Honey and the Hitman

by Hannah Murray

  He knew his tracks were well covered; he’d been in the game long enough by that point to know what to do and how. But just the fact that someone was asking questions was cause for concern. Questions, the right ones, could lead to attention—the kind that came with badges, or worse, the kind that came with family ties.

  “Shit.” He turned the key, the engine coming to life with a satisfying purr, and pointed the car south.

  He needed his laptop and a secure internet connection. He didn’t have any way of finding out who was currently poking around, but he knew he could count on Michael to report any news on that front. In the meantime, he could check on the parties who’d initiated that contract.

  And make sure his ass was well and truly covered.

  When he pulled into the driveway two hours later, his hopes for being able to sneak up to the guest room without dealing with Aunt Winnie were dashed by the lights blazing from the living room windows. Since he doubted she’d left that many lights on for him, he assumed she was still up. He could only hope she’d brought home her friend and would be disinclined to yell at him for skipping out on the fundraiser in front of company.

  When he walked in the front door, he realized it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Hello, Ethan.” Winnie beamed at him from her seat on the sofa, dressed in a pretty floral dress with her grandmother’s pearls gleaming at her throat. A man sat next to her, holding her hand, and Ethan automatically took in the details. He was black, with close-cropped hair that had more salt than pepper. The man had a sturdy, muscular build that made Ethan think he didn’t spend his days sitting behind a desk. His face was open and friendly, though his dark brown eyes were currently watching Ethan with something like amused pity.

  The dread pooling in his belly gained weight.

  “How was your evening?” Winnie asked.

  “Fine, Aunt Winnie.” He kept his expression pleasant, his voice mild as he tried to gauge her mood. “I went for a drive up the coast.”

  “Yes, darling. I got your note.”

  She smiled when she said it, showing all her teeth, and he groaned inwardly. She was pissed.

  “Sweetheart, I wanted to introduce you to Jacob Dunbar.” She stayed seated as the man rose to his feet to extend his hand. With no way out, Ethan stepped into the room to take it.

  “Ethan,” Jacob boomed, a smile on his wide face. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say All good, I hope, but Ethan thought that might be pushing it. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”

  “Oh, no need to be so formal,” Jacob enthused, his grip strong. He had shoulders like a linebacker and heavy laugh lines around cheerfully twinkling eyes. “Call me Jacob. I feel like I know you already.”

  Ethan managed a smile in return even as he kept a weather eye on his aunt. He didn’t trust the gleam in her eye. “Jacob it is, then.”

  “Good.” The matter settled, Jacob resumed his seat next to Winnie.

  Resigned, Ethan sat in the chair across from the pair on the sofa. “How was the library fundraiser?”

  “Oh, delightful,” Winnie said, her voice so smooth Ethan barely kept from wincing. “We raised a lot of money for the new computers they need.”

  “That’s great,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, but I’d still like to make a donation.”

  “Hey, that’s great.” Jacob turned his beaming smile on Winnie. “Isn’t that great, Winnie?”

  “It’s wonderful,” she agreed.

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Oh, I agree,” Winnie purred, then turned to Jacob. “Didn’t I tell you he was a good boy, Jacob?”

  “You did.” He patted her hand, then turned back to Ethan. “Winnie tells me you’re looking for work.”

  It was all Ethan could do to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. When he looked at his aunt, she just beamed at him. “She did, did she?”

  The older man nodded. “I understand you have some carpentry experience?”

  “Ah...some,” Ethan allowed. He could all but feel the quicksand at his feet and searched for a way around it. “It’s been years since I’ve done anything, though.”

  “He made me that lamp,” Winnie said, her tone rich with pride, and gestured to the squat, wooden structure on the end table.

  “It was a high school woodshop project,” Ethan began, and Jacob chuckled.

  “My grandson made one in his woodshop class this year,” he told them, and rolled his eyes. “Darn thing is so asymmetrical it won’t even sit right. Boy says he did it that way on purpose, but the truth is he’d rather have his hands on a Wii controller than a lathe.”

  Ethan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just kept his mouth shut.

  “Ever do any building?”

  Ethan cleared his suddenly dry throat and wished almost violently for a drink. “A little. I worked with Habitat for Humanity for a while.” Penance, he thought, for his sins.

  Jacob nodded. “Wonderful organization.”

  “Yeah, they do good work.”

  “I don’t know if Winnie told you, but I own a little contracting business here in town.”

  Ethan met his aunt’s sly smile with a bland one of his own. “No, she didn’t mention it.”

  Jacob patted Winnie’s hand again and looked at her with obvious affection. “Well, it’s not much of a business. Just me, since neither of my boys had an interest.”

  “Nonsense,” Winnie said with a beaming smile. “You do excellent work, and you’re very well respected. Jacob and his crew did the remodel on the guest bath,” she told Ethan.

  Ethan’s brow lifted at that. “Yeah? It’s great. The shower is a work of art.”

  Jacob’s smile grew wider. “Thank you. A little outside of my comfort zone, I don’t mind telling you. I tried nudging her toward a simpler design, but when Winnie wants something, there’s no budging her.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware,” Ethan said with a toothy smile for his aunt, pleased to see a small twinge of unease flit across her face.

  Jacob laughed. “Look up determined in the dictionary, and I’m pretty sure you’ll find her picture. How do you think we started dating?”

  Winnie let out a girlish giggle that had Ethan goggling. “Oh, you.” She tilted her head to bat her eyes. “You make me sound like a shameless hussy.”

  Jacob picked up her other hand and pressed an intimate kiss to her palm. “And don’t think I’m not grateful.”

  That elicited another girlish giggle, and seeing his opportunity for escape, Ethan pushed to his feet. “It was nice to meet you, Jacob,” he began, and Jacob blinked his way clear of the romantic haze.

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a short laugh. His eyes still held a certain gleam that made Ethan want to squirm. “I get carried away.”

  Ethan’s smile was pained. “No problem. I’ll head on up, give you two kids some privacy.”

  “Wait, we haven’t talked about the job.”

  Ethan paused. “What job?”

  “Ethan,” Winnie said with a lilting little laugh while her eyes bored into him like lasers. “Jacob’s offering you a position in his firm.”

  Jacob chuckled. “Don’t make it sound more important than it is, Winnie.” He turned to Ethan. “We’ve picked up a few remodeling jobs for the summer, and one of my regular seasonal guys decided to stay down in Florida this year. I’m going to be stretched pretty thin without him. Could use an extra pair of hands.”

  Ethan could feel his feet starting to sink into the quicksand. “I haven’t done any carpentry in years,” he began.

  Jacob shook his head. “Don’t be concerned you’ll need to do any of the detail or finish work. I like to handle most of that myself, and one of my other guys has a knack for it. Jeff—that’s my guy who’s staying in Florida—he was mainly muscle, and you don’t look to be lacking in that department. Do you have a truck?”

  Ethan was starting to feel a lit
tle dizzy. “No, I don’t.”

  That seemed to give Jacob pause, and Ethan felt the quicksand recede slightly. Then Winnie chimed in.

  “I’ve got that old Chevy out in the garage,” she offered. “I don’t use it much, but I had it serviced just last month. You could use that.”

  Years of experience in keeping his feelings to himself was the only thing that kept him from snarling. “Thanks, Aunt Winnie.”

  “You’re welcome, darling.”

  “Well, then it’s set!” Jacob looked delighted as he rose to offer his hand again. “Why don’t you come by my office tomorrow afternoon, Ethan. We’ll take care of the paperwork. Say, two o’clock?”

  Ethan managed a polite smile as he returned the handshake. “That’ll be great. I guess I should go up and get some sleep since I’m no longer a man of leisure.”

  He was gratified to see that hint of unease in Aunt Winnie’s gaze again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jacob. Goodnight, Aunt Winnie.”

  “Goodnight, dear.”

  He headed up the stairs, wishing he was in Florida with Jeff.

  * * *

  He woke early the next morning out of habit, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He’d dug out his laptop after making his escape the night before, and it had been after three before he’d finally shut down, thoroughly frustrated. Computer work had never been his strong suit, and what would take a hacker of even moderate skill minutes or hours was sure to be a days-long process. He’d started basic runs on the players involved in the Italian hit, but he knew if he couldn’t find anything to give him some direction, he might have to bring in outside help. Which always complicated things.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face as he strode into the bath. And apparently, he was starting a new job today.

  With a curse, he stepped into the shower to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He was tempted to stay in there until the hot water ran out, but he could already smell coffee brewing, and he decided he wanted a cup more than he wanted to sulk.

  He dressed comfortably in worn jeans and a simple black t-shirt, then made his way downstairs. He found the coffee pot sitting on the counter, a slab of coffee cake, still warm, on a plate next to it, and a folded sheet of notebook paper with his name scrawled across in Winnie’s distinctive, neat as a pin, parochial school penmanship.

  He flipped open the note: Ethan—stop sulking and eat your breakfast. Don’t forget to meet Jacob at his office. Two o’clock. He’s on Main Street next to the hardware store. Keys to the truck are on the peg by the door.

  He set the note aside, admiration warring with annoyance. She must’ve decided to desert the field this morning, and with good reason. He was plenty pissed about being maneuvered, and she knew him well enough to know Jacob’s presence was the only reason he’d held back.

  He eyed the coffee cake. Sugar and cinnamon crusted the top, the spicy scent mingling with the coffee and making his mouth water. He picked up the fork she’d laid next to the plate and took a sample. Rhubarb, he realized. The tart fruit mixed perfectly with the cinnamon and sugar baked into the top.

  As apologies go, he figured it was a start. He was hungry enough to eat it standing up at the counter, chugging his first cup of coffee between bites. When he’d all but lapped up the crumbs, he poured himself a second cup of coffee and took the time to savor it while he brooded.

  He figured all he needed to do to get out of the job was to simply tell Jacob that he didn’t want it. The older man had struck Ethan as a straight shooter, and he’d likely only offered the job because Winnie had asked him to.

  He didn’t want to work construction for the summer. He didn’t need the money and wasn’t at all sure his very rusty skills would come back to him. But he was well aware that the only way to stop Aunt Winnie from nagging him half to death about finding something constructive to do with his time was to either find something to do or leave town.

  It was a tempting thought, and he considered it for half a minute, if only to be left alone. But he’d been alone for the best part of a dozen years, and it hadn’t done him any favors. A certain amount of emotional distance was necessary to do the kind of work he’d done, so he’d pulled back. No connections, no community unless he counted the other people he knew in the same business—and with the exception of Michael, he damn well didn’t.

  Standing in his aunt’s bright and cheerful kitchen, the scent of coffee in the air and the taste of cinnamon on his tongue, he could admit that he was lonely. And that the idea of a connection, a link to the world around him, was appealing. Scary as shit, he acknowledged ruefully, but appealing.

  He had money, more than he would likely be able to spend in one lifetime, but other than that, he had nothing to show for his life. No meaningful work he could point to, no relationships to bring comfort. He was pretty sure his last true girlfriend had been Marci Hosking, and that had been during his senior year in college. She’d broken up with him homecoming weekend, shattering his twenty-two-year-old heart. He’d stayed drunk for a week, listening to love songs on country radio and crying in his beer.

  Now, he could barely remember what she looked like.

  He sighed into his coffee cup, then poured the rest of the rapidly cooling brew down the sink. He’d come here to take stock, hadn’t he? To figure out what was next, what he wanted out of the next fifty or sixty years. He already knew what he didn’t want—isolation, separation, the sense that if he disappeared from the world, no one would notice. So perhaps it was time to try something else.

  He stared at the keys hanging on the hook by the door, feeling a strange sense of calm, then glanced down at his bare feet. He rinsed the mug out and set it in the drainer.

  If he was going to alter the course of his life, he was going to need shoes.

  Chapter Five

  By the time two o’clock rolled around, Ethan had made a thorough tour of Sweetwater. He’d been down all the residential streets, through the downtown area—surprisingly busy for a sleepy little summer town—and toured the two small parks with their little league fields and playscapes. When he pulled into a parking space outside the hardware store at five minutes to two, the coffee cake was long gone, and he wished he’d taken the time to hit the burger joint next to the high school.

  Resigned to being hungry for a while, he levered himself out of the truck. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on his shoulders as he stepped up on to the sidewalk and reached for the door marked Dunbar Construction.

  He stepped inside, blinking a little as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and looked around. The small reception area held a couple of plastic chairs and a small sofa that looked as though it might have been new about the time the Rolling Stones were kicking off their first US tour. A small, rickety desk was half-buried in some sort of climbing plant. Behind it sat a small, white-haired woman with red rimmed glasses who was staring at him with undisguised hostility.

  “Help you?”

  Her voice had the heavy rasp of a lifelong smoker, an impression immediately verified when she pulled out a long, slim cigarette and a bright pink Bic. She lit up, her eyes—blue and clouded with age—giving him a thorough up and down. Her hair was a fluffy white cloud around her head, her lips were painted the same bright red as the frames of her glasses, and the hot pink sweatshirt she wore had an image of a cat on the front that was outlined in rhinestones.

  Sweet Jesus. He tried a polite smile. “Hello. I’m looking for Jacob.”

  “Hmmm.” She sucked on her cigarette and narrowed her eyes, either in suspicion or in defense against the smoke. “You got an appointment?”

  “Ah, yes, ma’am,” he managed. “If you could just tell him Ethan’s here?”

  She eyed him for a moment, calmly blowing out smoke, then without shifting an inch opened her mouth and hollered, “Jacob! Ethan’s here!”

  Holy crap.

  Her duty discharged, she picked up a worn paperback with a half-naked couple in a dramatic clinch on the cover. She held it up, c
overing her face and effectively dismissed him.

  Ethan had the absurd urge to laugh.

  Before he could decide whether to give in to it, the door behind the reception area opened, and Jacob emerged.

  “Hazel, you can use the intercom,” he said, and the careful patience in his voice told Ethan this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

  “Don’t trust it,” Hazel rasped, a cloud of smoke rising from behind the book as she spoke. “New-fangled thing. Probably electrocute me.”

  Jacob shook his head as he came around the desk, hand outstretched in greeting. “Ethan, glad you could make it.”

  “Good to see you,” Ethan replied. He shook hands, one eye on the plume of smoke rising above the book.

  “Have you eaten lunch?”

  The question brought Ethan’s attention back to Jacob. “I haven’t, no.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you let me buy you a burger, and we’ll talk about the job?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “All right, then.” Jacob reached for the door, then turned back to his receptionist. “Hazel, I’m headed across the street for a bite. Would you like me to bring you something back?”

  “Wouldn’t say no to some egg salad,” Hazel replied. The book never moved.

  “Egg salad it is. I have my cell phone if you need me.”

  Hazel’s only response to that was to suck noisily on her cigarette, and Ethan wondered if she thought the phone would electrocute her, too.

  He followed Jacob out the door, dragging in a lung full of clean air as soon as he hit the sidewalk. “Good God,” he muttered. He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Jacob barked out a laugh.