Lure (A Hitman's Bait 1)

“And did you only have one glass?” I should have been paying closer attention to him.

“Maybe.” He batted his lashes. “Come on. If you want people to believe we’re so in love, we should dance. Others are doing it.”

He swayed against me, and a tingle shot through my body. “You could be a little less…you know.”

He jerked his head back, a frown on his face. “A little less what?”

“Nothing.” I glanced away from him and those wide eyes that reflected a bit of hurt. Damn, Lamont was leaving the room. “I’ll be back. Try not to flirt too much and give anyone the wrong idea that you’re available. That’s not tonight’s mission.”

I walked off in the direction Lamont had gone and spotted him disappearing along the corridor. I followed him around a corner and narrowly missed a server with a tray of wine glasses. Lamont slipped into the restroom. I knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” he said.

I knocked harder. The door opened, and he stuck his head out, the buckle of his belt undone. “I said it’s occupied. There are—”

I hit him in the windpipe with the side of my hand and pushed him inside, stepped in after him, and locked the door behind us.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he asked hoarsely, then coughed.

“I have a message for you from a client.” I leaned against the door in case he got any ideas. “You owe them money. Lots of money for taking care of a problem for you, but you’ve not lived up to your end of the bargain.”

“Oh, my god.” He straightened, his face turning pale. “Pinelli sent you.”

“See, you know exactly what this is about.”

“You work for them? You?”

Most people believed me to be a wealthy investor. Those who I had come in contact with on behalf of Pinelli knew better and kept quiet. Talking could ruin a man’s business and drive him to take his own life.

It seemed he didn’t believe what I’d just told him. A little persuasion might be in order. I grabbed his hand, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him up against the wall. He screeched, but I put my underarm against his neck.

“You alert anyone by making a sound, and you’ll join the man my client killed for you.”

“I won’t,” he grunted.

“When can Mr. Pinelli expect the rest of his money?”

“I can give it to him by Wednesday.”

“Not the right answer, Lamont. How about we make it forty-eight hours? And that’s me being lenient, considering you’ve been dodging Mr. Pinelli for a month now.”

I twisted his arm higher, and to give him credit, he didn’t scream like I thought he would. The scent of ammonia filled my nostrils.

“Did you piss yourself?” I released his arm and stepped back. He slumped against the wall, cradling his arm as he turned around. The front of his pants was dark, and wetness trickled around his shoes.

“I’ll get the money to him.” He hung his head.

“Before I forget, there’s a ten percent markup for all the trouble you’ve caused Mr. Pinelli.”

He made a choking sound.

“Is there a problem?”

He shook his head.

Good. If only all these “tasks” could be handled as easily.