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 life 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.
Hannah felt conspicuous. Not that she had low self-esteem, she was comfortable in her skin, but not to the point she could showcase someone like Davis and feel worthy. By the time they’d finished dinner she was ready to leave. Davis was charming, and polite, and British, and everything she’d expected him to be. She learned very little about his life, though. He seemed evasive, always turning the questions back to her.
By the time they walked out to the parking lot, suspicion was back. He escorted her to her vehicle, and it was the moment of truth—leave him here or invite him back to her place.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said.
His gaze searched her face, his eye color vivid in the evening shadows.
“Thanks for paying, but I would’ve gone Dutch,” she replied, still undecided. For her libido it was a no-brainer, but her gut instinct left her wary.
His easy smile never seemed to quite meet his eyes. “A gentleman always pays.”
Then silence fell between them. She should leave, but she couldn’t budge. He stepped closer, their bodies just brushing.
“May I have permission to kiss you good night?” he asked.
Her already pounding heart sped up even more. It rang in her ears. She stared at his chest and made her decision.
“How about coming back to my place and kissing me there?”