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“It was me,” I admit to him. “Magnus Horne. 49. Divorced. Found dead in his apartment, suicide by self-induced overdose. He left a handwritten letter, confessing his crimes and leaving his share of the business to Maggie Copeland. I had to force him to write it, but I’d rather not explain how I did that.”
“Everyone from street thugs to high society knows who the Ghost is,” Kane mumbles, still staring at me. “But they don’t know who he is.”
“She,” I correct.
Riot slaps his cousin’s back. “You’ve hung out with everyone in between, Quin. Think about it.”
“No one has ever seen him,” Kane continues, like he’s struggling to add together everything he knows versus what I just confessed.
“Her,” I correct again.
Quin shrugs. “I’ve never needed to think about it.”
“They all know he’s in the Maldonados’ back pocket,” Riot fills in for Kane and Quin. “But they don’t realize that he actually wears the pants.”
“She’s and she,” I snarl. “Jesus. Can you assholes not hear me?”
“So, what you’re saying is… I stole drugs from the cartel?” Quin questions, grinning at me. “And they sent an assassin after me to retrieve them?”
Lory glares at him. “That’s what you’re taking away from this conversation?”
“Well, I didn’t die, so…” Quin holds his hands out, as if pointing to exhibit A.
“Not yet,” I mumble. “But the thought crosses my mind every time you speak.”
He gapes at me. “You were going to kill me?”
“I don’t just kill people.”
“Jasper,” Riot growls.
“Fine,” I snap. “I kill people when I need to or when I’ve taken a job, but I haven’t had time to take on many clients since Lory and I have been trying to end the turf war. I left a reputation behind, but never any witnesses.”
“Except me,” he adds.
I roll my eyes at Riley. “Yes. Except you. But now I’m trying to force a fresh start for this city with my real name. I’m tired of hiding, tired of lying. And I’m so fucking sick of fighting to survive when I should be fighting to thrive.”
“So, hold on for a second,” Quin chimes in. “I’m still stuck on why you threatened to shoot Riley again.”
“She’s the one who shot me the first time,” Riot explains. “That’s how we met, and how I found out who she was.”
“I didn’t hit anything vital,” I grumble. “I just grazed you. You were about to spook my mark.”
“I didn’t know he was your mark,” he defends, grinning because we’ve had this argument a time or two. “I was going to kill him myself. How was I supposed to know that my dad paid you for it?”
I smirk at him. “I didn’t take the money.”
Riley frowns. “Wait, what?”
“When Wheeler told me why he wanted him dead, I told him I’d do it, and I’d make sure it looked like none of the MC guys were involved. He raped three of their wives and killed another. Taking him out cost me the price of two bullets. One in his head and one in your leg. I didn’t even ask for access to the property. I shot you both from right outside the property line. And then I showed up at the hospital to check on you.”
“I still don’t know why they let you in my hospital room,” he muses.
“I told them I was your girlfriend,” I confess. “And when that alone didn’t work, I made myself cry and sob all over the nurses’ station until they felt sorry for me. A love struck teen worried about her boyfriend, just wanting to make sure he was okay.”
Kane narrows his eyes at me. “You’re who shot him when we were in highschool?”
“This feels like a fucked up highschool reunion,” Lory comments.
