Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2) (3 page)

“I’ll take care of her.” Garage Dude grinned, nodding in Roy’s direction.

I had a feeling the engine repairs were going to cost me
big time
. With one last sigh, I followed Roy outside. “Thanks again for the ride.”

He slipped his sunglasses off, revealing warm grey eyes and a fierce scowl. “You
sure
you want to stay here?”

Apparently, Roy wasn’t as dense as I’d thought back there in the garage. From the concern on his face, he’d obviously figured out exactly how much those repairs were going to cost me. And how I planned on paying for them. His concern caught me off guard and made me sad. I almost wished our ride had lasted a little longer. That I’d had a little more time to see what was under that stoic exterior.

“I’m sure. But thanks.”

* * *

T
wo hours later I stepped outside with Scamp on his makeshift leash. He’d started whining for another potty break. My back hurt from sitting for so long and I felt like I’d choke if I stayed in that stuffy little room another second. The late day sun, mixed with concrete, was just as bad, the pressure on my chest heavy as a ton of bricks. With the oddly hypnotic thrum of vehicles zooming past on the nearby highway for company, I led Scamp to a small patch of brittle, dry grass and waited while he did his business.

Garage Dude came wandering out, wiping his hands on that rag while he looked me up and down again. He’d shrugged out of his coveralls, letting them fall to his waist. A grimy, damp, white T-shirt clung to his muscled chest. Pointing to Scamp, I forced myself to shrug and smile.

Don’t judge.
You can’t survive out here on the road without having to occasionally do things...considered undesirable by most.

He nodded, acknowledging he’d seen me, and more importantly, hadn’t forgotten me. He reached up, revealing the sweat-stained armpit of his T-shirt as he pulled down the garage’s door.

Apparently, the witching hour had come.

“Come on, Scamp.” I tugged his leash, ready to head back inside when a shiny black van still dripping water from a recent washing pulled into the gas station.

I glanced at the grim-faced driver, then pushed the shop door open, ready to reclaim my place in Hell’s waiting room, only to stop at the sound of my name. The door slipped from my fingers and huffed shut, pushing out a tiny bit of the dirty-tasting air. Scamp barked softly at first, then louder, tugging at his leash as if he’d just been found by his long-lost owner. As if he were actually happy to see the guy he’d peed on just a few short hours ago. Scamp tugged at the leash again, pulling me forward on reluctant feet.

“You’re back.”

Roy nodded slowly, his customary frown marring his forehead. He tossed me a ring with two keys on it.

“What’s this?” I held the keys up, and then palmed them, the warm metal cutting into my hand, sharp and bittersweet as only hope can be.

“Keys.”

I sighed, smothering the urge to scream, and just stared at him. I was a tarot card reader, not a mind reader.

“Your stuff’s in the back.”

My eyes on his face, I crossed the hot concrete, then opened the side door. All my bedding, all my belongings and clothes were semi-neatly arranged in the van’s carpeted interior. It smelled slightly like sweat and sand. Someone had made their home in this van before. Or done a lot of traveling in it. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glanced at Roy, scared and slightly drunk on
Hope
.

Hope was not my friend. In the past, she’d left me with a hell of a hangover. “Why?”

Scamp jumped to the foot rail, then clambered in, sniffing all around before deciding he must be home, since the twin mattress smelled like me. He walked in circles a couple of times, before settling down in a ball.

Lord I envied him. I was so tired, but it’d be hours before I could sleep. “Why?” I asked again when Roy didn’t answer. More importantly, how much was it going to cost me?

He shrugged, his shoulders rolling easily under his expensive shirt. “I assumed you couldn’t afford to miss that...Ren-Faire.”

I nodded slowly, wondering how in the hell I’d pay him back. Maybe I’d read
him
wrong. Maybe he’d just decided he wanted what I’d been willing to give Garage Dude. “How?”

“Cash.”

Cash always made things easier, but who the hell walked around with enough cash to buy a used van? I gave him a hard look but didn’t have the balls to ask. It was that whole “gift horses” and “mouths” thing. “How much do I owe you?” All I had was eight-hundred-and-fifty two dollars...and change. Not near enough to repay Roy.

A few heartbeats later, he shrugged and said, “A read. Do that
card thing
for me, and we’ll call it even.”

“That’s it?”
I couldn't hold back a skeptical frown.

He nodded tersely. There had to be a catch; nothing was free, few things were cheap, and desperate women were easy.

From the other side of the garage, came the heavy rumble of a truck engine starting up.

My heart picked up its pace. I glanced at the closed garage doors, then at Roy before slamming the van’s doors. My mechanical lover was on his way. “Let’s go.”

Thanks to a green light we were back on the highway before the tow truck appeared.  I’m sure he’d be angry, being cheated out of an easy lay, out of as many easy lays as it would have taken to pay for the repairs on my van.  “Where, uh, where should I take you?”

“Couple miles up. Get off when you see the Denny’s. That's where I left the Tahoe.”  His voice was the texture of raw silk, soothing with a rough edge that didn’t fit his smooth, non-descript exterior at all. Kind of like those gray eyes of his. It could melt butter...hell, it could have melted me, and I’d have happily given up a night, or five, to him in payment for the van. A van that would last a while from the look of it.

Surely he wanted more than a reading
.

The trip west through town was quiet. My nerves were wound taut, waiting for him to speak, to say something, to just come out and tell me he wanted to fuck me.

They
all
wanted to fuck me.

Not because I was
pretty
, or
thin
, or particularly exciting, but because
they could
. Or thought they could. Sometimes I didn’t have to sleep with them to get what I wanted. Sometimes, I didn’t have any choice. The way I figured, it all balanced out in the end.

“That Denny’s,” he finally said.

Finally, curiosity got the best of me. “How’d you get this van? Seriously?”

“I found a guy who had a van to sell, and bought it.”

“Did you make him a deal he couldn’t refuse?” I quipped.

He snorted and his lips curved into a smile that softened his hard edges. Softened me. It suited him. “The only deal I made with him involved money.”

“The van’s not in my name.”

“Yes, it is. You just have to register it. Take this exit.”

The van swayed slightly as we took the off-ramp and turned into the parking lot. I pulled into the empty space next to his Tahoe. “You want that reading now?” I glanced at him skeptically, then toward the back where my jumbled belongings were.

And how about a blow job while we’re at it? Would you like one of those, too?

Smiling, he unhooked his seatbelt. “How about dinner first?”

“Sure.” Why not? This day couldn’t possibly get any weirder.

I rolled down the windows and poured water in a dish for Scamp, who smiled appreciatively at me—and knew better than to run off. “Be right back, dude.”

“S
o why’d you come back?” she asked once the waitress was on her way back to the kitchen with their orders. Sabrina crossed her arms on the table, her head cocked to the side, shoulders slumped slightly. She reminded him of that damned dog of hers, except he doubted Sabrina was the begging kind.

Why
had
he gone back?  Will busied himself peeling the thin paper napkin from his flatware and laying it out.  Stating the obvious would only embarrass her. She’d planned on sleeping with that disgusting, piece-of-shit mechanic to get her crappy-ass van fixed. And then it probably wouldn’t have gotten her another thousand miles.

Make no mistake; he wasn’t some dammed softhearted killer who went around rescuing orphans and widows. He did what he did because he was good at it. Because it was all he knew—even if he was tired of it. And he wasn’t out saving damsels in distress to salve his conscience or to make up for the lives he’d taken or because he needed to even the score with God.

They had a Gentleman’s Agreement.

So, even he didn’t know
why
he’d bought the van. Not only had he bought it, he’d followed the owner down the highway after spotting a
For Sale
sign in the van’s window, and made him a great cash offer to get the deal done ASAP.

Even though it wasn’t anymore cold-hearted a transaction than him accepting money to kill Derek Frost, the thought of Sabrina sleeping with that slimy grease monkey while her stupid dog watched had left a bad taste in Will’s mouth. Except he couldn't come right out and say that to her. So he lied. Sort of.

“I didn’t want you to miss that fair,” he finally said, meeting her pretty hazel eyes. “It sounded important and there’s no telling how long your engine repairs might have taken.” Maybe lame, but it was as close as he could get to the truth.

She swallowed hard, nodding slightly. Her gaze shifted away from him and something like adoration filled her eyes as she stared at the van, gleaming dark and shiny in the late afternoon sun. It was still old but at least ten or fifteen years newer than hers and well cared for. He didn’t have to state the obvious. Sabrina was a survivor.

More importantly, she
knew
that he knew. Even if he hadn’t said it.

She nodded again, muttering her thanks to the waitress who slipped a glass of Coke in front of her. “I can...do your reading after dinner. In the van.”

And have sex.

The unspoken offer was tempting, as was Sabrina, but he didn’t want her to think he was no better than that mechanic.

Not that he wasn’t attracted to her. He'd have to be dead to not be attracted to her. Sabrina was
gorgeous
, with an earthy sensuality that left his mouth dry and his cock hard, but pretty women were a dime a dozen. He also had a sister and a mother, so taking advantage of women didn't set well with him. Especially , a woman in Sabrina’s position. “Why don’t you just do it now?”

She blinked at him in obvious surprise, her forehead furrowed in confusion. “Now?”

“Yeah, now. I’ve got to get on the road after dinner. My sister’s waiting.”
I’m not sleeping with you.

Her lips twitched, then slowly curved into a smile that punched him in the gut.

“What?” Now he was the one confused.

She dug in her bag. “You don’t look like the type to have a sister.” Finally, she came up for air, holding a handful of purple silk. With her other hand, she cleared the space between them, glancing around.

“For your information, her name is Dani and she’s a spoiled brat,” he said with a smile. Dani was everyone’s pet—his, John’s, and their brother Wynn’s. But especially, his mom’s.

The restaurant was bursting with the Early Bird Special crowd, but the corner they were in was fairly empty and relatively quiet. She laid the square down, folding back sections of silk to reveal an oversized deck of cards with edges soft and worn from overuse. She shuffled repeatedly, silently, then finally fanned the cards out. “Think about what you want to know and then pick one card.”

“Just one?” He’d only asked for the reading to appease her, figuring she wouldn’t just take the van for
nothing.
He certainly didn’t believe in her mumbo jumbo cards, but he chose, his hand hesitated, shifting down the deck and back again before finally settling on one and handing it to her.

“The King of Wands represents you.” Her eyebrow quivered slightly as she spoke, otherwise her face was impassive. She didn’t elaborate though, and Will had no idea how he’d done. Not that he cared. Really.

This was for fun, right?

She laid out more cards, studied them, deeply immersed in her role as a prophet and giver of wisdom. Will hid his twitching lips behind his coffee cup, draining it and motioning to the waitress closing in on them for more.

“Thanks.” He nodded, catching the surprised and skeptical look she shot Sabrina. Their eyes met, and he shrugged, as if to say, “What are you gonna do?”

Once the waitress was gone, Sabrina finally looked up at him, her gaze intense and probing. “The Knight of Wands here in the center—" She tapped the card, “—signifies a trip or a move. Something unexpected. This one, here at the top, is your goal. But it’s reversed, implying trickery. Something is standing in your way, preventing you from achieving whatever it is you want. You have to be alert, and decisive.”

Will focused his attention on his coffee, biting back a snort at her theatrics.

“This one here at the bottom is the foundation your...desire is based on. The Ace of Wands implies a new beginning, like an inheritance, a child, marriage, an
adventure
. But also something meaningful.”

Here he smiled, thinking again of his impending retirement, the beach in Nevis, his happy bungalow, days of fishing and lazing in the sun, pulling his dinner from the ocean.

“This one here, at the bottom, she’s the Priestess.” She tapped the card thoughtfully, her lips pursed.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding more anxious than he would have liked.

“Well it’s someone you—an old influence, someone you’ve learned from.”

Someone like his father who had been very vocal in his disapproval over Will’s desire to quit.  But his job didn’t exactly come with a long shelf life.

“This one to the right is a new influence. The Emperor implies stagnation or a lack of progress. Slow movement.  This one here, also at the bottom, is you and how you’ll probably handle things.” She stared at him, her gaze intense in a way that made him think he wasn’t going to like what she said next.