Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (11 page)

CRACK!

A sound like a block of ice splitting in two fills the room and an instant later Jackson’s body falls down onto me, his hands going limp, his weight pushing me down. I gasp deeply as I pull in air, making a terrible-sounding noise as Katie drops the heavy paperweight to the ground with a
thud
. Still sucking in air, I scramble to get Jackson off of me, disentangling his legs with mine. Coughing, swallowing against the pain, I pull myself to my feet.

“Lance?” Katie says, but all my attention is on Jackson. He’s lying face down on the ground, and I hear a moan come out of him. Blood is seeping out of the back of his head. He tries to lift an arm and can’t.

I look around, scanning the carpet for a moment before I spot it: Jackson’s gun. Breathing hard, I stumble over to it and bend down, picking it up.

“Lance?” she says again.

Blood is pounding in my ears as I walk back over to where Jackson is lying. He’s just starting to bend his legs, but all of his efforts will be in vain. Because Jackson is going to die right now. He lets out another moan and I smile as my finger slips over the trigger. I raise the gun, pointing it right at the back of this evil psycho’s head.

“Lance!”

Katie’s hands grab onto my arm and I stop for a moment, bringing my focus from Jackson to them. My mind feels like it’s blank. I follow them with my eyes, traveling up, until I land on her face, looking scared as she stares up into mine. Katie’s got tear stains on her cheeks but she’s looking right into me. And inside of my chest, my heart does a flutter.

“Lance, don’t,” she says.

Noises, from outside the windows. They sound familiar, but my brain is fuzzy and I can’t make them out.

“Please, don’t kill him,” she says. “Please.”

I open my mouth, my brain still trying to work. “What?”

Katie purses her lips and looks down at Jackson. His moaning is coming on a little bit louder now, and he’s obviously struggling to get up. She then looks back at me.

“Don’t kill him,” she says again. “I know he was going to kill both of us, but … just, please, don’t do it. For me.”

“Katie,” I say, ignoring the pain in my throat. “If I don’t kill him, he’s going to come after me again. This isn’t going to stop unless I end it.”

“Listen,” she says, and we’re both quiet as, beyond Jackson’s moans, those noises from outside get louder. My brain’s a little bit clearer, and they’re starting to make sense now.

Police sirens. Someone must’ve called the cops. Judging by their distance, we only have a few minutes before they get here.

“The police are coming,” Katie tells me. “They’re going to be here soon, and they can arrest him. He’ll go to jail. So you don’t have to kill him.”

I stare into her eyes, the sirens getting louder as they mingle with Jackson’s sounds. When I look down at him again my upper lip curls.

That piece of shit. He deserves to die. But he’s also fucked the cops over so many times that maybe a prison sentence
would
be better than a bullet to the head. I clench my jaw, then look back at Katie and nod.

“Okay,” I say to her. “We’ll leave him for the cops.”

A look of pure relief washes over Katie and I get the sudden urge to kiss her. But I hold back, shaking my head.
This is no time for that,
I tell myself.
We have to get going.

Tucking Jackson’s gun into my holster, I grab onto Katie’s hand and head for the door. But I haven’t taken two steps before she pulls her hand back, out of my grip.

“Hey!” she says. “What are you doing?”

I look back at her and she’s got a look on her face like I’m crazy.

“I’m getting you out of here,” I say, and she widens her eyes.

“What?” she says. “No. The police are coming, we have to explain to them what happened.”

She doesn’t get it.
I walk back to her and say, “Look. Maybe you don’t have any experience dealing with cops, but I do. They are not going to come in here and nicely ask you why someone is dead in the foyer and there’s a man moaning and crawling on the floor. If they find you here, like this, then they are going to arrest you and you are going to jail.”

“But … I can explain to them what happened.”

I shake my head. “Jackson’s not going to give himself up. He’ll testify against you. For all anyone knows, he was just in here looking for therapy. Then you attacked him.”

Her lower lip quivers.

“Won’t … won’t you back me up?”

I snort out a laugh.

“Sorry, baby. I’m outta here. So you can either stay here and hope they don’t shoot you on sight, or you can come with me. The choice is yours.”

Katie stares at me, shaken. She looks around the room, at her bookcases, her desk. At Jackson’s moaning body on the floor. Outside the sirens cut off as car doors slam and angry-sounding voices fill the void. And then her hand, grabbing onto mine, and when I look at Katie her jaw is set and she gives me a nod.

“Okay,” she says, determination in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

Katie

Lance looks at me and a glimmer of something like determination crosses over his face. Keeping my hand held in his, he turns to lead the way out of the office.

Outside, I hear angry voices as we reach the door to the foyer, the moaning man — Jackson — still writhing on the ground behind us. Lance peers inside, then leads the way out.

As we step in I look over and see Amin’s legs peeking out from behind his desk.

“Oh God,” I gasp, and Lance gives me a tug.

“There’s nothing we can do,” he says, forging the way ahead. “Just don’t think about it.”

It’s hard not to stare as we pass him by, and my throat feels tight for a moment. But it’s not time for that and I swallow my sorrow as we reach the front door, Lance opening it up and peering out into the hall. A second passes and then he heads out, pulling me along in his wake.

Turning in the opposite direction of the elevator, Lance moves quickly and I have to pick up my pace to keep up. Some doors down the hallway open up, and people poke their heads out.

“Get back inside!” Lance shouts, and all the heads quickly disappear. He takes me to the end of the hall and around the corner just as we hear a ding of the elevator door, followed by the footsteps of many people, their stern voices barking important-sounding orders.

Lance pastes us back against the wall, his arm stretched out across my chest. I see that he’s hardly breathing. I try to keep quiet but I’m certain my heartbeat can be heard throughout the entire floor. When the voices become muffled, Lance peers around the corner and brings his head back.

“They’re in your office,” he says in a low voice. “Come on.”

Grabbing my hand again and leading the way, Lance takes me farther down the hall, this time toward the stairs that lead to the back exit.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” Lance replies.

“How?”

“It’s my job, now be quiet.”

We push through the door and move quickly down the stairs, reaching the main floor and the door leading to the outside.

Lance holds me back while he quietly presses the bar on the door down, and pushes it open just a crack. I wait, my ears perked for any noise from up above. After a few seconds of looking around, Lance opens up the door casually and steps out. I follow.

The sunshine is bright in my eyes compared to the dull light in the building. But there are no police officers around, and Lance moves with a casual grace as he follows the side of the building towards the front. When he reaches it he stops and peers around the corner, to where the parking lot is. Then he pulls his head back.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and I sidle up to peer around too. He grabs onto my arm and gives his head a silent shake, but I yank it back and spare him an annoyed look before inching my head around.

The parking lot is riddled with police. Four cars sit scattered about, and several officers are waiting outside, some talking into their radios, some merely watching the front door.

When I pull my head back, I see Lance’s jaw is set.

“You can’t go out there,” he whispers. “They know whose office they went to.”

“So what’re we going to do?” I whisper back.

“I’ll go get my car,” he says. “then I’ll drive back around and pick you up.”

“You’re going to leave me?” I ask, fleeting panic running through me.

“Just for a minute,” he says. “And then I’ll come and pick you up.”

Before I can say anything else Lance pushes away from the wall and walks around the corner, as natural as can be. I keep myself hidden and watch him. Lance walks towards the parking lot, looking around, seemingly curious. When he reaches the closest police officer he asks a question and the officer answers. Lance nods, and then points to his car. The officer nods and Lance says something, then carries on.

I’m flabbergasted. How can he keep calm in such a crazy situation? I would be a nervous wreck trying to do something like that.

I watch as Lance reaches a black sedan with tinted windows — nothing flashy, just a normal car — and unlocks the door before getting in. He turns on the car, pulls forward out of the parking spot, and then turns toward the road. When the traffic is clear, he puts on his blinker and turns away, driving in the opposite direction from where I’m standing. My heartbeat picks up as I see his car dwindle away. He approaches an intersection and turns again, this time disappearing from view. And that’s it, he’s gone.

I pull back and lean against the wall again. I’m pretty sure my jaw is hanging open, but I don’t care.

He left me. Just like that, he left me. I trusted him. I thought he was going to come over to pick me up, but instead he decided to save himself and simply drive away, leaving me where I am. I feel alone. Utterly alone. I try to organize my thoughts and tell myself not to panic, but as the seconds tick away I’m finding it harder and harder to do.

And then, off to the side, I see a black sedan turn onto the street off in the distance. My heart jumps. I watch the car get closer, driving at a normal speed, before slowing down and stopping at the side of the road.

I push away from the building and walk towards the car, trying to keep my pace as normal and natural as Lance had done. When I approach the passenger’s side door I get in, and the moment the door is closed Lance puts on his blinker and does a U-turn, going back the way he came.

“Jesus,” I finally say, letting it all out in a breath. Lance doesn’t say anything as we drive along this back street, and now that I have a chance to organize my thoughts, everything that just happened starts to dawn on me. My eyes burn with the pinpricks of tears. “Jesus, Lance. Amin is dead,” I say. “That guy … he just killed him. Just for no reason.”

I blink and two tears run down my face as Lance says, “Jackson is a maniac. It’ll be good to see him behind bars.”

I let out a silent sob, struggling to hold it back. But it’s so overwhelming now that it’s all behind us. Amin, my office, the fight and knocking that man out. Another sob and more tears.

“Can you drive me home, please?” I ask in a quivering voice. “I live on Clarington. It’s about half a dozen blocks just west of here-”

“No,” Lance cuts me off, and I pull in a stuttering breath, looking at him.

“What?”

I wipe the tears away and see no emotion on Lance’s face. He’s merely watching the road, driving us away.

“I said no,” he repeats. “We’re not going to your house.”

“Wh … What?” I say. “Then where are we going?”

“First I need to pick up some supplies. And then you and I are going to hide until I can figure out what to do next.”

“Wh … wait, what?” I say again, raising my voice now. The tears have been forgotten and are making way for incredulity. “What do you mean, going to hide?”

“What does it sound like?” Lance flashes me a look. “We’re going somewhere to lay low for a while. Until I can figure out what’s next.”

“I’ll tell you what’s next,” I say. “You are going to drive me to my house, and there you’re going to drop me off. And then you and I are never going to see each other again.”

“Listen,” Lance snaps. “Maybe you don’t
fully
appreciate the situation we’re in, but I do. Somebody I work with just came into your office and tried to kill me. It’s going to become apparent when this makes the news — which it’s going to, by the way — that I’m not dead, and when that happens Gil is going to try to track me down and kill me again. He won’t stop, you understand? He’ll get to Jackson somehow, who’s going to identify you, and then they’re going to come after you too. If I leave you alone then you’re in more danger than if I’m here to protect you. So, you’re coming with me.”

I’m speechless. I blink, not knowing what to say. I’m in danger? I’ve never been in danger before. And all for something that I didn’t even do.

“Why are they after you?” I ask him.

Lance clenches his jaw as his hands tighten on the wheel.

“Gil wanted me to do something,” he says in a growl of a voice. “And I didn’t do it for him.”

“What did he want you to do?”

A beat of silence. And then, “He wanted me to kill a baby.”

I blink.

“Kill … a baby?” I repeat, and Lance nods. I look out the windshield as our surroundings pass slowly by us. “Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ is right,” he says. “Which is why, now, I need to get supplies. Like I said, Gil has been getting crazy lately. Bad crazy. I have to think of a way to stop him before he hurts anybody else.”

I swallow. This is too much. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want any of this when I agreed to see Lance.

“No,” I hear myself saying, and Lance glances at me before returning back to the road. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Listen, Katie-” he begins, but I cut him off.

“Do
not
… call me that,” I say. “I told you, we are nothing more than doctor and patient. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what just happened between us half an hour ago.” I see the corner of Lance’s mouth rise up and I glare. “If you hadn’t … pushed yourself on me like that, then none of this would have happened and Amin would still be alive.”

He gives a half-shrug. “I don’t remember having to push too hard,” he says. “In fact, I seem to recall you telling me that you wanted it.”

“I …” I start to say, but the memories of not long ago come back and my words fumble. “I was being misled.”

“More like you were actually speaking the truth for once,” he says, that smirk still on his face. “Why can’t you just admit that you liked it? There’s nothing wrong with liking sex.”

“I did not like it,” I lie. “But I’m certainly glad to hear that you seemed to enjoy yourself, because that’s the first and last time that that’s ever going to happen.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says through a grin. I glare at him as he takes a right-hand turn.

Looking out the windshield, I realize that the landscape has changed. No longer are we surrounded by the detached houses and thriving businesses I’m used to. Now we’re amid single shops and run-down storefronts, dilapidated apartment buildings, with dirty-looking people roaming the streets, staring into the car as we drive.

“Where are we?” I ask, a mixture of awe and fear in my voice.

“My neighborhood,” Lance says with a hint of pride in his voice.

We turn down another street and park up next to the sidewalk halfway down the road. To our left is the side of an apartment building, the entrance just around the front. Lance turns the car off and the engine dies, replacing that constant hum with hollow pops and silence as the metal begins to cool underneath the hood.

Lance looks over at the apartment building, separated from us by the two-lane street. “This is my place,” he says. I lean forward and look up at it, at the six-story concrete slab. When I look back at Lance I see he isn’t looking at the building anymore, but is glancing around the streets, hardly moving his head.

“Are we going in?” I ask, for some reason the idea of seeing the inside of Lance’s apartment giving me a thrill. But he shakes his head and that thrill dies away.

“
I’m
going in,” he says. “
You’re
going to stay out here in the car and wait for me.”

“Why can’t I go in with you?” I ask.

“Because I know the place,” Lance says, still looking around. “And besides, I’m quieter and faster than you. But don’t worry,” he says, looking over and giving me a wink. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

My stomach does a flip and I watch him open the driver’s side door, stepping out into the street. Cars drive by him and before he can close the door I lean over, calling out to him.

“What do I do if somebody shows up?” I ask, and Lance bends over to peer into the car again, looking at me.

“They won’t,” he says. “Now just stay here and I’ll be right back.”

He closes the door and I watch through his window as he looks both ways before jogging across the road. Lance reaches the other side and, instead of going around to the front of the building, he goes around to the back. There he walks down an alleyway, his back retreating from me, before opening a door and disappearing through it.

I sit back in my seat, listening to the passing traffic. With Lance gone I feel much more vulnerable than before. I quickly reach over and lock his door, and then mine, then both doors in the back. I notice the keys in the ignition and raise an eyebrow.
At least he trusts me with those.

Ah, Katie! What are you doing here? Why are you going along with this?

I furrow my brow and blink hard, trying to clear my head. Why
am
I going along with this? I could run away right now, or call the police. I could …
fuck!
I forgot my purse in the office. Which means I don’t have my cell phone, or any money or ID.

I hear a building roar of many loud engines, and when I look behind me there’s a gang of people on motorcycles all riding together, all of them in jeans and leather jackets, and one lady who looks like she’s about six months pregnant and should definitely not be riding.