, and her question was the reason he always lied. He felt as if someone had just sucked the life right out of him. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and forced his shoulders to relax. There was no easy answer, none that would probably ever satisfy her. And there was no way this conversation would end well. “It’s my job, sweetheart.”

Her eyebrows drew together slightly, and she struggled to sit up. “It’s not just a job. You...
take
human lives! Those people, they matter to someone. They have lovers and families...children!”

Air finally filled Will’s lungs, and he exhaled heavily as realization dawned. This wasn’t about him—not really. This was about her mother and Walt. He nodded to himself in understanding. “Can I ask
you
something?”

“I suppose,” she said softly, her eyes wary.

“How did your mom die?” He sat up while he waited for her to answer. Sweat trickled down his back and made the sheets stick to his legs.

She hesitated for a few seconds, and then said, “My step-father shot her.”

Even though he’d suspected as much, his chest still constricted slightly when she said it. He sighed and waited to see if she’d continue.

“I was at work. They, uh, they were fighting when I left...”

“About the baby?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He fisted the sheets, a part of him hoping she’d miss his slip, but he knew it was hopeless.

Sabrina lurched across the bed, settling on her haunches. All the blood seemed to have drained from her face. “You read my journal?” The soft tone of her voice scared him more than if she had yelled. “How dare you? How
dare
you!”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, scrambling for the right words. “I’m sorry,” was the best he could do. He sat up and scrubbed at his head.

“Fuck...
Will
, how could you read my journal?” She scowled at him. Her eyes widened and her brows slowly rose as she added, “
Journals
?”

He nodded.

“How many? How much do you know?”

Now was not the time to lie. “Three or four. I know about...Ronnie. Well, not everything, because you didn’t finish.”

“I’m so
sorry
to
deprive
you!” She climbed from the bed and snatched up her clothes, clutching them to her chest. “I’m—”

“Ask me anything!” He cut her off, unwilling to hear her say how angry she was, how much she hated him or that she was leaving him.

Her shoulders slumped, and the clothes slipped from her fingers to land on the edge of the bed. She daintily slid on her panties before asking the first question, “What’s the point? Why should I bother? You’ll just lie, or be vague.”

“I figure it’s only fair. Since I know so much about you.”

“You don’t know
shit
about me.” She pawed at the covers until she came up with something to hold her wild hair back with.

“Why don’t you settle down somewhere, get off the road? Don’t you want a normal life?” He stood and yanked on his sweats.

“Ha! Normal!? Coming from you that’s—” She shook her head, then perched on the end of the bed and exhaled a noisy breath. “You get paid to kill people for a living. What’s normal about
that
? What’s normal about
your
life, Will?”

She had him there.

His face burned as humiliation and resignation settled deep in his gut. “Nothing. But it is what it is and I am what I am, Bree. And lying is a part of the job.” His shoulders slumped with the weight of it. “But you know what? I’m
tired
, and that’s no lie. I’m tired of the traveling, the lying, the secrecy, the multiple identities, the disposable phones. Most of all, I’m tired of trying to keep it all straight, and hand to God, Bree, you’re the only woman I never...
almost
never lied to.”

“Well, isn’t that special! Should I feel all honored and shit?” she huffed.

He shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain to her how important not lying to her was. He had no one to blame but himself, but he’d known this wouldn’t end well. “I’m going to take a shower.”

N
othing kills a post-coital glow like reality.

“Well, wasn’t that exciting?” I muttered, sniffing back my tears. Staring at the bathroom door, I wondered how long Will was going to hide in there. Even though I knew it was impossible, a part of me hoped he’d drown or slip and hit his head or, at the least, cut himself shaving. I was still seething over him reading my journals!

Scamp appeared next to the bed and stared up at me, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“What, dude?” I reached down and gave him a scratch.

I didn’t want to think about my mom or my step-dad, who’d gotten away with murder, or Ronnie, who’d finished up his tour in Afghanistan, then died in a car crash on the way home from the airport. All of it was enough to give a girl a complex. Nothing
ever
went like I planned, so I’d stopped planning, learned to improvise and go with the flow. Settling down had just seemed like a bad idea after Ronnie.

Nothing ever worked out. Not even this, here with Will. Not that I’d expected it to.

I was finished. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my T-shirt fisted in my hands, my eyes on the bathroom door.

Scamp barked once, then trotted toward the front door and back again. I glanced at the bathroom door. My heart picked up speed, tapping steadily against my ribs as I grabbed a clean pair of jeans out of my bag and slid into them. “You ready to blow this Popsicle stand?”

He barked again and danced across the room toward the door again.

I couldn’t...wouldn’t stay here any longer.

Will had had his two days. And the sex had been fun. Despite Will’s initial... slip, I’d actually been looking forward to more.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he’d be stranded here. He had a cell phone; he could call someone. Besides, I had no intention of sitting in this cabin staring at him any longer, knowing that he knew all the things...humiliation made my cheeks burn. I left the thought unfinished. There’d never be a better time to run.

Glancing at the bathroom door again, I decided if I was going to leave, I should get my ass in gear. I was unused to leaving fate in someone else’s hands and tired of hiding. I packed up my stuff, slowed by fingers clumsy with fear. Grabbing Will’s jeans from the floor, I went fishing for the keys to my van, but they weren’t there. I suppose that would have been too easy.

I dove into one of his bags, and then the other, digging around until I finally came out a winner.

“Come on, Scamp.” My own bag slung over my shoulder, I darted out the door. My heart pounded in my chest; the keys were slippery in my sweaty hands. Will would kill me if he caught me. Maybe not literally, but he’d want to, so time wasn’t on my side.

I scooped Scamp up and threw him into the van along with my bag and climbed in. Slamming the door, I shoved the key in the ignition.

The engine turned over but didn’t catch. “Please start, please,
please
start!” I pumped the gas a few times, praying I didn’t flood it, and tried again but it still didn’t catch. Now all of me was shaking, and Scamp danced around in the passenger seat. The achingly hot steering wheel was slippery against my palm. “Yeah I know, dude. I’m trying!”

I slammed the door lock down with my elbow, praying if Will came out, he’d go for my door and not one of the others as I tried yet again. The engine whined, struggling to catch.

A “Hey!” sounded from outside the van.

My heart caught in my throat at the sight of Will in the side-view mirror. He stood on the porch in nothing but a towel, a frown on his face. His mouth was open and for a second, I hesitated.

“Please God, let it start! Please, please, please,” I whispered. I tried one last time, almost sick with relief as the engine roared to life. Hot air came gushing out the vents and sweat trickled down my sides. I threw the gearshift in reverse and hit the gas, flying past Will, who darted down the porch steps, that tiny towel clutched around his waist. The edge flapped like a flag in the breeze.

“God
damnit
, Bree,
stop!
”

I should have known about the journal when he’d called me Bree...that second time in bed. I shut out the visual of us having sex spoon-fashion. I didn’t need those sorts of distractions right now.

I glanced back, hit with a brief pang of conscience, but stopping was not on my agenda. I threw the van into drive and took off down the dirt road toward town.

Twenty agonizing, gut-wrenching minutes later, I breezed through the tiny town of Buckshot, Texas, my eye on the speedometer. The last thing I needed at this point was to get pulled over by the cops for speeding—real or imagined.

Once I crossed the county line, I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Will could catch me. I’d left him in the middle of nowhere with no transportation. But he was a resourceful guy. He’d be fine.

And so would I,
I thought as I wiped away my tears
.

* * *

T
he summer sun was on the downward slope and doing its best to scorch my eyelids by the time I crossed the Travis County line. Austin meant I was on the home stretch of my drive. I forced my stiff shoulders to relax and my brain to start working again.

First thing first, I locked away all thoughts of Will. There was no sense in looking back.

“Back is just a waste of time, right, Scamp?” He didn’t answer, but then, I didn’t really keep him around for his conversational abilities.

Second, San Antonio seemed the most logical place to go. I couldn’t afford to piss away the seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar vendor fee I’d paid. I
really
needed the money. Winter would be here before I knew it, and there were only a couple of big fairs left this season. With the price of gas, I’d need to stockpile all the cash I could, then find a place to hole up. Maybe get a job waitressing in some tiny diner, maybe an apartment. Maybe on the coast.

“Something nice.” I glanced at Scamp, who had his head resting on his paws. Someplace that allowed dogs.

With one last glance in the rearview mirror, I set the cruise control and turned up the radio, singing along with Snow Patrol.

I’d settle down for a little while. Nothing permanent, though—I didn’t
do
permanent—just through the winter.

W
ill stood at the edge of the driveway cursing a blue streak. His feet were coated with red sandy loam from running through the driveway to the road, and sore from the gravel digging into his feet. He coughed from the dust Bree’s van had left in its wake. “Fuck!”

She’d played him.
Totally and completely played him.
Fucked him just to get away from him.

He’d made an amateur mistake of the worst kind: He’d let his guard down.

Swearing again, he turned back toward the cabin and hobbled inside. She’d left a mess: clothes from his bags were strewn everywhere. Will grabbed the disposable cell phone then threw it down in disgust. It was dead and his charger didn’t fit—he’d already tried.

He rifled through his stuff until he found his own phone and plugged it in. He slammed the cabin door, rinsed his feet off, then got dressed and packed up his stuff. Just long enough for his phone to charge.

Will dialed Wynn’s number, wondering how long it would take his brother to come get him. And how much shit he’d get for his latest fuck up.

A recording of Julie’s cheerful voice greeted him. “Hi, we can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message.”

“Fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,
fuck
!” His grip tightened on the cell phone, and he almost threw it. Only the thought of being stuck with no way to get help stopped him. He tried Wynn again, in case they were screening their calls, but had no luck. Next he tried his brother John, who answered on the third ring. John was the last person Will wanted to ask for help, but he had to get out of this cabin. He had to find out who was hunting him and stop them before they found Bree. He couldn’t do it stuck in the middle of nowhere.

“Hello.”

Will gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak. “I need help.”

John snorted.

“Don’t be an asshole. I need you to come get me. Where are you?”

“In Austin, looking for you.”

“Fuck.” The job he was supposed to be prepping.

“You forgot to check in with Mom.”

Will groaned and sank down at the kitchen table. How the hell could he have forgotten? “I know.”

“Wow, did Wee Willie fuck up?”

“Don’t be an asshole. And don’t call Dad. Just come get me, okay?”