details of who I am, good and bad. I never want to hide things from her. It isn’t the kind of life I want to have with her.
I should’ve called her earlier when it looked like this was going to drag out. “I’m almost done. I’ll be home soon. Why don’t you put a beer in the freezer for me? By the time I get home, it’ll be cool.”
“The freezer? Oh, because you’re going to be quick.” Her voice perks up.
“Very quick.”
“Okay. On it. Be safe.”
“Love you, babe,” I say the l word without thinking. It’s been on the tip of my tongue for weeks now and I guess I couldn’t hold it in for another second. I brace myself for her response, or worse, her silence. She told me to wait until I got back home but it so easily slipped past my lips, the need to say the words to her pushing forward.
She huffs out a laugh. “Now you tell me you love me? When I can’t properly say it in return? Get your work done and get your ass back here. Okay?”
A giant grin cracks my face. “Okay.”
“Were you making a booty call while snooping around my bedroom?” Dipshit starts to come to a little more.
“I gotta go, babe. See you soon.”
“Your boyfriend’s a nutcase,” the handyman shouts.
I hang up before Quinn can hear another word. “That wasn’t a great idea.” I reach down between my feet and pick up the hammer I found in the toolbox in the hall closet.
“What the hell is that? Where are the lights? Fuck. Why is it so dark—”
I’m a hitman, or, at least, I was. I’m not here to listen to excuses or make fake bargains. I have one task and once I’ve completed the job, I’m done.
I wish I could have taken longer. Made him pay more for the things he’s done—and for the things he thought of doing—but I told my girl I’d be home soon.
I lay the hammer down next to the handyman’s head and take my leave from the bedroom window. Outside, I take off the clothes and boots and chuck them back inside. It doesn’t matter that it’s obvious he’s been killed. It only matters that it can’t be traced back to me and Quinn. There’s a host of other possible suspects sitting on his computer. I close the window and pull off the surgical gloves. Halfway home, I toss them into a trashcan.
Maybe I spent my entire life training for this one kill. I didn’t have much of a life before I got to college, but I left my past job so I could find a future and now I have one with Quinn. Funny how that works out. I shove my hands into my pockets and begin to whistle, knowing I’m right where I belong. With her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
“Are you sure you’re not Superman?” I ask Daman as I put my phone down on the counter. That call went a whole lot easier than I thought it was going to. The first time I called him Clark Kent, Daman hadn’t found it so funny. He thought I was calling him another man’s name. I immediately made him sit down and watch a million DC movies with me. This is when I realized how naïve he really was about the world. I may be that way in some things, too. We balance each other out, I guess.
He grabs me, lifting me from the ground and setting me on the counter. He’s always so freaking fast. I rest my hands on his shoulders, still having to tilt my head back to look at him. His glasses are long gone, letting me look directly into his gorgeous blue eyes.
He may not be a man of many words but I can see everything in his eyes. It took me a while to learn how to read him but now that I know how, it makes all the difference. He doesn’t hide anything from me. If I ask him something he’ll tell me. There are still some things I leave alone.
“It went well?” he asks.
“I think you already talked to him.” I let out a small laugh. My dad showed up a day after the murder at my apartment complex freaking out. Daman and his superpowers calmed him down. Everyone got a whole lot calmer once the cops started sharing more about the handyman’s murder along with what they found on his computer.
I don’t think the cops are actively