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

by Amie Stuart

  “Why do you keep staring at me?” Her voice was husky, rough and unrefined like her.

  He forced his attention back to the road. If he didn’t stop staring, she’d jump out, moving vehicle or not. “Just wondering what you were doing out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Driving. You?” she quickly shot back.

  Will laughed as much at her sarcasm as her quick wit. She’d obviously been around the block a time or two. “Where you headed?”

  “A Ren-Faire in San Antonio.” The dog on her lap pawed at the console separating them. He wasn’t near as cute as she was, so Will frowned at him, hoping he’d stop before he marked up the leather.

  “What the hell is a Ren-Faire?”

  “You know, people dress up like knights and bar maids and drink mead and eat turkey legs. I tell fortunes.”

  “Fortunes.” He snorted, thinking he told fortunes too, but his were probably nowhere near as fun as hers.

  “I’m actually pretty good.”

  “That’s why you live in your van?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Proving once again what an insensitive ass he was. He scowled at the road, waiting for a sharp retort that never came.

  Instead, she sighed, her fingers curling in her mutt’s short hair she glanced out the window. The Tahoe ate up the miles carrying them closer and closer to El Paso. In her lap, the dog whimpered briefly, raised his head then settled back down as Sabrina stroked him. Her short, utilitarian fingers continued to gently knead as outside the SUV, the desert finally, slowly gave way to humanity.

  With each mile that passed, her silence dug at him like a knife in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he finally blurted out.

  “Sorry for what?” She turned to look at him, her big greenish eyes curious.

  “For what I said.”

  “Huh?” A slight frown puckered her brow. “What did you say?”

  Here they went—the passive-aggressive, dog-and-pony show was on. Sorry was never enough. Women. They always wanted more...blood, sweat, tears, your American Express card. Whatever... “My comment about living in your van. I’m sorry.” There! He’d said it.

  “Oh, sure.” She shrugged in a way that made him grit his teeth. With his ex, he would have gone three rounds by now. “No problem.”

  Of course there was a problem. There was always a problem.

  And problem was spelled C-O-O-C-H-I-E. To get a little you had to give—a lot. Women were the scorekeepers, the referees and the opponents, and men were expected to know all the rules—except they never let you see the rulebook.

  Then again, maybe he’d read her wrong; maybe he’d read too much into her silence. As tired as he was, he supposed anything was possible.

  “So what were you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I’m a salesman.”

  “Wow! Your company must love you.” She patted the console, indicating the SUV’s luxury package.

  “I’m on vacation.” Jesus, surely he could lie better than this! He had to get rid of her, and soon. Before he said something he’d regret.

  She was irritating him, getting under his skin with those big eyes and full lips. And those tits...he turned the air conditioner on high, and shifted in his seat, willing himself to not think about his cock—and her lips. Sabrina was off limits.

  All women were off limits. He’d learned his lesson with Tilly.

  He had to get rid of Sabrina and get back to Oklahoma and find a new place to live. Maybe a monastery. Did they even have monasteries in Oklahoma?

  CHAPTER TWO

  As much as I appreciated the ride, Roy’s grumpy “Stoic Man” act was a little off-putting. Then again, I wasn’t in a position to be picky. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long to find a garage.

  Gads, El Paso! It was so brown and taupe and dreary, the city bleeding into the surrounding landscape, letting the desert eat at it, suck it dry like a vampire. I shuddered, my fingers digging deeper in Scamp’s fur.

  "Can you—" I pointed to the fancy control panel on the dash, “—turn the air down?” The arctic blast made me want to curl up in a ball underneath about a dozen blankets.

  Grunting, he turned the knob and the air slowed to a Nor’ westerner.

  It’d do.

  I would have preferred the fresh air (even if it was hot as a jalapeño outside), but after two hours on the side of the road, I’d take what I could get. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t had anything to eat since the vending machine donuts I’d grabbed early this morning. No wonder I’d passed out.

  “You okay?”

  “Just thinking about my poor van.” And my poor savings.

  “Maybe it’s just a busted hose.”

  “Huh, more like a busted engine.” I took another sip of my water, then let Scamp lick my wet fingers.

  “You really think it’s that bad?” Roy asked, sounding genuinely worried.

  Grimacing at the thought of costly engine repairs, I nodded. “Pretty sure. There’s a garage.” Pointing, I sat up a little straighter, and Scamp wiggled in my lap, scratching at the door.

  “Sure that’s the one you want?”

  “I don’t care as long as they can fix a Chevy van.”

  “All right.” He flicked on his blinker and took the exit. He turned into the little all-purpose gas station (the kind you don’t see much of anymore), and jerked to a stop next to the pump. It was a concrete oasis with peeling paint and basic repair prices painted on the window.

  “Will you watch Scamp while I see about a tow?” I scooted the puppy off my lap, holding him in place as I slid out. The Texas heat engulfed me, mercilessly driving away the chill brought on by the SUV’s air conditioner. It was an almost instantaneous combination of sweat and scorched skin.

  Roy stared at me as if he wanted to say no, as if he’d like to push the dog and me into the gas station’s parking lot and take off in a squeal of tires, never looking back. “Sure.”

  The aviator sunglasses and the bland expression he wore made him unreadable, but something about him made me shiver as I closed the door. Scamp whimpered, his eyes mournful and anxious through the tinted glass. “I’ll be right back,” I mouthed, lightly tapping the glass.

  Inside, a window unit blew full tilt, pouring damp, dirty-smelling air into every corner of the empty room. Three chairs were carelessly positioned against one wall, a white counter smudged with grease-stains took up the other, and two metal stands held Thrifty Nickels and Greensheets. A rattling, gasping soda machine that looked almost as old as my van took up the remaining wall. The garage door opened with a cringe-worthy squeal.

  “Help you?”

  “My van broke down outside of town. Can you give me a tow?” And please, God, can it not cost too much? I sucked in my gut and gave him my sweetest smile, hoping to win him over. “And take a look at it.”

  Wiping his hands on a red rag, he looked me up and down, a slow grin crossing his sweaty, grease-encrusted face. He wasn’t bad looking, but it had obviously been a while since he’d gotten intimate with the Irish Spring and Mister Razor. He shrugged and glanced over my shoulder toward Roy’s SUV, then stuffed the battered rag into the back pocket of his overalls. “I’m alone today, and pretty backed up.”

  Sighing, I forced myself to think of Scamp lying dead in the highway, and how horrible I’d feel if I lost my only friend. Tears filled my eyes and a lump clogged my throat, while my fingers knotted in my skirt. “I really...” I sniffed, waving my hands around helplessly.

  “We close at six.” He moved closer, close enough for me to see the avaricious gleam in his clear blue eyes and inhale the scent of his sweat mixed with grease. “I can take you out there then. Check out your van.”

  Check out my pussy was more like it. I bit my lip and raised my shoulder, getting ready to give him a nice healthy shrug, when the door jangled and Scamp barked.

  “Your dog pissed in my car.” Roy stood holding Scamp like he was some sort of diseased rodent, one hand
gripping the scruff of his neck, one under his belly. Scamp didn’t look at all contrite. Or happy.

  “I...” I glanced from Roy to Scamp to Garage Dude. “I’m really sorry.” I reached for my puppy.

  “What’s wrong with your van?” the mechanic asked.

  “It overheated,” I said.

  “I thought you said the engine was shot,” Roy added, taking away my chance to act dumb and helpless later when Garage Dude came to tell me that I’d probably blown the van’s heads. They’d been on their last legs anyway, but I’d hoped the engine would hold out until after the fair in San Antonio when I’d be a little more flush.

  “I said I hoped it wasn’t.” I gave him a pointed look, praying he’d shut up before he cost me anymore money.

  “Can you fix her van?” Roy demanded, brushing at the front of his immaculate yellow polo shirt.

  “I already told her it’d be after six before I could even go out there and get it.”

  Roy asked, leveling his gaze on me. “You staying here then?”

  “I’m...yeah.” I nodded and sighed, glad I’d have Scamp for company. My options were stay here...or stay here, and it was going to be a long day, regardless.

  “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.”

  * * *

  Two 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.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “So 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.