Honey and the Hitman

by Hannah Murray

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Johnson.”

  “Mr. Peters,” came the warm reply, and it gave Ethan a bit of a jolt to hear the alias he’d used for the New York job. “How good to hear from you.”

  “Thank you,” Ethan replied. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

  “Certainly. How may I be of service?”

  “It concerns a project we collaborated on previously. A family project, in New York, seven years ago.”

  “Ah, yes. I recall that project. Delicate, but you handled it well.”

  “Thank you.” Ethan chose his words with care. “As it happens, questions concerning that project have recently come up.”

  “Oh?” There was a note in Johnson’s voice that hadn’t been there before, a thread of tension just under the mild curiosity. “I haven’t been contacted regarding any issues.”

  “I don’t believe the questions are coming from the client. A third party has become interested.”

  “This is very troubling.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Apparently, this third party is attempting to discover my name, and presumably my whereabouts. He wasn’t part of the original project and is very unhappy about it. It’s my understanding that he either can’t or won’t take this up with the client, so he’s focused on me.”

  “That is a problem.”

  “I’ve recently retired, and I have no interest in handling this situation personally. But if something isn’t done, I won’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, I see. What would you like me to do?”

  “As the...project manager, I assume he will eventually come to you for information.”

  He could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. “Mr. Peters, I can assure you—”

  “Mr. Johnson, I trust your discretion.” No, Johnson would never give up any information on a client or a contractor. At least not willingly. “I tell you this because I’d like you to reach out to the client, to see if they’re aware of the situation.”

  “I can certainly do that.”

  “And I also tell you as a warning,” Ethan went on. “The third party seems very determined and not altogether reasonable. If he reaches out to you personally, I don’t think he’ll be polite.”

  There was a moment of silence before Johnson spoke again. “I see. Mr. Peters, I think we should meet to discuss this in person.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Ethan replied. “But I have a colleague who’s fully aware of the situation, and the parties involved, who could meet. I believe you’ve worked with him before—Michael O’Shae?”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. O’Shae. He would be acceptable.”

  “I’ll have him get in touch. He knows how to reach me if you have any questions.”

  “That will be fine. I hope we can resolve this, Mr. Peters. It’s very troubling, very troubling indeed. Please have Mr. O’Shae contact me at this number, as soon as possible.”

  Ethan blew out a cautious breath as he ended the call, then picked up his smartphone to call Michael. Once he’d relayed the information and been assured that his friend would contact Johnson immediately, he tried to put both calls out of his mind. He had a full day of work ahead of him and was grateful the physical labor wouldn’t leave him much time for brooding over Anthony Damico.

  He was hoping, between Johnson and Michael, all this could be handled without him having to travel to New York. He didn’t want to have to put himself back in that world. He liked the world he was in now, his work and his friends and his woman.

  And dammit, he was going to keep it.

  * * *

  Honey stepped out of her afternoon curriculum review meeting with the superintendent’s office. Apparently, some of the parents were concerned that their children were going to be taught the wrong kind of art, and the superintendent had wanted her assurance that she’d be keeping the curriculum strictly PG-rated.

  She shook her head as she pushed out of the building, digging through her purse for her keys. “What do they think I’m going to do, bring in the Maplethorpe photos?”

  Annoyed, her feet already hurting in the mile-high heels, she walked briskly toward the corner of the parking lot where she’d parked. She was almost to her car when a flash out of the corner of her eye made her stumble back.

  “God!” Hand pressed to her chest, heart beating like a jackrabbit, she scowled at Ethan. “I swear, you do that on purpose.”

  “I do it because you don’t pay attention,” he corrected. “You should park closer to the building.”

  “This is the only part of the lot that’s shaded,” she pointed out.

  He shook his head. “It’s safer closer to the building.”

  She rolled her eyes. “This again? It’s perfectly safe. Except for you scaring the pants off of me. Why are you sneaking around trying to spook me?”

  “I’m not sneaking around, I’m walking,” he countered. “If you’d park where any reasonable person would park, you wouldn’t get spooked.”

  “Then I’d be hot because there’s no shade,” she pointed out, and he shook his head.

  “Stubborn,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

  “What are you doing here, anyway? Aren’t you guys framing at the Market Street house today?”

  “I volunteered to pick up the sandwich order,” he said and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the deli across the street.

  “Is it lunchtime already?” She frowned at her watch. “That dumb meeting took two hours.”

  “What dumb meeting?”

  “Never mind.” She stepped up to kiss him, careful not to brush against his dusty, sweaty clothes. “If I start talking about it, I’ll just get annoyed all over again.”

  “That sounds like a fun story.”

  “Trust me, it really isn’t.” Now she got a glimpse of his eyes, the usually clear blue clouded with worry. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You look worried.”

  Now he blinked in shock. “I do?”

  “A little.” She reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. He really needed a haircut. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. “I just might have to go out of town for a few days.”

  “Oh.” Nonplused, she blinked. “Where?”

  “New York.” He picked up her hand, twining his fingers through hers as he watched her face. “A former client who’s not happy with some of the work I did. I’m hoping we’ll be able to straighten it out by phone, but if not, I’ll have to fly out for a face to face.”

  “When will you know?”

  “In the next couple of days. I’m hoping I won’t have to go. David’s still trying to spend as much time with Abby and the baby as he can, and Jacob’s out of town until next week.”

  “Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

  “Thanks. If I do have to go, it wouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve got all this school prep to do, or I’d go with you,” she said, then could’ve cheerfully bitten off her tongue.

  “If it were a different kind of trip, I’d bring you along in a heartbeat,” he said with a squeeze of her fingers that eased the knot that had formed in her belly.

  He leaned down to brush his lips over her jaw. “We still on for beach and bonfire tomorrow night?”

  She shivered a little as his lips slid up the curve of her jaw to toy with her earlobe. “Sure,” she sighed.

  His teeth nibbled delicately on her ear. “Do me a favor?”

  “What?” Her voice had gone thick with need as shivers danced over her skin.

  “Tonight, when I’m gone, and you have that big bed all to yourself...”

  Her breath locked in her throat as she tried to imagine what he’d ask her to do in his absence. The pictures forming in her head made her nipples pucker. “Yes?”

  “Lock your doors.”

  She laughed a
s the steamy imagine in her mind faded away. “You’re paranoid, you know that?”

  “Cautious,” he corrected. “Reasonably cautious. Most people lock their doors at night, you know.”

  “Most people don’t have a one hundred and seventy-five-pound dog,” she countered. “Honestly, anybody who sees the size of the dog door Jacob installed and breaks in anyway deserves what they get. Besides, I lock the front door.”

  “I might agree with you if I’d ever seen any indication that Milo would do anything to an intruder other than beg for food.”

  She pulled back slightly to shoot him a chiding look. “Just because he doesn’t try to eat you doesn’t mean he’s not capable.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Humor me, would you?”

  “Fine. I think you’re being ridiculous and paranoid, but if it makes you feel better, I promise I will lock both front and back doors tonight.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  She beamed at him. “You’re welcome.”

  He chuckled low and captured her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that had her wanting to melt against him, even if it did get her clothes dirty. “I have to go,” he murmured against her lips. “The guys are going to wonder if I’ve gotten lost.”

  “And I have to get back to school. I have another meeting in an hour.”

  “I’ll miss you tonight.”

  She couldn’t help it; she softened like wax under a flame. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He stroked a hand over her cheek. “I’ve gotten used to you being around.”

  “Well.” She had to clear her throat before she could speak normally. “Same goes.”

  “We should probably make time to talk soon,” he said, a curious light in his eyes that put a little clutch in her belly.

  She hid it with a scowl. “Seriously? That’s how you start a conversation, not finish one.”

  “I know.” He chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with humor.

  “Don’t think I’m not capable of torturing you for that,” she warned, and he laughed again.

  “If you’re going to torture me, wear those shoes.” He kissed her, solid and sure, then pulled back to wink. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you,” she said and tried not to sigh as he walked to his truck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Late that evening, Honey sat on her front porch swing and tried not to brood.

  The temperature had spiked late in the afternoon, reaching the high nineties, and though she had some chicken thawing, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the oven. She’d changed out of her work clothes into her at-home uniform of loose cotton pants and a snug tank and was pushing her bare toes against the porch to keep the swing in motion. There was a faint breeze coming off the water, just enough to keep the air from being stifling. She sipped a glass of iced tea and nibbled on a wedge of cheddar while Milo begged for handouts beside her.

  “It’s not like I have to see him every night,” she said and broke off a hunk of cheese and held it out. “I’m perfectly capable of spending an evening alone.”

  Milo nipped the cheese from her hand and gobbled it down, then just looked at her expectantly.

  “And it’s not like I don’t have things to keep me busy,” she continued. She scratched at his head, her lips curving when he leaned into her touch. “School starts in three weeks, so I’ve got plenty of work.”

  Milo gave her the canine equivalent of an eye roll and settled with a sigh on the porch. “Well, who asked, you?” she muttered and stared into her iced tea.

  “This should be wine,” she decided. She couldn’t possibly mope over a guy without alcohol. She pushed to her feet, intending to go inside and open the bottle of Chardonnay she’d bought to go with the chicken when she heard the slam of a car door.

  She turned to see Sadie and Abby climbing out of Sadie’s car, each of them holding a large paper grocery sack. Curious, and more than a little annoyed at the little leap her heart had given when she’d thought it might be Ethan slamming out of a car, she stepped to the edge of the porch. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Girl’s night,” Sadie called as she came up the walk. She wore a snug top and little shorts that showed off a mile-long length of leg.

  “Girl’s night?” Honey pursed her lips as she considered the idea. It sounded a lot better than drinking alone. She glanced at Abby, who was making her way up the porch steps with one hand on the railing. “Are you up for this?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, and there was a sort of desperate certainty in her tone that had Honey fighting back a laugh. “I pumped a gallon of breastmilk so David could keep the baby, and I’m going to have a glass of champagne.”

  “Champagne?” Honey took the bottle Sadie pulled from her bag with a flourish. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink at all while you’re still nursing.”

  “I’ll pump and dump,” Abby replied, huffing just a little as she topped the steps. “Are we doing this on the porch or inside?”

  “Inside,” Sadie said firmly when Honey opened her mouth. “God knows who might walk by, and I don’t want to worry about being overheard.”

  “Why?” Honey followed her friends into the house, pausing to allow Milo to trot past before she closed the front door behind them. “Are we going to be getting personal?”

  “Hell, yes.” Abby tossed a couple of pillows onto the floor of the living room, then sat down and began unpacking her grocery sack onto the coffee table. “Go get some wine glasses,” she told Honey, “and let’s get this party started.”

  By the time Honey came back with three champagne flutes—unearthed from the back of the cabinet and hastily rinsed of their layer of dust—her coffee table was groaning under the weight of all the food her friends had unpacked. Fruit, cheese, a deli package of what looked like prosciutto that made Honey’s mouth water, along with a crusty loaf of bread and two bottles of champagne. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Sadie surveyed the spread with satisfaction. “We need some plates,” she declared and trotted into the kitchen to get them.

  Honey placed the flutes on the table and took a seat on the floor across the table from Abby. “So, what’s the occasion?”

  “Occasion?” Abby caught her tongue between her teeth as she peeled the foil off the bottle. She grunted with satisfaction when it came free and went to work on the cork. “No occasion, except I need a break from being a milk machine, Sadie’s going crazy with wedding plans, and since Ethan had plans with Winnie, we knew you’d be free. Is that why you’re moping?”

  “I’m not moping,” Honey protested, jumping a little when the cork popped free. She watched Milo amble over to sniff it before turning back to her friend. “What makes you think I’m moping?”

  “Please.” Abby just sent her a pitying look as she poured the frothy wine into flutes. “You were sitting on the front porch, full-on sulking when we pulled up. Wasn’t she?”

  “Maybe not full-on,” Sadie commented as she came back in with a trio of small plates, a cutting board, and a handful of flatware. “But there was definite sulkage.”

  “I wasn’t moping or sulking,” Honey muttered into her wine. “But maybe I was bumming a little.”

  “Bumming.” Abby rolled her eyes as she passed a flute to Sadie. “Okay, we’ll go with that. Want to tell us why?”

  Honey leaned forward to snag a fat purple grape. “Ethan might have to go out of town for a few days. Some old business he’s trying to clear up, but he might have to go do it in person.”

  “What was his business, anyway?”

  Honey took the plate Sadie passed her. “Financial planning. He said he had a client who wasn’t happy with some work he’d done.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Abby said as she began to tear the crusty French loaf into chunks. “Maybe you can go with him.”

  Honey winced as she remembered their conversation in the parking lot, then shrugged and began to unwrap a wedge of cheese. “He’s hoping he’ll be able to handle it by
phone. Besides, I couldn’t go anyway, not with school starting in a couple of weeks.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sadie opened the deli package and dumped the prosciutto on a plate. “What’s with the face?”

  “What?”

  “You know.” Sadie screwed her face up in an exaggerated wince, then looked at Honey expectantly. “What’s that about?”

  “Oh.” To busy herself, Honey reached for another wedge of cheese. “I just kind of put my foot in it. I guess.”

  “You guess?” Sadie spread some cheese on a hunk of bread, wrapped a piece of prosciutto around it, and popped it into her mouth.

  “Yeah.” Honey fiddled with the cheese wrapper for a moment, then glanced up. “You guys know Ethan and I are...”

  Abby arched her brows when Honey trailed off. “Fucking?”

  Sadie snorted out a laugh. “Nice mouth, Mommy.”

  “Seeing each other,” Honey put in as Abby stuck her tongue out at Sadie.

  “Seeing each other, fucking. You say potato,” Abby said, and Honey laughed.

  “Well, it started out as fucking.” Frowning a little, she reached for a slice of meat. “It feels like more now.”

  “More is good, isn’t it?” Sadie gestured with her wine glass. “I mean, it looks good. If you were wondering.”

  “Yeah?”

  Sadie nodded. “You look good together.”

  “Natural,” Abby put in.

  “That’s the way it feels,” Honey said slowly. “But we don’t talk about it.”

  “Not at all?”

  Honey shook her head at Abby. “Not really. I mean, after we slept together the first time, which pretty much happened because we were pissed at each other—”

  “Angry fucking,” Sadie said with a lusty sigh. “I love angry fucking. Sometimes I get Seth all riled up on purpose. He’s got some solid moves when he’s riled up.”

  Abby sighed dreamily. “David never gets mad enough for angry fucking. He just gets sort of intense. Very...firm. Commanding.”