My phone vibrates in my pocket. Of all the fucking times. “Shit. Hang on.”
Rowan stands, looking uncertain.
“This better be important.”
“Well howdy to you, friend,” Jalen drawls. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes. Yes you are. What do you want?”
“Thought you’d want to know Brennan’s guy tracked down the person you’re looking for, and you’re in luck. He’s in town. Hiding out in a seedy motel in the East End, which is shady behavior for a guy with that kind of money, but you know how it goes.”
“Probably waiting to make sure the job is done and doesn’t want to be noticed. Send the information to my phone. I’ll take care of it.” I wince as I’m about to hang up, returning the phone to my ear. “Oh, and Jalen? Thanks. I owe you.”
“Fucking right you do. Don’t think I won’t remember.”
I hang up and meet Rowan’s curious gaze as acid swirls inside me. “Good news.” I barely manage the words as I tuck myself back into my pants. I’ve been elbow deep in a man’s guts before and never felt as sick as I do now.
For a beat, I consider not saying the rest at all. In the end though, it’s for the best. “You’re going to go home soon.”
16
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. Car died in a town where they all turn into vampires after dark. Debated letting one who looked like Assad Zaman turn me. It took a LOT of self-control (and garlic) to escape.
Rowan
It’s early morning, I think, when Milo returns to our room. Hard to tell for sure since there are no windows in here, but it’s been hours.
“Is everything okay?” I ask on a yawn.
What I want to say is, “I’m sorry you had to do that” and “Areyouokay?” Even though the question is usually a common courtesy, it feels too personal. Especially the way Milo already seemed to distance himself when he left.
Ditto the way my body wants his warmth. I want to wrap my arms around him, thanking him in every way possible for saving my life. Without asking, I know it would be too much.
He flat-out refused to let me come with him, hitting me with an infuriating “I know what’s best” as he armored up and marched out the door. I told myself maybe that was how he needed to act before he went to kill someone.
Kill someone. Jesus. I suppress a shudder. Not because I’m shocked, but because this has all become too normal, too fast.
“It’s done,” he says. Which doesn’t exactly tell me he’s all right, but he looks unharmed, as far as I can tell. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Sort of.” Not really. After he left, I wandered the club, curious about all the flesh on display and the classy, refined-looking customers. I come from a pretty middle-class family, so theopulence, the clothes, and all the glittering jewelry were almost as eye-opening as the toys and positions I’d never even heard of.
But it wasn’t nearly as interesting seeing it all by myself, and I couldn’t stop worrying about Milo. I returned here and tried to sleep, lying awake for what felt like hours. I’d finally been drifting off when he returned.
Now I’m not tired. Too many questions.
Milo tosses a passport onto the table beside the bed. “Oskar Hansen. Anyone you know?”
I reach out but stop short of touching the thing that belonged to a dead man. The thought makes me shiver. “No. It doesn’t sound familiar at all.”
“Probably fake.” Milo flips it open to show the photo of a very average looking older white male with a bad haircut and those spidery-looking capillaries around his nose that suggest a drinking problem.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t look familiar either.”
Milo’s quick and efficient while he rids himself of his weapons. There are so many things I don’t know how to ask. I’m not sure I want the answers, but also I do.
Milo frowns for a moment but then shakes his head. “Ray confirmed all contracts are terminated either on the death of the target or the death of the requestor.”
