Page 56 of Housesitter

“Statistically, some of them were probably murdered.”

Kel flexed his fingers and looked at his knuckles.

“Sure.” He reached over, braced his weight on the truck’s running board, and shoved himself up to his feet. “The rest were just assholes.”

Shepherd supposed that was meant for him. “You tried to use your power on me,” he said.

“Yeah, and the first time I did it I got laid,” Kel said. “What changed?”

Shepherd had honestly assumed that was obvious.

“It worked.”

Kel made a strangled sound and scrubbed his hand, knuckles split and bruised from the undercarriage of the truck, over his face.

“Why do I still think you’re cute enough to get away with this shit?” he asked through his fingers.

Shepherd relaxed. “It’s not just you,” he said. “Everyone does. I was bred for it. Look…um…remember what I said about Easy Harlow. That he was—”

A smooth voice from behind Shepherd interrupted him. “His grandfather?”

Instinct made Shepherd take a quick step forward, out of reach. Kel reached out to catch him, one hand on his elbow to steady him. As Shepherd turned to keep Easy in view, he had to resist the urge to break Kel’s grip…and his wrist.

He didn’t like being restrained around things that wanted to eat him.

Casual in a light sweater and slacks, Easy tucked his hands into his pockets. He gave Shepherd a lazy, crooked smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Easy said. “I wanted him to know. I’d wanted him to know for a long time. It’s just…contractual.”

Kel’s hand tightened on Shepherd’s arm. “Easy’s told me everything,” he said. “It’s not like you think. He’s not what people think. Hear him out?”

The beer was crisp from the fridge. Froth spilled down the sides and splattered on the tabletop as Easy twisted the lid off. He offered it to Shepherd.

“Don’t worry,” Easy said. “I won’t take advantage.”

Shepherd took the beer and swigged it. The cold turned the barley and malt taste of it to something vaguely medicinal. It lingered on the back of his tongue. He wiped his hand over his mouth and glanced down the table at Kel.

“OK,” Shepherd said. “I’m listening.”

Kel took another beer off Easy and leaned back. He held the bottle casually in one hand, the base of it braced against his overall-covered thigh. One finger tapped against the glass neck.

“I guess it all boils down to…Grandad underestimated Dio,” Kel said.

Easy paused, one hand in the fridge to grab his own beer, and pulled a sour face.

“It was Albert…then,” he said. “And I didn’t underestimate him. He just got…lucky, and you know how I feel about luck.”

Kel nodded. “Only losers need luck,” he said and took a swig from the bottle. “And Albert wasn’t a loser…which was the problem. Grandad—”

Easy closed the fridge door with a thud. “You can just call me Easy,” he said. He gestured at his face with a long-fingered, well-manicured hand. “Not like I look like a grandfather, happy though I am to be one.”

He gave Kel a fond smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Kel nodded and leaned forward so he could set the beer on the table.

“Easy and Albert made a bet,” Kel said. “The old ‘fiddle of gold’ deal. If Albert won, then he got Easy’s car. If Easy won…he got Albert’s soul.”

The legs of the chair scraped over the ground as Easy pulled it out and turned it round. He straddled it and sat back down, arms braced.

“Standard terms,” he said. “I just didn’t think one tiny thing all the way through.”