Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (6 page)

“So … this Nathan kid,” Willy says. “How do you want it done?”

Gil swings his eyes over to me.

“Lance,” he says. “You do your research. Go to their house, find out when he sleeps. It’s got to look like an accident. Like that sleeping thing that babies get or whatever. Find a way to do it and give me your info on Tuesday.”

I feel like I’m going to throw up but I nod again. I got all the research done when I took care of the dad. I already know what room Nathan sleeps in, but I’m not telling Gil that. He smiles again.

“Good! Once we have that I’ll tell you all how to keep going. And until then,” he looks around at us, “keep yourselves fresh! Okay! That’s it, we’re done!”

I blink and straighten up, turning and walking with Willy over to the shelf on the far wall. When we lean against it, I see Jackson still at Gil’s side as Gil empties a plastic baggie full of white powder onto his desk. Jackson’s bent low and is speaking into Gil’s ear while Gil nods.

“Jesus Christ,” Willy says in a low voice. He’s looking down, shaking his head. “Lance-”

“Shh,” I say to him, glancing around. Without anybody playing pool or having any other conversation, our voices can carry far in this empty room. “Wanna get a drink?”

Willy gives me a sad look.

“Normally I’d say it’s too early. But yes. I do want to get a drink.”

We push off from the wall and head towards the door, but as we do Gil snorts a long line and then he raises his head, and his eyes lock onto mine and he watches me as Willy and I move. He stares for a long moment, and then:

“Lance!”

Both Willy and I stop, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What?” I say, keeping my body in a neutral position. Gil stares at me, his eyes bloodshot, his forehead shiny with grease.

“What do you think about a Clapper?” he finally asks.

I blink at him. “What?”

“A Clapper! One of those things from the TV. I’ve been thinking how I don’t like having to walk all the way to the wall just to turn out the light, you know?”

I blink again and then glance over at Willy, but he looks just as confused.

“Sure,” I say, looking back at Gil. “You should get one installed.”

Gil’s face lights up like it’s his birthday.

“I think I will,” he says, and then he drops his head back down and does another line as Willy and I walk to the door, the guard sliding back the latch and letting us out.

We go through the hallway in silence and out the double doors to the restaurant. The table housing the couple is vacant now, leaving the entire restaurant empty. Willy and I walk to the bar and sit down two seats side-by-side. The bartender, previously wiping glasses, comes over to serve us.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he says. “What can I get for you?”

“Bourbon, two fingers, neat,” I tell him.

“I’ll have a Manhattan,” Willy says.

The bartender nods and goes to make the drinks as I furrow my brow.

“Hmm, déjà vu,” I say.

“What?” Willy asks, his eyebrows turned down, his forehead creased with worry.

“Nothing,” I say, forcing my mind back to this new job at hand. Research the house. Give Gil the room where Nathan — no, the
target
now, that’s what I have to call him, the
target
— sleeps. All by Tuesday, just a few days from now. My stomach hurts again and I wish I hadn’t left that antacid in the car.

“This is so fucked,” Willy says. His voice is still low even though there’s no one else around.

“Yeah,” I say. “At least you’re not the one who’s going to be killing that baby.”

“No, I’m the one who’s going to be smooth-talking the mom while you go and do your thing. Or perhaps smooth-talking the police officers when they find out we’ve committed fucking infanticide. Either way, I need to look somebody in the face and tell them that, don’t worry, even though this baby is now dead, everything’s going to be all right!”

His voice has raised and I widen my eyes, glancing around. Down at the other end of the bar the bartender keeps his head down. Willy breathes heavily as our drinks are completed and the bartender comes over, setting them down and then promptly leaving, going into the back room before I can ask him for any more antacid.

“Sorry,” Willy finally says, picking up his drink in a shaky hand. Unlike on Wednesday, this time he downs the thing in one go. “This is just getting to me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” I say to him, picking up my drink and only taking a sip. “You don’t want to do it, and I understand.”

Willy scoffs. “Don’t want to do it? That, my friend, is the understatement of the year.”

I move thoughts around in my head, and when I speak again it’s in a lower voice.

“Maybe … we can get out of this somehow. You and me, we could get away from Gil and this crew. Go somewhere else.”

But Willy shakes his head, somehow looking even sadder.

“Where else can we go? You know that the other crews are just as bad, if not worse. And that’s if Gil doesn’t try to kill us for abandoning him first. Oh, and speaking of which, I told you that Gil wanted to see more of you back on Wednesday. Well, where the hell have you been?”

Trying to distance myself from Gil
, I think, but I don’t say it.

“Busy,” is my response, and I take another sip of the bourbon. Right now a sip at a time is all my stomach can handle.

“Well, it sounds like you’re going to be busy till Tuesday anyways,” Willy says. “Getting information on that kid.”

I nod, looking away. “Right.”

Willy sighs and picks up his empty glass, then puts it back down.

“Did you end up going to that therapist I told you about?” he suddenly asks.

His question catches me off-guard. The image of Katie pops into my head and, for some reason, my stomach hurts a little bit less.

“Uh, yeah,” I tell him. “I did.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

Willy picks up his glass and puts it down again, looking around for the bartender who isn’t there. I pass him my bourbon and he takes it, giving me a nod of thanks before taking a sip.

“It was good-” I begin, but Willy makes a noise.

“Eugh,” he says. “I always forgot just how bad bourbon tastes on its own.”

He passes me back the glass and I leave it on the bar.

“Sorry,” he says. “It was good?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” he says. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you were going to go.”

“I wasn’t,” I admit. “But … on Wednesday, after I got home … I found I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Oh yeah?” Willy’s brow furrows.

“Yeah,” I say, remembering my time after Katie. “I was up all night and I … I couldn’t stop …”

Please! Please, just don’t hurt Nathan!

“… uh …”

Please, I’ll do anything! Just make sure my boy is okay!

“Lance?” comes Willy’s voice, sounding far away. “Lance?”

I shake my head, bringing the room back into focus.

“Uh, sorry,” I say. “Right. I was … up all night because I couldn’t stop thinking about … my work. And I figured that maybe Ka- … this therapist woman could help me.”

Willy nods, his brow still furrowed.

“And did she?”

Her face floats into my mind, and behind that the face of the man, begging for his son’s life.

“I guess so,” I admit. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” I say, “I keep telling myself she didn’t do anything. You know? Like she’s just some shrink who asks everybody the exact same questions. But at the same time, when I was in that office, I felt like when she spoke to me something was able to come out of me. Something I always knew was there but that I never wanted to touch, or even look at. She brought it out of me … almost out of me … and I had only been in there for twenty minutes.”

I look over at Willy and he’s staring right at me.

“Lance,” he says, with something like awe in his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak like that before.”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can the double doors bang open and we both turn our heads to see Jackson walking through. He’s alone and when he sees us he gives an ugly sneer, veering towards us at the bar. All thoughts of this upcoming job wash away as I watch Jackson saunter.

“Hello, boys,” he says when he stops beside me, looking down with a wild grin and fiery, burning eyes. “Having a secret girls’ meeting? Talking about which one of you is getting your period?”

“Why, Jackson, what a coincidence!” Willy says with a big fake grin. “We were actually just talking about people who are in need of serious psychiatric help. Tell us, are you the way you are because your father didn’t love you enough … or because he loved you a little
too
much?”

Jackson’s sneer dissolves into a scowl. He turns away from us and scans his eyes over the empty bar.

“Where’s the fucking bartender?” he says, and then, “Hey! Who do you have to
fuck
around here to get some God-damned service?”

Out from the back room comes not the bartender but Sandy instead. She looks over at us and her eyes lock with mine before she approaches us, blushing behind the bar.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Gail’s taking his break.”

“Damn,” Jackson says, and his previous anger is replaced with obvious flirtation. “If I’d known there was going to be a hot piece of ass on the menu, I wouldn’t have eaten before I got here.”

Both Willy and I cringe as Sandy gives Jackson a look that combines shock and disgust to a T.

“Um, can I get you all anything to drink?” she asks the three of us.

“I’ll have another Manhattan,” Willy says.

“All I want is two shots of tequila,” says Jackson, “and your ass in my lap.”

Sandy wrinkles her nose.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she says, leaving to go make them. I watch Jackson as his eyes follow her ass, walking away.

“Damn, I’d give anything to fuck that sweet pussy,” he says.

I only shake my head, picking up my bourbon.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t know what to do if you got her,” I say, taking a sip. Jackson looks at me.

“Oh what, and you would?”

“I would,” I say. “And I did.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Are you telling me you’ve tapped that?”

Sandy returns with a Manhattan and a bottle of tequila. She gives the drink to Willy and pulls up two shot glasses, pouring them for Jackson. As she does, Jackson looks at her.

“Pencil-dick here says you two’ve fucked already,” he says. “Is that true?”

Sandy finishes pouring and puts the bottle down. She looks at me and our eyes meet. I wink at her and make her blush again. But even though she’s obviously into it, for some reason the feeling’s not there for me. Not right now at least.

Sandy looks back at Jackson. “Yeah, we have,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “And trust me, it’s more of a salami than a pencil.”

Jackson doesn’t say anything as Willy gives a soft chuckle and I take another sip of bourbon. Jackson stares at Sandy, and then suddenly he grabs both shots and downs them, two in a row. When he slams the glasses down he shouts, “Whoo!” and turns to stare me in the eye.

“Bet you can’t do that, ya piece of shit!” he shouts, almost spitting on me. I keep my cool, though, as I take another sip of my bourbon.

“Nope,” I say to him. “Looks like you’re the better man. You can finally die happy.”

“The only one dying around here is you,” he says, his eyes full of fire. My body tenses at his words and suddenly my senses heighten.

“What did you say?” I ask, putting down my glass and turning to face him fully. “What did you just say to me?”

Jackson’s breathing heavy now, and he’s smiling, looking like a kid who just got away with stealing out of his mom’s purse.

“You heard me,” he says. “And I’d suggest you watch your back, if you know what’s good for you.”

And before I can say anything, he pushes himself away from the bar and strides to the front entrance, pushing the door open and stepping out into the golden sunshine. It closes behind him and leaves the three of us alone in silence.

“Jesus Christ,” Sandy says. “What in the hell did that mean?”

“Probably nothing,” I respond. And yet I can’t shake this strange feeling that’s suddenly come over me.

“Well, whatever,” she says. “That guy’s a fucking dick.”

“Just make sure you’re not caught alone with him at night,” Willy warn her. “Or you’ll be sure to experience
his
fucking dick, whether you want to or not.”

“Don’t worry,” she replies. “If he tries anything I’ve got a full can of pepper spray with his name on it. Besides,” she looks at me and lowers her gaze, and I can practically feel the sex oozing off of her. “Lance will protect me. Won’t you?”