Page 18 of Hit Man

I shake my head. Whoever she is, she needs to go. I can’t risk someone sticking their nose into my business.

Or—as I glance down at my semierect dick and scowl—distracting me.

Do I share news about this added complication with Hayden? Fuck no. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. And let me tell you, for every secret I’ve kept from him, he’d be six feet under with weeds springing out from his grave by now.

As if sensing the stiff middle finger I’m sending his way, Hayden speaks up. “Two men are better for this job. McDuff—”

“Keep that fucking Irishman out of my business.”

“You’re too much of a hothead to handle this assignment alone.” I hear the smugness in Hayden’s tone, and although it’s obvious he’s goading me, I rage on anyway.

“What? Are there not enough assholes in the world to keep that Irishcabrónbusy elsewhere? Fahder’s going to show. I don’t need any support—especially from that rotting box of Lucky Charms.”

“You sound confident. Tell me what makes you so certain Fahder will show?”

“He’s currently homeless.”

“Homeless?”

“Correct.”

I hear him sigh. “I’m going to bite. You didn’t have patience enough to wait for him at Casa Bella so you set out to stalk him, tracking him to his home, which you planned on infiltrating in the snap of a finger. Clearly you were unsuccessful because you’re back at Casa Bella, patiently hoping he’ll show. Am I understanding the chain of events correctly?”

“Very patiently,” I add.

Hayden is quiet. Yet listening. Probably grinding his teeth, trying to anticipate what I’ll say next.

“His house was run tighter than CIA headquarters. I was forced to flush him out.”

“Low key. I said low fucking . . .”

Yeah, Hayden knows me well. “The asshole has nowhere else to go—”

“Goddamn it . . .”

I grin. “—since I blew up his house.”

5

Aubrey

What did I do last night?

Six simple words strewn together to form immense implications. Did I really order a stranger to fuck me faster? I set out last night curious about him. Dressed to flirt and figure out if my initial attraction to him might lead elsewhere. In a few days, after a brief getting-to-know-you period. Instead, we’ve gotten to know each other as intimately as two people can. I rub my temples, wondering if I truly went wild last night. But the damaged bed doesn’t lie.

It must be the water.

Lord, I wish it had been the water.

I have a wicked hangover, worse than the occasional fogginess resulting from one too many glasses of wine. I drank like a fish, danced like a woman possessed by passion, and had dirty, mind-blowing sex like . . . someone I’m not.

Big regrets. A B.I.G. one, judging by the ache between my thighs.

I feel my lips curl.Naughty, filthy girl.Who knew wild is what really turns me on?

I stare at the destruction and at the rumpled sheets I’d kicked aside when I first woke up. As if pushing them away would erase the fact that I had monkey sex with a total stranger.

Diego. An arrogant, cocky beast of a man. He’d been waiting for me, in my bed, naked.