Page 1 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Hitman

One

Dean

This place is crowded. Anonymous. The perfect place for me to hunker down and sink a whiskey or two. I shoulder up to the scratched wooden bar and snag a stool with my boot, shooting the guy next to me a bland look when he starts to complain.

He shuts the hell up.

I sit.

No words are exchanged—but then, there don’t need to be. Not once his animal instincts kick in. The guy’s eyes widen fractionally, his pupils shrinking as they take me in, his hind brain desperately trying to figure out why his nerves are screaming for him torun.After all, I look like a normal guy. At first glance, I blend in with this crowd.

But something’s off about me, and my neighbor here senses it. He snatches up his drink and plunges into the tangle of people, elbowing his way toward the door.

Good.

Don’t want any Nosy Rosies watching me drink. I just wanna… forget. That’s all. I sigh and nod at the bartender.

But even as I sit and nurse my whiskey ten minutes later, I can’t fully relax. This place is themed, with a bull skull over the bar and country tunes thrumming from the speakers, even though we’re miles and miles from the nearest farm. Everyone’s decked out in denim and flannel, but most of these folks have only ever met a cow between a burger bun. It smells like spilled liquor and polished wood in here, and every loud burst of laughter makes me stiffen on my stool.

It’s not the bar’s fault. Not really.

I haven’t relaxed properly in years.

Not sinceher.

My grip tightens on my glass, and I swig a burning mouthful of whiskey. No point spending yet another night brooding about Annie Lowell and her shiny blonde hair. We may have grown up next door to each other, may have gone to the same washed up high school, but these days we live in completely different worlds. I may as well wonder about a movie character. She probably doesn’t even remember that I exist.

But…

What is Annie doing these days? Where does she live? Is she still close with my twin brother? Has she settled down with a guy, maybe popped out some kids?

My knuckles ache where I grip my glass, old scars glowing white against my tan skin. Don’t like thinking about Annie Lowell pairing off with some schmuck. Didn’t like it back then, and I don’t like it now.

I toss another mouthful back, but the truth is: there’s not enough liquor in the world. Better not go down that road.

My hand slaps down on the bar and my boots hit the ground. Time to get out of here; maybe try my luck in another dive. Who knows? Maybe the right drink, the right room, the right musicwill let me forget Annie Lowell and the hole in my chest for a few blissful minutes.

Can’t let myself get too fuzzy—not in my line of work. Not unless I have a death wish.

But I can eek this night out a little longer before heading back to my dark, silent apartment and planning my next contract kill.

I start to stand, my gaze flicking to the mirror behind the bar, scanning the room behind me for threats. A flash of blonde hair catches my eye, and I freeze.

“There you are,” Annie Lowell says, squeezing in beside me at the bar and stunning me with a wide, happy smile. She might as well have hit me over the head with a crowbar, it makes me that dizzy. Is this real? “I thought I’d never find you in here.”

My brain is so slow as it dredges its way through her words, because this is reallyAnnie.It’s her. In the flesh. And… she was looking for me? Did I summon her somehow, pining after her like a prick? Am I dreaming?

She’s got the same shiny blonde hair that I remember, tumbling over her slender shoulders, and the same creamy skin with freckles dusting her nose. The same big green eyes, too—the color of summer sunshine spearing through a tree’s leafy canopy.

She’s a little older than I saw her last, obviously, with the puppy fat gone from her cheeks and a slight strain behind her eyes which says every day in the interim has not been easy-breezy. But still, it’sAnnie.As I stare at her, mouth dry, my gut swoops like I’m on a roller coaster.

She came here for me?

How the hell did she find me?

Andwhy?

It’s the whiskey. Gotta be. I’ve only had one drink, but my tolerance must have dropped overnight somehow. Even though I feel as steady as ever, my body tensed and on alert, I’mhallucinating Annie Lowell by my side. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

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