The Hitman's Guide to Tying the Knot Without Getting Shot - Alice Winters Page 0,1
do some maintenance work on our computers so we can do more stuff online,” Jackson reminds me. “He did ask if he could come when you’re not around, so don’t be surprised if he’s a bit shocked you’re here.”
“Why would he want to come when I’m not here?” I ask, a little hurt.
“Because he said last time you grabbed him in a headlock and pummeled him to the ground,” Jackson says, as though this is something to be concerned about.
My level of hurt immediately diminishes. “He missed our sparring session because he was, and I quote, ‘sick.’” I think about it for a moment. “Okay… in retrospect, pummeling a sick man to the ground does sound a bit… harsh, but I was not aware he was still sick.”
“It was the same day,” Mason inputs.
“Shhh. Shhh. You two go do your thing. Fondle each other like I know you’re planning on doing, and I’ll do my thing,” I say.
“You’re the only one I fondle,” Jackson assures me.
“Aw, thanks, babe. I’m dealing with supper tonight. Text me if you’ll be late.”
He gets up and slides his chair in before walking over to me and giving me a kiss before pulling back and caressing my cheek, his eyes warm. “Got it. Love you and be careful.”
“I will. Love you too.”
“I love you too!” Mason mockingly calls back.
“Aw, I love you too! Jackson, give him a kiss for me.”
“He smells like tuna, I’m not kissing him,” Jackson says as he heads for the door, leaving me in the office alone.
Since I’m pretty much done and bored, I slide over to Jackson’s desk and start going through some of his stuff to see where I can help out. It at least kills time and I clear up some of his junk emails. Just as I go to text Cassel to see when he’ll be in, the door dings as a man and a young girl walk in. It’s a quarter till two, so I assume this is Jackson’s two o’clock.
The man looks around at the little bookshop we converted into our office after the former owner decided she wanted to be a supervillain. We used to be upstairs, but with more room downstairs, we moved everything down here and now use upstairs for storage and guns. Jackson and Mason don’t seem to know about the gun part, but there are definitely plenty of guns hidden about in secure places. It’s like a little Easter egg hunt whenever I want one of them.
“Good afternoon,” the man says with a smile. “I’m here to see Jackson Stein.”
He’s a man around Jackson’s age with dark hair and blue eyes. At his side is a girl of about seven or eight, with huge blue eyes and curly brown hair. She almost looks like a little doll; the frilly dress doesn’t help.
“Hi, I’m Leland Clarke. Jackson passed the appointment over to me because of some pressing matters on his end. I hope that’s alright with you?”
The man hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, of course.”
The little girl stares at me, and I find myself staring back. It’s extremely strange for someone to bring their child to talk about their wife cheating, but I’m not a parent, so what do I know? It’s more bonding time than either of my parents ever spent with me.
“What was your name again?” I ask, even though I know it’s David Parker, as Jackson had written it down, but I like to get a feel for the person before I start digging into things.
“David,” he says as he holds a hand out for me to shake. “And this is my daughter, Kaia.”
“Hi,” the little girl says quietly.
I try to give the child a smile because I feel like that’s what you should do with children, but she looks a bit wide-eyed when I do. “Anyway,” I say as I hurry back to my desk and sit down. “You’re here about your wife?”
The “my wife’s cheating on me” or “my husband’s cheating on me” thing seems to be quite popular here to the point where I’m getting sick of it. There are only so many times that I can stare at men and woman who are being unfaithful without wanting to strangle a few. I miss the action and the guns and the torturing of others when I was a hitman. But I’ll do whatever I can to make sure Jackson stays safe and by my side. And according to Jackson, I’m not allowed to make cheating cases