Page 42 of Trust

He shrugs, mouth full. “Why cook when I have you?”

Sara watches us banter, trying to make sense of the dynamic between us.

I turn my head toward her. “Hope you're hungry. It's omelet day.”

“It smells good.”

She stays alert, her gaze flicking between us, lips curving once or twice when we land a joke.

Cash finishes half his plate before breathing again. “I’m on call. Could be Istanbul. Or Medellín. Depends what drops first. Till then, I’ll be at my place.” He leans in, eyes glinting as they lock on Sara before he continues. “Or here, should I get bored.”

No doubt he’ll get “bored.” He needs an excuse to come over and see her.

“I’m staying here until the election. Once I get Sara home, I have a gig on the way back. We can meet here after.”

Sara looks between us. “You’re in security, right?”

There it is. She had to ask sooner or later. I meet Cash’s eyes for an instant. We’ve got a strategy for staying vague. I’m not sure he’ll stick to it, though. He toys with the knife, letting it spin once, twice, before speaking. “We work on contracts. Project-based stuff. Usually short-term.”

Sara frowns. “What type of projects?”

I clear my throat. “Executive problem solving,” I say, letting the words hang for a beat before adding, “We step in when things get... complicated. High-stakes decisions, sensitive issues, obstacles that can’t be handled through normal channels. We make sure problems don’t stay problems.”

Cash grins, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. Making problems disappear. For good.”

And with that, the strategy’s out the window.

Sara’s fork locks in place. Her posture stiffens. Subtle, but I catch it. Her walls go up fast. “Disappear?” she asks carefully.

I keep my voice calm. “We handle difficult cases. Situations others can’t clean up.”

She furrows her brow deeper. “Are you saying you kill people?”

Cash’s smile fades enough to be noticeable. “We don’t say that out loud,” he whispers.

Her fork hits the plate. Keeping her head down, she stands too quickly. “I need to go.”

For a second, I think she’s going to faint. Her face has gone completely pale. “Sara—” I start, but she’s already out of the room.

Cash exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well... that went great.”

The sound of the front door echoes through the cabin. I’m on my feet before he puts down his mug, ready to chase her through the forest.

Thankfully, there’s no need. She’s on the porch, standing by the railing, arms wrapped around herself. Drawn inward, she hides beneath the hoodie, her presence fading from view. I stand next to her, not too close, without speaking right away. She doesn’t acknowledge me.

For a while, only the sound of the wind and a few rustling leaves scraping across the porch floorboards settles around us.

“It was the last thing my mom bought before she passed.” Her voice is barely audible.

I blink. “What was?”

She tugs at her hoodie. “This. The hoodie.”

My chest twists. I recall trying to take it from her. She’d gaped at me in horror as if I was trying to steal her entire world. I didn’t understand then. I do now. “I’m sorry,” I say, matching her tone.

She nods, but it’s stiff. Her hands clench tighter around her arms. “She didn’t simply die,” she states at last. “Not the way they say. I found a letter. She wrote it... just in case.”

I know where this is going.