Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (2 page)

After all, this practice is what keeps me going day after day. It’s all I have. So why
wouldn’t
I give it the most attention out of anything else in my life? Some of my clients complain that their marriages aren’t turning out how they’d hoped, that they’re tired of their jobs, that they aren’t living the lives they wanted when they were kids. And my mantra is always the same: if you want things to be better then you’ve got to take the reins yourself. Otherwise nothing’s going to change.

I pull up to a red light and use the chance to fish my cell phone out of my purse. I dial my sister’s number and put it on speakerphone. It rings a few times before being picked up.

“Hello?”

“Amanda, it’s Katie,” I say. The light turns green and I begin moving. “My last client canceled and I’m done for the day. Is it okay if I come by a bit early before we go out?”

“Oh, sure,” Amanda says. She sounds distracted. “Yeah, that’s fine. Oh, Tyler?” Her voice drops down in volume and sounds farther away. “Tyler, stay in the kitchen, sweety!”

“How’s Tyler doing?” I ask.

“Huh?” Amanda’s voice comes back. “Oh, he’s good. He’s just- Tyler! Christ, one second.”

I hear the sound of the phone being put down and Amanda’s voice almost disappears as she speaks in the background. She comes back on a few seconds later.

“Hello?”

“Still here,” I say.

“One second, I’ll put you on speakerphone.” A moment later. “Katie?”

“Yes?”

“Tyler, say hi to your aunt Katie! Say hi, Aunt Katie!”

Tyler makes an excited cooing noise and I smile.

“Hi, Tyler!” I say back. “I’m coming over early to play! Are you excited to see me?”

Another cooing noise comes through.

“He’s been trying to climb up my legs pretty much all day,” Amanda tells me.

“He just wants to stand on his own like the rest of us, don’t you Tyler?” I say in a childish voice. Then, “How are you doing, Amanda? You sound tired.”

A short laugh. “When am I not tired?”

“Do you want to have a nap when I get there?” I ask. “I can take care of Tyler.”

“Oh my God, would you? That would be amazing, thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” I say to her. “Okay, well I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Okay. Say bye-bye to Aunt Katie, Tyler. Say bye-bye!”

“Baa-baa,” comes Tyler’s little voice.

“Bye bye!” I say back. “See you later, Amanda.”

“Bye, Katie,” and I hear the phone call disconnect.

It’s a beautiful day out as I make my way to Amanda’s neighborhood. She and Doug got a great mortgage a few years ago on a detached two-story house with three bedrooms. Amanda told me recently that she and Doug are trying for a second child. I smiled when she told me, and tried to ignore that empty, gnawing feeling inside of me. I worked extra hard for a week after.

Turning off the main road, I drive along down their street until I reach their house. Pulling in behind Amanda’s car, I park mine and turn it off, then tuck my phone back into my purse and bring it with me. Locking the car, I head up the front walk and knock before letting myself in.

“Hello?” I call out as I close the door behind me.

“In the living room!” comes Amanda’s voice. I walk in and drop my purse off on the kitchen counter before reaching the living room to find Amanda on her back, holding a smiling and squirming Tyler up above her.

“Aw, is somebody flying like Superman?” I ask as I drop to my knees.

Tyler giggles and coos as Amanda wiggles her child and says, “Here, take him. My arms are killing me.”

I pick Tyler up and hold him close, bouncing him lightly as Amanda sits up and gives her back a stretch. She’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt and she looks in desperate need of a shower.

“Tyler was up half the night crying,” she informs me, shaking her head. “He had a long nap this morning, but by then I already had to be up. Now he doesn’t want to stop playing.”

“Aw,” I say, giving Tyler a kiss on the cheek. “Look, go have a nap and maybe take a shower. You look like you could use one.”

Amanda nods, rubbing her blonde hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Thanks again, Katie.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Amanda stands up and Tyler cries for her, reaching his hands out.

“Mommy’s going to have a shower and a little sleep,” Amanda tells her one-year-old. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

She leans down and gives Tyler a kiss, but he cries again as she leaves, still reaching out for her.

“Ooh, Tyler!” I say, spinning him around to face me. His crying falters as he focuses on my face. I take a few loud, animated breaths and make faces over and over. “Ahh, boo! Ahh, bluh! Ahh, bee!”

Tyler giggles and coos again as he reaches forward to grab onto my face. So long as he’s not tired or cranky, Tyler is easy to distract from what he wants.

As I hear the shower run upstairs Tyler and I play around in the living room. Of course, “playing” with a one-year-old mostly consists of me giving Tyler different toys for him to pick up and throw around the room. Still, this is something I wouldn’t give up for anything. Being around Tyler just relaxes me in a way that work or being at home ever could. It fills a void in me.

The shower turns off and I hear Amanda’s footsteps as she makes her way to the bedroom. Tyler’s currently flipping through a cloth storybook, staring at the pictures on the fabric pages.

“You like that, Tyler?” I ask. “Those are some pretty pictures, aren’t they?”

He makes a noise as he keeps flipping. Then he picks up the book and shakes it, cooing.

“You know, your mommy and daddy have been thinking about having a new baby,” I say. “You could get a new little brother or sister. Do you think you’d like that?”

No answer. He’s lost interest in the book and now he crawls over to the plastic cups that stack together, picking one up.

“Although, if you have a little sibling then the first few years of his or her life might find you experiencing feelings of jealousy and resentment. Your mommy and daddy will try to split up their attention between you and the newborn, but it won’t really be the same.”

Tyler picks up another cup and makes a cooing noise. Then he bangs the two plastic things together and smiles at the sound they make.

“Of course, you’re lucky that you have both a mommy and a daddy in the first place.” Tyler isn’t looking at me but I keep talking all the same. “It’s not really something you’ll appreciate until later on in life, but once you learn what happened to your mommy and me then you’ll get it. You’re very lucky.”

He drops one cup and tries to pick up another.

“And if you
do
end up having a little brother or sister, you’ll have to make sure those feelings of jealousy don’t get in the way of how much you love them. Okay?” I feel my throat start to tighten, but I keep on talking. “Because your sibling can be your best friend in the times when you’re at your lowest, Tyler. At the times when you think you can’t go on any longer, and when you really just need someone there because losing somebody close to you hurts so, so much.”

Tyler finally looks at me and his face is one of wonder and awe as stares into my eyes. I give a wet sniff and wipe the tears that are just at my eyelids.

“Hey buddy!” I say to him, giving a big smile, and Tyler suddenly looks excited. “Who wants to go on a plane ride?”

Reaching over and picking him up, I support Tyler under both his chest and legs and make plane noises as I swing him around, Tyler squealing with delight as he flies through the air.

It’s not until an hour later that I hear the front door open and shut.

“Hello!” comes Doug’s booming voice.

“Who’s that?” I ask Tyler, giving him a bright smile. “Who’s that? Is that Daddy? Let’s go see!”

Tyler laughs as I sweep him into my arms, taking him out of the living room and down to the front door.

“Here he is!” I say to a smiling Tyler.

“Oh, hey, Katie,” Doug says as he looks up. He smiles when he sees me. “You’re here a bit early.”

He holds out his hands and I pass the baby off to his father. Doug gives him a kiss, and the boy squeals with delight.

“My last client canceled on me so I thought I’d just come by. Amanda’s upstairs having a nap.”

“Finishing a nap,” comes Amanda’s voice as she walks down the stairs. Her eyes are puffy but at least now she looks rested. She joins us at the door and gives Doug a kiss. “Wow, I needed that. I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Well, I’m starving,” Doug says. “What are the plans for dinner?”

“I was thinking Italian food,” Amanda says. “I’ve heard good things about that Mario’s Pizza Palace or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, Italian sounds good,” I chime in.

“Great,” Doug says. “Let me just grab a quick shower and then we can go.”

He passes Tyler to Amanda and then heads upstairs as Amanda and I walk back to the living room. We both sit down on the floor, letting Tyler distract himself with toys again.

“So how’s work going?” Amanda asks.

“It’s okay,” I say, passing a plastic cup to Tyler. “Nothing new.”

“Meet any cute guys yet?” she asks me and I roll my eyes. Up above our heads, the shower turns on.

“No, Amanda. I haven’t met any cute guys.”

“Well, some of them must be cute. What about that army guy? Didn’t you say he was hitting on you?”

“They
all
hit on me,” I tell her. “And I’m not interested in him. Besides, it would be stupid for me to get into anything with a patient. That’s, like, Therapy 101.”

Amanda shakes her head as Tyler climbs up to standing, using her hand for support.

“I just think you need to do something other than work,” my sister tells me. “It’s not healthy, how much time you put into your practice.”

“People need my help,” I tell her. “This line of work requires time and dedication.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve proven that to us already,” she says. “But you need something in your life that isn’t work, Katie. And you know … not all relationships have to end like yours did with Zach.”

Even now, after all these years, the mere mention of his name puts a knot in my stomach.

“I know that,” I say, pushing my feelings back down. “I’m just … not ready yet.”

And Amanda nods.

“I just hope that when the right guy comes along,” she says, looking me in the eye, “that you will be ready.”

Lance

The window’s rolled down and the cool night air is welcome against my face.

The roads are clear tonight as I pop my car into fifth gear. It’s just past sundown and I roar down Center Street, knowing where all the speed traps are, and how to avoid them. Apartments and businesses on either side flash by as I drive. I come up to a yellow light and make the left turn, slowing down just a fraction before speeding back up again.

Even so, despite the ease of the drive, despite how clean the job I just did was, I still can’t get rid of the cries from my head.

Please! What about my Nathan? Who’s gonna take care of Nathan?

I breathe in for a second as my foot presses down hard on the gas. Everything goes by faster, my car flying down the road.

The job only took fifteen minutes. Not my best time, but still pretty good. No clean-up was needed, and no heavy artillery. It was quick in, out back, and done. But that fucking guy just wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. Not even when I warned him to. He kept screaming about Nathan.

Nathan.

I almost miss my turn and crank on the wheel, taking the right harder than I should. Steadying, I speed up again.

I put my bag with the guns in the trunk where the spare tire should be. But I’ve still got my shoulder holster on underneath my black leather jacket. I made sure the gun was loaded before I left to come back. Some might call it paranoia. Some might call it stupid. But knowing who I’m about to go see, I call it protection.

The lights from Mario’s Pasta and Pizza illuminate in the distance and my stomach lurches. That little gastro surprise started up after I got back in my car. I’ll pop a few antacid later, though. Nothing I can’t take care of.

I reach the restaurant and slow down enough to turn in, passing the full parking lot, driving around to the back where the employees park. Pulling into a reserved spot I turn off my car, but I don’t get out. Instead I just sit for a moment, listening to the silence, punctuated by the empty sounds of the engine popping as it cools under the hood. Beyond that, though, I can still hear his voice. Allan Willow. He’s crying out inside my head.

Who’s gonna take care of Nathan? Please! You’re making a mistake!

I open my eyes, not having realized I closed them. Quickly I open the driver’s side door and get out. I lock the car, leaving the bag in the trunk, and head back through the parking lot to the front of the restaurant. There’s a kitchen entrance around back but Gil said he likes it better when his employees come in through the front. He said it puts the real customers at ease somehow.

I’m willing to bet if they really knew what was going on in the back, they’d all be running for their lives.

Mario’s Pasta and Pizza is a ridiculous name for a place to hide business. It was spawned out of Gil’s desire to both easily launder money and have a place to hang out and conduct his business. But even after his attorneys advised him against it, Gil went ahead and opened the most mafia-sounding place in town. He doesn’t even know anyone named Mario. He just said he liked the way it sounds.

I’ve been working for Gil for three years now. I went to him after my previous employer drank a concrete cocktail for stiffing his contacts one too many times. Working for Gil was great, at first. The guy was clean, efficient, and he didn’t get too much in the way of my work. Plus, his whole thing was that he wanted to get rid of the filth that made this city so bad in the first place. Do the kind of dirty work the cops and judges can’t legally do.

Ah, this city. I’ve lived in Santa Espera all my life. I know this shithole inside and out. Apparently when this land was founded it was thought the surrounding area would provide good farming, and this place was named Santa Esperanza — Saint Hope. It wasn’t until a few years of bad crops went by that most people left, and the ones who stayed renamed it Santa Espera — basically, Saint Delayed.

Anyway, work with Gil was good, but after a while, when the money really started rolling in and Gil became more relaxed, that’s when the coke came on scene. He must have a good dealer because Gil
really
likes coke. In fact, he likes it so much that he started killing off some of his guys. Just so he wouldn’t have to pay them anymore. Just so he could afford more coke.

You can see now why I kept the shoulder holster on.

I walk into the restaurant and the noise of myriad conversations hits me like a wall. It’s busy, even for a Wednesday. Couples are here on dates, groups of businessmen all grabbing dinner. I even see some family with a little kid. The sight of him eating spaghetti makes me smile, and I take a moment to glance over the two women at the table. The one with the blonde hair is cute.

Behind the bar, the bartender gives me a nod and I give him the same. Sandy, one of the servers, passes me by carrying a tray of entrees. I see her cheeks flush when she sees me and I smile, my cock stirring at the memory of our night together, two weeks past. For someone so demure on the outside, she was like a fucking banshee in the sack. She didn’t like it when I didn’t stay the night, and she’s been trying to get back with me ever since. But she should know I never sleep with the same woman twice. You can never let them get too attached.

I push through the swinging double doors to the back and take a right down the hallway. Turning again, I reach the room at the back, stopping in front of the heavy metal door. I lift my fist and hammer three times. A metal latch slides back from the inside and the door opens a crack, the barrel of a gun coming out to greet me. I push the door open, walking past the gun and the guy holding it and into the room.

“Lance!” says Gil from behind his desk at the side wall. “So good to see you so soon!”

For a room large enough to hold two hundred people, it’s pretty empty in here. A couple of guys are playing a game of pool off in the corner. Willy’s standing against the far wall, leaning against a shelf and cleaning his gun. He nods his head in greeting and I do the same. Off to the side is Jackson, busy lifting what look like hundred pound weights. Of everybody in this business, Willy’s the only one I really get along with. But considering we grew up together in this shitty town of Santa Espera, that doesn’t really seem out of place.

“Come here, come here!” Gil motions with his hand, indicating the chairs in front of his desk.

On the wall opposite his desk is the door that leads to the kitchen, and the way I would have come in had I gone through the back. Gil insisted on having a door connected to the kitchen so he could get his food directly, without having to go around. There’s a glass porthole in the door which is part of the building code, according to the inspector. All this security to make sure the place is safe and Gil has a window looking right in at his desk. Figure that one out.

But I didn’t come here to judge. I approach his desk and Gil motions for me to sit down. I see half a dozen lines of coke set up on the desktop and a glance shows me wiped-at traces of the stuff circling his left nostril. His pupils tell me he’s been at it for the past hour or so. He’s going to offer me some, and I’m going to decline, and he’ll get upset. But he won’t get that upset. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

“Care for a little pick-me-up?” Gil asks when I sit down. His eyes are bright as he holds out a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill.

“No thanks, Gil,” I say to him in a level voice. “You know I like to keep my wits about me.”

His eyes flash with anger and he pulls his hand back, like a child who’s just been scolded.

“No coke, eh?” he says, his upper lip curling. I see his eyes dart down at the desk and for a second my body tenses. I know how much firepower he has packed inside those drawers, taped to the underside. Last week he broke somebody’s hand for not shaking his properly. I was there and I saw the look in his eyes. He has the same look in them now.

But then suddenly Gil relaxes and his face breaks out into a smile as he says, “Okay! I guess that’s more for me!”

I watch him bend over and proceed to snort up one, two, three lines in a row. My heart is pounding but I keep a straight face as I feel some of the other guys behind me watch him as well. When Gil finally lifts his head. he throws it back and actually howls out loud before returning his gaze to me.

“Okay!” he shouts proudly. His face is dotted with sweat and I can see he’s trying to focus, but his pupils are going crazy. “The job, tonight,” he says in a somewhat normal voice. “How did it go?”

Please, Nathan! Who’s gonna take care of Nathan?

“It went well,” I say, keeping my voice normal despite the lurch in my stomach.

“Goooooooood good!” he says, clapping his hands together. He licks his lips too many times and reaches for his drink — whiskey, by the look of it — downing all of it in one go. “Ahhh,” he smacks his lips and puts the glass down. “I trust there were no … problems?”

He focuses on me again and in a second all that excitement melts away to show a serious and ugly-looking man. I stare back, keeping my expression calm. Unoffensive.

“Nope,” I say to him. “No problems at all.”

He’s breathing heavily, and his skin is turning red.

“Are you curious who that man was to me?”

I shake my head.

“No. I make it a point to know just the necessary information about my targets,” I say, leveling my gaze at him. “Nothing more.”

Gil looks at me for a second that lasts an eternity and I feel like I’m staring down a cobra. One that could lunge at my face in any given moment. My body tenses again and I comfort myself with the reminder of the gun underneath my jacket. If it comes to it, I could take down every man here before any of them draw their guns.

But then the second passes and Gil looks away, smiling again.

“Good,” he says, his eyes taking on a far-away look. “You can go now.”

He motions with his hand for me to leave so I get up, turning to walk away. I hear the sound of Gil snorting the remaining lines of coke off his desk and I can’t stop my upper lip from curling.

Willy’s just finishing cleaning his gun as I walk over, joining him against the shelf.

“He keeps snorting that nose candy, he’ll soon have more coke than brains,” Willy mutters in his soft Australian accent. “Which shouldn’t be a tough thing to accomplish.”

I smile, leaning back as I look out over the room. Willy’s one of the best guys Gil has on his team. A little portly around the middle, he’s still charming as hell, and the smoothest talker I know. In his white suit and hat, he looks like he’s about to jet off to Africa to hunt rhinos. He’s the guy that Gil takes along to get information out of people who don’t want to give up any information, and all without using any violence.

Well … most of the time, that is.

“So, the job went all right?” Willy asks, keeping his voice low. I know he doesn’t want to speak too loudly. Lately, with Gil getting more and more into the coke, it’s been difficult knowing what could set him off. My stomach lurches but I try to ignore it.

“Yeah,” I say to him. “It was-”

But what it was is interrupted by the sound of an approaching voice.

“Well, well, well, our star player has decided to grace us with his presence.”

Both Willy and I turn to see Jackson sauntering over to us. Standing two inches shorter than me and about fifty pounds lighter, Jackson is the embodiment of every wannabe high school jock who never quite got his day. His hair is cut in a crewcut and he wears a dog tag, even though I know he’s never been in the army. He walks up until he’s six inches from my face and he’s staring me right in the eye.

“Didn’t think you worked here any more,” he says, his breath smelling of pepperoni grease and cigarette smoke. “I guess you finally remembered that this is a family, and in order to be a part of that, you gotta participate.”

“Hello Jackson,” Willy says with a fake smile. “So nice of you to say hello.”

Jackson glances at Willy and gets a look like he just stepped in something.

“Shut up, Aussie. Nobody’s talking to you.”

“Fuck off, Jackson,” I growl. “Don’t you have some puppies to kill?”

Jackson looks back at me and grins. “I took care of that this morning,” he says. “Crushed their little heads right underneath my boot.” My upper lip curls and that just makes him smile wider. “See? You’re not so heartless after all.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I just wanted to give you a little warning while you’re here,” Jackson says to me.

“And what warning would that be?”

“That you’re outta here, you fucking pecker,” he spits. “Your days in this business are fucking numbered.”

I grin. “That’s a shock. I didn’t know you ever learned how to count.”

His smile disappears.

“You’d better fucking watch it,” he snarls. “Because the times, they are a-changin’. And when they do I’m gonna be right here to help you punch in your retirement card.”

Jackson takes a step back and spins around, strutting back to his precious weights. I turn my back on him and look at Willy.

“Christ, I hate that fucking kid,” I tell him in a low voice again.

“You and everyone else,” Willy agrees. “Except Gil, and unfortunately his is the only opinion that matters.” He levels his gaze at me. “So the job tonight. How did it go?”