Hitman's Hookup: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

“If you’re lucky,” she shot back with a sexy little smile.

I asked about medical school and Lily nattered on happily for a good ten minutes until our food came. I loved watching her mouth move, her eyes glisten with excitement, and the way she talked so freely with her hands. I could have watched her hands all day long. It was difficult for me to not imagine her hands and fingers running down my chest and into my boxers.

The conversation died down when the food came. I was halfway through my dish and not tasting a single bite of it when the target stood up.

I saw him turn his body toward the bathroom and waited a few moments before following him. “Excuse me,” I said quickly, standing up and throwing my starched cloth napkin onto the table top. Lily was busy stuffing herself with tiny baby octopuses. The man was moving so slowly I made it to the bathroom before he did.

I was relieved to see that there was no attendant in the bathroom. I slipped into a stall quietly and stood with my hand pressed up against the door without latching it. It seemed like an eternity before I heard the bathroom door open and the target shuffle in, still wheezing.

I slipped a syringe out of my sleeve and held it, concealed, against my palm. My heart was beating more loudly than normal. A flash of Lily’s face flew into my brain.
Focus, Cruz
, I thought to myself.

I wasn’t ever like this. But now all I could think about was the woman I’d just left behind at the table. I shut my eyes and controlled my breathing as quietly as I could. In through the nose for four beats. Hold for seven beats. Out through the mouth for eight. I’d done this exercise a thousand and one times to slow my heartrate. It always worked.

Except for tonight. It was hard to focus when my cock was anticipating a post-dinner celebration with the goddess I’d found on a fucking app of all places.

Just as I finished my final, ineffective exhale, I heard the toilet flush. I reached behind me and flushed my own empty toilet. I waited until I heard the sink running before I slipped out of the stall. I washed my hands two sinks over, tucking the syringe back up into my sleeve. I watched him in the mirror. The old man looked helpless standing there. He couldn’t reach the paper towel dispenser.

I shut the taps off and reached over him, handing him two squares of paper.

He looked up at me gratefully. “Not for nothin’, but thanks,” he said in a thick Brooklyn accent.

I felt the syringe in my jacket and faltered. Could this really be the right guy? I nodded and prepared to jab the needle into his back. It would be quick. He wouldn’t feel the prick; the serum was stingless. He’d have another thirty minutes of dinner with his hot young wife and then he’d keel over from cardiac arrest.

I pretended to trip on a non-existent wet spot on the floor. I caught myself on the man’s right arm, squeezing it so he wouldn’t feel me injecting his back with my other hand. “So sorry,” I said, slipping the now-empty syringe back up my sleeve.

The man coughed. “First step’s a doozy,” he replied, chuckling.

I held the door open for him as he shuffled back into the restaurant. I adjusted my tie and sat back down across from Lily, who had finished her food.

“I thought you’d fallen in,” she quipped, her eyes sparkling.

My heart was still beating from the adrenaline of what I’d just done. The old man was nearly back at his table, where his bored young wife was texting, her tits out on display in her too-small dress. “Line for the bathroom,” I replied. I nodded toward Lily’s cleaned-off plate. “Hungry?”

“Not anymore,” she said. At that moment, a waiter walked by the table with a flaming dessert. The smell of burnt sugar made me feel slightly ill, but Lily was not similarly affected. Her eyes went wide. “I’m getting dessert,” she declared. “The more flames, the better.”

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and glanced over at my target. He was back to eating again. I checked my watch. There was no way we’d get out of here in time if she ordered dessert.

“Don’t you want to get back home?” I asked her, in what was the least suave way possible. I hated complications. I should have waited on this mission until I didn’t require a woman companion. But I’d been offered a six-figure bonus to get this done tonight. I needed the money.

Okay. I didn’t need the money. I had enough money at this point to live lavishly for three lifetimes. I
wanted
the money.

But Lily was already waving the waiter over. “Get back home? We’ve barely been here for an hour,” she laughed at me. “And do I need to remind you that
you’re
the one who insisted that we eat first?”

I laughed again, which was even more jarring in the context of my utter panic. “Touché.”

The waiter walked over and Lily requested that he bring her the flaming plate of pastry at once. I was panicking. I hated changes of plan. I wasn’t expecting for her to order dessert. I had an unbreakable streak of never, ever sticking around to watch my targets take their last breath.

It seemed like that streak was about to end.

CHAPTER FIVE

LILY

Phillip was acting weird.

Really fucking weird.

And I still didn’t buy that his name was Phillip.

But I was in this for two things at this point: flambé and a flaming side of the mystery man in front of me. I was getting the sex I’d signed up for.

I always got what I wanted.

The dessert was taking forever to come to our table. I was in the middle of a story about me streaking across campus in medical school when I noticed Phillip kept looking over my shoulder. I stopped right before the part where campus security had apprehended me and followed his eye line. I realized he was looking at a busty blonde ensconced with a man old enough to be her grandfather. I turned back around and smiled. “Is that your ex-girlfriend?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows. “Need me to make her jealous?”

Phillip looked confused. “Huh?”

I sighed. “You’re lucky you’re hot because you are absolute shit at making a woman feel like she’s being heard.” The waiter finally appeared with a flaming plate of something delicious. I hadn’t even bothered to ask what it would be.

“For you, my la-“

There was a crashing of glass and a high-pitched scream. I was on my feet in a second, rushing across the restaurant and leaving my dessert behind. I ran over to the table with the blonde woman. The old man was clutching at his chest, his breathing labored. His already pallid complexion was fading fast. I slipped my braids behind my back and pointed at a shocked-looking patron. “You. Call 911.” I turned to the blonde woman. “Talk to me,” I said quickly. My heart was racing, but I felt entirely in my element.

I was built for this.

I’m tiny – only five feet tall. I don’t weight much. But I can lift patients three times my size easily. I lowered the man to the ground gently. He had lost consciousness but I talked to him anyway. “I’m a physician. My name is Dr. Ellison. I’m here to help you, okay?” I loosened his necktie and ripped open his button-down shirt. I tilted his head back and listened for breath sounds. They were faint, but they were there. I began compressions, pausing to give rescue breaths. I turned back to the woman.

“Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“R-r-rachel,” she quivered.

“Rachel, I need you to talk to me. Tell me about his health history. Heart attacks? Pacemaker?”

Rachel nodded as I dove down for another breath. “Both, I think.”

I had only been delivering compressions for ninety seconds, but I was starting to get winded. It was intense work, even for someone like me who did this type of thing regularly. I looked up to see that Phillip was still plastered to his chair across the restaurant. The look on his face was stony. It was like he couldn’t see what was unfolding in front of him.

Fuck that.

“Hey Mr. Muscles!” I screamed as I pounded my palms into the dying man’s chest. “I need you over here.” I was sweating and my braids kept falling into the patient’s face.

Phillip stood up in an instant and walked over, crouching on the ground.

“Take over compressions,” I instructed. “He’s barely hanging on.”

Phillip stared at the man while I continued CPR. “I don’t think you need my help. He looks pretty far gone.”

I gaped at him, pounding out the rhythm. “This isn’t up for a
vote
, Phillip. When I stop, you’re going to take over. Three, two –“ We swapped. Phillip thrust his hands down and I continued with the breathing.

Sirens were blaring in the distance. “More help is coming, okay?” I assured Rachel, who was sobbing into her hands.

Phillip wasn’t even breaking a sweat. I found myself wondering about what else he could do with those hands. He was in even better shape than I’d suspected when I’d felt his muscles through his clothes. The sirens were screaming outside of the windows; the red and blue lights reflecting off of the walls of the restaurant.

A few minutes later, three EMTs were coming through with a rolling gurney. One of them nodded at me. “Craig,” I replied. I knew him well from the hospital.

“Are you good to keep doing compressions?” he asked Phillip.

Phillip hesitated for a moment, but I met his gaze and gave him a significant look. “He’s fine,” I answered for him.

The EMTs loaded the patient onto the gurney. Phillip straddled him and Craig grabbed an ambubag to supply air. I walked with them out of the restaurant and pulled myself into the back of the ambulance. I grabbed syringes of adrenaline as the EMTs hooked the guy up to the machine.

The other EMTs slammed the double doors shut, leaving me, Phillip, Craig, and the patient in the back of the ambulance. “Wait,” Phillip said, still delivering compressions with an ease and ferocity I’d never seen. “Are we going
with him
?” he asked.

I smiled and nodded, busy pulling on gloves and tending to the patient. “Hang on,” I said, as the ambulance lurched forward. I flicked the syringe and stuck it straight into the patient’s heart.

He came back into consciousness with a ferocious growl, nearly flinging Phillip off of him. “That’s enough,” I said to Phillip, who still wasn’t even winded. Phillip climbed down. He looked sick.

Craig stopped the ambubag and strapped an oxygen mask to the man’s face. I put on a stethoscope and listened to his heart. “Sounds good,” I announced, pulling off the stethoscope and draping it over my neck. “You’re in incredible shape for a corporate guy,” I said to Phillip, staring at him suspiciously. “Actually, you’re in incredible shape for someone from the planet Krypton.” I pulled out another syringe and saw Phillip cringe and look away. I laughed and Craig joined in.

“Looks like Superman is afraid of needles,” Craig joked.

“I just don’t love them, that’s all,” Phillip hissed, still not looking. I handed the syringe to Craig and he inserted it into the IV he’d just put in the patient’s arm.

“We’re five minutes out,” the driver called back.

I stripped off my gloves and tossed them in the biomedical waste bin that was strapped to the wall. I pulled down the jump chair and perched on it. “You okay, Phillip?” I asked. “It’s safe to look now, by the way.”

Phillip exhaled and finally faced me, hanging on to a handle on the ceiling. “What a fucking relief,” he replied.

We finally pulled up to the hospital. Phillip opened the doors and hopped out while the three EMTs wheeled the guy into the hospital. I jumped down, landing easily on my high heels. “I feel like a secret agent badass, saving a guy’s life in a fucking ball gown and five-inch heels,” I said to Phillip. He almost smiled. “Are you not coming in?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “I’m not a fan of hospitals. I can wait out here.”

I looked up at the sky, which was thick with looming clouds; the night air had grown almost unbearably still and humid. “It’s going to rain,” I said pointedly.

“I said I’m fine here,” Phillip insisted.

I dragged him bodily into the hospital, shoving him into a chair in the waiting room. My heart soared at the chemical, medicinal smells and fluorescent lights. I missed this place. It had only been two days but I felt like I’d left my soul here in this adrenaline palace.

I gave Phillip a hard look. “Don’t leave. I didn’t get all dressed up just for octopus and a missed dessert.”

Phillip did something that nearly knocked me off my heels. He eye-fucked me.
Hard.

That was all the reply I needed. I bit my lip and sashayed down the hallway. A harsh voice barked after me.

“ELLISON!”

I stopped in my tracks. I would know that voice anywhere.

“Dr. Wilson,” I said, slowly turning around to face the chief of surgery. She was even shorter than I was but had a presence that made six-foot-tall men cry. Her umber skin glowed in the lights.

“You moonlighting now as a rich celebutante?” she asked me, eyeing my clothes.

I looked down sheepishly. She was the only person in the world who could make me cower. “I was on a date.”

“Must be nice to have time off for a social life,” she said sharply. “
You
are not allowed in this hospital for another –“ she held up her wrist to look at her digital watch. “Eighty-eight days by my count.”

“I know that. But a man in the restaurant where I was eating went into cardiac arrest. I saved his life,” I added haughtily.

Dr. Wilson was unmoved. “Wonderful. I’ll have your medal shipped to your house. Now
out
.”

I nodded and grimaced, walking back toward the waiting room and my fiery sex companion. I was nearly there when a hand reached out and grabbed me. I was so lost in thought I shrieked from the interruption.

I realized it was Ally, my best friend and fellow surgeon at the hospital. “There’s a
guy
in the waiting room. Did he come in with you?” Her under eye circles stood out against her pale skin. She looked exhausted. I tried not to be jealous of that fact.

I nodded. “I downloaded that app you were talking about.”

Ally’s eyes went wide. “He is
smoking
hot,” she said. She nudged me with her elbow. “How is he in the sack?”