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Elijah deflates. “Guys, no.”
“Oh, but she’s so pretty!” she continues. “Long blonde hair, big blue eyes. Good teeth. And she’s hosting bingo night tonight! You have to stay and meet her.”
Elijah looks at me, drawn to the grin stretching across my face. “Maybe some other time.”
“Well,” she throws up her hands, “I just want to make sure my grandbabies are taken care of.”
“We take care of each other, Grams,” I say. “Always have.”
“And you always will but you can’t give each other everything. All twins split up eventually.”
I look at Elijah. He stares back at me looking about as jaded as I am. “We won’t,” I say.
He nods in agreement. “Seems pretty guaranteed.”
“In that case,” Grams sits back and sighs, “the two of you are in for some awkward wedding nights.”
Chapter 5
Lilah
We stop at a gas station down the street to fuel up our bikes on the way to the hotel.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I say, popping onto the curb. “Want anything?”
Elijah shakes his head. “No, thanks.”
I step inside. A bell jingles over my head, drawing the eyes of the young kid behind the counter. He barely nods as I pass by, but I feel his stare lingering on me for far longer than necessary. I ignore it and split down the aisle to the line of glass doors along the back wall but the prickle on the back of my neck remains.
I look over my shoulders toward the windows, catching sight of Elijah outside with our bikes. His face is glued to his phone while he waits for me, fingers swiping and poking at the screen. I glance up at the corner mirrors, but the cashier’s gaze has also dropped.
I open the door at the edge of the aisle and reach inside for an iced coffee.
“Hello, Lilah.”
I freeze in place the moment her voice touches my ears.
She lingers over my shoulder, standing a few inches taller with her three-inch heels. Her black hair flows down to her navel on one side. She slides her white sunglasses off her nose and drops them into the breast pocket of her blue suede jacket. Chic and trendy. Bright colors and poised to youthful perfection.
Not what you’d expect from a deadly assassin but that’s exactly what Snake Eyes is all about.
I leave the coffee and close the door. “Hello, Myra.”
Every powerful person has a right-hand man. The Boss of Snake Eyes is no different. No one speaks to the Boss directly. Myra is her eyes, her ears, and, occasionally, her trigger finger if the occasion calls for it. When she talks, you’re not talking to Myra. You’re talking directly to the Boss herself.
She smiles at me as if we’re old friends. “How are you?” she asks.
I glance over her shoulder to the parking lot to check on Elijah but he’s none the wiser. “I’m still alive,” I say. “That’s something.”
“So it is.” She nods with understanding. “And your brother?”
“Elijah’s fine.”
“I meant Dante.”
I take a silent breath, pulling in every telltale sign I could possibly have. “I don’t know.”
Her smile deepens, barely cracking her porcelain features. “You haven’t heard from him?”
