Page 110 of Fallen Hero

I was going to enjoy every second of killing Jason Anderson.

Back in high school, I had this history teacher who was into watching Dateline, and once a week, she’d tell the class about the episode she’d seen.

The bad guys always look so normal.

At the time, I hadn’t known how right Mrs. Hill had been. Most of the time she relayed the stories, I didn’t pay attention—something like murder or kidnapping didn’t happen to people like us. Naively, I didn’t think horrible things could touch my family. My father owned a dry-cleaning business, my mom was a stay-at-home mom until my sister and I went to high school, then she worked part time helping my dad at the cleaners. We had a good family. We loved each other.

Bad things didn’t happen to good people.

God, I was stupid. Bad things happened to everyone.

“Nothing to say? My Lili used to give me the silent treatment too. When she’d get mad at me and not speak, I’d tell her, her Russian was showing.”

My Lili.

I was going to throw up, and not from the blood all over Tanner’s small bungalow.

My dedulya had once told me a story about growing up in Moscow. He called it a gangster’s paradise. Crazy stories. But the one that stuck out was him telling me that he saw a man through a shop window, hanging from a hook and being electrocuted. My parents hadn’t been happy he’d told me the story. For the next week, I had nightmares of a man hanging on a hook.

That was how I was going to start. Jason would see my Russian.

Apparently, he liked the sound of his voice as much as my sister had, since he kept going without any input from me.

“I was surprised to see you last night.”

I bet you were.

I kept that comment to myself and my eyes on the table across the room.

So many weapons just out of my reach.

“You were a beautiful teenager,” he grossly went on. “I almost picked you. But you were too young.”

That confession settled in my stomach. If he’d picked me, Lili would still be alive. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been me instead of my sister, if my mother would’ve found a way to go on.

“You’re totally Dad’s favorite.” Lili shook her head, smiling, holding up my birthday present from our dad—a new MP3 player. “This thing costs almost two hundred dollars.”

“So? You’re Mom’s favorite. She bought you a pair of Guess jeans for no reason. Do you know the last time Mom bought me a present for no reason?”

“You’re right.” She smiled wider. “But do you know who my favorite is?”

“Mom. She buys you expensive jeans.”

“You, you dork. You’re my all-time-forever favorite.”

I stared at my sister, thinking she was my favorite too. Unfortunately, the thought never left my mouth.

“We need to go,” Bodhi announced.

Jason ignored his guard. “I had Arlo look into you.”

Arlo . . . not Archie. My gaze swung to the door. Archie had his arms crossed over his wide chest, eyes narrowed on his boss.

“You’ve done well for yourself. Commercial real estate, impressive.”

That cover was so old, and I’d used it so often, I wasn’t impressed Arlo had found it. We left it out there dangling for people like Jason to find.

I waited for him to say more. It wasn’t like he had a problem with carrying on a one-sided conversation while Bodhi stood watch over a passed-out-cold Tanner. I wondered if they ever got tired of him talking.