Page 36 of The Hitman
I push the door to my hotel room open, carefully. I wait in the hallway and listen for a few seconds. Nothing seems out of place as I scan the room visually, but I pull the gun from the holster in my hands before I move into the room. I clear each space methodically, maybe even more thoroughly than I might have if I were alone; because I’m not alone.
I check the sitting area, the bathroom, my bedroom, and lastly, my closet. I check my guns and make sure they haven’t been tampered with, and then I pull my holster back onto my body and slip my firearm back in place, remembering the shock in Zahra’s eyes when she saw me holding it.
I need to call Alfonso and leave a message for Salvo, but first, I need to take care of Zahra. Those are the wrong priorities. I know that, but I don’t care.
I rush back to the door and check the hallway again. She’s standing just where I left her, shivering in my coat. I usher her into the sitting area. “Sit.”
She’s still holding herself tightly as she sits on the sofa. I move to the bar and pour her a large tumbler of the closest dark liquor.
She takes the glass from me with both hands. “I only drink wine,” she says and then gulps down half of the liquid.
I cannot help but smile. I don’t think her distress is attractive, but I think everything she does is attractive. I’m also worried for her. I move back to the bar, pour myself a small drink, and take a moment to think. I need to make those calls and get out of here. I need to look at the wallet in my pocket and figure out who’s after me. I need to get somewhere safe.
Unfortunately, I’m not in a rush.
I take my drink back to the sitting area and sit on the coffee table in front of Zahra.
She’s still holding the glass in her hands, but they aren’t shaking anymore. That seems like progress.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I just saw you kill a man,” she answers quickly, making eye contact with me.
She’s wonderful.
I don’t know what it is about her, except everything. There’s no fear or accusation in her eyes or words. She should be afraid of me, but she’s not.
“You did see that,” I tell her.
“Why? Why did you do it?”
“He would have shot you.”
“That’s not why you killed him,” she says definitively. She rolls her eyes at me, and it takes everything I have not to laugh. Brave and smart.
“No, it’s not. He was after me, but I can’t tell you why. Even if I could, you wouldn’t understand.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Because I’m a woman?”
I laugh this time and take another sip of my drink. She follows my lead. “No, because you’re American and have no idea who or what I am.”
“Who are you?” Her eyes are shining with interest. I wonder if she knows that she likes a little bit of danger.
“I’m someone you should forget you ever met.”
“That mysterious, dangerous shit must get you so much pussy.”
I laugh so hard there are tears in my eyes. “Mi piaci molto,” I tell her.
“What does that mean?”
I don’t translate, because it’s unfair. “It means that you should get as far away from me as you can,” I tell her.
“I think you’re lying.”
“I think you’re beautiful.” I shouldn’t flirt with her, and I definitely shouldn’t linger here long enough to fuck her, and yet I know I will. I know that if she would allow it, I would take her to the bedroom and fuck her until another armed man shows up. I’d kill him too, and then fuck her again.
I would put everything on hold to spend a few more hours in her presence. My father used to tell my mother that I didn’t understand danger. He used to say the words with pride, and he wasn’t wrong. I’ve always known that, but I feel it deep in my bones in this moment. I know that I would stay here gladly and put myself in danger to taste her skin and sink balls deep inside her over and over and over again because I feel the danger more acutely when I’m with her.