Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2)

by Harley Fox

  He gives a half-shrug. “I don’t remember having to push too hard,” he says. “In fact, I seem to recall you telling me that you wanted it.”

  “I …” I start to say, but the memories of not long ago come back and my words fumble. “I was being misled.”

  “More like you were actually speaking the truth for once,” he says, that smirk still on his face. “Why can’t you just admit that you liked it? There’s nothing wrong with liking sex.”

  “I did not like it,” I lie. “But I’m certainly glad to hear that you seemed to enjoy yourself, because that’s the first and last time that that’s ever going to happen.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he says through a grin. I glare at him as he takes a right-hand turn.

  Looking out the windshield, I realize that the landscape has changed. No longer are we surrounded by the detached houses and thriving businesses I’m used to. Now we’re amid single shops and run-down storefronts, dilapidated apartment buildings, with dirty-looking people roaming the streets, staring into the car as we drive.

  “Where are we?” I ask, a mixture of awe and fear in my voice.

  “My neighborhood,” Lance says with a hint of pride in his voice.

  We turn down another street and park up next to the sidewalk halfway down the road. To our left is the side of an apartment building, the entrance just around the front. Lance turns the car off and the engine dies, replacing that constant hum with hollow pops and silence as the metal begins to cool underneath the hood.

  Lance looks over at the apartment building, separated from us by the two-lane street. “This is my place,” he says. I lean forward and look up at it, at the six-story concrete slab. When I look back at Lance I see he isn’t looking at the building anymore, but is glancing around the streets, hardly moving his head.

  “Are we going in?” I ask, for some reason the idea of seeing the inside of Lance’s apartment giving me a thrill. But he shakes his head and that thrill dies away.

  “I’m going in,” he says. “You’re going to stay out here in the car and wait for me.”

  “Why can’t I go in with you?” I ask.

  “Because I know the place,” Lance says, still looking around. “And besides, I’m quieter and faster than you. But don’t worry,” he says, looking over and giving me a wink. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  My stomach does a flip and I watch him open the driver’s side door, stepping out into the street. Cars drive by him and before he can close the door I lean over, calling out to him.

  “What do I do if somebody shows up?” I ask, and Lance bends over to peer into the car again, looking at me.

  “They won’t,” he says. “Now just stay here and I’ll be right back.”

  He closes the door and I watch through his window as he looks both ways before jogging across the road. Lance reaches the other side and, instead of going around to the front of the building, he goes around to the back. There he walks down an alleyway, his back retreating from me, before opening a door and disappearing through it.

  I sit back in my seat, listening to the passing traffic. With Lance gone I feel much more vulnerable than before. I quickly reach over and lock his door, and then mine, then both doors in the back. I notice the keys in the ignition and raise an eyebrow. At least he trusts me with those.

  Ah, Katie! What are you doing here? Why are you going along with this?

  I furrow my brow and blink hard, trying to clear my head. Why am I going along with this? I could run away right now, or call the police. I could … fuck! I forgot my purse in the office. Which means I don’t have my cell phone, or any money or ID.

  I hear a building roar of many loud engines, and when I look behind me there’s a gang of people on motorcycles all riding together, all of them in jeans and leather jackets, and one lady who looks like she’s about six months pregnant and should definitely not be riding.

  I watch as they pass, the backs of their jackets showing two chains crossed over each other. The sounds of their engines fade away as they leave. I’m alone, completely out in the wilderness that is a bad part of this city. But even that sends a shiver of excitement up through me. I can’t help but think of what Amanda said, from when she was at my apartment a few nights ago:

  That’s a shame, she said. Because so far, this Lance guy sounds like the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in a long time.

  It’s true, I have to admit it. But the problem is that I don’t know if I even want this type of interesting. I mean, a hitman? He’s dangerous, and he’s got a cocky attitude, and he’s just going to do whatever he wants and not even listen to a word I say.

  Although …

  He did bring me out of the crime scene, and he did come back to pick me up when he could have just driven off and left. And he’s right, I wouldn’t have been able to explain what happened at the office without making myself seem suspicious, or implicating myself. I knew the type of work that Lance does the first session he came. I should have done something, or told the authorities, but I didn’t. And I didn’t do that because …

  Because I wanted to see him again.

  I shake my head, frowning. No, that couldn’t have been it. I mean, Lance didn’t take the therapy seriously at all. And I even had thoughts of referring him to somebody else, and I was going to, too!

  But not right away. Not until after you two slept together, and even then not until after he made that comment. What were you thinking between those moments? Between you two finishing and him ruining it all?

  To be honest: I was thinking about how happy I was. How I was finally able to-

  My thoughts are interrupted by the sight of a black car, similar to Lance’s, pulling up outside the apartment building. The windows are tinted, just like Lance’s, and the sight of it gives me a bad feeling. The car parks and the doors open and two men step out, each wearing dark sunglasses. They walk around to the side of the building and I lower my head, my heart hammering in my chest. I see them looking around and then one of them unzips his jacket and pulls out a gun, flicking something with his thumb and holding it down, in order to keep it out of sight.

  Shit! I feel shaky. These men must be here for Lance. The other guy takes out a cell phone and calls somebody. I can only see his lips moving, but eventually he nods and hangs up, then takes out his gun too and gets the attention of the other man. He motions to the alleyway and the other man looks over at it.

  As if on cue, the door that Lance went through opens up and out walks Lance, carrying a large, black duffel bag with him. The two men freeze for a moment, and then signal to one another and stand to the side of the alleyway, their guns held with both hands. Lance keeps walking towards me, seemingly completely unaware of the men who are standing there, waiting to kill him.

  My heart races. I breathe too fast and feel lightheaded as I try to think of what to do. Lance didn’t leave me with a gun, but even if he did I’ve never fired a gun before, I wouldn’t know what to do. If I maybe got out of the car and yelled to him … but then they could shoot and kill me, and might still get Lance anyways. And if I do nothing, then Lance will surely die, in only a few seconds.

  Think, Katie! Think think think!

  The car. The keys in the ignition. I grab onto them and crank hard, starting the car up with a loud and ugly whine. When I look over again I see Lance falter, slowing down, but luckily the men haven’t noticed. They’re still watching the alleyway, their guns drawn and hanging down in front of them. I step down on the brake and pop the car into Drive, and then slam down on the gas, cranking the wheel around and veering the car into traffic.

  Tires squeal from both sides of me as cars skid to a stop in the road. The men finally look over, shock and confusion clear on their faces, but I’m flooring the gas and the car is quickly picking up speed as I U-turn towards the apartment. Straightening out my wheel when the nose of the car is facing the wall, I lurch as it bumps up the curb, and the men’s eyes go wide when they realiz
e that I’m coming for them.

  I keep my hands tight to the wheel as the men raise their guns, firing shots at the car instead of running away. The car is going fast now and I turn the wheel again, aiming away from the apartment but towards the alleyway, as shots keep hitting the front of the car. But I don’t duck, and they don’t move, until finally it’s too late and I see them throw up their hands and try to run an instant before-

  THUMP! THUMP!

  The car slows down an instant as the nose of it collides with the back of one man and the side of the other. The one man flies towards the apartment building wall, but the other man has landed in front of me, disappearing under the hood as I keep my foot pressed down on the gas.

  TH-THUMP! THUMP!

  The car lifts and falls back down and a sick part of my mind tells me I’ve just run him over. I slam on the brakes just outside the alleyway entrance and then lean over, unlocking the door, yanking the handle and throwing it wide open.

  “Get in!” I shout, as Lance stands there, completely frozen and staring at me. But his brain kicks back into gear as he hustles forward and he gets in, squeezing the duffel bag over the seats and into the back, slamming the door behind him. I press down hard on the gas and we peel out of there, thumping down off the curb and back onto the road. I only have time to glance in my rearview mirror to see the man by the building pulling himself up to a sitting position. The man I ran over isn’t moving at all.

  And behind the fact that the car is dented, and behind the fact that Lance is yelling at me from the passenger seat, my hands grip the steering wheel hard and I feel the muscles tight across my face and it takes me a moment before I realize that it’s a smiling I’m wearing, and not only that, but it’s the first real smile I’ve worn in a long time.

  Lance

  “What the fuck were you thinking?!” I yell, my mind still just beginning to comprehend what just happened.

  The car tires squeal underneath us as Katie swerves into the next lane, narrowly avoiding a car.

  “Katie!” I shout. “Fuck, slow the fuck down!”

  “We gotta get away,” Katie says, her eyes bright and crackling, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “They could follow us, we gotta-”

  “PULL IN HERE! NOW!”

  I point up ahead to a parking lot and Katie seems to snap out of whatever daze she was in as she looks to where I’m pointing. She puts on her blinker and brakes too quickly as I lurch forward. With a spin of the wheel to the right, Katie almost pulls me into her as she brings us into the parking lot. We circle around and she drives into a spot, right between the lines. Then, finally coming to a stop, she looks at me.

  “What?”

  “Put the car in Park,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level. She does. “Turn off the engine.” That goes too. “Now get out, because I’m driving.”

  “Lance, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you mad at me?”

  I look at her like she’s crazy.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You just cut across two lanes, you almost crashed the car. Then you hit two men and just sped off like you robbed a fucking bank-”

  “They were going to kill you!” she shouts, her face turning red, and I furrow my brow.

  “What? Who?”

  “Those two men I ran into,” she spits. “They had guns, and they were waiting for you to come out so they could shoot you. You didn’t see them, but I did.”

  I’m stunned for a moment. Part of me thinks that she’s lying, but why would she lie about something like that?

  “I saved your life,” Katie says. She still looks angry, but resentful now too. I glare at her, and from the look on her face I can see that she’s telling the truth. My eyes narrow.

  “Thanks,” I say, “but I don’t need any saving. I can take care of my own.”

  “What are you talking about? Lance, you didn’t know they were there-”

  “I said I don’t need your help!” I shout. “Now get out of that seat, I’m driving!”

  I throw open the passenger door and get out of my car, my body instinctively tense, ears perked for any sound of police sirens. Given what just happened it’s only a matter of time before they show up. And everything was going so well …

  Katie slides across seats and I walk around to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in as she shuts the passenger door. When my side is shut I go to grab the key … and then I stop. Katie is silent and brooding beside me. I take in a deep breath and let it out.

  “Thank you,” I say to her.

  “You’re welcome,” Katie says, and when I look over she’s staring out at the parking lot and isn’t looking at me. Shaking my head, I start the car up and back out of the space, pulling out onto the road.

  “So tell me what happened,” I say to her, in as nice a voice as I can muster.

  “Oh, so now you’re willing to listen to me?” she says. I struggle not to yell again and calm myself.

  “Yes, please,” I say. “Tell me what happened.”

  “There were two guys,” she says, still not looking at me. “They showed up in a black car and parked it at the front of the building. And then they went around to the side, to that alleyway you went down.”

  Fuck, I think to myself. “Okay, go on.”

  “I saw one of them take out a cell phone and call someone, and then they both took out guns and were waiting for you. You came out and were just walking towards them.” Now she looks at me, and at a glance, I see the mix of pain and anger on her face. “They were going to shoot you, Lance, what else was I supposed to do?”

  In the background noise of the car I swear I can hear police sirens, but it’s too faint to be sure.

  “I don’t know,” I honestly tell her. “But what you did wasn’t the smartest thing. I wanted to lay low, and now we’ve got heat on us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, you drove across two lanes of traffic and then ran into two men in broad daylight. Then you sped off from the scene of the crime like someone on the run. My plates are visible, there were people around. Soon they’re going to be looking for us, and for this car in particular.” I have to take another breath in order to calm myself again. “We’ll have to do something different.”

  “Do something different? Like stop running?”

  “No,” I say. “I have a house outside of the city, about fifty miles from here. I was hoping we’d be able to hide out there till we got this whole thing sorted out.”

  “Okay. Well then, let’s go there!” Katie says. But I shake my head.

  “We can’t anymore. You see all the cars around us? It’s going to be rush hour soon. Getting out of the city is going to take us at least an hour, and by then they’ll have cops stationed up at all the exits, looking for us. We’d drive right into their hands.”

  “So … then what do we do?”

  “What do we do, indeed,” I say. “We’re going to have to stay in the city now. And we’re going to have to get rid of my car.”

  “Get rid of your car?” she says. “You mean like, sell it?”

  I try not to shake my head as I turn off the main road down one of the back streets going south.

  “I mean like total it.”

  I see Katie staring at me from the corner of my eye and I try not to look at her. The car bumps over potholes and sewer grates as we drive along.

  “You’re going to destroy your car?” she asks.

  “I know this girl who owns an auto-body shop,” I say. “She’s got a compacter and we, uh … we have a history together. Hopefully she’ll be willing to help us out.”

  “You have a history together?”

  I can practically hear her eyebrows raise and I swallow, avoiding the question.

  “We’ll see if she has another car she can sell us too. Something that’ll be able to get us out of here.”

  Katie doesn’t say anything and a few moments later she settles into her seat. When I look over at her, she’s
staring out the passenger window again, her arms crossed over her chest. Part of me feels bad, but in reality she’s the one who should be feeling bad for making me have to get rid of my car. Still … the mood is sullen as we snake our way south.

  The buildings around us become more industrial, and there are fewer and fewer houses as I approach Al’s Autobody & Repair. When I put on the blinker, Katie sits up in her seat.

  “Al?” she asks. “Your friend’s name is Al?”

  “I never said she was my friend,” I say. “And Al’s the name of her dad. She inherited the place when he died. Her name is Samantha.”

  We turn into a derelict yard of a business. Dusty, barren ground makes up the large yard, and a three-car garage is set up beside the office, various cars and car parts strewn about and in between. I pull up to the office building and park by the door, honking twice before turning off the car. As Katie and I get out the office door opens up and a long-haired woman steps out, wearing coveralls and a mechanic’s cap. Two steps forward, though, she stops in her tracks when her eyes land on me.

  “Lance?” she says, and I open up the back door of my car — soon to become a cube of metal — to get my duffel bag.

  “Hello, Samantha,” I say, pulling the heavy thing out. Slinging it over my shoulder, I shut the car door and look at her, squinting against the sunlight. “Long time no see.”

  She stares at me, and I see her hands ball up into fists by her sides. She darts her eyes over to Katie before returning them back to me.

  “Who’s this?” she asks. “Not another one of your floozies, I hope? Because if so I have a few things to warn her about.”

  I give Samantha a warning look and say, “She’s just a friend. I need to ask you a favor.”

  Samantha scoffs a laugh.

  “I’m sorry. Did you just say a favor?” She laughs again, three short barks. “And why in the fuck should I do a favor for you?”