Hitman's Revenge (a Forbidden Bad Boy Romance) (11 page)

I
found
a dump of a motel off the interstate and paid for the room with cash. I parked the car behind the building so it wouldn’t draw any attention now that the damn thing was missing paint on either side of the paneling. The last thing I needed was cops coming and sniffing around.

Shutting off the engine, I looked over at Hazel, clenching my jaw at the sight of her pale face. Damn. I knew I wasn’t making it any easier on her, cursing at her and not giving her any answers she wanted to hear. In reality, I was scared shitless that she had come up on the list. What if I couldn’t protect her? Everything, including her life, was relying on the fact that I could keep her safe, and I wasn’t so sure I could do so… normally I was the hunter, not the hunted.

I needed to get her to my safe haven, the thought popping into my brain after our close call. It was a place that not even Nixon knew about. I had everything under an assumed name so it was virtually untraceable, though nothing in this world was untraceable so it wouldn’t last long, I knew that. The great thing though about the place was that it had one road in and one road out so I could monitor any and all visitors when they did come… ‘cause surely they would.

“Come on,” I finally said, catching her attention. “Let’s get you some food and some rest. We still have a way to go.”

“Where are we going, Jack?” she asked, her voice very low as she continued to look out the window. She was upset with me, and all I wanted to do was make her feel better, to reach over and take her in my arms, but the way she’d looked at me made me pause. When I’d gotten back into the car after I’d sorted out our tail, all she saw was a murderer, and that look was not one I wanted to ever see again.

“Where can we go? Colt is going to track us down and kill both of us.”

I caught the tremor in her voice and swore under my breath, realizing that Hazel was having a full-on breakdown. I couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t meant to deal with this type of craziness. I couldn’t have her go into hysterics either, not now. I needed for her to stay levelheaded as possible in case.

“Hey now,” I tried, hoping that my voice was tender enough. “It’s going to be okay. I swear it.”

She turned then and my chest tightened at the sight of the tears in her eyes. “Is it really, Jack? Is it really going to be okay? Tell me the truth. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Hell, Hazel… there isn’t,” I started but she pushed open the car door and climbed out, shutting it hard behind her.
Fuck.
I obviously wasn’t a very good liar. She was freaked out, and I had no idea how to calm her down.

Pushing open my own door, I grabbed both of our bags and slammed the door in frustration. I found her waiting for me at the end of the drive, her eyes red. The sight hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. My instinct was to gather her up in my arms and swear to her that we were going to get out of this alive, but the last thing I needed was for her to take it in any other way than what it was meant to be.

“Come on,” I said gruffly, brushing past her down the sidewalk to our room. I couldn’t touch her. If I did, I’d lose the last shred of willpower I had left, and we’d both be sunk.

I opened the door and stepped back, allowing her the first opportunity to enter. That room was just as shitty as the last, and I hated the fact that it wasn’t good enough for someone like her. It wasn’t. She deserved the best for what she had gone through, and all I could offer her was stained carpeting and musky smells. “Listen,” I muttered, walking in behind her and shutting the door. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “If you’re not going to tell me, then… just don’t talk to me, Jack!” She spun around and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. I deposited the bags on the bed and looked around, at a loss for what to do or how to handle the rage that was being directed my way.

I knew what I wanted to do and took a step towards the bathroom door.

T
he bathroom was just
as disgusting as the room, but I sat down on the toilet lid anyway, my legs wobbly. I knew it wasn’t right to take it out on Jack. He hadn’t caused any of this, and he had saved me from certain death, but I couldn’t deal with this world that he lived in. I couldn’t deal with this constant state of worry that someone was going to kill me around every corner.

The tears threatened my eyes again, and I ground them with the palms of my hands. I was so tired of my life in its current state, tired of crying.

A knock on the door caught me off guard and I stood up, wiping my eyes. “GO AWAY!”

“Hazel, you okay?” came Jack’s rough voice through the thin wood.

“I said, GO AWAY!”

“I’m not going anywhere. And if you don’t start talking to me, I’m going to break this door down and make you!”

“Eugh, I’m fine,” I ground out.

“I mean it, Hazel. On the count of three I’m coming—”

“I’ll be out in a second, okay? Just give me one fucking moment!”

He didn’t say anything after that, and the door didn’t suddenly shatter into splinters. I turned toward the mirror, not recognizing the girl that stared back at me. I couldn’t fall apart now. I was not doing myself or Jack any justice by freaking out. This was my life right now, and I had to remember that. I could do this, I just needed to pull myself together for a little longer. Soon it would be over, one way or another, and maybe if everything turned out alright I would be able to go back home and grieve for and bury my father.

I opened the door and stepped out into the room, spotting Jack at the door, standing guard like he had previously. Idly, I wondered when he slept if at all. He didn’t look tired to me. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, ashamed of the way I was handling this situation. I could be the adult as well. “I’m just a bit freaked out and I’m scared, Jack, scared to death.”

He dropped his impassive pose, some of the coldness melting away. “Hazel, you don’t have to apologize. I forget that you aren’t used to this, and I think you are more than entitled than anyone to freak out about all of this. A lesser woman would be curled up in the corner somewhere crying her eyes out. Not you… you’re strong.”

“I feel like I need to,” I replied softly, rubbing my arms with my hands. “What are we going to do next? Surely we can’t just keep hopping from motel to motel?”

“Last leg, I promise. I’m going to find another vehicle, and then we are leaving,” he replied, surprising me. We had just gotten here and he wanted to leave already? Was there another imminent attack coming? He must have seen my confusion for he sighed, looking a bit confused himself. “You don’t deserve to be in a dump like this. I don’t know what I was thinking… I’ve got a place about two hours from here. I can’t let you stay here.”

“Where is here, exactly?” I asked, not quite sure where we had stopped. I hadn’t been paying attention, too lost in my own panicky world.

“We’re in Alabama right now,” he answered, gathering his bag. “Tennessee is about two hours away. If we can get there, then I have a place we can hide out. No more crappy rooms, or cars… a semblance of safety.”

Jack’s place. I was going to Jack’s place, not just some dump of a motel. I could deal with that. “Okay,” I replied, attempting a small smile. “Let’s go. No time like the present, but let’s get some food first?”

He nodded and opened the door before falling back, the sound of gunfire echoing in my ears. Jack kicked the door shut and pulled me down to the floor, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Remember what I told you; you need to do everything I say,” he said in a hurried tone, pulling his bag in front of him with a wince. It was then I noticed the blood spreading across his t-shirt, staining it before my eyes. “Oh god,” I breathed, scrambling toward him on my knees. “Jack, you’ve been shot!”

“I’m fine,” he growled, waving my hands away as he pulled out a gun. “Was there a window in the bathroom?”

With my heart in my throat, I watched, transfixed as the blood on Jack’s shirt rapidly spread, my worst fears coming true. I couldn’t lose him, too.

“Hazel! Answer me!”

“What?” I closed my eyes and tried to remember the dingy tiled bathroom. “Yes, there was a window.” I swallowed as Jack pulled himself up to a sitting position, cradling his arm to his chest.

“Good,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I need for you to go through that window and get to the car out back. You give me thirty seconds, Hazel, thirty seconds. If I don’t appear, then you go to the nearest police station. You drive as fast as you can. You hear me?”

“I can’t leave you,” I cried, reaching for his arm, trying to tether myself to him. “Please, Jack, don’t make me do this!”

“You have to do this,” he said firmly, thrusting the screwdriver he’d used to start the stolen car at me. “Thirty seconds, Hazel. Say it.”

I let out a sob, shaking my head at the thought of leaving him. I wasn’t going to. His eyes narrowed and he dropped the tool into my hands, wrapping his hand around my neck and pulled me close. His lips crashed onto mine, his breath rapid. I wanted it to last for forever, to sink into his arms and let him continue to kiss me, but he pulled away his eyes, imploring me to leave.

Another round of a gunshots rang out, and the window by the bed exploded, raining glass down on both of us.

“Go!” he yelled, spinning around and firing a few shots through the shattered window. I sobbed as I scrambled to the bathroom, keeping my head low, clutching the screwdriver in my hands. I didn’t care what Jack said. I wasn’t going to leave this motel until he was in that car with me.

The window was near the shower. The tiles were wet, and I had to be careful not to lose my footing as I unlatched it and pushed at the sash until it started to move. Behind me another round of gunfire sounded, and I stifled a gasp, hoping and praying that Jack was still alive.

I finally pushed the window all the way open and heaved myself up and through it headfirst, screaming as I lost my grip and slid out into the dumpster that was placed at a crooked angle outside the window. My teeth jarred as I landed amongst the pile of trash bags and cardboard, wincing as the pain shot through my already sore ribs. But there was no time to dwell on my pain. I had to get to the car. I had to help Jack.

Scrambling to my knees, I hauled myself over the side of the dumpster and ran to where Jack had parked the car.

“How’d I get so lucky?” a gruff voice called.

I looked up at the man who was fast approaching me about twenty yards away, his thick black gloves totally out of character for the weather we were having. I spotted the knife he held in one hand, its blade gleaming in the afternoon sun.

With trembling legs and shaking hands I reached the car and slid into the driver’s seat just as he was coming around the back. I grabbed the driver’s side door and slammed it closed, locking it with a clenched fist.

The man roared and beat against the window as I started the engine shoving and twisting the screwdriver into the ignition. Luckily the glass held, and I threw the car into reverse. The force of the movement threw me first forward then back when I slammed on the brakes. I had to get Jack. I had to get to him.

Aiming the car toward the front of the building, I gunned around the corner and saw a lone man inching his way toward the shattered window, his gun drawn and poised to end Jack’s life. In a split-second decision I floored the gas pedal and aimed for him. I saw his look of surprise before I hit him hard with the front of the car, and his body flew onto the hood with a sickening thud.

I screamed, slammed on the brakes and watched his body slide off the car, not believing that I had just hit someone… on purpose. The door to the room burst open, and Jack rushed out, his gun drawn.

“Open the door!” he yelled as he rounded the hood. I fumbled for the lock and heard a pop, my breath seizing in my throat as I expected to look up and find Jack no longer there but on the ground. Instead he was facing to the side, his gun smoking as he aimed at the man who’d rounded the corner with the knife.

Jack wasted no time, yanking open the passenger side door and throwing himself into the seat. “Go! Drive, Hazel!”

Scared to death, I punched the gas and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving half the rubber of the tires on the ground, and pulled the car onto the main road. Had that just happened?

“Oh god,” I breathed, feeling the panic of what I’d done building up inside of me. I had just hit a guy with a car. Was he dead? Had I killed a man?

“Breathe, Hazel,” Jack said softly. I looked over to see his face drawn and pale. The entire front part of his shirt was now coated completely in his blood. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper, his blood smeared on it.

“I need to take you to a hospital.”

“No. I’ll be okay. Just drive toward Chattanooga, please.” It was the way he said it that forced me to keep my mouth shut and my panic to myself. With my shaking fingers, I plucked the paper out of his outstretched hand and laid it in my lap. For once I would do what he asked. I would get us to safety. It was up to me now.

I
squinted
at the addresses as the car puttered up the hill, my weary eyes barely able to make out the numbers on the mailbox. The ride to our destination had been harrowing, Jack very silent during the entire journey. At one point I’d glanced over to find the passenger seat tilted back, a balled up t-shirt pressed against the wound to staunch the flow. I hoped he wouldn’t bleed out in the passenger seat while I drove as fast I could without bringing attention to ourselves, to wherever we were going. Then, and only then, would I have that nervous breakdown I so desperately needed. I could keep it together until then, I told myself.

“There,” Jack responded in a raspy voice, his bloodied finger pointing to the right. “Turn there.”

Swallowing, I turned into the drive and allowed the car to climb the steep driveway as the sun was starting to sink in the sky. I stopped before a closed garage. “Are you sure this is safe?” I asked softly, my voice breaking with each word.

“Yes. Safe,” Jack forced out, pushing on the passenger door to get it to pop open. I hurried around the other side to help Jack out of the car. He leaned heavily on me as we navigated the stone steps to a massive solid oak door with no windows to peer through. Jack reached out and pressed a button on the doorframe, his breathing labored from the exertion. Hopefully there would be help on the other side of the door. After all of this I couldn’t lose him now.

The door swung open and I took an instinctive step back as an older woman appeared in the doorway, her gasp filling the quiet air. “Oh Jack,” she sighed, reaching out to help me get him over the threshold. “What have you done now?”

“The usual,” he rasped, wincing in pain as she gently probed his shoulder. The woman clucked her tongue and looked at me, her kind eyes taking some of the edge of worry off of me, the burden lightening. “Come on, we need to get him to the bedroom so I can patch him up yet again. If it’s not one thing, it’s another with this boy.”

“He needs to be at a hospital,” I said as we moved down the hall, the smell of lemon polish in the air. The house was immaculate, the wooden floors and cream-colored walls a much needed change from the dingy motel rooms we had stayed in lately… not to mention my cozy little cell.

I had a ton of questions, like who this woman was to Jack, but his health was my utmost concern at that moment.

The woman helped me get Jack up a short flight of stairs and down the hall where she led us into a cool, darkened bedroom. “Easy now,” she said in a motherly voice as we eased him down on a massive bed. “Get his clothes off while I get the supplies.”

I watched as she hurried out of the room before turning back to Jack’s form on the bed, biting my lip and wondering where to start. I’d imagined stripping him naked so many times in my dream-like fantasies, running my hands over his firm body, but never had there been so much blood as there was now.

My hands trembled as I reached for his leather jacket, pushing it aside to see the soaked wad of cloth that he had tucked inside. “I-I don’t know how to get this off you without hurting you more,” I said softly as his eyes followed my every move.

I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he was already, and the pain was clear on his face. His skin was pale and clammy to the touch; a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead.

Jack pushed off the bed with a groan, helping me as he shrugged his jacket off the uninjured shoulder first before easing it off the other. Then he fell back onto the bed as I grabbed the cuff and pulled it off the rest of the way.

Footsteps sounded on the floor, and I stepped aside as the woman busied herself on the bedside table, clucking her tongue once more as she made quick work of his t-shirt, cutting it off him and shaking her head as she looked at the nasty, bloodied mess that covered his shoulder. “So, what’d you do to get yourself shot this time?”

“Protecting me,” I answered for him, feeling horrible that this had happened. It was all my fault, if he hadn’t come to save me, then he wouldn’t be in this mess. Suddenly I couldn’t deal with it… I couldn’t breathe and backed away from the bed.

“Hazel, don’t go,” he croaked.

But I ignored him, turned and ran blindly out of the room, my eyes filling with tears. Seeing him physically hurt was just too much.