Page 90 of Boneyard HEA

“Shit. Are we in deep crap?”

“Maybe.” Probably. Other people know we are here in a house full of dead men that I came here to kill.

He barely pauses, just shrugs at me and gestures for me to go first. “Don’t worry,” he tells the ladies. “It’s fixable.”

“Man, you are so full of it.” Juniper smiles brightly.

I tsk at her. “I wish we could go back to spanking you for being a brat. Soon, baby, soon.”

She blows me a kiss.

Now what do we do? On the way to the door all I can think of is how I wish this were a rep selling some plasticware, because we’d only need to get them to forget us and the exploded door, and that there were strangers here on this day. A house turning into rubble and ash would be memorable.

And that I pray I don’t need to kill Judy.

“Do not shoot them, Tomás,” Aaron says as we approach the doorway where Rafael stands guard.

“Me?”

“I know your reputation.”

“Huh.”

32

Tomás

A woman in faded blue jeans and a navy shirt is sitting on an old timber bench on the porch, seemingly admiring the paddock before her, or the trees and the sky. I don’t really know but she is far calmer than she should be.

Rafael is fully armed and looking fidgety. So am I—armed anyway. Mildly fidgety. And Aaron?

The man seems to be breathing slower out here, looks more assured. He approaches her at my side.

The woman wears a broad brimmed hat, so it’s only when she looks over and up at us that I see she’s wearing a skin-colored full-face mask. Bright red hair is tucked up in a bun, and I doubt that’s her true hair color. No facial recognition is possible. Not that I have a body cam.

Aaron speaks before I can. “You’re from an agency connected to the frat?”

She doesn’t rise, just acknowledges us then resumes staring at the field of grass.

“Gentlemen, I am. This has to be short because we want you out of here ASAP.”

We, meaning there are more of them. Possibly beyond that tree line. I’m not surprised considering how she is sitting there. “Rafael?”

“Haven’t spotted them though there was some movement out there.”

“We’re good, too,” she says, dryly, from under that hat.

That was a reference to my comment in the kitchen. “So you were listening?”

“Yes. Aaron, you’re the most likely to have heard whispers about us.” She glances at him. With that feminine voice, her artificial face is a shock. “We look for errant members. We took care of a group that was into snuff films, murder, and rape. You may have heard of that.”

“Like Karsten, Shawn, and Zasha,” he murmurs. “Yes, I have. The rumor is you have a crass acronym. ASS? Everyone I’ve heard speak of it thinks you’re just a scary story to keep us in line, all of us millionaires and billionaires.” He tilts his head. “Hard to see how that’s possible, but since you exist, where the fuck were you for two years when they were fucking, killing, brutalizing women?”

“We’re a very small agency. Agents with Solutions Service. Our motto is be bloodthirsty.” She gifts us a bleak smile that’s only visible because the mask is cut away at the mouth. “We only recently became aware of them, mostly because of the stir you created. We also tracked the vehicle Karsten was in but arrived here after your fight with them. Until we listened in on the conversation in the kitchen, we had no idea of the seriousness of his, and their, actions. Apologies for that.

“But now”—she rises and casts a stern look at all three of us—“you need to vacate the premises and leave us to clean up. You’re not to touch a single thing that belongs here. Not the film archive. Not the bodies. Not Karsten.”

“Ahhh—” Aaron begins, obviously wrong-footed.