Page 36 of Hit Man
He lowers his gun.
“Were you on the grounds this morning?” the smallest man demands. He reminds me of the Chihuahua that lives with the older man in the apartment next to Zoey and mine’s. Small with a big attitude.
“Cabrón, does it look like it to you?”
“Your hair’s wet,” the Chihuahua points out.
Diego stares at him for a few seconds and there’s an awkward pause. Until the guy shifts uncomfortably on his heels. “Worked up a goddamn sweat,” Diego continues. “You, Little-Man, wouldn’t know about that.”
He’s going to get us killed.
I bite my lip. Humility in the face of danger—isn’t that what you always see on the cop shows? Hands up. Compliant. An easy target. Not this brazen show of machismo.
I’m frightened, mortified, no . . . horrified, and okay . . . shockingly enough . . . the tiniest bit aroused. Yet despite the inner turmoil, I’m somehow cued into what Diego is all about and how extremely convincing he is in presenting our situation. There’s no question what we’ve been doing. Not with him sporting a full-on erection. Not with the smell of sex in the air. Some things you just can’t fake.
Still, Little-Man doesn’t seem to be buying it.
“He’s a handful,” I say, nodding toward the broken bed. “I can’t seem to get enough of him.”
Yeah, truer words were never spoken.
All eyes turn on me.
Including Diego’s shut-the-fuck-up glare.
I shrug. “Quite a workout.”
The redhead turns toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Mission accomplished.
“I don’t know,” the other man persists.
“Compadre, if you don’t leave me to it . . .” Diego growls.
“Come on. There’s another bungalow to check. We won’t find the guy standing here all day.” This comes from the third man, who’s been quietly taking it all in.
Once more, Little-Man casts a suspicious glance at me.
Mustering my courage, I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re interrupting, Little-Man.” My gaze drops to his package.
He flushes and glances at Diego, his eyes dropping.Yep. Pretty impressive. I would know.Then taking a few quick steps backward, he follows the other two men, rushing from the bungalow.
Diego stalks over and slams the door shut. Hard enough the walls of the bungalow vibrate.
“Did I not say to keep quiet. Do as I tell you?”
All signs of the gentle man has left the room with Juan Carlos’s men.
“You said to trust you and to act natural. How do the women you normally sleep with react to having thugs walk in in flagrante delicto? You make it impossible tolikeyou let alone trust you.”
“Yeah. Well, you know what I like. When your mouth is closed and your legs are spread.”
“You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met. Get out.”
“Going.”
And he is. Squatting down, he retrieves his clothing, stepping into his wet sweatpants, pulling them up, and tying the waistband. He pulls on his soggy sneakers and sits on the corner of the bed while he laces them up. Prime blister material, wet insoles without socks. Good, I’ll be lying here with my mouth closed and my legs spread, hoping he bleeds.
