The Hitman's Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Snake Eyes Book 2) by Tabatha Kiss Page A
Authors: Tabatha Kiss
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least not until I’m out of Illinois. Then he can go as viva la revolution as he fucking wants. “Let me think it over, Marty.”
His eyes roam my front hall again. “This can’t wait, Hart.”
“What’s the big rush?”
He closes his mouth and his phone chimes in his pocket. “Excuse me.”
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to throw him out by his earlobe while he answers it. It’s only a matter of time before Spencer starts to stink up the place and I’ve got mid-morning traffic to beat. Then again, Marty’s disgusting aftershave will probably cover it up just fine for now.
“Hello?” He looks at the floor. “No, Dad… I didn’t see the news this morning.”
Fuck me.
Well, it was nice knowing you, kid. I guess the revolution will have to start without you.
I reach behind my back to grip my gun as his eyes slowly rise off the floor and land on me.
“You don’t say?” he mumbles with knowing eyes. “Yes, sir. … No, I’ll take care of it myself.”
I grip the gun and click the safety off with my thumb.
“Bye, Dad.” Marty lowers the phone from his ear and slides it back into his breast pocket. “Well…” He clears his throat. “That was an interesting phone call.”
“Oh?”
“It appears that I’ve made a mistake coming to talk to you today, Hart.”
I roll my finger over the trigger. “Maybe you have.”
“Then again…” His brows bounce. “An undercover agent might be just what I need to slither my way up the crime ladder.”
“Sorry, kid.” I cringe at his pun. “I’m retired.”
He chuckles and reaches behind his back. “I thought you’d say that—”
His arm jerks forward, drawing his gun from his belt. I do the same, moving far faster than his inexperienced hands. I line up his face in my sights and pull the trigger before he even extends his elbow. His flight responses pull him back but not fast enough to dodge the bullet striking just below his right eye.
I grab my bag from the corner and bolt out the front door before his body even touches the floor.
Chapter 10
Lucy
I thought daydreaming about Dante’s big cock was going to be what kept me from giving one-hundred percent at rehearsal today. Turns out, seeing a dead body for the first time is way more distracting. Scratch that. Watching your lover murder a man in his front hall is way more distracting.
I’ve known what he was since the moment I met him. A hitman. A contract killer for the fucking mob. But I still can’t make sense of it. There’s no rhyme or reason for what I saw this morning. One minute, Dante was the perfect man: laughing and cuddling and not killing people. The next minute, his fetish for choking went a bit too far.
But he let me go. Why did he let me go? Wouldn’t letting me go be the last thing a man like him would want to do? Don’t I know too much to still be breathing right now? But what exactly do I know other than he has a really, really sexy tattoo that ties him to an underground organization of assassins?
Oh, god. What if he comes back? What if he realizes how much of a liability I am?
Well, there goes sleeping for the rest of my life.
“Lucy!” Cynthia’s voice calls out my name from the first row of the auditorium. She’s pissed — as usual — but I don’t exactly blame her.
I pause, lowering my arms to my sides while the other nine dancers stare at me with impatience. “I’m going to take a five…” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
Cynthia calls after me but I think I’ll just let her scream this time. My father will be able to smooth this over. Maybe I can actually play the daddy-to-the-rescue card girls are always talking about. It should still be in mint condition.
I rush backstage, push open the exit to the hall, and bolt down to the women’s restroom. My body temperature rises with each step I take. I need cold water and I need it now .
What the fuck was I thinking getting involved with a hitman?
I dry heave into the sink, spitting out
His eyes roam my front hall again. “This can’t wait, Hart.”
“What’s the big rush?”
He closes his mouth and his phone chimes in his pocket. “Excuse me.”
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to throw him out by his earlobe while he answers it. It’s only a matter of time before Spencer starts to stink up the place and I’ve got mid-morning traffic to beat. Then again, Marty’s disgusting aftershave will probably cover it up just fine for now.
“Hello?” He looks at the floor. “No, Dad… I didn’t see the news this morning.”
Fuck me.
Well, it was nice knowing you, kid. I guess the revolution will have to start without you.
I reach behind my back to grip my gun as his eyes slowly rise off the floor and land on me.
“You don’t say?” he mumbles with knowing eyes. “Yes, sir. … No, I’ll take care of it myself.”
I grip the gun and click the safety off with my thumb.
“Bye, Dad.” Marty lowers the phone from his ear and slides it back into his breast pocket. “Well…” He clears his throat. “That was an interesting phone call.”
“Oh?”
“It appears that I’ve made a mistake coming to talk to you today, Hart.”
I roll my finger over the trigger. “Maybe you have.”
“Then again…” His brows bounce. “An undercover agent might be just what I need to slither my way up the crime ladder.”
“Sorry, kid.” I cringe at his pun. “I’m retired.”
He chuckles and reaches behind his back. “I thought you’d say that—”
His arm jerks forward, drawing his gun from his belt. I do the same, moving far faster than his inexperienced hands. I line up his face in my sights and pull the trigger before he even extends his elbow. His flight responses pull him back but not fast enough to dodge the bullet striking just below his right eye.
I grab my bag from the corner and bolt out the front door before his body even touches the floor.
Chapter 10
Lucy
I thought daydreaming about Dante’s big cock was going to be what kept me from giving one-hundred percent at rehearsal today. Turns out, seeing a dead body for the first time is way more distracting. Scratch that. Watching your lover murder a man in his front hall is way more distracting.
I’ve known what he was since the moment I met him. A hitman. A contract killer for the fucking mob. But I still can’t make sense of it. There’s no rhyme or reason for what I saw this morning. One minute, Dante was the perfect man: laughing and cuddling and not killing people. The next minute, his fetish for choking went a bit too far.
But he let me go. Why did he let me go? Wouldn’t letting me go be the last thing a man like him would want to do? Don’t I know too much to still be breathing right now? But what exactly do I know other than he has a really, really sexy tattoo that ties him to an underground organization of assassins?
Oh, god. What if he comes back? What if he realizes how much of a liability I am?
Well, there goes sleeping for the rest of my life.
“Lucy!” Cynthia’s voice calls out my name from the first row of the auditorium. She’s pissed — as usual — but I don’t exactly blame her.
I pause, lowering my arms to my sides while the other nine dancers stare at me with impatience. “I’m going to take a five…” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
Cynthia calls after me but I think I’ll just let her scream this time. My father will be able to smooth this over. Maybe I can actually play the daddy-to-the-rescue card girls are always talking about. It should still be in mint condition.
I rush backstage, push open the exit to the hall, and bolt down to the women’s restroom. My body temperature rises with each step I take. I need cold water and I need it now .
What the fuck was I thinking getting involved with a hitman?
I dry heave into the sink, spitting out
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