Page 3 of Stolen By the Hit Man
Goodness.
His wrinkles of concern deepen when I don’t answer. I should close my mouth before I catch flies.
The man asked a simple question.
But it’s really not that simple.
“I’m just waiting for my hu?—”
“You like cats?”
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
“He won’t let you have a cat, will he?”
“How did you?—”
“The alley behind my place is lousy with strays. I’ll get you one for free."
Is he for real?
I get lost in those intense, denim blue eyes. Yes, he is for real.
“Jasmyn!”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jasmyn! You ran off. Time to go.”
Braydon is going to grab my arm hard, but make it look normal. He’ll gently scold me for hanging around the cat aisle. And then I’m going to clamber into Brandon’s lifted pickup and ride back to the farm as he really boxes my ears. Because he doesn’t let himself get too mean to me in public.
I don’t turn away from the stranger and go to my husband like I’m supposed to. Because I don’t want to get back into his truck, and I don’t want to go back to the farm. I don’t want to go back to my lonely house with no food in the fridge and a jealous sister-wife showing up to help herself to the meager bits in my pantry.
I look up at the strange man, now scowling at my husband.
Fear rolls over me. I clutch my purse under my arm. There’s thirty bucks in there and not much else. I hate this purse. It’s a huge, ugly mom purse, and it’s not my style, but it's a hand-me-down from one of the sister-wives. Everything I have is a hand-me-down, and nothing fits. Not my clothes. Not this ring. Not my marriage.
“Jasmyn,” my husband says sternly and low. He’s really mad now. That’s the trouble with Braydon. He has a short temper, and I seem to exacerbate it, no matter what I do.
And yet I can’t bring myself to go with him. I can’t make my feet go to my husband. I can’t even look at him.
All my eyes want to do is notice the bare forearm that props him up against the metal shelf. Tendons and lean muscles shift and bunch under golden skin, a roadmap of sinew and veins.
And then, that rumbly voice again. This time, it’s not so innocent or simple. Nor is it a question.
It’s a key that unlocks something so powerful in my brain, I’m questioning everything I thought I knew.
He says with a sly smile, “You don’t have to go with him.”
Chapter Two
Joaquin
I didn’t plan on getting struck by lightning this morning.
My plan was to pick up a few things for the stray cats in the neighborhood. Maybe lure them in with food and have them checked out by a vet.
And then I see her.
