Irreversible: The Hitman & The Heiress

by Alexx Andria

  But when he didn’t repeat himself for my benefit I was forced to reconcile his original statement.

  “What do you mean? Is this is a joke?”

  “Do you find it funny?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s pretty safe to say, it’s no joke.”

  “Why would somebody be trying to kill me?” I managed to say before my throat closed up with fear. This couldn’t be happening. Seriously, not happening. But the ache in my head said otherwise. Well, that and the hired killer with the moss-green gaze who was eyeing me like a dog wary sniffed at a treat from a stranger’s hand.

  Stop. Definitely not cute. I was stuck in a weird-ass cabin with my would-be killer. I was no expert on kidnapping and attempted murder but something told me I shouldn't be alive.

  Inner snarky bitch don’t fail me now. “Okay, I'll bite. Why didn't you kill me. And I'm gonna overlook for just this minute why you can say that so easily and then secondly, I'm going to ignore the fact that I'm not running out of this place screaming for help.”

  “Well, obviously, if I was going to kill you I’d have done it by now.”

  Couldn't argue that logic.

  Next difficult question. “Are you going to kill me eventually or is my death off the table?”

  The tiniest hint of a smile preceded, “The jury is still out.”

  Was that killer humor? Not funny.

  “No, I'm serious. If you were hired to kill me — which I can't imagine why – why didn't you do it? Not that I’m not grateful but the questions, you know?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “Who out there wants you dead?”

  Oh, I get it, you get to ask questions but I don't. Down, Snarky Voice of Potential Suicide. “I can't imagine who would want me dead,” I insisted with all the earnest honesty I could muster. “I’m literally no one. I don't even have any serious workplace drama that would compel someone to take a hit out on me. Seriously, I am like the most boring person on the planet.”

  The truth kinda stung a bit. I didn’t set out to be the most boring person alive but sometimes life happened in ways we never expect — and most people make me want to drive a nail through my brain.

  “People don't offer the kind of money that was put on your head just because. Either you can level with me or you can take your chances out there with someone who will take the bounty and trust me, they won't hesitate on that trigger.”

  “The office pool must be a bitch,” I muttered.

  “I’m serious. Someone wants you dead. I didn't do it but someone will. If you can help me figure out why someone would want to kill you I might just be able to save your ass.”

  Ahhh, now we circle back to the original question. Why did he care? “Do we know each other? I don't mean to come off sounding ungrateful because I am very grateful to still be breathing but I am a little confused as to why a hired killer would want to randomly save me.”

  I wasn’t sure where the bravado was coming from but I was gonna ride it for as long as I was able.

  “Here’s the thing, I honestly don't know why anyone would want to kill me. I'm not lying or trying to be modest or evasive. I don't know anyone who would hate me so much that they would want to snuff out my life. I take pictures of mountains and badgers for crying out loud. How rife with revivals could that possibly be?”

  The look on his face told me he agreed. Perhaps something he already thought of himself.

  “My idea of a wild night is a pint of my favorite ice cream and Netflix. Does that sound like someone who could possibly create such a stir that someone wanted her dead?”

  He countered with an equally viable point. “Offers that come across my network aren’t made capriciously.”

  We were spinning circles. Time to try a different approach. “Let’s assume for a second that I'm telling the truth and I have no idea who would want me dead. In your qualified opinion who would want to kill someone like me?”

  “What kind of name is Breezy Grace?”

  I scowled in frustration. “Oh my God, seriously, you're going to give me crap about my name? Like that's never happened before. My entire high school experience was filled with jerks like you who liked to make fun of my name. I had no choice in what my parents named me. What's your name Mr. Killer?”

  “Dex.”

  It was my turn to snort. “Dex? That’s just ridiculous. Sounds like Dicks.”

  Funny thing, when you were staring at death you got ballsy.

  “I noticed you don't answer any of my questions. Why is that? Do you hate women?”

  “It has nothing to do with how I feel about women.”

  “So, it’s just me,” I concluded, trying not to get prickly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but this is, sort of, your fault. If you’d followed through with your job, we wouldn’t be here trying to unravel this mystery. So, seeing as you put this scenario in motion, I suggest you start being more helpful.”

  “Point taken,” he responded dryly. “Although, right about now, I’m beginning to question what the hell I was thinking.”

  I ignored that. “Got any ideas that might be helpful?”

  He sighed in irritation, plainly never been bothered with these kinds of details before. “What about the people you work with? Your boss? Are you sleeping with him? Does he have a jealous wife?”

  I made a face. “My boss is a lesbian and as far as I know she and her companion are quite happy together and furthermore, I don’t swing that way, so no, I think we can definitely scratch that one off the list.”

  “It was a long shot anyway. The publisher of the mags you work with could never scrap together the kind of money put on your head.”

  Okay, now I was terribly curious as to what that number was, actually. Was it morbid to ask? I was probably better off not knowing but there was a perverse thrill in knowing that I was worth an obscene amount of money to someone.

  Back on point. Focus, Bree. “I’m telling you, I am so benign. I don't bother anybody. I just do my work and I go home. Honestly, I feel like I've been thrust into really bad dream with very poor decorating sense. Where are we? Literally, this has to be the ugliest place I've ever seen in my life.”

  “It's off the grid, that's all you need to know. It's not supposed to be the lap of luxury. Supposed to keep you alive.”

  Was this a safe house? Shouldn’t safe houses feel more, I don't know, safe?

  “I didn't take you to be so chatty,” he admitted.

  “And why is that? You don't know me. Unless...” A horrible thought occurred to me. “Did you stalk me? Oh my God, you totally stalked me, didn't you? Of course you did, that’s how you knew my schedule. That is so invasive.”

  His sigh deepened with open frustration. “You talk too much. I should've left you drugged.”

  I snapped my mouth shut. Rude. Why I was poking his buttons? It was flat-out stupid. I must've had a death wish because I was playing with fire.

  Again, ballsy.

  Or I was in shock and acting braver than I felt was the only thing keeping me from passing out from sheer terror.

  Either explanation worked.

  I glanced around the depressing shack, feeling the minutes tick by like scratches on my skin. “So what are we going to do while we sit here? Stare at each other? I'm starving. Did your master kidnapping plan involve food of any sort?”

  “The house is fully stocked with essentials. We will not starve.”

  I bit my tongue before saying, what do you consider essential? because I doubted chocolate milk was on his list. He strode into the kitchen and opened the pantry, revealing an impossible amount of MRE’s, as if those were an actual food source.

  My hopes crashed and burned. Maybe he was going to collect that bounty after all — because I think I was about to starve.

  3

  DEX

  My gaze was drawn unerringly to Breezy’s sweet, soft lips — Good God, woman do you ever shut up?

  I was half-temped to shock her into silenc
e by sealing my mouth over hers just to see if it would work.

  That low rumble of possession rattling my cage encouraged the idea.

  What was I thinking?

  I felt out of sync with everything I’d ever known.

  I didn’t believe in that love at first sight bullshit.

  I believed in the power of hot pussy, wet mouths and a fat bank account.

  None of which had anything to do with Miss Never Shuts Up.

  She was yammering on about the MRE’s, taking it upon herself to examine the stores, exclaiming with a pinched expression at each selection.

  For a girl who’d been seconds away from death, Breezy didn’t seem to mind pushing her luck.

  Not that I was expecting her to bow and scrap at my feet but...a little more gratitude wasn’t totally out of order either.

  Just one more thing about the woman that threw me off track.

  “Meatballs and gravy?” Breezy held the beige packaged calorie brick in her hand. “Are these even made from real meat? Are they gluten-free? I mean, how about organic? I am super sensitive to gluten. You do not want to be stuck with me in this small house after I’ve choked down this tummy bomb.”

  A bubble of unexpected amusement tickled my insides. Had she just admitted she was going to blow up the bathroom if she ate anything with gluten in it?

  She shelved the MRE with concern. “I can’t believe our government feeds this to our military. That’s just wrong. Did you know that the military served as guinea pigs to test out the safety of aspartame? Yeah, it was totally hush-hush and the stuff turned to embalming fluid in the heat and yet the FDA approved it for human consumption.”

  A conspiracy theorist. Good to know. Maybe that’s why someone wanted her dead. “It’s a perfectly balanced meal. Keeps you alive.” I watched as she went opening each and every cupboard, looking for something better to eat. Her disappointment when she came up empty was almost cute. Almost. “If you get hungry enough, you’ll eat.”

  Breezy turned to regard me with something that looked like smug certainty. “No, I won’t. I once went on a hunger strike that nearly put me in the hospital. I have an iron will.”

  I shrugged. “I guess if you want to die, I’ll let you have your way. I don’t mind collecting the bounty.”

  She gasped. “That’s just mean.”

  “Never said I was nice.”

  That delectable mouth snapped shut. That’s right sweetheart, not a nice guy in the least. If you knew what I was thinking, you’d run and hide.

  Her long, coltish legs traveled to meet a pert ass that my fingers itched to squeeze.

  How long had it been since I’d gotten laid?

  I tried to remember but Breezy was distracting.

  My internal temperature rose as my gaze soaked up details about her that I’d missed.

  She had a mole on her cheek, sort of like Cindy Crawford’s but not quite as large.

  A tiny butterfly tattoo nestled behind her left ear. Did it have any significant meaning?

  I wanted to trace the ink strokes with my tongue.

  I wanted to feel her shiver beneath my touch.

  “Hellloooo, earth to Dex,” she said, waving at my glassy gaze to get my attention. “You’re off in La-La Land and we have still not negotiated what I am going to eat.”

  Shaking off the ridiculous meanderings in my head, I focused on Breezy’s statement.

  She was a pain in the ass.

  And I was tired of her yammering.

  I was an action man, not a negotiator.

  I strode toward her, immediately crowding her space and causing her to yelp when I bracketed her against the old fridge.

  Breezy’s big eyes widened like an owl’s as she trembled like a leaf in a stiff wind.

  Everything about her intrigued me. Down to the sudden and baffling need to taste that sassy mouth.

  But I wasn’t about to do that — not until I figured out what the hell was going on, both with her and myself.

  “Now, that I have your attention...I’m going to say this once and once only,” I said in a low but firm tone, inadvertently catching a whiff of the citrusy scent of her hair. “We’re not leaving this place until I can figure out why someone wants you dead because here’s the thing, it doesn’t actually matter why I didn’t pull the trigger. All that matters is that I didn’t. Now our fates are tied together. I might’ve just screwed myself for backing out. We’ll see. So, in the meantime, you’re going to be a good girl and do as you’re told...and that includes eating what I put in front of you.”

  “Or?”

  The tiny shake in her voice belied the bold question.

  “Or, I take these little hands,” I grabbed her wrists in a quick movement, jerking her arms above her head and holding her there. She barely had time to squeak before I was nuzzling her neck, murmuring, “and tie them to the motherfucking bed and feed you like a goddamn baby bird. You feelin’ me, Sassy Pants?”

  “Wha...wha...” she stammered, her cheeks flushing bright red. “Y-yes...”

  My cock raged inside my jeans, harder than granite, as if I’d never felt the insides of a woman’s pussy and I was about to bust a nut right then and there. She was taller than most women I was attracted to but there was something that turned my crank about those long legs.

  I couldn’t help but picture them up over my shoulder.

  Was she shaved, waxed or sporting a ‘70s era bush? Funny thing, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to bury my face between her folds and discover what made her squirm.

  Fuck, I was losing my mind.

  This wasn’t normal or natural.

  Lusting after a Playboy Bunny, totally understandable.

  But someone like Breezy?

  For lack of a better word...she was a nerd.

  Glasses, mouthy, a little ungainly, dark hair constantly ending up in her eyes, which she had a tendency to ignore unless she had a camera lens in her face.

  Yeah, so not my type.

  “You smell good,” I said, surprising myself as much as her. “Oranges and...mango?”

  “D-dollar Tree shampoo. It was a dollar.”

  I chuckled, letting my gaze drop to her rapidly rising chest. Her tits were surprisingly big, a good handful by my estimation. What kind of nipples hid behind that ironic tee? Delicate pink and rose buttons or dusky peach pits?

  I knew she didn’t have a boyfriend. Nor many friends.

  A loner.

  Like me.

  “D-Dex?”

  “Yeah?”

  Breezy squirmed a little as she managed, “I-I won’t complain about the food anymore. I promise.”

  Her concession should’ve been the release mechanism on my grip but I didn’t want to let her go.

  No, I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her straight to the bed and find out for myself what she was born with.

  But I wasn’t quite ready to admit that I’d completely spilled my crackers over this girl for reasons that still baffled me so letting her go was the only reasonable choice.

  “Good girl,” I growled, releasing her hands and putting some space between us.

  She immediately rubbed at her wrists where I’d squeezed them tightly. Whatever fear had been there seconds prior evaporated as she lifted her chin and said as she bounced from the room, “I’ll eat what you put in front of me but don’t say I didn’t warn you when World War III happens in the bathroom!”

  4

  BREE

  I was locked in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a hot stranger — an unabashed killer — and I was practically dripping.

  Eww.

  Okay, biological functions were out of my control.

  He was big and scary.

  Apparently, that was a turn-on for me.

  Good grief, when did I turn into that girl?

  I chewed my bottom lip as I pretended to ignore Dex, as if I was completely absorbed in the decades old magazine I’d managed to ferret out because, you know, knowing how t
o craft the perfect lasagna was my life’s goal.

  But, newsflash, the magazine could’ve been upside down for all the attention I was giving it.

  I was too busy replaying that little situation in the kitchen like my own private movie.

  Confession: I’d never been manhandled by anyone.

  I mean, not that I wanted to be tossed around like a head of lettuce but there was something incredibly hot about the way Dex just held me there, captive, unable to get away, bending me to his will.

  Double eww.

  I was that girl!

  Decades of die-hard feminism just wailed inside my head.

  How humiliating.

  I snuck a look at Dex. He was on his cell. I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  Of course, he’d tossed my cell phone.

  Generally, when you kidnap someone, you don’t let them have something to signal for help, so no a big surprise there.

  Not that I had anyone I could call in this situation aside from the police.

  Maybe I should’ve been more social.

  It was kinda humbling to realize that if you died, no one would really notice.

  An unexpected tingle at the base of my sinuses told me tears were coming.

  No.

  Not gonna cry.

  Not in front of him.

  But to be fair, tears in this situation, seemed highly appropriate, right?

  As much as I was completely honest with Dex about my circumstances, the troubling question remained, why would someone want me dead?

  The solution was painfully obvious.

  I needed to fully embrace the reality that my would-be killer was now my only hope for survival because while I appreciated Dex’s restraint, I doubted anyone else would hesitate.

  And I didn’t want to die.

  Funny how the rest of your problems faded away when faced with life or death shit.

  I no longer gave a damn if Torrence kept lying about eating my organic yogurt that I kept in the break room. I knew he was ignoring the label with my name on it and chowing down on my blackberry medley.

  But who cared?