Hitman Next Door

All afternoon, he’d been checking every single nook and cranny in the neighborhood to see where he’d fucked up. The O’Leaves hitman had gotten way too close, and he didn’t like that.

There was no spot, so he’d been too distracted by Lemon to keep an eye out for the bastard’s arrival.

Wasn’t going to happen again.

He now had sensors attached that would alert him with a text message. It was an easy cover to control, being in security.

Now as he sat opposite Lemon, with the scents of Italian food surrounding him, he was at peace.

She looked nervous as she perused the menu.

“Do you see anything you like?” he asked.

“So much. I love Italian food. It’s my favorite.” She closed the menu. “I will let you order for me.”

He smiled and signaled for the waiter to come closer. The waitress from the other night was nowhere to be seen, which he’d also put in as a request. Tonight was going to be perfect.

The waiter left and Lemon sighed. “I’m impressed. You ordered in Italian, didn’t you?”

“I’m a man of many skills.”

“Your parents must be very proud.”

Nate picked up his wine, taking a sip. “I don’t have any parents.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I ended up in the foster system. I was a troubled boy. No one knew my name or when I was born. One of the foster mothers gave me a name, an identity. Probably the nicest person I ever met, but she was too old and died of a heart attack. After that, I stayed in the system, bouncing around from one place to another, before I got out at eighteen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Have you ever thought to look for your parents?”

He did, and killed the both of them, which was what put him on Rocco’s sonar. “They had passed by the time I found them. I have no way of knowing why they put me into foster care.” He did. They were bored, and it turned out every single child they had, they dumped into the foster system when the drugs and their needs outweighed taking care of a kid.

He hated them.

Their deaths were easy.

Like he said, he was a troubled kid.

It took years of practice to get where he was now. The seemingly carefree man who had the world at his fingertips.

Women wanted him and men admired him.

Again, all part of the illusion he built. The only person he’d ever cared about sat right in front of him.

“Er, my father is married,” she said. “It’s … my mother was his mistress.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Er, I had no idea. I thought I just had a dad that was like so many others, you know? He went away on business. He wasn’t always home for the holidays, but Mom made it seem like the most natural thing in the world. When they were together, he loved her and she loved him. They were pretty inseparable actually.” Lemon laughed.

“You didn’t like your dad?” he asked.

“No. I actually loved him. Doted on him to be precise. I’d wait every single day he was due to arrive at the window, watching, waiting. When I saw him, I’d run out and he’d catch me. He was my hero.”

“What happened?”

Lemon took a sip of her wine. “I’ve never told anyone this. We were out shopping. Mom and me. I needed some new pants, and she loved to sew, like me. We were at the mall, shopping for fabric, and I spotted him. I saw my dad, and without thinking, I ran over to him and hugged him tight. I was fourteen years old, and he treated me like a total stranger.” She stopped, and he saw her hand shaking so he reached out to touch her, to offer her comfort.

Rocco had a real family.

Lemon and her mother were the side family.

The irony was Rocco wanted Lemon and her mother more than he did his legal one.

“Mom came over, told them how sorry she was, and that he looked like my father. Man, looking back, it was so … heartbreaking. My dad ignored me and barely looked at my mother. Bearing in mind, I’d seen them together. He was always so loving and caring. Anyway, I was heartbroken. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was my dad. Same cologne and all of that. Then mom told me the truth. She was cheating with my dad. The family we saw was his real family. We were just … there. I was the bastard. She didn’t say that.”

“Do you still see your father?”

“I chose not to. From that day on, I never waited for him again. He would always come. There would be gifts, but I’d make excuses, you know. I’d go on school trips, or I’d stay in my room. I ignored him.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You probably think my mom is a horrible person or something.”