Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2) Read Free Page A

There! He’d said it.
    “Oh, sure.” She shrugged in a way that made him grit his teeth. With his ex, he would have gone three rounds by now. “No problem.”
    Of course there was a problem. There was always a problem.
    And problem was spelled C-O-O-C-H-I-E. To get a little you had to give— a lot . Women were the scorekeepers, the referees and the opponents, and men were expected to know all the rules—except they never let you see the rulebook.
    Then again, maybe he’d read her wrong; maybe he’d read too much into her silence. As tired as he was, he supposed anything was possible.
    “So what were you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
    “I’m a salesman.”
    “Wow! Your company must love you.” She patted the console, indicating the SUV’s luxury package.
    “I’m on vacation.” Jesus, surely he could lie better than this! He had to get rid of her, and soon. Before he said something he’d regret.
    She was irritating him, getting under his skin with those big eyes and full lips. And those tits...he turned the air conditioner on high, and shifted in his seat, willing himself to not think about his cock—and her lips. Sabrina was off limits.
    All women were off limits. He’d learned his lesson with Tilly.
    He had to get rid of Sabrina and get back to Oklahoma and find a new place to live. Maybe a monastery. Did they even have monasteries in Oklahoma?

CHAPTER TWO
    A s much as I appreciated the ride, Roy’s grumpy “Stoic Man” act was a little off-putting. Then again, I wasn’t in a position to be picky. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long to find a garage.
    Gads, El Paso! It was so brown and taupe and dreary, the city bleeding into the surrounding landscape, letting the desert eat at it, suck it dry like a vampire. I shuddered, my fingers digging deeper in Scamp’s fur.
    "Can you—" I pointed to the fancy control panel on the dash, “—turn the air down?” The arctic blast made me want to curl up in a ball underneath about a dozen blankets.
    Grunting, he turned the knob and the air slowed to a Nor’ westerner.
    It’d do.
    I would have preferred the fresh air (even if it was hot as a jalapeño outside), but after two hours on the side of the road, I’d take what I could get. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t had anything to eat since the vending machine donuts I’d grabbed early this morning. No wonder I’d passed out.
    “You okay?”
    “Just thinking about my poor van.” And my poor savings.
    “Maybe it’s just a busted hose.”
    “Huh, more like a busted engine.” I took another sip of my water, then let Scamp lick my wet fingers.
    “You really think it’s that bad?” Roy asked, sounding genuinely worried.
    Grimacing at the thought of costly engine repairs, I nodded. “Pretty sure. There’s a garage.” Pointing, I sat up a little straighter, and Scamp wiggled in my lap, scratching at the door.
    “Sure that’s the one you want?”
    “I don’t care as long as they can fix a Chevy van.”
    “All right.” He flicked on his blinker and took the exit.  He turned into the little all-purpose gas station (the kind you don’t see much of anymore), and jerked to a stop next to the pump. It was a concrete oasis with peeling paint and basic repair prices painted on the window.
    “Will you watch Scamp while I see about a tow?” I scooted the puppy off my lap, holding him in place as I slid out. The Texas heat engulfed me, mercilessly driving away the chill brought on by the SUV’s air conditioner. It was an almost instantaneous combination of sweat and scorched skin.
    Roy stared at me as if he wanted to say no, as if he’d like to push the dog and me into the gas station’s parking lot and take off in a squeal of tires, never looking back. “Sure.”
    The aviator sunglasses and the bland expression he wore made him unreadable, but something about him made me shiver as I closed the door. Scamp whimpered, his eyes mournful and anxious through the tinted glass.