Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2) (14 page)

I dashed into the turret connected to a store and raced up the stairs. My legs throbbed and burned with every step. Struggling for air now, I collapsed on the landing. I could barely hear over the sound of my heavy breathing and my heart pounding, but Jim knew how to make his presence known.

“Sabrina-a-a-a-a!”

Shit! He was already at the bottom of the stairs. Groaning, I sagged against the wall, then forced my shaky legs up and peeked over the side.

It was too far to jump. I’d probably break a leg or worse. Down below, people wandered by drinking and laughing and eating those fucking turkey legs. Calling for help didn’t seem wise. I didn’t want to have someone’s death on my conscience—not that it would matter if I was dead, too. Just then I spotted Will’s brother. The one who’d come to visit us at the cabin.
Sweet Jesus.
Too bad I didn’t know his name, but if he was here, then so was Will.

“Get Will,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. All I had to do now was hang on a little longer.

Jim laughed while the other man’s head snapped up. We made brief eye contact, and then I took off up the stairs again.
Help was on the way
, played on a reel in my head and pushed me upward. Will had come, even if he probably hadn’t come for
me
. It didn’t’ matter. He was here.

By the time I hit the roof, my legs were done, jelly and toast. I slid on the gravel, ripping my skirt and skinning my knee. It hurt like hellfire but not as bad as my legs did. Expecting a kick or a yank of my hair any second now, I did a sort of crabwalk across the roof, more gravel cutting into the palms of my hands. My legs were all tangled in my skirt slowing me down more.

It was quieter up here away from the crowds, and there was no mistaking the sound of Jim’s booted footsteps. I turned and forced myself to my feet. I might die but not on my back and
not
without a fight.

“Sabrina.”

“They’re coming, you know,” I panted, pushing my hair off my face.

“Good. I’ll kill them, too.” He pulled out a long, deadly-looking gun and pointed it at me. “And then, I’ll be famous.”

“You’ll never get out of here. Once you fire that gun—”

He shrugged and waggled it back and forth. “Silencer.”

“They won’t let you get away,” I said with a shake of my head. If I knew anything, I knew that.

He raised the gun, and I grabbed his wrist with both hands, pushing it upward. Out of nowhere one of Jim’s huge fists connected with my jaw. I lost my grip as pain blossomed across my face, and I went down. All I could see were stars. My hand curled around some of the gravel as Jim moved closer. I forced myself to breathe, forced my vision to clear as best I could and drew up my knees, ready to defend myself.

Jim bent over, his lips curved into a pleased smile, and pointed the gun at my forehead. “Say goodnight, Gracie.”

I threw the gravel in his eyes, blinking and sputtering as some of it blew back into my face, and then shoved my foot into his crotch with all my might. Howling, he fell, half on top of me, and I grabbed the gun, but Jim wasn’t ready to give up. The muscles in my arms screamed in protest as I struggled to shove it away from the both of us.

“Fucking bitch.” Jim planted one meaty arm in the middle of my chest, bearing down with all his weight while we continued to struggle over the gun. “Should’a killed you last night.”

“Yeah, you should have, asshole.”

W
ill turned at the sound of his name. The sight of Sabrina sent a jolt through him just as Wynn shouted for him. Heart in his throat, Will broke into a run. He passed Wynn whose question about John’s whereabouts was lost on him.

John would just have to catch up.

Will sprinted up the narrow staircase. He hit the top step just as a loud pop echoed in his ears. He knew that sound, knew it well, and his blood ran cold. Sabrina lay pinned under a man, neither of them moving.

His feet felt as if they were stuck in swamp mud. He forced his lungs to expand and contract, forced himself to keep moving, just slower now.

Wynn darted past him, and pulled the man off Sabrina. “She’s alive.”

Sick with relief, Will moved forward on much more cooperative legs. He crossed to where Sabrina lay and sank down beside her. He gingerly lifted her, cradling her against his chest. There was blood. A lot of it. And he still wasn’t a hundred percent positive that some of it wasn’t hers.

He pushed her hair off her face and felt for a pulse, needing some form of quick reassurance. He relaxed the tiniest bit at the steady knock of her blood flowing beneath his fingers. Then he patted her down, and lifted up her shirt. His fingers came away sticky and red but luckily, there were no oozing bullet holes that he could find. “Sabrina...
Bree
.” He patted her cheek, almost smiling in relief when her eyelashes moved.

“He’s alive,” Wynn said.

“I don’t care.” All he cared about was that Sabrina was alive.

“He needs medical attention, Will.”

“Fuck
him
.” Will glanced at the man, starting slightly in surprise. The man from the bar. The one who’d raised his beer to Will the night he’d been hunting Derek Frost. “Let him bleed to death.”

“Dre will just send someone else,” John said from behind them.

Will turned a sharp eye in his brother’s direction. “I’ll take care of Dre.” He nodded toward the unconscious man. “You take care of
him
.”

“His name’s Jim,” Sabrina hoarsely whispered, then licked her lips and took a heavy shuddering breath.

“Pat him down,” Will instructed Wynn.

Wynn picked up the gun and handed it to John who quickly made it disappear.

Sabrina struggled to sit up, one hand pressed to her jaw. “Damnit!”

“You okay?” Before she could answer, he added, “You scared the shit out of me, Bree.” Even to his own ears, it sounded lame. What he really wanted to do was give her a hard shake for running off like she had. Instead, he tucked some curls behind her ear, but her wide-eyed gaze was on Jim as she scooted closer to Will.

“Guess I should have listened to you.”

“I’ll save the ‘I told you so’s’ for later,” Will said, hugging her tight.

“Is he—” She shuddered the tiniest bit.

“No,” Will sighed. “Not yet.”

“He’s a dead man,” John added, “soon as I can get him out of here.”

Sabrina shivered again and glanced up at Will. Her lips moved but no words came out.

“And just how are we going to get him out of here?” Wynn asked.

“You’re not,” a big baritone voice boomed from the top of the stairs.

Will jerked around, reaching for his gun in one fluid movement. A party of two dressed in jeans and special fair T-shirts stood at the top of the stairs. One of them held a turkey leg clasped in his hand, the other man held a gun.

“Jimmy, what the hell are you doing here?” Will eased to his feet and put his gun away as everything began to fall into place.

The man on the ground wasn’t
really
named Jim, but whoever he was, he had connections. Had to if Jimmy Page was here. The Pages and Colliers didn’t exactly run in the same circles, but you’d have to be deaf, dumb, and dead to not know who Jimmy Page was.

Not to mention, dead if you called him Jimmy to his face.

“We’re here for him.” He motioned to the man on the ground.

“Like hell!” John started across the roof, but Wynn snagged a piece of his shirt, pulling him back just enough to clamp a hand down on his shoulder.

“Easy, big boy.”

“You can’t have him,” Will said.

“I’m afraid it’s out of my hands.” Jimmy gave him an icy smile that said there was no room for argument.

“He hunted me. He shot me. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill my girlfriend.”

“And he’ll be punished, but he’s family.”

“I don’t care if he’s made—” John sputtered.

“Not
made
. Family. Mark’s mom is Dad’s cousin.” Jimmy shrugged as if to say, “What are you gonna do?” and continued, “I’m sure none of us wants to involve our families anymore than we have to.”

Sadly, he was right.

If they didn’t let the real Jimmy have...Mark or whoever that was lying on the ground, his dad would make waves. And Big Tom Page wasn’t a man you wanted to piss off. On top of which, waves meant
their
dad would find out about all of this—though the chances of him
never
finding out were now pretty slim.

Will nodded and reluctantly stepped out of the way. “If he ever comes after me again—”

“He won’t. You have my word.” Jim nodded, and the other man moved around him to where Jim’s cousin lay.

“I’m holding you to that,” Will added.

“Will,” Sabrina said, her voice full of questions.

He turned to find her standing on shaky legs. He reached for her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’s all right.”

“He needs a doctor.” The other man glanced up at Jim.

“It was an accident.” Sabrina swallowed and raised her chin a notch, her eyes on their guests. “Jim hit me. He—”

“Mark,” Jimmy corrected, his eyes softening slightly as he answered Sabrina. “His real name’s Mark, and I’m truly sorry about my cousin.”

“She didn’t mean to shoot him,” Will added, pulling her closer. The last thing he wanted was for Sabrina to end up in more trouble.

“Maybe if you all chose a safer line of work.” Sabrina gave them all a pointed look that even had Jimmy—the
real
Jimmy—shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Get her out of here,” he said with a nod of understanding. “We’ll clean this up.”

They were halfway down the stairs when Sabrina stopped and looked up at Will. Fear had turned her eyes more brown than green, and she still hadn’t stopped shaking. “My shirt. I can’t go out there like this.”

“I’ll go find something for her,” Wynn offered, slipping past them and disappearing from view.

John followed Wynn down the stairs. “I still think we should have killed him.”

“Damnit, not now, John,” Will said, tightening his grip on Sabrina. “Why don’t you go pack up Sabrina’s stuff? Meet us back here in ten.”

“How the hell am I supposed to find her stuff?” John groused.

“Five minutes that way.” Sabrina pointed him in the right direction. Her arm quaked. “Look for the dog.”

“Dog?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded and gave him a shove in the right direction. “His name is Scamp.” Once he was gone, Will turned to Sabrina. “Pull it together.”

She nodded shakily, curls bobbing and eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Not nearly as sorry as I am.”

P
utting on a happy face was out of the question; I’d have to be satisfied with acting as close to normal as possible.

I took comfort in the feel of Will’s arm around my waist as he led me out of the fair and toward my van. I kept waiting for him to yell at me or shake me or give me that promised “I told you so,” but it never came. He just tucked me in the passenger side of the van and slammed the door. He stood outside, his back to me and waited with arms crossed over his chest until John, who was, incredibly enough, a scarier version of Will, showed up with Scamp and my stuff. Despite my earlier trauma, I almost laughed at the appalled look on John’s face as he handed Scamp over to Will.

We made it out of the fair without any more problems, and without a word said between us. Will followed Wynn’s BMW to a Holiday Inn. The parking lot was the shiny black that only came from new asphalt and never lasted long. It was a sharp contrast to the pale pink faux stucco of the building.

“Wait here.” Will exited the vehicle, briefly letting in the sound of traffic on the nearby highway.

Finally, Will returned for us, leading me upstairs and into a chilly hotel room. I curled up on the bed, my dog clutched in my arms. “I should have listened to you.”

He gave me a long, solemn stare that scared me more than anything he could have said. “Go take a shower. You smell like blood.”

Flinching, I grabbed my things and stepped into the bathroom where I closed the door, turned on the shower and promptly threw up. After washing up, I stood under the spray until the shaking stopped. I didn’t want to get out. I didn’t want to face Will.

Was it possible to shower yourself to death?

Finally, I stepped out and toweled off. I slipped into my tattered pink robe and wrapped another towel around my head, then took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.

The room was empty. Even Scamp was gone. Tears pricked my eyes, and I sagged against the doorframe.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stretched out on the bed, thinking I’d never sleep again, but I did.

When I woke up, Will was there with my dog and some food.

I sat up and pushed the towel off my head. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill him.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.” He didn’t even turn at the sound of me moving around. “Come eat.”

The thought of food made me want to run for the bathroom. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, Sabrina.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying to shake the fuzzies out of my head. “You gonna yell at me now?”

“What do you want me to say?” Will finally turned around, a scowl firmly in place as he stalked across the room. “This is why I dragged you out to the middle of nowhere! This...
this
is what I tried to prevent!” He stopped in front of me and grasped my chin, forcing me to look at him. His grip was firm but not painful. “Do you have any idea how many people you could have gotten hurt or worse, killed today? Besides yourself?”

I’d never even considered it, hadn’t really had time, and words failed me. All I could muster up was a sad nod.

“Not to mention what could have happened to you,” he said. His tone was softer but that scowl was still firmly in place. “I should have left you on the side of the road.”

I sniffled, unable to help myself.

“I didn’t mean that.”

It didn’t matter. “What happens now?”

The flush of anger left his cheeks and his expression hardened. Stoic-Man was back. “You’re safe.”