Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (8 page)

“What did you get?” she asks as I begin taking out containers.

“Sweet and sour pork, veggie chow mein, egg rolls, and chicken balls.”

“I wonder how much of this is actually stuff the Chinese would eat.” Amanda passes me a plate and we peel off the Styrofoam lids, steam and aroma billowing up to greet us.

“Not much,” I say as we begin piling our plates with food. “I remember reading that a lot of what we consider ‘Chinese food’ is actually just a bastardization of the real thing. In fact, most traditional Chinese foods only use a combination of several key ingredients that-”

“Katie, Katie,” Amanda says, cutting me off. “I didn’t want an analysis of our dinner, okay? I was just making conversation.”

I close my mouth and we finish filling our plates, then sit down on the couch with forks in hand.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda says before she starts eating. “It’s just that sometimes you … over-analyze everything. Not everything has to be exactly this way or that.”

“I know,” I say to her. “I just remembered reading about it and thought you wanted to know.”

“Katie,” Amanda shakes her head, “you need to learn how to switch off that brain of yours sometimes. I mean, it’s great to have a sister that’s as smart as you are, but … you need to go on instinct too sometimes. You know what I mean?”

I nod. I
do
know what she means. Ironically, this is actually advice that I’ve given many of my clients: to ignore the logical part of their brain and just go by feel instead. They’re always surprised how well it works.

“I mean, when’s the last time you took a break from your work, huh?” Amanda asks, interrupting my thoughts. “When did you ever take a moment to do what you really wanted to do?”

A flash of Lance and me outside the restaurant comes through my mind, but I shrug. “I don’t know. During Christmas?”

“That doesn’t count, Katie. Come on.”

“Amanda, where is this coming from?” I ask, and Amanda looks at me.

“Katie, I’m worried about you. You work a lot, almost every day. I’m worried that you’re not getting enough balance in your life. You need to do things aside from just listening to other people talk about their problems.”

“I do do other things,” I protest. “I come and see you and Doug and Tyler. And you come here every week.”

“Mm hmm. Anything else?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“See?” Amanda says. “You need to do something crazy. Okay? Shake up your life.”

The image of Lance flickers through my brain again but I shake it away.

“I guess so,” I say to her. “You’re probably right.”

My sister nods. “I know I’m right,” she says. “You just need some change in your life, and it needs to be something game-changing.”

Once again Lance floats through my brain, and it’s harder to get rid of now. I look down at my plate, toying with a forkful of chow mein. Amanda chews a mouthful of food before swallowing.

“What?” she says, and I look up at her.

“Well … there’s something I haven’t told you.” I see my sister perk up.

“Oh yeah?” she says. “What is it?”

I carefully choose the words. “I have a new client,” I say to her. But Amanda visibly deflates.

“Oh,” she says. “I thought it was going to be something non-work related.”

“Well, this one’s a little different. His name is Lance … I think he’s a hitman … and last week I slept with him.”

The fork actually falls out of Amanda’s hand, landing with a clatter on the plate, as she stares at me with an open mouth.

“What?”

“Uh … yeah,” I say.

“Katie!” Amanda is goggling now. “This is … that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard you do. Are you telling the truth?”

I nod. “But, I didn’t know who he was, or even his name, when we slept together. That was actually, um, that was a spur of the moment thing. It happened on Wednesday, right after you guys left the restaurant.”

“You slept with somebody after we had dinner?” I nod. “What … how did you meet him?”

“He came out and started talking to me, and then … one thing lead to the other.”

“Wait … he wasn’t that guy at the bar who kept looking at you, was he?” I give a bashful nod. “Jesus! Did he come over here? Or did you go to his place?” I shake my head.

“No … we actually, um, we had sex just outside the restaurant. Right next to the building.”

Amanda’s jaw drops right open and I can’t help but laugh. I’m full of all this nervous energy. I’ve been beating myself up for these feelings, but saying them out loud actually makes them seem okay.

“Katie, this is insane!” my sister says. “Okay, and back to the
other
part of this little bombshell you just dropped. Did you say he’s a hitman?”

“Yeah, I think so. He implied as much when he came in for a session. He never actually said it out loud.”

“Did he come to the session because you two slept together?”

“No,” I say, my eyebrows raising. “That’s the crazy thing. We didn’t even tell each other our names. He said he just got my name from a friend.”

“Wow … okay.” Amanda takes a moment to compose herself. “So are you seeing him again?”

I nod. “He made another appointment for Wednesday, but … I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I might refer him to somebody else.”

“What, why?” Amanda looks incredulous.

I blink at her. “Because, Amanda, he’s dangerous. And besides, I didn’t like his attitude. I told you how cocky he came across, and the way he implied things. I don’t need that in my life.”

“Yes you do!” she blurts out. “Katie, this is exactly the type of thing I was talking about!”

I can’t believe this. My own sister is advocating spending time with a murderer.

“Amanda, this guy isn’t safe to be around.”

“But he’s exciting! You could have some fun!”

I roll my eyes. “It won’t be fun if I wind up dead.”

“Oh whatever, Katie, this guy sounds fascinating!”

“Fascinating, yes. Full of emotional and mental baggage, yes. But he’s arrogant and cocky, and I can tell that getting information out of him is going to be like pulling teeth. He didn’t want to talk, and honestly I’d be surprised if he shows up for his Wednesday session at all. Besides, he seemed to think that what happened between us gave him free rein to hit on me. I don’t need that in my life right now, okay? I just don’t.”

I finish talking, but Amanda is just looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. A smile creeps up on her lips.

“You like him,” she says in an awed voice. I open my mouth, trying to look shocked.

“What?” I say. But Amanda’s smile is only getting wider.

“You like him! This is exactly how you acted when we were kids and there was some boy you liked. You’ve got a crush on him!”

“Oh come on, Amanda,” I say. “I’m not twelve, I don’t
have a crush
on him. Like I said, he’s cocky and stubborn.”

“And how did that make you feel?” she asks, repeating a question I so often ask whenever she’s concerned about something Doug did. I give her a sneer.

“Annoyed,” I respond.

“But you have been thinking about him,” she counters. “You were the one that brought him up.”

“Yeah, but only because you were harping on about me experiencing something different,” I sling back. “And you’re right, I
have
been thinking about him. I’ve been thinking about how Wednesday is going to be our last session, and about how I don’t need that type of person in my life.”

But Amanda just shakes her head and picks up her plate again, settling it on her lap.

“That’s too bad,” she says, spearing a chicken ball onto her fork and taking a bite. “Because if you ask me, it’s obvious that you feel something for this guy. And so far, he sounds like the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in a long time.”

Katie

“See, the problem with these new guys is that they don’t have that passion that I do, you know? They don’t have …” He chuckles. “… that fire in their belly.”

I put on a fake smile and nod as Gregory sits back in his chair. So far, in our hour-long session, I haven’t written anything interesting on my notepad. Gregory’s mostly been complaining about two people who just joined the fire department. Although I must say, my insight last week has certainly held true so far.

Truth be told, though, I haven’t been giving Gregory my full attention today. Part of me has been watching the clock, and my heart’s fluttered more than I’d like to admit whenever I think about who I’m scheduled to see next.

That is, of course, assuming that he even shows up.

“I don’t know,” Gregory goes on, crossing his arms. “The way I look at it, some of these men — and women too, now — all they did was just pump some iron and boom, they think they can wrangle the beast.” He shakes his head. “But they just don’t have the discipline that I do.”

“Mm,” I say. I glance up at the clock again and see that there’s three minutes left.

But apparently I’m a little transparent because Gregory asks, “Got somewhere you need to be?” and when I look back at him he’s staring right at me.

“Hmm?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Oh, no. No, I just want to make sure we didn’t go over our time.”

Gregory nods, examining me. “Say, what ended up happening with that man who came in here last week? That big guy in the leather jacket.”

My heart flutters and I try to keep a straight face.

“He came in for a session,” I tell him. Gregory makes a disapproving noise.

“He looked like trouble,” he says. “I’ve seen my fair share of bad guys in my time and trust me, this man fits the bill.”

You have no idea,
I think, but I don’t say anything. I only nod.

“Well, you just be careful around him,” Gregory goes on. “And make sure you’re safe at all times.”

“Thank you Gregory, I will.” I look back up at the clock. “Well, I think that’s about all we can cover today.” We both stand up. “Same time next week?”

“Ah, next week’s actually my granddaughter’s birthday,” he says. “I won’t be able to make it. But the week after that should be good.”

“Wonderful.”

I walk Gregory to the door and open it to see Amin looking stern, sitting at his desk. My heart flutters and I say goodbye to Gregory before peering my head around the corner. Standing and looking at that painting again, I see him.
Lance.
He turns to look at me and I find I have to swallow.

“Lance?” I say, my voice almost cracking. “I can see you now.”

When I pull my head back in, I see Gregory turn to watch, a scowl on his face. But Lance appears a moment later, looking calm as I open the door wider for him. He walks in past me and I ignore Gregory’s stare as I shut it behind him.

“Well,” I say in a breathy voice, turning around. “I’m glad you decided to come back for a second appointment.”

Lance only nods, his back to me as he walks to the chair. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down and I walk over to mine. But then I see my own writing on the notepad and realize that, in my haste, I forgot to file Gregory’s page away.

I’ve never done that before. Come on, Katie, get a hold of yourself.

“Just one moment,” I say with a smile as I rip off the top page and take it over to my desk.

“Take your time,” comes Lance’s calm voice and my heart flutters again. I will it to settle down.

Reaching my desk, I pull open the drawer and file the paper away. Then I walk back to my chair and sit down, picking up the pen and notepad, crossing my legs beneath my skirt and looking Lance straight in the eye. He looks back at me.

“So,” I say.

“So,” Lance repeats, that smile lingering on his lips. I swallow again.

“You decided to come back,” I say to him. “I’ll be honest, I had my doubts that you would.”

Lance’s eyes focus on mine for a moment.

“I couldn’t pass up spending time with somebody so hot,” he says, as casually as if he’s talking about the weather. “Or so fucking good at sex.”

I feel myself blush. Two seconds in and already this is happening. I told myself I would keep this professional. I tried not to think about him all week.

“Need a little water, doc?” he asks. “I see you don’t have your bottle today.”

I put a smile on my face and level my gaze at him.

“You can try to embarrass me all you want, Lance. But I’ve been in this game a while, and I’ve seen everything every stubborn client has to offer. But unlike some of the girls you might take home at night, I’m sorry to say that I’m not as easy to fuck with.”

His smile widens.

“I beg to differ,” he says. I take a breath, calming myself.

“Let’s start,” I say to him. “Last week you were telling me about your job — or, more precisely, the job of this guy you know. Tell me more about that.”

Lance’s smile has slowly faded, and he settles back in his chair as he stares at me. He spreads his hands.

“What would you like to know?”

“Well … you said that he’s currently employed, killing people for money.”

“That’s right.”

“But not like someone in the armed forces, or a police officer. You said it was the opposite of that.”

“You have a good memory,” he says. “All this without the notes you took.”

I smile. “It’s all part of the job. But going back to that work, opposite … does that mean killing people, but not for a good cause?”

Lance tilts his head.

“That’s a relative way of looking at things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well …” he glances around the room. “Let’s say you know this man. Steve. He’s a good father, he provides for his kids, and he takes care of his wife. He participates in his community too. You would probably say that Steve is a good man, wouldn’t you?”

“I would probably say that, yes,” I admit. Lance smiles.

“That’s right. But if we look closer at this man, we find out that he makes his money in not-so-good ways. He steals, or sells illegal firearms. And anybody who gets in his way, anybody who steps on his toes, well, he kills them.

“Now, Steve isn’t a good man after all, is he?”

I narrow my eyes.

“No, I suppose not.”

“No, he’s not,” Lance says, his smile fading away. “My friend kills those people.”

I give a slow nod. “And I assume that your friend gets paid to kill these people?”

“Very well, in fact,” Lance says.

“Then isn’t your friend just as bad as those people he kills?” I ask. “He kills ‘bad people’ and gets money for it. But that’s the same as killing somebody in order to steal from them. Kill somebody, get money. The end result is the same.”

“But the bad person kills innocent people,” Lance tells me. “My friend kills those bad guys.”

“How do you know?” I ask. “How do you know that the people your friend is killing are all bad guys?”

A flicker on Lance’s face and my senses heighten. I watch him closely.

“I research,” he says, dropping the calm tone to his voice. “I make certain of it.”

“Have you ever made a mistake?” I ask, and that flicker again, a muscle spasm just below his mouth.

Lance turns his head to the window and doesn’t say anything, and I realize I’m getting too far too fast. I dial it back.

“So, your friend,” I say in a nonchalant voice. “How long has he been in this business?”

“A while,” Lance says, still not looking at me.

“How long is a while? A year? Two years?”

“Twenty,” he says, and I blink. I jot that down on the notepad. Looking at Lance and trying to guess his age, twenty years ago would put him at around ten or twelve.

“That’s a long time,” I tell him. “And … does your friend work for himself? Or does he have a boss?”

“A boss,” Lance says. His upper lip starts to curl and I watch it closely.

“The same boss for twenty years?”

“No. He’s gone through a few. Five.”

“And this latest boss,” I ask, deciding to probe, “what’s he like?”

His upper lip curls again and I jot that down as well.

“He’s not the best,” Lance admits.

“What do you mean?”

Lance tilts his head. “Well, let’s just say that the work environment has been slowly changing. Falling apart.”

“Oh? In what ways?”

“He’s less predictable,” Lance says, and I watch him put a hand on his stomach. “Gil’s been asking my friend to do things he would never have asked before. Ever since he started getting into coke he’s been … acting crazy.”

“Getting into coke … your boss or your friend?”

“My boss,” Lance says, throwing me a look of annoyance before returning to the window.

“Right,” I say, jotting it down. “It sounds like your friend doesn’t like working for Gil.”

Lance shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “He doesn’t.”

I wait, my eyes trained on Lance’s face, but he doesn’t say anything more so I decide to switch gears.

“What made your friend get into this line of work in the first place?”

Lance doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking out the window, his eyes half-closed.

“Was it for the money?” I try prompting. “Or maybe for the thrill of it all?”

Still nothing.

“How about curiosity?”

No response.

“How about revenge?”

“Just what’s the point of all this?” Lance snaps, finally looking at me again. My body tenses up but I keep my face placid, my eyes locked with his.

“I’m just trying to get an idea of your situation,” I say in a calm voice. He’s still staring at me. “Because as I’m sure you’ve probably noticed, it’s good to talk about things, and dangerous to bottle them up. And if you do, in fact, want me to help you, then you can’t be afraid to let your feelings out.”

Lance’s body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and then his eyes finally drop away from mine. He doesn’t turn his head, but seems to be looking at the carpet now. My heart skips and I quickly jot down “revenge” just as Lance begins to speak.

“I was seven years old when it happened.” Lance is speaking in a low voice and I have to lean in to hear what he says. “I was supposed to be taking care of him. I was supposed to be watching him while he played.”

“Who were you supposed to be watching?” I ask, my voice just as low as his.

“Danny.” I jot it down quickly, my pen silent on the page. “My little brother. Four years old, he just wanted to go play. But I wanted to stay inside. Watch some TV.”

Even though his eyes are down I see a glisten, just below Lance’s eyelashes. My heart begins to beat faster.
This is it,
I think.
This is why I do this. I want to help this man. Despite his flaws, I can tell he’s a good person at heart.

“Danny went out without me,” he says, and his voice is starting to crack. “He was only a kid, he didn’t know any better. And when my parents came home and we tried to find him … all that we found … was his … was his …”

But Lance’s words disappear as he begins sobbing, and I quickly grab a Kleenex out of the box, handing it to him. He lifts his hand to take it and my heart is just hammering, but when his eyes raise to meet mine, something is wrong. He’s not sad, and that crying … it sounds more like … like …

Laughter.

I feel my mouth drop open as Lance takes the Kleenex from my hand and drops back into the chair, laughing to himself, dabbing away at his eyes.

“How did I do?” he asks, giving me a bright, winning smile. “Do I get the Oscar now?”

I could almost scream. I can’t believe this. In my entire career I’ve never met anybody who would … and using his own brother! It’s a struggle to keep my voice level.

“So … that was just a lie,” I manage to get out. “Everything you said was a lie.”

Lance gives a wet sniff. “It wasn’t a lie,” he says, his eyes meeting mine and for a moment looking somehow dangerous. “I just wanted to show you I’m not going to fall into your trap.”

“What trap?” I ask him, and Lance rolls his eyes.

“Jeez, I thought you had a good memory!” he says. “The blinds, the books, the angle of the chairs. Your desk, your demeanor. Fuck, even the way you dress and how you hold yourself! It’s all just a trap! Just fucking manipulation!”

My heart is hammering again, but it’s not out of excitement.

“My job is to help people,” I say to him. “If that means making opening up a bit easier, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Whatever,” he says.

“Don’t
whatever
me! You wouldn’t blame a parent for pretending food is an airplane just to get their baby to eat. So why blame me for helping my clients be as comfortable as possible?”

“Because at least the parent still eats the food!” Lance shouts, and for a moment I’m stunned. He looks actually angry now. “You act like you know everything and you help people with their problems. But when’s the last time somebody helped
you
, huh? When’s the last time
you
really opened yourself up to somebody else?”