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An obscure hand reaches out and swipes up the coupon from tonight. Our employer unfolds the paper and holds it up to the scant light. “This is a fake.”
“How do you suppose?” Baylor grinds out. “I always have the folder with me. If we have a fake, it was in there when we made the pick-up.”
Our employer ignores the chancy accusation but still answers his question. “The devil is in the details. My papers are all watermarked. This one happens to be missing that important attribute.”
I dry heave, unable to control it. An innocent man died tonight. An important one. What happened cannot be undone. Seeing my Memento Mori tattoo as I lift my hand to cover my mouth only makes my stomach lurch even more.
A faint glint of light bounces off his spectacles as the dark eyes behind them continue scanning the page. Mid read his hand clenches the paper tightly, and it crumbles under his trembling fingers. “Kensington?” he practically squeaks out. “You killed Harry Kensington?”
“Bagged and tagged him a couple hours ago. Going through stain removal as we speak,” Kal responds. The shadow splitting down the middle of his body moves along the center of his throat as he swallows hard.
A shift in the room draws my attention to the rest of our crew just in time to see Chaz go pale, Brodi try to make a break for it, and Kio stop him from leaving with an aggressive yank to the scruff of his jacket.
“Looks like you all have a different assignment moving forward. Pro bono. Not a single Hell for Leather member is allowed to leave the county until you unalive your snake. I have a new partner, thirsty to make a mark locally, who will take care of the assignments in the meantime.”
