Free Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2) by Amie Stuart Page B

first time ever, I found myself wondering about my dog’s ability to judge people. He’d always been really good at it. Even better than me. Then again, we never usually spent a lot of time with other people. Even those times we lived on-site at a Ren-Faire for weeks at a time, I tended to keep to myself. As much as I moved around, it was just easier.
    “Are you single?” I finally asked as curiosity got the better of me.
    He turned and smiled up at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes.”
    “Why are you smiling?”
    “You’re very different from my ex.”
    I snorted. “You mean because I live in my van?”
    “No.” He shook his head for emphasis.
    I didn’t want to ask, I didn’t what to know what type of women Will liked, but I couldn’t help myself.
    “Her name is Tilly and she was...she didn’t know.” He gave me a pointed look and I nodded.
    “So you had to lie a lot?”
    “She was also pretty high maintenance...and complicated.”
    “You’re pretty complicated, too.”
    He shrugged and turned away, signaling an end to our Q and A and making me regret my last comment. I wasn’t ready to apologize, not with Scamp’s abdication so painfully fresh. I stepped back inside and stretched out on the bed, watching what was left of the sun travel across the ceiling until the cabin was almost completely dark. I dozed, slipping into that dark place that gave me murky, restless dreams, until something pierced my sleep. I lay there blinking against the dim assault of the kitchen light, heart pounding as the sound of gunfire prickled my ears and finally registered in my brain.
    The cabin was empty. I lunged upright and dashed outside. More gunfire filled the velvety dark night as Will grabbed me, yanking me behind the porch.
    “I need to see where it’s coming from.” It needed no explanation, and stay here didn’t have to be said.
    I would have stayed put, too, if Scamp hadn’t followed Will.
    “Scamp,” I hissed into the gloom, struggling to adjust my eyes. All I could do was track the jingle of his collar. “Scamp,” I called, louder, repeatedly, but he was gone. I slipped off the porch and cut through the trees after him. After nearly twisting my ankle as I stepped into a slightly washed out area, I grabbed onto a tree and caught my breath. Fear that someone might shoot Scamp in their quest to kill Will kept my feet moving.
    When I broke through the trees, I skidded to a halt, using Will’s back as a wall to stop myself.
    I sagged against him, almost giddy with relief as a group of men took turns aiming at a row of beer cans—not all of them empty—and laughingly fired an assortment of firearms. “Well I guess that answers that,” I muttered.
    “What are you doing here?” Will didn’t bother turning around, just tossed the words over his shoulder.
    “I was worried about you.” We both knew that was a lie, but he didn’t bother correcting me. He didn’t need anyone worrying about him.
    The yard was lit by a bonfire, and filled with men and women, most of them dressed casually. From the lake, came the distinct sound of a woman’s screams, splashes and laughter. How we missed their arrival, I didn't know.
    “Go back.” Will turned and none-too-gently shoved me toward the trees when a woman’s voice stopped us.
    “Y’all friends of Lisa and Kevin’s?”
    Will shoved me toward the trees again. “No.”
    “Stayin’ ‘round here?”
    “Yeah—”
    “We heard the shots,” I added, maneuvering around Will to check her out. She was young, fit and tanned with a perky smile on her expressive face. Her hair was caught up in a ponytail; she wore cutoffs, flip-flops and a bikini top, and she sure didn’t look old enough to be holding that beer in her hand. But hey, I hung out with a professional hitman. Who was I to say?
    “That was just some of the guys having fun.”
    Will nodded, though I wasn’t sure he was totally convinced, and draped a protective arm around my waist.