I looked over to her quizzically, thinking the answer was obvious, but then I couldn’t find the words to express why I needed it.
“It was…comforting,” I finally said. “It’s almost like…I don’t know…an extension of myself. I needed it.”
I could tell she didn’t get it, but I didn’t know what else to say to make myself clear.
“That’s where I met Jonathan.”
“Who’s Jonathan?”
“He was just another guy at the range,” I said. “He was always complimenting me on my accuracy and wanted to try out my Barrett. He ended up inviting me out to his place where he had his own shooting range set up on private property. He wasn’t in town a lot, but he said I could come out anytime I wanted to shoot. Saved me a lot of money, and he never pressed me for information about what had happened to me. He eventually figured out I’d been a POW and whatever, but he never pushed, you know?”
Lia looked down at her hands.
“Am I pushing too much?” she asked.
“It’s a bit late to be asking,” I said with a quiet chuckle. “No, it’s okay. I want you to know. Well, no, I don’t, but I think you should anyway.”
Lia nodded.
“At some point, we ended up talking about…well, about other shit. Career shit. I didn’t have one, and even though the military would have paid for college at that point, I had no desire to be a fucking engineer or whatever any more. He offered me an alternative.”
I stopped. This was it—the rest would be what might drive her away forever. I’d let her go, too. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it.
“Jonathan asked me to come to Chicago with him to meet the guy he worked for. I did, and his boss offered me a job doing what I do best.”
“What do you do best, Evan?” Lia asked when I paused too long.
I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and then looked straight at her.
“I’m a hit man, Lia. I work for the largest crime family in the city, and I kill people for money.”
Nothing could take back my words now.
Chapter 11—Unexpected Reaction
Lia sat on the bed and just stared at me for way too long.
I wasn’t sure if she had even heard me at first, but I realized pretty quickly that she had. I couldn’t read her though. There weren’t any obvious signs of what was going through her head. She actually seemed a little stupefied.
“Lia?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Why would I joke about that?” I asked.
“Because you can’t possibly be serious,” she answered.
“You wanted to know how that guy outside knew who I was,” I reminded her. “There’s your answer. Gangs don’t fuck with us—they know they’d get wiped out in a weekend. The last time I was in this neighborhood, I took out seven of them in about three minutes when they were hanging out at a park not far from here.”
Lia’s eyes widened, and her tongue darted out over her lips. I figured I’d probably given her enough details at that point. She looked over to the dresser where my Beretta sat on top of my shirt.
“With that gun?” she asked quietly.
“Sometimes,” I said. “Usually with my Barrett—the sniper rifle.”
Lia sat back and pulled her knees to her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them. Her throat bobbed once, and then she looked up to me.
“Are you going to kill me? Is that why you brought me here?”