Page 136 of Lone Wolf

And then he leaned against a disused stable and vomited a few times in the packed dirt.

He’d never thrown up after a mission.

Not since his very first.

A hose lay coiled snakelike in the dark. A wrench of the rusty handle freed a healthy torrent of water. He washed away his waste in the dirt. Squatting in the moonlight, he drank from the hose, spitting to clear his mouth.

Only now did he remove the RoamZone from his pocket. The number of Jayla Hill’s burner phone was the top entry, teed up and waiting.

His thumbs wrote out the text: It’s safe now.

All these years into his strange and solitary existence, these were still the best three words he had to offer another person.

He stared at them for a long time.

And then sent them off into the ether.

62

Need No Praise

Luke Devine called the RoamZone at seven o’clock the following morning.

“I introduce you to two billionaires and they both wind up dead!”

Evan said, “Sorry about that.”

He’d already been up for two hours, had worked out and meditated, and was poking at the remains of last night’s fire, in which he’d burned his clothes. Joey and Dog were gone, the penthouse tranquil. He felt glad to have Allman and Solventry in the rearview, happy to return his attention to concrete matters within his singular control. Sleep, muscle, focus, ashes.

Devine’s anger was paper-thin, a veneer to his fluster. There was nothing even a man of his empire-moving influence could do. Evan knew where he lived. And Devine did not know where Evan lived.

One of Jack’s Unofficial Rules—Evan’s favorite—sprang to mind: Need no praise. If Devine was smart, he’d have been one of the faceless billionaires he’d described. If he truly deserved the power he wielded, he wouldn’t have needed so much damn credit for it.

“I offered you a partnership once,” Devine said. “This doesn’t feel like a partnership. This feels like you using all of my resources and offering nothing in return.”

Evan said, “Huh.”

He hung up, stood, and stretched.

His stomach told him it was time for breakfast.

63

Vicarious Loneliness

Eight days later, Evan fulfilled the promise he’d made to Jayla, driving over so he could walk her into her town house for the first time since the Wolf had nearly succeeded in strangling her. Released from her unofficial WITSEC, Jayla had been living with her aunt until the forensic-cleaning crew could render her place livable once more. Though her aunt was planning to move in with her, Jayla had told Evan that she wanted to see her place alone first.

Alone meaning just with her fear and with Evan.

He hadn’t seen her since the hospital room, and the sight of her waiting on the porch caught him off guard. She was scared, shoulders tensed and lifted, one toe pressed to the concrete stoop, twisting into the concrete like a drill bit.

He’d taken the usual precautions before approaching, surveilling the surrounding blocks and leaving his truck parked a quarter mile away in an alley.

As he walked up, she jerked around, an arm rising to cross her chest defensively.

He stood a good distance back from the porch and let her acclimate to the sight of him.

She caught her breath, then gave a flip of a salute from her forehead: Hello.