HITTIN' IT (Excerpt Only)

Hey What's Your Name?

"Hey! What's your name?"

To his friends and family, he was Will; to everyone else, he was God, as in "Please God, don't kill me."

To his ex-girlfriend, he was, "You impotent bastard."

Whatever.

His driver's license said he was William Tanner Collier of Oklahoma City. But to this man, he was, "Roy...Roy Rogers."

"Hey, Roy." Not surprisingly, the man didn't even blink at Will's fake name. Never mind that Roy Rogers was an American legend. Most people saw and heard what they wanted--no more; no less.

Instead, he smiled, a red, wet-lipped smile that might have scared a lesser man than Will. "Buy me a drink?"

Under that few day's growth of beard, Will's new friend looked like he could stand to skip a few drinks.

"Sorry." Will shrugged and turned away, signaling his lack of interest and silently praying the man would move. He was blocking Will's view.

Instead of leaving, the other man settled on the stool and lit a cigarette, adding to the cloud of smoke that hung thick as LA smog over the bar. Will narrowed his burning eyes and sighed, hoping like hell he wouldn't have to move. The only other good vantage point was across the bar where a guy who looked big and intimidating enough to be one of Tommy "Lupo" Brown's thugs raised a beer to Will. He lowered his eyes, focusing on the glass of Guinness in front of him as the thump of the bass vibrated his eardrums. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to sit next to a gay man who might actually stand a chance of beating him up.

Not that he would beat Will up, but if he tried, Will would have to shoot him. He really didn't need that sort of attention. And besides, hiding a body that big would take a lot of work.

He much preferred the precision and prefect execution of a well-thought-out job to a random kill. The unpredictable was destined to be messy and could land his ass in places he didn't want to be.

Like prison.

He'd had a few close calls. When you killed people for a living, they came with the territory. He brushed it off, trying to focus on the job at hand.

Derek Frost: Dark blond hair, 5'10", 180 lbs, brown eyes, pierced nipples (not that anyone but Will's current employer and Derek's lovers knew that), heavy drinker and a predilection for gay bars even though he swears up and down he likes women better than men-but not by much.

For reasons which were of no interest to Will, Derek's business partner wanted him dead. Which explained why Will was currently sitting in a rundown gay bar in Phoenix, Arizona. Derek was quite the social butterfly, though he had abysmal taste in bars--gay or otherwise.

Will's new friend finally gave up and left, and now he had a bird's eye view of Derek and Loverboy ensconced in a booth about ten feet away. Satisfied they weren't going anywhere for a while, he turned away before someone, anyone, noticed him staring at the couple. Once again he caught the eye of the man across the bar--the big one. Despite the dive status of the Oil Spout, flirty seemed as out of place as Will felt. He shrugged, hoping the other man wouldn't take it as an invitation, and took a deep drink of his beer, letting the cool, dark brew slide across his tongue, savoring the thick, yeasty flavor while he turned his attention elsewhere. Like the two girly-men there, in the corner, having a bitch-fest complete with claws and pouty, scowling faces. Will waited to see if someone would throw a punch, rolling his eyes when all he got was a slap instead.

So much for entertainment.

He took another small sip of his beer, not wanting his head clouded for the job in front of him. For the most part, Will could have passed any of these men on the street and they never would've known he'd spent the better part of his life as a professional hitman. Not that they probably cared one way or the other. He didn't bother sparing much brain-power on them either. Will cared about the job, his family, himself. And once upon a time, he'd cared about Tilly Acuna. Until Tilly had informed him he was as warm and passionate as a brick wall and suggested maybe he find a man to snuggle with from now on. He'd packed up his things and moved out, storing his stuff at his parents place in Oklahoma City and taking this job. He'd thought that time and distance would help. They had, to a point.