Hitman's Hookup: A Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

“I’m guessing the neighbors got a nice show,” I said sheepishly, wrapping a towel around my naked body.

“City people are used to not staring in windows, right?” Cruz replied with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a native New Yorker, Cruz. I’ve spent my fair share of time watching strangers fuck in open windows.”

Cruz raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Care to share any stories?”

I nuzzled into his chest, relishing this absurd story time opportunity. “It was my freshman year at NYU, and my roommate was gone. It was a billion degrees outside because of this freak heat wave that hit the city in April. Everyone had their windows open. The people who lived across the way from my dorm were this really rich couple. I used to stare at the interior of their apartment and dream that one day I could live in an apartment as nice as that.”

I took a dramatic pause. “Because my chemistry lab class was on the top floor of this old, decrepit building with no AC, they cancelled it for the day. I was in my dorm room, sitting at my desk, window cracked and trying to get some studying in, looking out the window and watching their new nanny put down the baby for its mid-afternoon nap. I remembered thinking that I wouldn’t trust my husband around a nanny who looked like that. She was tan, tall, skinny, and had an absolutely enormous rack.”

“Do go on,” Cruz whispered dramatically.

I laughed and slapped his six-pack stomach with the palm of my hand. “
So
, anyway, the nanny was fanning herself because, as I told you, it was a trillion degrees outside.”

“You actually said billion,” Cruz interrupted. “Preciseness of detail saves lives, Doctor.”

“Stop it!” I screeched, slapping him again. He dug his fingers into my side and I squirmed as he tickled me. When he stopped and I got my breathing back, I continued. “So the young, smoking hot nanny actually takes off her dress and pulls her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. So she’s just walking around the apartment in bare feet and a black lace bra and panties.”

“Mm,” Cruz groaned into my hair. I loved telling great stories and having a great audience.

“The front door opens and the wife comes home. Which she never, ever did. She usually worked super late. And my roommate and I had this pool going of when the husband and the nanny would fuck. Because in this super modern apartment; they didn’t bother with curtains in
any
of the rooms. It would ruin the aesthetic or whatever. So the wife comes in, sees the nanny, who I expect is going to jump up, cover herself, and shriek with embarrassment and die on the spot like I would if my boss saw me nearly naked. But I shit you not, the wife walks over to the nanny and runs her hand across the nanny’s chest. And the nanny didn’t do anything but reach over and unbutton the blouse of the wife. So they start making out.”

“No fucking way,” Cruz said, amazed. “This did not happen.”

“It honestly did,” I replied earnestly. “But I’m not done yet!” Cruz began stroking my back absentmindedly with the tips of his fingers. Goosebumps fell across my body at his touch. He was clearly enjoying this as much as I was. “So at this point, all thought of studying my chem notes completely lost, I’m staring, slack-jawed at the scene in front of me. The blonde, uptight wife is topless and making out with the lingerie-clad nanny on the sofa, and they’re really getting into it. Like, ponytails are coming down, zippers are being unzipped, the whole nine yards. Just as the wife is about to, you know,
go down south
on the nanny, the front door opens again.”

“No!” Cruz yelled, laughing. “No way.”

“Yes way. And the husband walks in. Who was, incidentally,
also
smoking hot and gorgeous. One of those silver fox types in suits, you know? Anyway, he sees his wife with the nanny on the couch and he just sets down his briefcase, takes off his suit jacket because again,
heat wave
, loosens his tie, and sits there and watches his wife with the nanny.”

“And they didn’t react or anything?”

“Nope,” I replied easily. “The wife finishes off the nanny, the nanny does her bit on the wife, and then they all get dressed and go about their day.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cruz exhaled. “You are
so full of shit
.”

I laughed. “My hand to God,” I replied. “Literally every word of it is true.”

“My freshman year of college I had a room overlooking a feedlot in Iowa,” he said. “Unfortunately I had no rich swingers across the way for my entertainment and teenaged libido.”

“You must have
some
story, though. All the time you spend in cities around the world?”

He sighed and bit his lip. “Okay, one time I was after a…let’s call him a high-ranking official. I was stuck in his hotel closet for three hours when he picked up a sex worker on the way back from the opera. I had to listen to three hours of a woman pretending to have an orgasm while he flapped around like a complete goon. It was excruciating.”

The temperature of the room turned cold. “Ah, right. And then you killed both of them?”

“Just him,” Cruz said evenly. “And he had it coming, I promise you.”

I nodded, feeling like the mood of the moment had evaporated at this reminder of his profession. I sat upright and looked around the bathroom.

“You need something?” Cruz asked, sitting up and sprinkling a trail of kisses across my naked back.

I stretched my neck. “What I really, really want is a bath. And I would kill someone for a bag of Sour Skittles.”

Cruz laughed with relief. “You’re serious? That’s all it would take?”

I nodded and shrugged. “I’m a simple woman with simple pleasures.”

Cruz took my cheeks in his hands and kissed me on the forehead. “Your wish is my fucking command.” He strolled over to the phone, totally naked, his perfect ass a vision as he walked away from me. He dialed the number for the front desk.

“They won’t have any,” I intoned from the bathroom, running the faucet and rinsing my face. “They’ll have regular ones but not the sour ones.” I heard Cruz talking the concierge. I smiled when he walked into the doorway a few moments later; clothed but looking dejected. “I told you so,” I said, shrugging.

He hung his head in mock-shame. “I can go get you some. But I really don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Seriously? I’m not going anywhere. And you said yourself no one will know that we’re here. After the last two days, I’d rather end up dead than not have the candy I want.” I was only sort of joking.

“There’s a pharmacy around the corner. Half a block away,” Cruz said. “I’ll be quick. Fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” I replied lazily from the edge of the bathtub, the city lights twinkling around me.

“Don’t thank me until I’m back with the goods,” he replied, walking over to the bathtub.

“I can get that,” I insisted

Cruz shook his head, turning both the hot and cold taps until it was apparently a temperature that he found worthy. “One of my many, many skills is drawing the perfect bath,” he replied. He held up a finger. “Please hold.”

He walked out of the bathroom. I stood with my arms crossed across my chest. I had no idea what he was getting. He returned with a tiny glass vial the size of my pinky finger and what looked like a plastic-wrapped piece of candy. He deftly unscrewed the bottle cap and tipped clear liquid into the rapidly-filling bathtub.

“Special essential oil bath mix from this place in Paris,” he explained. He held up the plastic-wrapped candy thing. It was the size of a Lindor truffle and made of pastel pink, green, and purple swirls. “This,” he said, holding it out like it was a prized piece of rare metal, “Is the secret, special sauce that makes a Dawson Cruz bath the best bath in the entire world.” His lips curled up at the edges. “This is top-secret, confidential information. You have to swear on your life that you will never tell anyone you
saw
this, much less experienced it.”

I suppressed a giggle. I didn’t know what it was about this man, but I found him irresistible; egregious, dangerous flaws and all. “I can keep a pretty good secret,” I replied.

Cruz stepped closer. “Hold out your palm,” he instructed.

I did as he told me to.

He gently placed the confection in my palm and wrapped my fingers around it. “It’s a bath bomb. I chose the ingredients. I only travel with a handful at a time. It’s a rare delicacy.”

His fingers were hot on my hand. I didn’t let go and neither did he. He stared into my eyes and I found myself once again getting lost in his pair of deep, brown pools. He kissed my fingers and then pulled away. “Only put it in right when you’re about to step into the water. Not a second before, alright?”

I nodded. “Go get my candy.”

He jogged out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

I couldn’t believe how different Cruz was since we made it to Chicago. It was like him coming clean about everything had washed off the veneer of tough-guy. He was sweet, caring, and attentive. He was almost happy, which was particularly bizarre for me to swallow considering both of us were running for our actual lives.

I set the still-wrapped bath bomb next to the rapidly-filling bathtub. The tub was enormous. One of the advantages of being so short was that I could always fit in a standard, run-of-the-mill bathtub. But this would be like a luxury to me, almost like a decadent swimming pool. The tub was in the corner of the bathroom and was pressed against two glass walls that left me with a stunning view of nighttime Chicago.

If I closed my eyes and didn’t think too hard, I could almost forget the terror of the circumstances surrounding me right now.

Almost
.

I pulled my braids up into a towel, twisting them expertly to protect them from the steam of the bath. The water from the spigot was thunderous and pounding, churning Cruz’s secret blend of essential oils.

The bathroom smelled like vanilla, lavender, and another scent I couldn’t put my finger on. It made the air seem edible. I sat on the edge of the tub and became lost in thought, mesmerized as I was by the sound of the tub. Poppy had always told me that water was healing, whether drinking it, bathing in it, or swimming in it. I’d taken that advice to heart and carried it with me into adulthood.

The water was nearly the level I wanted it to be. I picked up the bath bomb, the cellophane crunching between my fingertips. I smiled in spite of myself. I never would have expected an international assassin to be a connoisseur of bath products. Just as I unwrapped the plastic, exposing the bomb to the air, I heard the sound of a key in the door.

It clicked open.

“That was fast,” I called to Cruz.

He didn’t reply.

“Cruz?” I said, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Those footsteps were heavier than Cruz’s footsteps. I looked around me for anything I could use as a weapon. I dived for my makeup bag and pulled out my nail file. It was metal and four inches long. It was better than nothing.

A man dressed in all-black stepped into the bathroom, a thin-lipped smile on his pasty, square face. He was wearing a black knit cap. He was easily a foot and a half taller than me and a good two hundred pounds heavier than I was. He licked his lips when he saw my naked body.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said. His thick fingers were twitching at his sides. I felt my stomach turn over. But my heart wasn’t pounding any more quickly than it normally did.

I was in absolute flow, the mode of focus that came over me before I went into surgery. I felt my breathing and time slow down. There was a voice guiding my instincts, the same one that told me to slow down and triple check everything before I even picked up a scalpel.

I was in my element, standing here, naked with a towel on my head and a pitiful nail file clenched in the hand I had hidden behind my back. I knew exactly the right thing to say. “Well, you’re a little earlier than most of my clients tend to be,” I said with a smile on my face. I motioned to my naked body and then over to the still-running bath. “I was getting ready. It’ll be an extra five hundred since you’re early.” I shrugged, reaching up into the towel on my head and tucking the nail file into it under the guise of adjusting the folds.

Blockhead looked confused. “Excuse me?” he replied.

I forced a laugh that I hoped sounded natural. “I’m just telling you my policy since this is your first time with me.” I walked closer to him, forcing my body to be nearer to this disgusting man. I noticed he had black leather gloves on his hands. I tried not to think about why that was. I reached down and unzipped his pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked me, bewildered.

“No kissing,” I replied, taking my time as best I could. When I dropped his pants, I saw he had a growing sense of surprise in front of my face. It was threatening to pop out of his boxers. That was okay. I wasn’t planning on getting that far. I only had to stall until Cruz made it back.

“Well, sweetheart, if you insist on doing that first, I’m not going to stop you,” he grunted.

I had him
. “Wait,” I said, a flash of insight hitting me as I heard the bath water still pounding. “Stand over by the sink. You’ll need something to lean on.”

The guy smirked at me and I smirked back, holding back bile and vomit as I did so. “You’re that good?” he asked me.

I nodded and pushed him bodily toward the sink. He walked over like an absolute clod of a man, his pants trapping his ankles. He sighed and leaned back. “Make it quick, sweetheart, I’m on a schedule,” he instructed.

I got down on my knees as slowly as I could. He shoved his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down faster. I didn’t like that. But it didn’t matter. He’d be getting
his
soon enough. I swept the palm of my hand over his hardness and he shuddered. I almost laughed. The guy was hideous. It didn’t surprise me that he clearly hadn’t been getting any recently.

I tried to think how long Cruz had been gone. Close to ten minutes. I ran my hands down the guy’s thighs. I knew I couldn’t stall much longer. I glanced up at him; he had his eyes closed and was biting his lip. “It’s been awhile for you, hasn’t it?” I cooed, trying to sound sexy. His thighs were like tree trunks. I knew he could crush my head with them.