by Sam Crescent
He chuckled, no doubt knowing full well where her thoughts must lie.
“I said I’d love to take you out to dinner tonight.”
He shoved his hands inside his shorts pockets and rocked back on his heels, his head tilted as he waited for her answer. She really should say no. She couldn’t seem to get her head on straight around him.
“Uh, hmm,” she began. “I don’t know, I’m on call tonight.” It was her turn to have a Saturday off, but it rarely happened these days. Someone always needed something.
“I’m quite sure Tulsa County could spare its most charming deputy this evening.” His smile coaxed, and that accent turned her to jelly.
She lifted her shoulders. “Okay, sure. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you when I have to bail.”
He withdrew his hands from his pockets, and her gaze caught on his right pocket. The bulge of something large weighted it down—keys and wallet maybe? She was being too suspicious she reasoned, because what else could it be?
He swept his arm towards the direction of the trail they’d left. “After you,” he said.
She walked ahead of him, but nagging unease left her unable to relax. She felt him behind her—too close. Awareness, attraction, suspicion, she couldn’t pin down any one thing to explain what she felt. Her mind’s eye toyed with that bulge in his right pocket. She’d seen it before, in perps packing guns. Davis was on a travel visa; he had no reason to be carrying.
“Stop right there.” Davis’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Before she could reply, his arm snaked around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. She let out a yelp as he easily lifted her off her feet and swung her around, back in the direction they’d just left.
“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling in his steely hold.
Chapter Four
Hannah was an apt fighter. Her fist shot in a downward strike and he just had time to keep her from striking him in the groin. She was also much stronger than she appeared.
“Stop struggling,” he said, barely keeping hold of her.
He set her away from him, released her, then jumped back just as she kicked out in another attempt to strike him in the family jewels. He cupped his groin with both hands as she took a defensive stance.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she snapped.
“Look,” he nodded where they had been, “look what’s there.”
She glanced in the direction. “What are you talking about?”
“Look. On the ground.”
She squinted, then her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open.
“I think I saved your life. Or at least saved you from a painful couple of days.”
He looked back at the large rattlesnake lying in the leaves, blending in so well it was barely discernable. He’d only caught sight of it when it flicked the end of its tail, and barely had time to snatch Hannah away from stepping in the middle of it. It was still chilly out, making the snake slow. The two of them watched as it dragged itself into a coil and rattled its tail in threat.
“Oh, my God.” Hannah placed a shaking hand on her forehead. “I didn’t see it.”
“Right.” Davis smiled. “I’ll take that as apology for trying to kick me in the balls.”
Her face took on a violent shade of red. “It’s a reflex. You’re a stranger and you suddenly grabbed me from behind…”
She trailed off and dropped her gaze to the ground. She wasn’t one to apologize, he could see that now. It amused him. And he realized in that moment he actually liked her. Liked her. Not just as a potential fuck, it seemed to go deeper. Dangerous ground to tread, because he absolutely could not get involved with her. Not with a target. As he stood there, staring at the top of her head, her light brown hair shimmering with golden highlights, he ran through his plan for the night. Seduce her. Fuck her. Kill her.
He’d done this countless times in the past five years. Thirty-five years old and he’d lost count of his kills. He never dwelled on them long enough to count them, they were neither trophies nor regrets to him.
“Thanks,” Hannah said. “I owe you one.”
“I’ll hold you to that … tonight.”
Her gaze flicked to his face, her lips twitching into a grin that didn’t hold. She was still nervous around him. She had good instincts; he’d underestimated her. As they headed back to the car park, giving the still coiled snake a wide berth, he tried to work out what threat she could be to the Irish Mob. She’d have to have some kind of evidence against them, something that represented a major disruption to their organization. Perhaps she worked with another mafia or gang?
Once back at the car park, he saw her staring at the Ford sedan.
“Where’s the Mercedes?” she asked.
“Sometimes I like to blend in,” he answered. “This seems more reasonable a choice, don’t you think?”
“When compared to a hundred–thousand-dollar penis extension?”
He laughed out loud at her candor. Little did she know the Mercedes had simply been a way of catching her attention. As had his run through the woods this morning—he’d quickly learned her habits.
“I assure you I am quite satisfied with the length of my penis,” he said. “And I’ve never had any complaints from past partners.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “You’re a cocky one,” she said.
He stepped toward her. She stepped back, coming up against his car.
“I would refer to it as confidence.”
She lifted her chin, staring him straight in the eye. “I take it you’re used to women always falling at your feet.”
“A few men as well.”
He’d caught her off guard. She blinked. He placed a hand on the roof of his car, pressing an inch closer, feeling the heat of her body. Her subtle vanilla fragrance filled his head.
“Oh,” she said in rush of breath.
He’d lost her gaze again, she stared at his chest. He took the tip of his finger and tipped up her chin. Her brown eyes were wide as they searched his face.
“Does it offend you that I’ve had men as well?” he asked.
She let out a shaky breath. “Not at all.”
The heat of arousal laced his blood, and he pushed his hips forward, pinning her against his car. He was turned on. She gasped when the proof of it pressed into her stomach.
“So, love, you tell me, do I need a silly car to prove my manhood?”
Her hands came to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she balled his shirt in her fingers. Her pink lips parted, an invitation he simply couldn’t resist. He dropped down and took her mouth in a testing touch. She sagged into him, submitting to the teasing pressure of the kiss. He traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She caught it between her teeth, and he groaned, his self-control slipping. He reached down, cupping her ass, pulling her up, tighter against his throbbing cock. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her tongue thrusting inside his mouth. The kiss turned sloppy, desperate, a mad fucking of lips, teeth, and tongues.
He broke away and nipped the side of her neck, his gaze quickly taking in their surroundings. They were alone. He could take her here and now. Be done with the whole thing and back on his jet to Tortola within an hour. He grasped her thighs, thrusting between her legs, needing release, the friction of their clothing sheer torture. Her head fell back, her breaths coming in quick gasps. He felt the weight of the .380 Auto in his right pocket. Though small, the Glock 42 nonetheless was concealable and did its job at close range.
****
Hannah wanted to stop. Needed to stop. Davis’s strength, the ease at which he held her up against his car, only added to the erotic thrill of the moment.
He was a complete stranger. One that set her on edge. One she didn’t wholly trust. They were in a public place. Someone could drive up at any moment. She could get fired if they were caught. A half-dozen reasons to make her stop but it only seemed to turn her on more.
This wasn’t her, she didn’t play with fire
.
“I can make you come right here, love.” It was a husky, whispered promise against her ear. “With my hands, my tongue, my cock—your choice.”
She was so close already. She felt the hard length of his cock against her pussy and she rubbed against him. He groaned, and she met his eyes. They were a pure, crystal blue. She realized she’d never seen eyes like his. And as she stared into them she realized something else—they were cold.
A chill raced through her.
“Put me down,” she said.
His fingers tightened on her thighs, but then he let her slide down. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and he held onto her upper arms, keeping her upright. He was staring at her face, she felt the heat of his gaze though she couldn’t look him in the eye. Check his right pocket…
His fingertips brushed back a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail.
“I apologize, Hannah, I moved too fast.”
“No, no, you’re okay. I mean, I was an active participant,” she said, staring at his shorts. She made a quick decision and reached down, brushing her hand down his right side to the bottom of his pocket. Her practiced fingers instantly recognized the lump—a wallet. At once she felt like an idiot as she heard his uncomfortable chuckle.
“Am I being frisked?” he asked.
“You, uh, had dirt,” she stammered. She was a terrible liar.
He looked at her in confusion. “Thank you. I do hope we’re still on for dinner tonight?”
Hannah knew she should say no, but she nodded a yes instead.
“Perfect. Name the place. I’m not familiar with the area,” he said.
She gave him the name and address for a steakhouse she liked.
“I’ll meet you there at seven?” he said. “Unless you’d prefer me to pick you up at your home like a gentleman. I’d love to give you a ride in my penis extension.”
His grin and the teasing twinkle in his eye made her blush to the tips of her ears. And she never blushed, not these days. What’s wrong with you, Hannah?
“I’ll meet you,” she said quickly.
“I’m going to run another mile or two. I’ll see you tonight.”
With that he turned and jogged back toward the trail. She went to her SUV, climbed in, and headed home. Anticipation for the date left a stupid smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of.
Chapter Five
Once Hannah had left the car park, Davis returned, stooped down, and reached beneath his car. He came out with his Glock. The last thing he’d needed was for it to drop out of his shorts should things have gone the way he’d hoped they would. While Hannah was distracted, he’d slipped it from his pocket then kicked it beneath his car. It could have been easily retrieved to finish up.
She’d noticed the gun; her quick frisk proved it. The close call thrilled him, and as he climbed inside his car, he thought about the coming night. Typically, in intimate encounters he preferred the use of his knife. With a pillow he could shield himself from the worst of the blood spray once he slit his target’s throat. Bondage, a blindfold, some time for enjoyment—he bit his bottom lip as he drove down the highway.
He’d be back on his private beach by this time tomorrow. Standing alone, staring at the waves, not thinking about the night before when he’d slit the beautiful deputy’s throat. When he’d slipped from her house before she’d finished choking to death on her own blood.
He frowned at emotions he hadn’t felt in many years. Doubt, guilt, he never felt those things. Not anymore. They’d been trained out of him while serving in the army. He’d been a sniper, the best Great Britain had. He’d taken lives for Queen and Country, no questions asked. Men, women—he couldn’t recall any of the faces he’d stared at through his sniper rifle scope. And he’d never missed one shot.
He’d had the perfect opportunity today. A sheriff’s deputy found shot while out alone in a wooded area, something that would be chalked up to a grudge by someone she’d arrested. His perfect opportunity and he hadn’t taken it. Lust was only an asset if controlled. If he made sure the target was completely in his control. He couldn’t lose himself to her, and that’s what he was doing. Davis let out a hard breath.
He had a house here courtesy of his handlers. He stashed the Ford inside the two-car garage alongside the Mercedes then headed inside. Curiosity had him sitting down with his laptop to do a little digging into Hannah’s background. An hour later he had a grasp of her previous years. An athlete and honor roll student in high school, a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice. She was an only child, no father in the picture, and her mother had died of cancer two years before.
Then some hacking took him into off-limits files. FBI, ATF—places she might be flagged if she was involved in anything illegal or if she were working with either agency.
Nothing.
Not that it meant anything. Davis didn’t like this feeling. His two absolute rules, no kids, no innocents—he would not kill an innocent person. If they weren’t in some way involved in illegal activities, he would not carry out the hit. Every person he’d killed for his handlers, every single target had been up to their necks in crime. A week of spying on Hannah and he hadn’t noted one doubtful move on her part.
He leaned back against the sofa cushion and rubbed his hands over his face. Did he want to take this avenue? If he refused this hit he knew the cost. He’d made the agreement with his handlers, and should he negate, it wouldn’t be him but his half-brother who would suffer the consequences.
Five years ago he’d saved his seventeen-year-old half-brother from a hit when he’d pissed off the wrong guy in the Irish Mob. Tommy and their father lived in Northern Ireland. Their father had called Davis on Boxing Day, letting him know the trouble Tommy was in. A few phone calls later and Davis had made his deal to be a hitman for hire to keep his brother alive. Should he refuse any hit, his brother would die. But Davis had made his own deal—only those that deserved it. Otherwise he’d make sure his handlers suffered before they died.
He’d never expected this day would come. Now faced with it he had but two avenues: the easy route, the one he’d taken since that fateful day, would be to kill Hannah; the difficult one—hunting down his handlers, making due on his promise, then relocating to some corner of the world to live in peace. The latter would make him a hunted man the rest of his life.
He took a shower then had lunch. Afterward he packed a gym bag with some spare clothes. He took his knife from one of the duffel bags. A custom-made piece with a nine-inch-long, razor-sharp blade. He tested its edge; a light tap with his thumb drew blood. Satisfied it would bring a quick, clean kill, he re-sheathed it and stuffed it beneath the clothes in his gym bag.
By the time he had to leave to meet Hannah at the steakhouse he was feeling equal parts excitement and dread. He grabbed his gym bag and headed to the garage.
****
Hannah had half of her closet strewn about her bedroom. Still dressed in her robe, she stomped her foot in frustration. What the hell should she wear tonight? Her wardrobe was limited to her uniforms, jeans, t-shirts, and a couple of flowy summer dresses that weren’t warm enough for the evening. And she didn’t want to appear too dressed up. The steakhouse wouldn’t have a dress code, so she finally settled on jeans, low heels, and a nice wrap top.
She stuffed everything back in her closet, added some curl to her hair, a bit of makeup to her face and she was ready for her date. She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her bathroom door. A stranger stared back at her. Her cheeks had a natural pink flush and her eyes sparkled. She hadn’t had a date in a year and couldn’t help the excitement. Especially after their heated exchange earlier that day. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling a tight ache in her pussy.
“You will not bring him home tonight, Hannah,” she said to her reflection.
Oh, but she wanted to, more than anything. Gone was the suspicion she’d felt earlier. Her job made her overly cautious, and she couldn’t live her li
fe like every guy she met was a suspect. Davis would be leaving the country soon, back to whatever god-like place had spawned him, and he’d be a fond memory.
He’d be leaving and she’d never see him again.
The thought tempered some of her excitement. It seemed strange he should be anything more than a superficial crush, but she hated the idea of one mad night of passion then never seeing him again. Of course, they could probably keep in touch via social media, liking one another’s posts, tagging one another, and all that silliness.
She could also see all the hot women he’d collected over the years doing the very same thing. She could obsessively compare herself to them.
She frowned. “Ugh.”
She was a grown woman; she could handle casual sex. Women did it all the time. Another concern popped to mind and she strode over to her nightstand and yanked open the top drawer. A box of barely-used condoms sat in the back, behind her sidearm, and she double-checked the expiration date.
“We are good to go then.”
She left the house and drove to the restaurant. She spotted Davis’s sedan in the parking lot and butterflies beat like mad in her belly. She found a space two cars down. When she stepped out of her SUV she had to suck in a sharp breath when she took him in. Dressed in black slacks and a dark blue tailored shirt, the top two buttons undone, he looked like a male model straight from the runway. From his rakish, raven-black hair down to his polished loafers, he was perfectly put together.
She was seriously underdressed.
“Good evening, Hannah,” he said in the posh accent that sent those butterflies into a madder tizzy.
She licked her lips and smiled. “Hey, yourself,” she said in her own unremarkable Oklahoma drawl.
“You look wonderful.” He offered her his elbow. She placed her hand in its crook and he led her to the front door.
As soon as they walked through the restaurant doors he started drawing attention. A city like Tulsa wasn’t used to men like Davis, but the curiosity and outward gawking didn’t seem to faze him. Of course it wouldn’t, she reasoned, he had to get these looks everywhere he went. When they were led to their table, word had spread, and servers stuck their heads out of the kitchen, watching as Davis walked by. He cast them a smile and a nod, and one of the young women let out a squeak.