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I take hold of it and squeeze. She immediately withdraws it from my grip. “Antonio,” I lie along with her.

The bartender arrives and sets the whiskeys down on the bar top. Not-Samantha reaches for a glass and, to my astonished amusement, drinks deeply from it.

Liquid courage? Or does she really have no sixth sense about who she’s been following? Instead of dulling her senses, she should have all of them on high alert. I’m not a good man. I’m not a man you feck with. I’m a killer. A hitman for hire. And if you’re a pretty lass with pouty, pink lips, a rack that begs me to bury my face between, and piss poor judgment, I’m the last man you should approach. She should run for the hills.

Not. Seek. Me. Out.

I pick up my drink and take a sip, then casually ask the question foremost on my mind. “What brings you into this neck of the woods?”

She pauses, considering me, then places her hands in the air in a sign of defeat. “You.”

I nearly choke on my drink, not expecting her honesty.

“I’ve been watching you.” Her lips curl up invitingly, yet the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Well, I’ll be damned. The balls on her.

“I knew you’d be here.”

“Did you now?” I narrow my eyes on her and her grin thins out. I’d bet a pint of Guinness she’s dying on the inside as she attempts to engage me. And if I was curious about her before, I’m dead set toward getting better acquainted with her now. “Now why would a pretty woman like yourself risk her neck by venturing into a hell hole like this in search of someone like me?”

“I’ve seen you a time or two, out and about.”

A time ... ortwo, she goes and says, as if seeing me once isn’t enough of a risk on her life. “And you like what you see?” I murmur, playing into her charade as I wonder what else in Christ’s fuck has she seen me do, aside from acting like a drunken vagrant on the beach across from the warehouse in Acapulco? I take great pride in playing a part, always flying below the radar, overlooked and underestimated. The fact she noticed me, followed me here, and has been watching me doesn’t sit well.

Man, I mean look at me. In this get up, I’m Hannibal Lector dressed up in Pancho Villa garb. I’m the next character to bite it onThe Walking Dead. And this lass sweeps in here, acting like I’m Nana’s homemade mince pie. I decide to give her a little taste of Hannibal. Test how far she’s willing to go to get whatever it is she wants from me.

“Look around you, sweetheart. Anything can happen inside this place. No one would stop it,” I say, nonchalantly.

“I can handle things without help, thank you very much.” She cocks her head and smiles. Her pretty white blouse pulls tightly across her breasts as she pats her skirt’s waistline, and the gun hidden there.

Well, I’ll be damned. Hot bodied and packing heat. And I’m totally digging what she’s dishing out.

My body reacts, my cock stiffening. I ignore it, polishing off my drink.

“Where were we?” she asks with a sweet, balls-to-the-wall smile.

“On our way out of this hole,” I answer. Her eyes follow my hand as I wave the bartender over. “Another bottle—to go. And we’ll take the glasses.”

The bartender starts to protest.

I slap a hundred-dollar American bill down onto the bar. End of discussion. Snatching the glass from her hand, I toss back what’s left of her drink. I stand and scoop up the fresh bottle and both our glasses. “Time we get better acquainted,storeen,” I tell her.

She hesitates.

I stalk away, only slowing my pace as I exit the bar. Listening for the footsteps that tell me she’s following me, testing out how desperate she is for whatever it is she wants from me. Wondering how naive she is to believe I’d reveal anything about my assignment to her. My closest friends, even my family back home, don’t know what I’m all about.

It’s going to take more than a pretty face, a nice pair of tits, and her ballsy attitude, which is doin’ a number on my competitive nature, to warm me up to even a lie, let alone the truth. The truth isn’t pretty.

I stall just outside the main entrance, until the door swings open and she hurriedly and unwisely exits the dive bar after me.

Bad decision, colleen—because the truth might get you killed.