Page 27 of Dead Vengeance

“Shhh.” Gerald’s hand squeezes into Liam’s shoulder, and there’s something about the way Liam responds to it that sparks that same protectiveness in me. The way he looks at this man with some unguarded mixture of hope and trust, when I’d have run a mile from him if I’d seen him in the flesh before I hired him. Gerald says, “Everything’s okay now. I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”

“I know you did, but…” Liam’s cheeks flush. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”

He was totally unprepared. And it’s this guy’s fault. So I drop my name curtly. “Archer Gravely. I drove Raul here today after he got hurt.”

Gerald’s eyes double in size. “Gravely? That you?”

He takes in my clothes, more crumpled and blood-stained than I’d like, and as he does it, I notice a wily look in his eyes. Like he’s adding up how much I’m worth. Maybe trying to figure out if I’m good to keep paying him what I see now is an exorbitant price.

And he’s not getting away with it.

“Raul almost died today,” I hiss at him. “I asked you for proper, experienced, knowledgeable ghostbus—”

“Spirit Extraction Specialists,” he cuts in, the scent of stale tobacco wafting across with his words.

“Yes. That. And what I got is two brand-new guys with zero real-world training or experience.”

“Raul’s one of our most experienced employees!” Gerald throws back, some dance of amusement and irritation in his brow, as if I have no idea what I’m talking about. “He’s been there three full months!”

“Three?” I repeat. “Three!” This is absurd. “Raul went in there totally unprepared, pissed off a ghost, and died-di-di-almost died because of it! And this one…”

It’s the way Liam’s head drops that stops me mid-speech. The hunch of his shoulders. The paling of his cheeks. The way Gerald’s eyes shoot across to him, dig into him. The way Liam flinches away from it all.

It’s only a fraction of a second, but I know that look on Liam’s face. His job is on the line, first day, and I’m the asshole customer who’s about to get him fired.

My anger reforms itself into a shielding instinct, some urge to stamp out the injustice of every prick who treated me like shit back when I was waiting tables. “And this one…” I shove a finger towards Liam. “Thank god he was there today.”

Those big brown eyes grow large on me, pink flooding back into his cheeks instantly. “He… he is the only one who bothered to speak to me, to try to understand the situation. He’s the one who showed caution when Raul took his gun out after I’d expressly asked him not to. Liam is… He’s wonderful. Ten out of ten. No notes.”

A full smile illuminates Liam’s handsome face, and Gerald lets out a full belly laugh in response, like his heist just paid off and he got away with the full contents of the bank vault. But I’m still pissed. And I need to make sure he knows it.

“Liam almost died because of Raul—we all almost died because of Raul. It’s honestly appalling that you should send men into such a dangerous situation wholly unprepared. I’m truly disgusted. I’m—”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Gerald says, and those yellow-stained fingers move to my shoulder, his head dipping in just the same way it did for Liam, as if he’s about to share a hot tip on a horse. “How about…” The dark little eyes fix on mine. “Ten percent off your next haunting?”

“My next…” My brain scrambles to keep up with the ridiculousness of this man. “I’m not planning on being haunted again.”

“You just never know, though, do you?”

“Yes… no… I mean… I’m not… No! No, I don’t accept ten percent off my next haunting!”

His eyes roll and his head drops back, then to the side. “I see. I see what you’re angling for. All right. Let’s say… Ten-te-te-fiiii-two! Two percent off the current haunting? Can’t ask for much better than that, can you?”

“Two percent?” I huff out in perfect disbelief.

“Glad we have a deal!”

“We don’t have a—”

“And don’t forget the nondisclosure agreements you signed, either of you.” He steps back and away from the discussion.

Liam and I share a fast look, then, “I don’t remember signing a nondisclosure agreement,” I tell them.

“It was in the fine print,” Gerald says, retreating, retreating. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some release papers that need signing.”

“They’re not releasing him already, are they?” asks Liam, searching around for whatever doctor he’s missed who might have been going to tell us that.

“Not those kind of release papers,” Gerald replies, punctuating the sentence with a wink. Then he turns on his heel and attempts to disappear into the sea of people like a trained scoundrel.