Come Back (Dirty, Dark and Dangerous #2) - J.A. Huss

Contents COME BACK DESCRIPTION Chapter One - James Chapter Two - James Chapter Three - Harper Chapter Four - Harper Chapter Five - James Chapter Six - Harper Chapter Seven - James Chapter Eight - James Chapter Nine - Harper Chapter Ten - Harper Chapter Eleven - James Chapter Twelve - Harper Chapter Thirteen - James Chapter Fourteen - Harper Chapter Fifteen - James Chapter Sixteen - James Chapter Seventeen - Harper Chapter Eighteen - James Chapter Nineteen - Harper Chapter Twenty - James Chapter Twenty-One - James Chapter Twenty-Two - Harper Chapter Twenty-Three - James Chapter Twenty-Four - James Chapter Twenty-Five - Harper Chapter Twenty-Six - James Chapter Twenty-Seven - James Chapter Twenty-Eight - James Chapter Twenty-Nine - Harper Chapter Thirty - James Chapter Thirty-One - James Chapter Thirty-Two - Harper Chapter Thirty-Three - Harper Chapter Thirty-Four - Harper Chapter Thirty-Five - James Chapter Thirty-Six - Harper Chapter Thirty-Seven - James Chapter Thirty-Eight - James Chapter Thirty-Nine - Harper Chapter Forty - Sasha END OF BOOK SHIT

COME BACK Dirty, Dark, & Deadly #2 By J. A. Huss Edited by RJ Locksley Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Huss All rights reserved. ISBN-978-1-936413-45-4 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

DESCRIPTION This is a full-length novel This is book two in a three book series. The final book releases in November 2014. *If you’re looking for a romantic book filled with kinky sex and fun embarrassing moments that make you blush and giggle—you’re thinking of my Secret Summer Book that comes out August 27th, 2014. This here book is about dirty sex, dark secrets, and deadly plot twists that will leave you hot, bothered, and breathless. “Secrets keep the darkness alive,” Harper tells me. But that’s not how I see it at all. Secrets keep me alive, the truth is overrated, honesty is never the best policy, and when your job title is Assassin Number Six—lies are your lifeblood. “Death is a business deal,” I tell her back. And I shake his hand with secrets every chance I get. They’re currency in my world. I pay my debts with them, I feed on them, they ground me in the present and they promise me a future. But Harper Tate is everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s my promise, she’s my obsession, she’s a delicious fuckable transgression. She can be mine. She will be mine. All I have to do is complete the mission. There’s just one teeny, tiny problem with the mission. It’s a secret.

Chapter One - James A kid. I squint at the feral girl sitting on top of a rolling ridge across the prairie and revise. A teen. Which is even worse. I grab my binoculars and focus on her face. She’s scowling at me, her dark blonde hair littered with leaves and twigs. I pan down to her outfit. She’s a poster child for a surplus store. She looks like she’s been living out here on the scrub for weeks instead of days. And that is not a good sign. I press the button and the window on my side of the truck lowers. I give her a few seconds to say something. Yell or stand. Something. But she just sits there, staring at me. Her long ratty hair is blowing in the wind and her face is streaked with dirt. There’s a little bit of smoke rising from the ridge behind her. I whistle out a shrill call and yell, “Let’s fucking go!” The wind blows my words away and she sits still, so I figure she didn’t hear me. But then— movement. She raises her hand like she’s gonna wave. I even have a split second of relief. She flips me off, stands up, swats the dirt from her ass, and then turns and walks down the ridge. Out of sight. “Fucking Merc,” I mumble under my breath as I put the truck in park and open the door to go chase after her. He sent me some GPS coordinates last week and told me to pick up a package for him. I’m a few days late because of Harper, but that asshole said package. He never said kid. It’s early morning, the sun is barely rising off to the east, and the frost that gathered on the short prickly plants overnight is beginning to melt, making my boots slick as I trudge over to grab the girl. I do not owe Merc this favor. My debt was cleared months ago. But having Merc owe me a favor is something I can’t afford to pass up. I need to get Harper’s shit straight with the Admiral and get on with this job. I’m up against a deadline and since all my friends in the Company are now officially dead, Merc is really my only option when it comes to outside help. So I make my way across the Colorado prairie, heading after this little shit who thinks she can flip me off, and my temper is building to a crescendo when I make it to the top of the little ridge she was sitting on. I look down at her camp. What’s left of her camp. There is a pile of dirt covering what might have been the little fire she had going and a few bentover blades of grass where she might have slept last night. But other than that, it’s bare. The gun is in my hand before all these thoughts even process as I scan the landscape. She picked a good spot, I’ll give her that. These rolling hills are perfect. All you gotta do is lie flat on the other side of one to make yourself invisible. “Merc sent me,” I yell. “I’m supposed to pick you up.” I back down the ridge a little and squat to the ground. I’m not sure who this kid is, but I can take a good guess. Sasha. Orphaned last Christmas and sent to live with her grandparents, she’s Merc’s responsibility because he’s the one who got her father killed. I’d heard that the grandparents’ ranch was set on fire this past spring, killing everyone on the property after a propane tank exploded. But I was too busy with my own shitstorm of problems to care if this low-level Company kid was among the dead. Clearly she was not. “Sasha!” I yell. “Merc fucking sent me. Now get your ass—” An arrow goes whizzing by my head and I duck to the ground and flatten myself out. “What the fuck—” “You’re lucky,” she yells back at me from off to my right. “I’m not a very good archer. I have a gun too, and I promise you. I do not miss.”

Jesus fucking Christ. What is with the girls these days? Since when are they all wannabe assassins? “Sasha, calm the fuck down. I’m here because Merc sent me. I’m supposed to hold on to you—” “Hold on to me?” She snorts off to the left now, and she’s a lot closer than she was. “I’m not his property.” I sniper-crawl over another ridge off to my right, peek, then spot the top of her dirty blonde hair one ridge over as she makes her way back where she started out. She’s not a bad stalker. And she’s fearless too. If she thinks I’ll let her off because she’s a kid, she’s dead wrong. Or maybe she’ll just be dead. “I’ll leave you here if you want, you crazy little shit, but first we’re gonna make a phone call so I can collect on my favor. I didn’t come a thousand miles for nothing.” As soon as I stop talking I bolt for another hill off to the left, pop my head up and see zilch, then make another mad dash one ridge over. This time I smile because she’s right in front of me. “I don’t want to talk to that asshole—” I pounce on her from behind before she can finish her sentence. She groans as I take her to the ground, winding my leg around her middle so I can pin her down, and then I grab her arm at the bicep and press against her elbow. “Hold still, Assassin Smurf,” I growl into her ear. “Or I will snap this elbow.” She struggles for a moment but I apply more pressure and she cries out in pain. “I’m not fucking around. I don’t know if Merc let you get away with this bullshit, but I’m Tet. And if you ever threaten me again, I’ll snap your puny little neck.” She stops struggling at that remark and I lean into her harder just in case she’s trying to lead me into a false sense of security. She’s as bad as fucking Harper. Who the fuck authorized this girl’s father to train her? From what I know of him, he was an arms dealer. Code name Rancher. Which makes this girl more than a nobody, but not by much. Just another girl to be given away to just another boy who would then be tied to the Company for life. “Sasha?” I ask, once her breathing has mellowed out and she’s been still for a minute or so. “Are you Sasha?” She doesn’t answer me. “I’m Tet. We can do this one of two ways. You come with me and I hand you over to Merc. Or I kill you and tell him you were eaten by wolves.” “There’s no wolves out here,” she snorts. “Oh, yes, little girl. There are. And there’s one on top of you right the fuck now.” I feel her stiffen under me and I allow myself a smile. “Now, are you ready to do as you’re told? Or should I just end this now? Because I need to get back on the road either way. With you or without you, I’m heading south in five minutes.” “Fine.” She gives in with a growl. “Where’s your real camp?” I ask as I get off her and then hoist her up to her feet by the hood on her jacket. She can’t weigh more than a buck. And this I find funny. After decades of trying to raise girls who are meek and follow orders, the Company has two unauthorized, out-of-control females on their hands. “Over there.” She points north. I push her to get started, and she takes the hint and begins walking down the ridge. I have my FN Five-SeveN pressed into her back, just to keep the threat alive. But she marches on until we finally crest a ridge and I see her digs. She’s well-supplied. In fact, I have a little wave of jealousy that she’s been out here camping like this all by herself. What I wouldn’t give to have a few weeks alone on a deserted Colorado prairie with nothing but survival on my mind. There’s a pile of feathers in one corner, pheasant from the looks of them. So she’s been eating well. Her sleeping bag is rolled up and attached to her pack. Which is also stuffed full and has gear hanging off it from carabiners. She grabs a camo cap off the ground and slides it over her grass-littered hair, and then hoists the pack up onto her small shoulders.

Her back is to me, so I’m not sure what she’s looking at as she stands there in silence. But I take note of the direction. North. I know she’s not from Colorado because all that shit last December happened up in Wyoming. And her grandparents’ ranch where she was living since her dad was killed was up near Montana. So north. I give her a few seconds to say goodbye and then grab her by the pack on her back and turn her around. Her dirty cheeks are streaked clean from the tears and I soften a little. She can’t be more than thirteen and her whole life was stolen from her. None of this is her fault and she’s at the mercy of an assassin. I stick my gun back in my side holster and tug on her a little. Get her feet started. She walks dutifully, her head down. The little killer who’s been living alone out here on the prairie is gone now, and all that’s left is the broken shell of a girl who has no place to call home and no people to call family. “Hey,” I say to her after we load her stuff in the back cab of the truck, get in, and slam our doors. “I’m not sure what Merc’s got planned, but he’ll think of something.” I put the truck in gear, moving forward on the dirt road as I stare at her for a few seconds. A wave of sympathy washes over me. She has the look of defeat on her. Her lips are frowning, her chest is rising and falling, her breaths coming out in rapid succession as she struggles to maintain some dignity. Her eyes are dark, but I know they’re blue because I saw them back out on the scrub when she turned into the rising sun. “But until then you’re with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She swallows once. A hard one, like she’s forcing shit down. Keeping the bad shit locked down deep inside. “I know what I’m up against. You don’t have to sugar-coat life for me. I’m used to living the lie. I’m used to living with death now.” She turns her head away and presses it against the window as the desolate scrub passes by. “Yeah,” I say as I get on the empty highway that will take us to the little airport down in Burlington so we can fly back to California. “But you know what they say about men who have nothing to lose, right?” She turns her sad face back to me. “What?” “They have nothing to fear. When you’re at the bottom, the only way out is up.” She’s quiet for a few seconds as she thinks about this. “But I’m not a man.” She turns her blue eyes up to meet my green ones and swallows down the tears once again. “No, you’re a kid.” I soften a little as I look at her young face. It’s not her fault we were born into this fucked-up world. “And I haven’t got much left to lose either. So we’re a team for now, OK? We’re in this together until I say otherwise. You need to trust me and do what I tell you.” “I don’t want to go back to Merc. He’s crazy. I want Ford.” “Ford,” I snarl at her, making her head snap to attention. “Fuck Ford. You think that asshole is better than us because he’s not a Company man?” My eyes are blazing, I know it, because she looks scared. “I asked you a fucking question, Sasha.” “No,” she mumbles and then turns her head and presses it back against the window. “The last fucking name I want to hear is Ford. Fuck Ford. He’s a killer too. You don’t know him like I do. He’s a killer too.” I grab her shoulder and she turns back towards me again. “You got it?” A few tears fall down her cheeks as she nods out her feigned agreement. But I don’t care if she’s scared, if she’s lying to me, or if she wishes I was dead. There is no difference between me and Ford. None. And the sooner this kid figures out we’re all the same, the better off she’ll be.

Chapter Two - James I light a cigarette in the ALCO parking lot in Burlington, take a drag, and blow it out as I wait for Sasha to change in the bathroom. For a tiny town in the middle of absolutely nowhere, it’s got everything you need. Good thing, because the Smurfette looked a little too much like a crack addict to take on a private jet. I slide my shades down my face to lessen the morning glare from the sun as she exits the store, all cleaned up. Her hair is back in a ponytail—most of the leaves and shit are gone, but a few stragglers remain. I swat them off her head as she passes and she turns and punches me in the arm. I laugh and push her off. “Lighten up, Smurf. I’m just trying to make you look presentable.” I take one more drag on the cigarette and toss it, then get in the truck. She takes her time getting in and pulling the seatbelt across her chest. I take a moment to study her. She looks better with her new shorts and t-shirt, but she’s still a complete mess. I turn the ignition and rev the engine. “Well, it will have to do,” I sigh. “You looked like you were living out there in the scrub for months instead of days. You lose your mind or something?” Her head turns towards me slowly and she’s got a… look. Yeah. I’m not sure about that look. “What?” “Days?” she snarls at me. “Fine,” I say as I pull forward and make my way to the street, then turn left towards the airport. “I admit, I was a little late. But hey, I was busy with a girl back in Cali. She’s my key, and a job is more important than a package.” “Package?” she growls this time. “Kid, I’m just repeating what Merc said when he told me to pick you up, OK? That’s not what I’d call you. Pest maybe. Shitty archer, pain in the ass—take your pick. But if I had known he was talking about a kid, I’d have made an effort.” I cross through the intersection and head south. The airport is small and so is the jet, just a five-seater, but it will get us to where we need to go with one planned stop near Vegas for cheap fuel. It’s only a couple miles south of town and it looks more like a cornfield than an airstrip. But I’ve flown out of here lots of times, so I know it’s legit. My pilot is a local guy I use when I’m avoiding. He keeps his mouth shut and takes my cash. And that’s all you can ask for. I park the truck in the small lot and open the door. Sasha makes no move to get out and I shake my head and sigh. “Look, none of your problems are my fault, OK? I’m your knight, kid. Me. So get your little ass out of the truck and do what I say.” That look again. It’s just a flash but it has me worried. She’s got something to say but she’s holding it in. I let her keep her silence for now because Harrison is coming out of the small building and pointing to the jet off to the left. We meet up halfway to the plane and shoot the shit while Sasha looks off in the distance. His jet is nice, not big, but nice. He uses it to shuttle people from Denver over to some famous golf course up north a little ways. We all climb the steps and then he closes things up and starts his pre-flight stuff. Sasha settles in the bucket seat across from me and stares out the window again. A few minutes later we take off and then I get up to grab some drinks from the cooler. I hand her an OJ and she takes it, shakes it, twists open the cap and swigs it down like she’s starving. “Hungry?” I ask her. “What do you think?” she sneers. I shrug and drink my own OJ for a few seconds. “You had a pile of pheasant feathers on the ground. So I assumed you were eating well.” She shakes her head and huffs out some air through her nose. “What?” I feel like I’m missing something. “What’s got you so disgusted?” She shoots me a deadly look and I raise my eyebrows at her, a warning she either misses or could

care less about. “So Merc called you, huh?” I squint at her. “Yeah.” “You sure about that?” “Yeah.” “OK,” she says as she turns her head away. “Why?” She knows something. I’m sure of it now. “How’d he sound?” She looks back at me. “Merc?” Yeah, she’s trying to trap me. “It was a text.” “So how’d you know it was him?” “Because we got a system, kid. That’s how.” “You sure about that system?” I smile at her and nod. “School me, midget.” “Funny,” she says. But she’s the one who’s smiling now and it’s making me nervous. “Your cute nicknames for me. It almost makes me feel like you care.” “Don’t jump the gun there. I’m just the delivery man.” “Well, I find that hard to believe, since you don’t even know who sent you to pick me up.” “It was Merc,” I say through clenched teeth. “Sure, if you say so. But the last time I talked to Merc was in March. He’s my emergency contact, you know. You’re no one special. So I called him to tell him my grandparents were dead and since Ford put him in charge of me because he got my dad killed on Christmas Eve, it was his job to help me out. And you wanna know what he said to me?” Her eyes are tearing up so my answer to that question is no. Not really. But she doesn’t wait for an answer. “He said, ‘Suck it up, crybaby. I’m busy. If you can’t manage on your own, there’s a school for Company orphans up in Montana. I’ll let them know you’re coming.’” She stares at me. Hard. And I get a sick feeling in my stomach. “Who sent me?” “Wouldn’t you like to know.” We unbuckle our seatbelts at the same time and she’s standing in the aisle before I’m done. She’s a quick little fucker. I get up slowly and take a step towards her. It’s a stalk, complete with narrowed eyes, like she’s my prey and I’m about to take care of business. She holds her ground. “You wanna know how long I was really out there, Six? Or do you want to keep walking through life pretending you’re a good guy and all the evil you represent is normal?” I stop a few feet away and clench my jaw. I hate this fucking kid right now and I don’t think I gave her my number, but she sure the fuck knows who I am. “Whatever happened to you, that has nothing to do with me.” “No?” She swallows down her fear. And I know that’s fear. I specialize in fear. And everything about her body—from her face, to her tense muscles, to her stance—all of it says fear. “And yet here you are. With me. In a plane. Going to the wrong place. Working for the wrong man. You’ve been set up. This is a big joke and everyone but you is laughing.” I grab her by the throat and push her to the floor. “Hey!” Harrison calls. “Not here, Tet. No kids get hurt on my ride.” I let her go, walk back to my seat, and pick up my orange juice. “How long then?” She’ll answer this question. She wants me to ask. It’s a long time, I realize now. That’s why she’s so wild. It was a long time and she’s dying for someone to know how long she’s been out there living like a savage. Sasha picks herself up from the floor and takes her seat across from me again. “Three months.” I make no move. I make no sound. I do not acknowledge her in any way. She wants accolades for surviving. And I’m not gonna hand them out for a few months of camping. She holds my stare and then looks away. I wonder if Harper is wild like this? I’ve been able to

control Harper, but she’s mine. I’m using sex to rein her in and make her submit. This one is not mine. Plus she’s way too young. She doesn’t think I’ll beat her. Kill her, maybe. But beat her, no. Kids who come from loving families are dumb like that. She’s got no fear of my fists because from what I know of her father, she was well-loved before they killed him. I’m not interested in changing that. So I won’t be hitting her. And now I can’t kill her. Because Merc was not the sender of that text. She’s not lying about that. She knows who sent me and she’s not gonna tell me if she’s dead. “I got a message too, James.” Did I tell her my name? “What’d it say?” She stares at me for a few seconds. I hold her stare. “GPS coordinates.” “Yeah, and?” I wave her on with my hand. “When I got there, there was a bunch of gear waiting. And a new phone with a text message.” She stares at me again, waiting. And I swear to God, if this kid was a man, I’d punch his face in right now. I’d break a finger for every second he made me wait. I take a deep breath. “And the message said?” “It said, I’ll send him soon. That’s it.” She’s lying. She is fucking lying. I know it. But I nod at her. Because she’s not gonna tell me shit right now. She hates my guts. “Then how’d you know I’m being set up?” “Because I got another text last night. And that one said, Tell Six she left.” The blood rushes out of my face. I get up and walk to the cockpit. “Harrison, I’m using my phone.” “I got a satellite phone right there,” he says, pointing to the bag of gear on the seat next to him. “Sorry,” I tell him as I go back to the cabin. “I need a secure line.” I punch in Harper’s number. It rings. And rings. “Hello?” God, my whole body fills up with relief. “Harp, baby, where are you?” Silence. “Harper? Can you hear me?” I get the disconnect beeps and lose the call. Shit. I redial and she picks up on the first ring. “Harper, where are you?” “Why?” she growls. Fucking girls. I change tactics, because clearly she is not happy with me. “I’m on my way back. I just want to make sure you’re OK. Safe at home.” Silence. “Harper. Tell me you’re at home.” “I’m at someone’s home. But not mine.” Fuck. I look over at Sasha and she’s smiling. Enjoying the show. “Just tell me where you are. I’ll be there soon to pick you up.” Harper hesitates and then gives in. “I’m in the desert. In front of a green house. Is that your house? The address that was sent to your phone the other night. You know, that night you left me.” “Calm down, soldier.” I’m the one smiling at Sasha now. Brat. “Fuck, I’m so relieved. You’re sneaky and I’m not happy that you didn’t stay put. But I’m glad you’re there because at least you’re safe.” “I’m not there and I’m not safe,” she snaps. “I’m lying under a bush across the street, watching for people. I’m so paranoid, my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest.” She takes a breath and I realize she’s scared. “And I went for my pills and do you know what I found?” Fuck. “Candy!” she screams. “You changed my pills out with candy! You asshole!” I hold the phone away from my ear and look over at Sasha. She’s back to being the smiling one now. “Harper,” I say calmly. “No one is coming to that house, OK? It’s a safe place and I want you inside. So get up off the ground.” I wait but I don’t hear movement. “Are you getting up?” There’s some shuffling and then she says, “I’m up.”

“OK, now walk across the street, open the gate, and go into the garage.” I give her a few minutes to walk up the long driveaway. The gate closes, then the side door to the garage squeaks as she opens it. “OK.” “There’s a key in the tailpipe of the car. A small silver one. Use it to go inside the house and wait for me. If you’re scared or you have trouble there’s guns in the trunk. They’re all loaded with a cartridge in the chamber. So be mindful.” Silence. “Harper?” “Got the key,” she says with a trembling voice. “How soon will you be here?” Oh, she’s so scared. I feel terrible but I do not want her getting any ideas about taking those pills again. “Soon, OK? I’m only a few hours away. So very soon. You gonna be OK?” She sniffs. “Yes.” “I miss you,” I say, turning away from Sasha’s sneer. “I can’t wait to see you again. And I’m glad you’re not back at the beach. You’re fine right where you are, it’s no big deal.” She’s silent on the other end. “You sure you’re OK?” I prod her. It’s weird to think of her as vulnerable. The Company has done nothing but talk up how dangerous she is. And yeah, if she really applied herself, she’d give me a good fight. But she doesn’t seem all that interested in fighting. I glance over at a smirking Sasha. Unlike that wild thing. She’s out looking for an excuse to brawl. “Just take a few deep breaths. Were you followed?” “I don’t see how. There is no one out here for miles and I walked here from town. But—I’m so afraid they can see me. It’s so open out here.” “You walked?” “You’re breaking up, I’ll—” And then the line cuts us off. Fucking airplanes. I go back to the cockpit. “We’re getting off in Vegas.” Harrison grunts, so I just walk back to Sasha and take my seat. “You owe me now, James.” “I don’t owe you shit.” She smiles her I win smile and crosses her arms. “I could’ve let you go all the way back to California only to find her missing. But I didn’t. I helped you. And that means when I need it, you have to help me.” I glare at her. “Who sent me?” “I’ll give you one guess.” I don’t need one guess, because I already know. And that means he’s been watching me this whole time. But she’s wrong about one thing. I have not been set up. I made a deal and I’m seeing it through. “I’ve been set up too,” Sasha says like we’re in this together. “I’m not a player, I’m just a pawn.” “Do you know for sure who sent you out there?” “I don’t need to know who, Six. The only thing that matters is why.” “Why then?” “You,” she says. “I was sent out there for you. And where did you just come from?” I wait for it. “How likely is it that you showed up in Huntington Beach and found her waiting for you?” Jesus, this kid knows more about my job than I do. “But you’re OK with this setup.” I watch her face, but she’s good. Or she’s psycho like the rest of us and the lies pour out second nature. “I’m as OK with it as you are. Unless, of course, you haven’t figured it out yet and I’m telling you something you don’t know.” “Then what’s your plan?” I ask, ignoring her dig, because I don’t know. I’m off balance a little.

After my last job I was not… all there. I failed the debrief psych evaluation. I lost a little bit of time. I lost… a little bit of me, maybe. “Wait it out and see what happens. Just like you.” She smiles and her perfect white teeth gleam in a stray beam of sunlight. She looks harmless like that. If you disregard her ratty hair and mismatched ALCO clothes. “I know who set you up,” I say through a curled lip. “So let’s not pretend.” God, this girl. I’m starting to feel some serious hate for her. “You only know what they tell you.” “And you know more?” “Yeah. Because I’m a kid. And you know what? All you guys have ignored me for so long, I don’t exist. I bet you don’t even remember meeting me, do you? You only saw my father’s guns that day.” I search my memory. “I was never in Cheyenne. Sorry, Smurf.” “No, but you were in Boise that year I turned nine. You bought four FN Five-SeveNs and two thousand rounds of cartridges. That was a nice paycheck for us. We bought that cabin. You know, the one where my father was killed?” I just stare at her. “I remember all the hunters, James. All of them. And you can tell yourself that Ford is just like you. But you’re wrong. He’s not.” My whole body heats up with anger now. Fuck this kid. “He made me kill my brother. Did you know that? He cashed in a debt Merc owed him. For you, Sasha. Everything that’s happened to me this year, all that shit that made me unstable in the eyes of the Company? That’s all your fault.” She swallows hard because I’m not James right now, I’m Tet. Number Six. “So if I were you, I’d shut my fucking trap and become invisible. Because you don’t want this kind of attention from me.”

Chapter Three - Harper I trace my finger down the body of the vehicle. It’s not a car I’ve ever seen. It’s not open-topped, like the Jeeps everyone drives near my old beach. My fingers catch in a logo on the side of the dusty black body. I bend down and squint my eyes in the dark. Hummer. I’ve heard of those. I would probably not be able to drive this thing since I have never actually driven anything bigger than a golf cart on land, but I know how to work a trunk at least. I walk around back and open the cargo area. It’s smaller than it looks from the outside, but then I notice it’s been modified with some kind of storage system. Two long shallow tubs are hidden underneath the false floor of the back. I pull one out and it’s filled with gear. First-aid kit. Basic hygiene things. Other things I can’t identify, but it looks like a bug-out kit to me. Nick had one. Hell—I laugh as I shift my pack against my side—I have one. Only this one in the back of the Hummer looks… legitimate. Mine’s filled with cut-off shorts and tank tops. An extra pair of flip flops and some hair ties. I push the bin back in and pull out the second one. Inside are two guns, like two dozen boxes of ammo, and extra magazines. James said the guns are loaded with a round in the chamber. I know what that means. Dangerous. We had guns on the ship. Lots of guns. But I have never so much as touched one. I am a hand-to-hand kind of fighter. Yeah, they could pick me off with a bullet. But I’ve always figured that anyone who kills the Admiral’s daughter is gonna end up dead sooner rather than later. So I’ve never worried too much about being so inept with weapons. But now? I’m not so sure that my familial relationship is a benefit. Still, how hard could it be? As long as I don’t accidentally shoot myself. I take one and stuff it in the waistband of my shorts like I’ve seen the guards wear them on the ship. I don’t want to shoot this gun. I don’t even want to hold this gun. But it’s stupid not to have it on me when it’s available. James said he’ll be here soon and even though my hands are shaking from fighting the panic, the thought of him being so close is calming all by itself. I push the bin back in but it stops before it reaches the end. Something’s in the way. I pull the gun bin all the way back out and set it on top of the cargo area. A notebook is flattened up against the back. I peer into the darkness as I make sense of what I’m seeing. Hello Kitty. My heart begins to beat faster. A pink Hello Kitty notebook. Worn and bent. Like it’s been through hell. Like it’s seen things. My hands are shaking as I pull it out and take it over to the side door where I came in. The sunlight reaches it and the familiar cartoon hits me so hard, I almost fall over. This is my notebook. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, open the dirty cover, and try to come to terms with what I’m seeing. A drawing. In pink crayon. I turn the book sideways so I can see it clearly and my heart thumps out of rhythm. A harp. I turn the page and there is sloppy printed handwriting in pencil that’s too faded to read in the dim light. I take a moment to allow the significance to sink in. He… James… is someone I know. I push the bin back in the cargo area, close the back door, and exit the garage, walking quickly over to the back porch of the prefabricated house. I step lightly up the stairs, shove the house key into the lock

and open the door. The air-conditioning is on full blast and the cold air assaults me and takes my breath away for a moment. There’s a cell phone on the counter and it’s flashing an icon on the screen. Was someone just here? I close the door behind me. How hard can it be to shoot a loaded gun? Just pull a trigger, right? The gun and the notebook trade places in an instant. “I’ll shoot you, whoever you are!” I yell. I hold the gun with the barrel pointing up. I might not’ve ever shot a gun before, but I’ve seen how it’s done. I know how our guards carried them. I’m in the kitchen. It’s newly remodeled and open to the dining and living room, which only has a few pieces of furniture, so I know that no one is in this room with me. I stalk along the wall towards the bedrooms, checking each one, and each closet. I check the bathrooms, the pantry, the front porch, and a small coat closet. No one. I’m totally alone. I go back to the phone on the counter with a little relief, and then press the home button to wake it up. Someone was in here. The flashing icon is there and it says New Message. I press the tab and a text message pops up. We’ll talk soon. Don’t forget why this is happening. There’s a little icon at the end of the text that looks like it might be a mushroom. And that’s it. I grab the phone and hold it to my chest. Is this Nick? Was he here? Someone had to drop this phone off. Oh, I’m so happy! I run to the front door and throw it open. I want to scream his name. I know he’s not gonna come back to me now, not if he left me this message, but I want to scream out how much I love and miss him so he’ll know. But I catch myself and stay silent. I need to hold it together. It’s so close—the worst year of my life is almost over. I just need to hold it together a little longer. So I lift my hand and pretend he’s walking down the driveway and I wave to my imaginary brother. And then I go back inside, close the door, lock it, and slump down to the cool tile floor and let the tears out. After almost a year of missing him, he was here. I read the message over and over and over again. I read it thirty times at least. God, I’m grinning from top to bottom, that’s how happy this message makes me. And even though I want to save it so I can read it again, I erase the message and start checking the phone. There are no calls or contacts. But there’s one picture in the photo album. And that makes my heart beat fast again, but not out of happiness. At first glance it just looks like a picture of Nick and I, playing on a beach. I know the beach, not the exact name, but I know where it was. The Caribbean. Which means it was our birthday. Because we spent every birthday in the Caribbean until we were sixteen. But in this picture we are young. Six. I know this because there’s balloons tied to the thatched-roof cabana in the background and they all have sixes on them. Sixes. Which is funny, almost. I mean it could be. If that wasn’t a teenage James sitting in the sand with me, holding a Hello Kitty notebook in his hand as I bury his feet in the sand. I get up and dart to the kitchen where I left the notebook. I can’t take my eyes off it for a few moments because the memories come flooding in. How in the world did I not recognize him? “Do you like your present?” He’s holding the pink notebook so the sand doesn’t get all over it. I just smile and nod as I continue my task of burying him in the sand. “What’s your name?” the man asks. I look up at him and grin. “You have to guess. That’s the rules.”

“Jane,” he says. I just laugh. “Pete.” This time I giggle uncontrollably. “Pete! That’s not a name for a girl!” “Just tell me, no one will know.” I shake my head at him. I know which rules can be broken and which ones can’t, and giving out my name is a no-no. “The Admiral said we can be friends.” My dad did say that. I heard him. But that’s not enough to break the rules. No names. That is the number one rule. Only codes. But codes are even more secret than names. I will get a whipping if I give out my code to anyone. But if no one knows my name or my code, then why bother having them? “This is my party,” I tell the man to change the subject. He’s staring at me and his eyes are so green, I stare back. We are both being rude, but I can’t help it. It’s like a pretty fish when I’m snorkeling. The pretty ones can sting you, that’s what Nick says. I’m not supposed to touch anything pretty under the water. But that lionfish was so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself. “I’ve been stung before,” I tell the man, as I continue with my task of covering him with sand. He frowns at me. “By what?” “Jellyfish mostly. On my feet. I step on them sometimes. But”—I hold up the tip of my finger and he squints at it—“the lionfish get me here.” I grin at him but he’s not smiling. “I touch them.” This man’s eyes are pretty like the lionfish. “Why in the world would you touch—” “I’m six today,” I tell him so he won’t think too much about the lionfish. I like to touch them. I want to feel them. And the stings don’t always hurt. I’ve been stung four times, but I’ve touched a lot of lionfish. I don’t always get stung. I know which parts to avoid now. “I know,” he says back in that deep rumbling voice. His body relaxes. “I’m Six today too.” I tilt my head and stare at his green eyes as I continue to pile sand on his feet. Most grownups don’t want to play with me, and I’ve never had a hunter even look at me before. But he’s not a hunter yet. Today is a special day for him too. I stand up and run over to grab a stick near my towel and then dart down to the wet sand. The tide is going down and this is the best time to draw. When the tide is coming in, it erases your pictures. But when it’s going out, they stay until the sun bakes them and the wind makes the picture shift back into nothing but ripples. I fall to my knees as I get to the water’s edge and then look over my shoulder. He’s watching me carefully. “I’m going to draw you a picture!” I yell back at him. He nods and smiles as my father walks up and sits down next to him. I know they are talking about me, but I don’t care. I’m drawing a picture. I draw notes first. I read piano so I can make all kinds of notes. I copy the song I was writing last week. It’s a simple one, but it’s a sweet melody that I’ve been humming for weeks before I decided to write it down in notes. I draw the piano next. And me, playing it. I draw a guitar and a violin. And my dad comes over to see what I’m doing and not breaking any rules before he leaves. I look over my shoulder as my dad walks away with the green-eyed hunter. My dad puts a hand on his shoulder and they talk about serious things. I can tell by the look on their faces. And then they both look at me and the hunter shakes his head. My father puts up a hand and smiles, pointing over at me, then he claps him on the back and turns away. For a minute I think that the hunter will leave with him, but he turns towards me and starts walking.

My stick begins drawing out the final instrument as he stands over me. “That’s a nice picture.” I look up and he’s shielding his eyes from the sun as he studies me. “It’s for you. A present.” “What’s your name?” he asks me again. “Lionfish,” I answer back, giggling. “That’s my hunter name, what’s yours?” He laughs with me now and tsks his tongue. I’m not allowed to ask these things, but he’s not either. And he did anyway. “You made that up.” “So make one up,” I challenge him back. “You remind me of sea grass so I will call you sea grass.” “Sea grass! How boring.” “But…” I can’t stop my smile. My cheeks get all hot. He squats down next to me now and his gaze falls over my drawing. My heart beats a little faster. I wonder if he can see my secret? I want him to see it. I want him to guess. But I don’t want to be caught giving out such important information. So I keep talking. “But your eyes are green like the sea grass. And I saw a manatee yesterday eating sea grass. You remind me of that.” He lowers the hand he’s been using as a sun shield and I can’t stop looking at him. “And your eyes are amber, like the lionfish.” Amber… I’ve never heard of that color before. I will have to look it up. “Sister!” Nick calls from down the beach. I lean to the side so I can see around the hunter and spy my brother. He’s not happy. “What?” I call back. Why is he mad? “It’s time for cake,” Nick says as he runs up and grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. He glares at my new friend as I’m tugged away. But a few feet up the beach I turn back and catch the hunter standing up to follow us. “Don’t forget your present!” I yell at him. He has a puzzled expression and then glances down at the sand drawing and smiles. I hope he never forgets that present. Because I want him to remember me.

Chapter Four - Harper I drew him a harp. Right in the middle of all the other instruments. This makes me smile even though so much shit’s going wrong in my life right now. Finding out that James is the man from the beach all those years ago is gonna require a lot of thinking on my part. How do I feel about that? What are his intentions? I have a lot of questions but right now I allow myself to smile. When I finally told him my name out there under the pier, it was a very special moment for him. A moment he’d waited almost thirteen years for. And it felt special to me too. He’d smiled. I like it, he’d said. And back when we turned Six, James stayed that whole day for my party. He sat across from me at the table. He clapped when Nick and I blew out our candles. He handed me another present when we were alone later. A set of colored pencils to draw in my new notebook. That night I drew a picture and I wished the green-eyed man Happy Six Day. I hope you’ll be my friend, I wrote at the end in my childish handwriting. The next morning he was gone. And so was my notebook. I cried for days over that loss. Even though my six-year-old self could not understand why, my eighteen-year-old-self can. I fell in love with him that day on the beach. Maybe it was only a childhood crush, but it felt real. My mind wanders back to my father during this period. He left James with Nick and me all day. We didn’t even have a nanny, just James. And later, after we were back on the ship and the celebrations were coming to a close, Nick was carried off to our room after falling asleep on the observation deck. But James stayed behind with me. Just a few more minutes. That’s all we had. James spent the entire day with me. We turned Six together. I hold the notebook, praying to whomever is in charge of wish-granting that there is something inside this notebook. Something more than this little drawing by me. And for once, as I turn the page, my wish is granted. I almost have a moment of regret. Like I used up something special asking for the handwriting inside this book. But then I read the first page and I know, if I’m never granted another wish in my life, it was worth it. Because it says… Dear Lionfish, I hope you had a happy Six Day. I stole your gift. You’ll probably cry when you find it missing tomorrow, so I’m sorry about that. But I need your innocent words to remind me why I do what I do. Why I will become what I will become. And why I had to tell your father no. I hope one day you’ll understand. There is no name, but at the bottom of the page he says: P.S. I’ve been thinking about it and sea grass is still pretty boring. But I might like to give boring a try. James. How could I have forgotten him? I knew he felt familiar, and one day twelve years ago is not grounds for remembering. But all the things that made him special to me that day made him special to me under the pier too. There’s so many things to process with this one short note, but then I flip the page and find more. And more, and more, and more. Every page of this notebook is filled with his block-style handwriting. The entire book is nothing but uncensored James. I flip back to the second entry and read the date. My birthday. One year later. There’s a picture of me stuck between the pages, taken from a distance from the blurriness, but it’s clear enough to make me smile.

I had on a floppy orange hat. I remember it so well. It was made out of denim and I thought was the coolest thing. Add in my white sunglasses and my green bathing suit and I was a statement in secondgrade fashion. Dear Lionfish, I guess I have to watch you from a distance since I turned down the Admiral last year. But that’s OK. I’m used to it. Everything I do in life is from a distance. And since I’m only seventeen, I’ve got a lot of long-distance living ahead of me. I hope your year has gone better than mine. I’m glad you have no idea what really happens in this world, because I’d die a little inside if you knew. My little sister is gone. My mother had a breakdown, and my father ignores us. My first eight assassinations are history. I was shot twice, tortured once, left for dead, and rescued. I guess the only thing that matters this year was the rescue. I appreciate the rescue. They tell us not to get attached to each other. The other hunters are not supposed to be our friends. Never, ever has a face looked so friendly as One’s when he came to get me. And now I have a debt I might not be able to pay. Your friend, Six There is another date and another entry the next year. Dear Lionfish, I need to get this out in case you ever read this. I didn’t come here to spy on you from afar. I was ordered by your father. It seems he has a hard time accepting no for an answer. So my assignment is to sit in this restaurant and watch you play on the beach. I’m good and drunk right now, so I apologize for my sloppy writing. But accepting someone’s daughter as payment is more than even my assassin’s soul can handle. I do not want you. I will never want you. Six Good God, I didn’t expect resentment. I close the book and all those happy thoughts I had a minute ago are gone. He doesn’t want me. My heart beats fast again and I take a few deep breaths to calm it. Harper, be reasonable, that inner voice says. That was a long time ago. He was very young. Eighteen. He was eighteen that year. Not a kid anymore. And not a novice assassin either. I take the book over to the couch and settle back against the plush light green cushions. He has a thing for green. The house is the same color outside. I open the book to the fourth entry. My birthday three years later. Dear Lionfish, Once again, your asshole father sentences me to baby-watching. Once again you play on the beach. And once again I sit here and think about how many people are dead this year because of me. Ten. Ten more people added to my tally. You’re still a cute little blonde girl. How old now, nine? I’m nineteen. A fucking man. You know what I was doing for my last birthday? Take one guess. This year I was invited to a private island. Right across from the one you’re on. Your father left me binoculars and I resisted watching you for almost the entire day. But the islands are not that far apart and I heard your squealing laughter when they brought out the cake. And now I can’t take my eyes off you. I don’t want you. No amount of innocent smiles will make me love you. Because you are everything wrong with this dirty, dark fucked-up life I live. Six

I have to swallow down the bile rising up from my stomach as I finish. Surely he didn’t feel this way every year. Did he? Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Dear Lionfish Seven years pass and with each letter, the words are more venomous and hateful. But the last entry is not addressed to me and it was not on my birthday. It’s dated a few months ago. Dear Amber, Let every life I take in your name be the proof of my love. James I don’t know why, but the fact that he signed his name James instead of Six hurts more than the love part. Because this Amber person meant something to him. More than me, that’s for sure. I disgust him. My age especially—he made that clear in letter after letter. When he told me back in Huntington that he was not bothered by my age, I knew he was lying. But this? This is much more than being bothered. It’s almost… repulsion. I’m just a lionfish. What did he say to me back in Huntington? The pretty girl with the poison daggers poking through her skin. That’s how he sees me. For real. He’s here for one of two reasons. To take me back to my father or to take me for himself. And I’m not sure I like either option. Because from the way it’s looking, he’s got no real feelings for me beyond what I can do for him. I’m just a way forward into revenge. I think back to the message from Nick. We’ll talk soon, he’d said. Nick is the one I trust. Not James. And if Nick knows where I am, then I’m not in any danger from James. Nick would not leave me some place to get hurt. He’d give me instructions to follow and get me to safety. So, if he didn’t give me bug-out instructions, I need to stay put. I stick the little notebook in my pocket. I really do not want to have that conversation with James. At all. I don’t want to hear the excuses. I don’t want to hear the fake promises he has ready for me, should I stop being compliant. I don’t want to watch his face when he lies. He will lie. I’ve always known he was lying, didn’t I? I’ve always felt it. And when he does lie… I reach into my pants and pull out the gun. I’ll be ready.

Chapter Five - James I hate this kid. Most of the time I’m OK with kids. I sorta like them. If I wasn’t a killer, and my children wouldn’t become property like I did, then yeah, I might have a kid. But this Sasha girl. I have nothing. No feelings whatsoever. And that’s weird, because a few hours ago I felt sorry for her. I bought her some clothes. I picked some leaves out of her hair. Like I was on my way to caring. Or at the very least, giving more than zero fucks about her. But not anymore. Because she’s lying. She’s lying and even though I can guess what she’s hiding, I don’t like having to guess. I like being in on the plan. So I’m pissed about the lying—and she shot an arrow at me. I’m still sorta pissed about that too. “Fucking kid.” “Fucking hunter,” she snaps back. “You’re like ten years old. No swearing.” “Fourteen.” “Twelve.” “Thirteen.” She’s pushing my buttons on purpose now, sitting on the other side of the aisle. It’s only a fivepassenger plane, so she’s not that far away. A few feet. But the gulf of hostility between us seems insurmountable. Her eyes are wide and alert, her body posture tense and ready for an attack. And I don’t blame her for that because if we weren’t up in a plane, I’d be choking the life out of her until she gave up her secret. But I need Harrison. I do not have time to find and vet another pilot. Especially since Merc is busy. He’s my go-to for off-the-books shit like that. “Almost there, folks,” Harrison calls from the front. Just keep cool, Tet. Just keep cool until you get her alone. Then all bets are off. I might not have ever killed a little girl before, but there’s a first time for everything. I crack my knuckles. “I’ll fight back,” she says, just loud enough so I can hear but Harrison cannot. “I won’t let you get me.” I nod but stare out the window closest to me, not meeting her gaze. “I’m shaking, kid. Quaking in my fucking boots.” “You should be.” I laugh a little at her arrogance. “They always laugh at first.” I look over for that little crack and she smiles like she’s won. “You think you’re me? You think that half-assed training your father provided is equal to me?” Her face scrunches up when I mention her father. “You’re nothing, Sasha. Nothing but another girl to be sold. A piece of property. Your father killed himself out there that day. He was caught doing all sorts of—” She hurls herself across the aisle at me, her hands reaching for my throat. “Shut up!” she screams. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I’m trying to untangle her when she’s thrown across the aisle and back into her seat by Harrison. “You,” he says, pointing a gun at her. “Sit your fucking ass down on my plane or I’ll tie you up.” “Fucking kid,” I mumble. “And you.” Harrison points the gun at me now and I lift an eyebrow. He does not flinch. “I know what you are. But you’re dead without me to land this thing. So keep your hate to yourself until you get off my fucking plane.” He’s right. If Sasha and I want to kill each other, then we need him to put us back on the ground first.

I look over at her and she’s looking out her window, crying silently. I can only tell by the erratic inand-out pattern of her breathing and the abrupt rise and fall of her chest. I look out my window as well, happy to see the familiar desert below. This is where we go. The North American hunters. When we need time, or space, or help… we seek out the desert. I know Merc has a few places in the desert. It’s the heat, I think. People hate it—hell, I hate it. But it’s refreshing. I like the burn. The dryness too. It envelops me. It dehydrates me. We’re landing in Jean, not Las Vegas. It’s about thirty miles south. We stop here all the time. It’s cheaper to fuel up here, fly to LA or San Diego, then stop again on the way back to Colorado. I wish I could say that I didn’t travel this route all that often, but over the past year, this flight plan is as familiar as the desert below. I don’t like to think about this year. Nothing good happened this year. It’s been an endless stream of killing. One after the other after the other. And all of them were people I knew. “Seatbelts,” Harrison barks from the front. “We’ll be on the ground in three minutes.” I fasten my belt and the familiar click across the aisle tells me that Sasha does the same. She’s more in control. Her sadness, or anger, or frustration—whatever the fuck’s driving her right now—is tucked away for another time. And I’m with her. My anger is gone too. In its place is just the guilt. And hate. Not for her, or any of the other people on this earth who deserve my hate. But for myself. How many dead bodies does it take for an assassin to grow a conscience? The landing is smooth and the deceleration quick enough to make me struggle to keep my body pressed against the seat. But all of this—the flight, the pilot, the landing, the destination—it’s familiar and I like it. We taxi towards the terminal and I unbuckle my seatbelt and walk up to Harrison. “Hey,” I say as I clap his shoulder. He flinches. And that kills me. That he thinks I’d come up here to hurt him. Maybe Harrison and I aren’t friends, but I’d like to think he trusts me a little more than that. “Sorry for the trouble, OK? We’re good still, right?” “Yeah, sure,” he says. But I know that answer. It’s not good at all. “I mean, look, Harrison, I might need another ride. Ya know? So I need us to be good.” He turns to look at me, then glances down the aisle towards Sasha. I look too, but she’s hidden from view. She’s still huddled up against the window back there. “She’s a little girl, Tet. Treat her like one.” I shake my head and squeeze his shoulder. “She’s not, Harrison. She’s not a little girl. She’s very dangerous.” He starts to turn away, so I add what he needs to hear. “But I’ll do my best to remember what she used to be.” He nods a little, but he doesn’t look at me again. “I’m gonna check into the Gold Strike for a few days. You have my number if you need it.” And then he stands up, pushes me back into the aisle, and starts opening the door to let us out. “Let’s go,” I call to Sasha. She unbuckles herself and stands up. I wave her forward to exit ahead of me, but she shakes her head. No trust. I go first and shake Harrison’s hand on the tarmac. Sasha, to my surprise, does the same. She says, “Thank you,” in a very polite little-girl way that makes me wonder. Is that all she is? Or is she the killer I imagine her to be? She walks up next to me and her gaze finds my face. “Now what?” I slide my shades down to cover my eyes and then blow out a breath of air. I don’t want to think about what’s next. I just need to forget for a day. “What do you need, Sasha?”

“Huh?” I turn and start walking towards the casino. She follows. “Are you hungry?” She almost snorts. “Hungry?” She laughs again. “I’m wondering how long I have to live. The last thing on my mind is the breakfast buffet at the Gold Strike.” “OK,” I say, giving up. “We’re going home then.” She laughs at that word too. And it’s absurd, right? Home. It’s not my home, it’s not her home. It’s just a place I keep in the desert to dry out after the kill. A place where the sun can bake the dirt off my skin and boil away the bad blood. “I have no home, James Fenici. I have nothing. I’m here because other people control my destiny. I have no free will, or opinions, or dreams. I exist only for orders. Right now, your orders. Is that what you’re looking for? Is that what you want? Obedience? Surrender?” “You wanna walk away?” I stop and look back at her, raising my sunglasses so she can see my eyes. “There’s the fucking door. Ya can’t miss it.” I pan my arm out towards the desert across the 15 freeway. “I’m just the delivery guy, Sasha.” “That sounds like a declaration of innocence, to me. Or at the very least, non-affiliation. And we both know that’s about as far from the truth as you can get. You’re nothing if not affiliated, James. You’re nothing if not guilty.” “Whatever,” I say, giving in and letting her win. “Let’s just find our ride.” My heart’s not in the fight anymore. My heart’s tired of fighting. I turn and continue walking towards the Gold Strike Casino and I don’t look back. But when the doors whoosh open, the little Smurfette follows me inside. We get about ten paces before security stops me. “What?” I ask, annoyed. The guy is big, bald, and has a look to him that says professional. He nods behind me so I turn. Sasha is peeking around another equally professional-looking guard. “I can’t come in!” she says in an uneven voice. So she is a kid. The little brat isn’t as cool as she seems. “All right,” I tell the guard. “Sorry, I’m not used to having her around. I just forgot. We’re hitting the buffet anyway.” I backtrack, pluck her by the shirt, and steer her to the right where the restaurant is. We don’t wait to be seated because there’s a sign that says, Seat Yourself, and I choose a booth that faces the front of the casino. Sasha slides in her side of the booth and I grab two menus from behind the salt-and-pepper shakers and flop one down in front of her. “I’m not hungry.” “You’re a bad liar, Sasha. Besides, you hinted on the plane you’ve been starving for months. So cut the martyr act and pick some food.” The waitress comes a few minutes later and I order myself a coffee and her an orange juice, then go back to the menu. “What’re you getting?” I get the silent treatment, so I lower my menu to look her. Her eyebrows are knitted together so tightly I have to laugh. “Just choose some breakfast.” “I thought you were in a hurry to get home.” Her accent on the word is meant to be mocking. But you don’t need to be a mind-reader to understand that’s longing and not contempt. “We need a ride. I can’t call a taxi from around here, they’d remember us. I can’t steal a car, we’re lying low. And we can’t walk, it’s too far. So we gotta wait for the right opportunity. And that won’t be for another few hours.” The waitress comes with our drinks and Sasha gulps hers down as I order the buffet for both of us. “Might as well fill up before we go.” “What opportunity are we waiting for?” Sasha asks as she sets down her empty orange juice and wipes her mouth.

I smile at her. “Patience, Smurfette. Watch and learn from the master. Come on.” We scoot out and go grab food from the buffet. Say what you want about Vegas, but these people know how to do up the allyou-can-eat buffet. Sasha gets a plate of everything. I’ve never seen a kid eat so much in my life. Actually, this girl gives every grown man in the place a run for his money. She goes back for fourths. But it passes the time until a little past two a group of loud old ladies come in. Ready to chow down after a day of bingo and slots. Sasha catches me watching them and kicks me under the table. “Don’t stare at them.” I empty my fourth cup of coffee and throw a twenty down on the table. “Come on, that’s our cue.” “What cue?” She stays sitting, but I get up and walk away. If she’s gonna hang around she needs to learn to follow. She’s been on her own too long, and that’s not good. She’s rogue. And that’s worse. Because if she’s not trying to get me killed with her secrets and setups, then she’s valuable to me and I might keep her around. But only if she can follow directions. The last thing I need is Soldier Smurf going AWOL when I need her the most. I get all the way to the front door before I hear her flip flops behind me. One tick mark for keeping Sasha. “Hurry up,” I say over my shoulder as I slide my shades back down. The heat outside is well into triple digits and it blasts my face like I’m standing in front of an inferno. No humidity like the beach. No biting wind like this morning in Colorado. Just breath-stealing desert heat. “We gotta go around back. That’s where they keep them.” “Keep what?” she asks, as she skips a little to keep up with me. “Just go along, OK? I got this.” We walk around the building and I search the long line of busses, looking at the name plates above the front windshield. I sigh with relief when I see it. Sandy Valley Community Center. I chose Sandy Valley for a base house for two reasons. It’s cheap. And it’s got a shitload of old ladies who love to gamble. Almost every day they pile in a bus and come out here in the early morning. They get tired and grab lunch, then head back on the bus so they can get home in time to take the afternoon nap. I knock on the door and the driver whooshes it open. “Help you?” I dig in my wallet and pull out a Sandy Valley Community Center Transport card. Then point to Sasha. “My kid sister’s coming too.” He looks at my card, squinting at it a little. It’s legit. The city recreation manager is a Company employee. Well, was. She’s dead now. And while I might be the only guy on the planet who has a card like this, the dude cannot find any good reason to tell me no. So he just shrugs and hands it back. “Welcome aboard. Take any seat you want.” Sasha and I hop up the steps and I have a little moment of pride when she does not automatically take the last seat in the back, but instead takes one that faces the aisle. You sit in the back and everyone sees your face straight on. But if you sit in the aisle, they only see your profile. Her dad was a good teacher and I’d hate to have to kill her. But I will if I have to and the more she obeys, the higher her chances of survival climb. A little while later the old ladies come back. They are all pretty spry for their age and don’t need help or anything. But since we’re taking up two seats that weren’t filled on the way out here, I stand and let a grandma have my seat. It’s a thirty-minute drive back into Sandy Valley, and from there it’s a three-mile hike outside of town to my little patch of desert. We head south, Sasha complaining the whole way. And by this time the afternoon sun is brutal. I stop at the edge of an empty expanse of acreage and shield my eyes. “We can cut off about half a mile if we walk through the desert instead of the streets. Come on, we’ll be there in like

twenty minutes.” I head out into the scrub, my boots kicking up sand and dirt, but when I glance back, she’s still back there on the sidewalk. “What?” I shout at her. She’s been good since breakfast and right now I need her to stay that way. I’m not in the mood for this kid shit. “Let’s fucking go!” She lifts her foot and waggles it around. “Flip flops, James. You are out of your fucking mind if you think I’m crossing that desert in flip flops.” I walk back to her and grab her by the shoulder. “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. Now let’s go.” “No,” she says, wiggling free. “There’s rattlesnakes. If I get bit by a rattlesnake you’ll either have to leave me out here to die or rush me to a hospital for antivenin. And something tells me you’re not in the mood to blow our cover to save my life. Because a teenager who’s been missing for months coming into the emergency room with a rattlesnake bite a thousand miles away from home will definitely make the news. So excuse me for not having more faith in you, but that’s how I’m rolling right now. I am not”—she crosses her arms in front of her chest—“walking across that desert in flip flops.” I just stare at her. For several seconds. She shifts her stance, puts her hand on her hip, and puckers her lips as she shakes her head. This is her limit today. Not the actual rattlesnake bite, but the possibility that getting bit will blow her cover. And mine. And that I can respect. “OK,” I say with a smile. A smile that might have a touch of pride in it. “You win. But we’re still cutting across—” “No!” “—the desert. But I’ll piggy-back you. How’s that?” She looks down and laughs. I turn my back to her and she hops on. Her flip flops fall off immediately, so I bend down and she scoops them up. And we walk. She talks in my ear for a little while. About how Bugs Bunny always sees a mirage when he’s in the desert and have I ever seen a mirage? She talks about the heat, guesses the temperature, and what time the sun might go down. And I wonder about that as well. Because we’ll be home before sundown and maybe, if I’m lucky, Harper and I will have that moment to ourselves. God, I miss that girl so bad now that I know she’s so close. And after about ten minutes of this, Sasha falls silent. Her head’s heavy on my shoulder, her body limp in my hands, her arms loosen around my neck. I’m sweating like crazy and I’m sure she’s soaked too. But she’s asleep. Out here in the hundred-degree heat with a man she met this morning. I sigh a little. Because I know she’s caught in the web of lies the Company is telling. Just like me and Merc. Just like Harper and Nick. We’re all caught in the web. And the more we struggle the harder it becomes to escape. As I move forward I can see the crappy little prefabricated green house in the distance. It’s nothing special. But for now, it’s home. There’s no one in this neighborhood. It looks like there were once houses and stuff out there, back in the sixties maybe. There’s some sort of playground across the street from me— the only thing left is a metal slide and a swing set with one crooked swing. But the area also looks like everything was razed. Like someone decided it needed a do-over, cleared it down to the dust, and then forgot all about their grand plans. The lots are big, far apart, and the driveways are long. So even if people did still live out here, we’d have some privacy. Not much, because there are no trees, just scrub desert. Enough though. I set Sasha down as we reach the cracked and buckling sidewalk. She’s quiet. Her ten-minute nap was just enough to subdue her fiery temperament, but not enough to make her enthusiastic about reaching a place that’s not home. But I’m excited. I smile a little to myself as we walk up the dirty driveway. The sun hasn’t set yet, got a few hours left probably. Enough time to tackle Harper and take her into the bedroom.

I positively grin at that thought. And then Sasha and I reach the porch, climb the concrete steps, and I’m just about to reach for the screen door when it’s kicked open and the barrel end of a gun presses against my temple. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Chapter Six - Harper I press the gun against his skin as I play my next move in my head. “Harper,” James says. “It’s me.” “Pfft. I know it’s you, asshole. That’s why I have the gun.” I look over at the girl he’s with and squint at her. “Who’s she?” “Harper, lower the gun.” “No. I don’t trust—” The next thing I know¸ I’m pressed flat against the front door. “Are you gonna be good?” James asks, his face so close to mine I am forced to look him in the eyes. “Because I just piggy-backed this kid across the desert, I’m sweating my ass off, and this was not the welcome home I was expecting.” He leans into my neck and those familiar prickles are back. All those feelings he brought out in me back at the beach are rushing through my body as heat and trembling and desire. “Answer me, Lionfish.” But that? That shit snaps me back. I jab him in the ribs with my elbow, twist my foot around his calf, bend over, grab his wrists, and then throw myself backwards. He collapses back onto the porch. I wriggle free, bounce up, and then I’m about to make a grab for the gun when I realize the little girl is pointing it at both of us. “Stop,” she orders me. “You’re gonna shoot me?” “You were gonna shoot him!” she laughs. James is already up and going for her. She allows him to take the gun and then we all stand there, breathing a little too heavy, suspicion in our eyes, dripping with sweat. “What the fuck, Harper? Jesus Christ. You fucking girls. I’ve had it with your emotional bullshit.” He looks over at his partner, pushes her a little and then nods towards the door. “Get inside.” “What’d I do?” she whines. “I got the gun back!” “Just go.” She stomps off like the kid she is and then James brings that steely glare over to me. I do not give in. I am in the right here. This asshole has a lot of explaining to do. He’s not on my side. I’m a job to him. A dirty promise. A dark obsession, maybe. He tucks the gun inside his jeans and steps forward a few paces, halving the distance between us. “Don’t come any closer, James. I’m warning you.” “You’re warning me what?” he asks in a whisper. “You’ll lose all control, fall to your knees, and take my cock in your mouth?” My mouth opens into a little o-shape because I can’t hide my shock. Dirty talking might be my downfall if I don’t stop reacting. I take a deep breath and pull myself together. “That’s not going to work this time. I know who you are.” He smiles at that. Smiles. “You’re a killer, you’re a liar, you’re—” And then he’s right up next to me and my thoughts are all jumbled again. He’s hot and sweaty and normally this should just gross me out. But all I see is the beautiful. “What else?” he asks softly. His fingertips slide up my bare shoulder to caress the nape of my neck. “Tell me what else I am, Harper.” I swallow as he pulls me into his chest. “If you know me, then tell me what else I am.” “My promise. You’re my promise.” He squeezes me gently and then rests his chin on my head. “I thought you knew. All these years, I thought your father would’ve at least given you a picture. Or had you spy on me from afar.”

James’ words come out with such longing, such surprise, such… amazement. He wins again. All I hear is the beautiful. “Like you did me?” “Yeah,” he laughs. “Like that. I watched you grow up. Every year your father sent for me on your birthday. And I want you to know, Harper, that I turned him down every time. I never wanted you—” “I know you never wanted me, asshole.” Bitchy Harper is back with that admission. I pull the little notebook from my pocket and then push James off me. “Because I found this and it spelled all that out pretty clearly.” He looks at it for a few seconds and I can see his mind whirling. Because he can’t deny it. “That’s true.” He nods, agreeing with me. “Everything in that little book is true. It came from my heart.” “Your heart? You hated me!” “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t hate you, Harper. You were just a little girl caught up in this shit. How could I hate you?” I untangle myself from his embrace and step back. I need space between us. Because what he says now and what he felt then are polar opposites. How do I reconcile this? “I have your own words in here, James!” I shake the book at him and he snatches it out of my hand and flings it carelessly over the porch railing and into the dirt yard. But I am not deterred. Either I let him know I’m not some piece of clay he can mold with his dirty talk and smoldering gaze, or I’ll end up powerless to resist him. “Is lying so second nature to you that this means nothing? You don’t even sweat the fact that I have proof, I read your own words. You’re not what you say you are, yet you smooth it over with the word cock? How fucking dare—” His mouth crashes into mine. His hand fists my hair as his crushing kiss overtakes all my thoughts. “No!” I push him back, but he’s ready for me. “Stop, Harper. Forget this book, it’s nothing. It’s just confusion left over from a different guy.” “I bet you’d like that. Just forget all the nasty things you said about me. Sure. I bet all I have to do is forget that you loathed me and then rename myself Amber, right? Then you’d be all over me—” “What did you just say?” He shakes me by the shoulders as he stares down into my eyes. He’s angry now. “Answer me!” “You wrote her a sweet little letter at the end of my notebook, James. So sorry, a cock and a kiss won’t cut it because whatever you’re doing is all about her!” He opens his mouth. Then turns around and goes inside. I follow him in but he’s already down the hallway, gone from sight. A few seconds later a door slams. I look across the room at the girl and she gives me a small shrug. “He’s been moody all day. I’m sure it’s not you.” I glance back at hallway. It is me. Or at least it’s the name Amber that set him off. “But at least he didn’t threaten to kill you. He threatened me a lot today. But I forgive him. And so should you.” I look over at the girl again. “Why?” She lies down on the couch and closes her eyes, tucking her hands between her legs like the airconditioning is giving her a chill. “Because,” she says through a long yawn, “he’s all we’ve got.”

Chapter Seven - James I slam the bathroom door behind me and turn around. “Fucking hell.” I’m presented with my face in the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve looked at myself in months. And I’m sorry I chose this moment to make the reacquaintance because I look every inch a killer. My eyes are wild, my dark hair is longer than usual, and it’s got an unruly look. Like it’s putting up a resistance to the wind and the dust and the thousand miles I traveled since the last time I thought about it. And my mouth—the same mouth that can kiss Harper in that soft and tender way, so foreign to me— looks severe. There’s a crease in my brow and lines around my eyes. I punch the mirror and it cracks from the center outward. Blood drips from my hands. There has never been a moment in the last twelve years where my hands were not soiled with blood. And no amount of hot desert air will ever dry it off. Is this how Sasha saw me all day? Crazy? Am I crazy? The psych eval came back crazy. That’s why they sent me to the beach. “Unwind, James,” the Admiral said. “Relax.” And then his fucking daughter shows up. And that—that was not in the fucking plan. At least I don’t think it was in the plan. I had a blackout around that time. I can remember the order to go to the beach, but then… nothing until that day I saw Harper for the first time. I’m pretty sure the blackout time can be counted in hours, not days. But I have no real proof. Life was a blur after Tony… Adjust, the Tet voice inside me whispers. Adjust, James. Why the fuck did I write that letter to Amber? Why the fuck did I write that stupid fucking letter? Why’d I write any of that shit? “Fuck!” I punch the mirror again and this time pieces of it drop off and clatter into the sink. I look at myself between the cracks. A guy who’s pushing thirty, traipsing around the American West with a little girl, trying to get back to his child bride—even if she is all grown up now. It’s sick. And now Harper not only realizes she was given to me on her sixth birthday, but she knows I refused to accept the gift. And even if I could convince her that my rejection was for every altruistic reason imaginable—she was practically a baby, she was a bribe, she’s not a piece of property to be traded for favors—none of that matters anymore because I wrote that letter to Amber in the book and Harper read it. A pledge of revenge. A pledge to kill in her name. A light knock comes from the door. “James?” It’s Sasha. “What?” I seethe. “Are you OK?” “Go away,” I growl. She leaves after that so I strip down, take a shower to try and wash this day off me. Amber. I don’t want to go there. I never want to go back there. The blur of the moment. The confusion. Tony. Fucking Tony. And Ford. How is that asshole still weaseling his way into my life? How do I talk about Amber without talking about Tony? And I can’t do any of that without fucking Ford. I finish up with my shower and grow some balls. Two girls have me locked away in a bathroom. But as pathetic as that is, it makes me grin and eases my temper a little. Gives me some much-needed perspective. Shit, James, Tet says in my head, just put on your business suit, you pussy. Put on the suit and go to work. I can tell Harper anything she wants to know—it’s called a debrief. I was debriefed after Tony and Amber and I held it together then. No, asshole, Tet interjects, you got sent to the beach to unwind because you failed the fucking psych eval and then you blacked out.

Well, technically. Yes. But I turned off the emotions. Like always. I recalled every detail of the days leading up to that job. I told it just the way it happened. And I can do it again. I wrap a towel around me, grab my gun, and head across the hall to the bedroom. All my safe houses have certain things. Basic clothes. Some rations to hold me over for a few days. A 4x4 vehicle packed with survival gear and weapons. So I put on a pair of jeans, tuck the gun back in my pants, and swipe a hand through my hair. I can do this. Debrief. No emotions. I don’t have a suit, but—I slide my sunglasses down onto my face—this will have to do. No eye contact, James. Right. No extra details. Stick to the story. I go out to the living room but the girls are gone. I check out front. Nothing. I go through the kitchen and check out back. And there they are. The garage door is open and they are sitting on the hood of the Hummer. Harper is holding my goddamn pink notebook in her hands, fondling it like it belongs to her. And I guess it does, doesn’t it? I gave it to her when we became six. And then I stole it back. She’ll want to know why you took it back, James. Right. I need to face that truth if I go out there. Twelve years of waiting has come to an end. This is it. I walk over to the fridge, pull it open and grab a beer from the door. If you have to hit the safe house a beer is mandatory. I twist the cap, take a swig, and look out the window over the sink. I can see them from here. Harper glances at the house every now and then, like she’s waiting for me. You can do this, James, the inner Tet says. The voice that talks to me during all my jobs. Keeps me calm. Rational. On high alert. I set the beer down, open the door—and hesitate. But Tet is there. Tet is always there. I got this, James, he tells me. And then I push through the screen door and walk onto the back porch and take a seat on the bottom step. They both stare at me. Anger comes off Harper like heat. She swallows and turns away, looks into the evening sun that is beating down on her body, making it a rich gold that matches her hair and eyes. Lionfish. Hunter. Lover. Just like me. Killer. Tet decides to start there. I clear my throat and Sasha looks over at me, her eyebrows raised as she waits to see what I’ll do. I kick my bare feet out in front of me and lean back on my elbows. “I know what you’re thinking.” Sasha continues to stare. Harper shakes her head but does not look my way. “You’re thinking he’s crazy. He’s a liar. He can’t be trusted. He’ll kill me if the right deal comes along.” Harper does look over for that remark. I smile at her and she squirms. Sasha squints at me. She knows more than Harper about what’s going on, that’s for damn sure. No kid is that calm and sure of herself unless she knows something. So I start with her first. I get up and walk towards them, stop in the center of the driveway so I’m blocking the sun from Sasha’s body. And then I point to her. “But you and I, Smurfette, we’re exactly the same.” I smile because her cool expression drops a little. Just enough to let me know this is the right way forward. “I am a killer. I kill people. That’s my job. But before we talk about why I haven’t ditched you yet, let’s get it all out in the open. OK?” I don’t need to look over at Harper to know that she’s paying very close attention. “Let’s do a tally. Would that make you feel better? You want to know my tally, girls?” They both stare at me. I wait for the little shake that says, No, Tet. We do not. But everyone wants to know. I hold up

my hand and pretend to count bodies as I tick off a finger. But there are not enough fingers and toes in this driveway to count up all the people I’ve killed. I’m not counting kills. I’m counting years. “Let’s see, year one, that was eight. Year two, seventeen. Year three they had me cleaning up a drug cartel on the Mexico Arizona boarder to stop the Juárez beheadings. So I’m pretty sure that qualifies as genocide. Sixty-four Mexican government employees got the shaft from me that year.” I keep going, never missing a beat. “Year four I was on vacation. Winding down at the beach is what they’re calling it these days. Year five—twenty years old—I only had one job that year but it ended up destabilizing six African nations. Just enough to allow Company-run corporations to slip in and take over some critical industries.” “Diamonds?” Sasha asks. She knows a lot of shit she should not know. Her father did her no favors. “No, not diamonds,” I lie to her. “And year six?” Harper asks, like she’s unaffected. But I know better, I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. I look away and pick it back up. “Year six I was off again so I did jobs with a guy I’d met a few months earlier.” “Merc?” Sasha interrupts again. I smile at this. “Yeah. Fucking Merc.” She scowls at his name. There is no love lost between Merc and the Smurf. “He’s not that bad when you get to know him.” “Whatever,” Sasha grunts. “I hate him.” “Year seven,” Harper prods. She’s digging, I realize. Looking for something. About Nick, maybe. “That year I spent with my brother, Tony. He was twenty, I was twenty-two. We were in for almost the same amount of time, they started him early. Had him doing local jobs in Southern California all through high school, put him in the US military at eighteen. He was just finishing up his two-year contract with the Marines that year. But he was in love with this girl.” I look over at both of them now. “Not a Company girl. And he wanted out, so he applied to the SEALs, thinking if he could just hang on to the military affiliation, the Company might let him have a life.” “Did it work?” Harper asks. “I fucking blew his head off three months ago. What do you think?” “Why did you kill him?” Sasha asks. “It was a job.” Tet’s answer comes out so fast it surprises even me. “Years eight and nine were spent running a shadow government in San Pedro Sula, down in Honduras.” “So,” Sasha interrupts. “You weren’t just killing people. You were helping too, right?” I want to lie to her so bad. Harper’s watching me, a little bit of hope in her eyes. “No,” I say, choosing to tell the truth. “I wasn’t in San Pedro Sula to fix things, Sasha. The government down in Honduras is as corrupt as the cartels.” “And year ten. When I was turning sixteen, what were you doing then?” Harper redirects to the more recent years. The years that changed everything. The only years that matter right now. I stare at her as I recall that day. It was confusing for me. It’s confusing for me now, but I’m trying to be honest, so I tell her the truth. “Looking for you, Lionfish.” She sighs at the name. It’s been tainted by the words in the journal, so I soften her hurt with more truth. “I did show up that year. No plane ticket that time, but I showed up anyway. You guys stayed pretty close to Anguilla, so I knew where to look.” “We went to Tahiti that year, and the next two after.” I shrug. “I know that now, but I did my best.” “Did you want me that year?” she asks, a little bit of hope spilling out with her words. Again, I want to lie. But I don’t have it in me to put up the pretenses. Besides, she’s gonna find out the truth sooner or later. “Not enough to admit it.”

“But you do now, right?” Sasha chimes in. “You want her now, even I can tell that.” I look over at Harper, but she’s shaking her head and putting up her hand, shutting down the talk of her. She may or may not want to know more about that, but right now she’s on a mission for other information. “And the years between then and now? You said you were in some European country last year. But it sounds to me like that’s not your territory.” “It’s not. But I’ve been on special assignments since then.” “Mmm-hmm,” Harper says, pissed off. “So your tally, James? What’s your final tally?” “Too many to count.” She throws the notebook at me and jumps down off the Hummer hood, but I grab her wrist before she can escape, pulling her close until I can secure her by her shoulders. And then I lean into her ear and go in for the kill. “What’s your tally, Harper? How many have you killed? Do you even know?” Sasha blows out a long breath like she can’t believe I just went there. Harper shakes her head. “I’m not a killer. I don’t know why they tell you those things. I’m not a killer.” “I am,” Sasha says, trying to break the tension. “I got four, James. When they came to blow up my grandparents’ ranch. I got four.” I have to smile and appreciate that. “I know, Smurf. I heard. How many, Harper?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tries again, clearly nervous about the new direction this conversation is taking. “You probably don’t. You probably have no idea. Because you left the ship. You left them all there to die and never looked back. So how could you know?” She turns her back, head still shaking. “You can judge me if you want, but the truth is, Harper, we’re all killers here. Even you, baby. And your tally puts my first year to shame. Because you got thirteen souls, right out of the gate.”

Chapter Eight - James Thirteen. I can almost hear the echo in her head. She leans over to swallow down the bile before it comes up. She knew. She knew she had to have killed some of them… but… thirteen. Yeah, that surprised everyone. “What’d you use?” I ask as I put a hand on her shoulder and instead of shrugging me off, she lets it stay. Her body is hot and it feels like touching fire. “Because it certainly did the job.” “Visine,” she says calmly. “Several bottles of Visine in the water pitchers at dinner. There were a lot of guests on the ship that night. Too many for me to pick out my new husband. So I poisoned them all.” Clever. “Well, then you and I are more alike than you know. Because the poison you used is actually one of my calling cards.” I look over at Sasha. I think she’ll appreciate this little factoid. “The active ingredient in Visine is tetrahydrozoline.” I look back over to Harper. “I told you under the pier last week I had a little blue octopus in me. And the active poison in the blue-ringed octopus is tetrodotoxin.” “Tet,” Sasha says with a smile. “That’s why you’re called Tet?” I nod, but my eyes are still on Harper. “You used my calling card, Harper. Because when I want to kill someone for personal reasons and not get in trouble, that’s the way I have to do it. My assigned poison is tetrodotoxin, not Visine, but it’s got tet in the name and that’s too close.” This changes everything. Everything I’ve been told over the past year is tainted with the view that they might think I killed all those people for Harper. How the fuck am I still alive? The blackout, James, Tet whispers in my head. They know you’re confused. They know you’re missing time. And that—that makes me laugh. “What’s so funny?” Harper snaps at me. “I killed thirteen people and you’re laughing? Is my father even alive?” “Do you care?” “Of course I care!” “As far as I know he is. I have not spoken with him for a very long time.” I’m the one who turns away now. Because this will require a lot of thinking on my part. The problem is suddenly a puzzle. Who is who? How does it all fit together? Who is calling the shots? Why was I really sent to the beach? What the fuck happened in those hours I lost? “Is there a way to find out?” Sasha asks. “If the Admiral is dead?” “I’m pretty sure there’d be some sort of global alert if the Admiral was dead.” I should push Sasha for her answers too. I really should. But she’s being very good, almost on my side, so now is not the time to shake things up. “So now what, James?” Harper looks down at her feet. She’s facing the sun still, and it’s about to set, so the bright glow from earlier is gone. I wanted us to be together tonight so we could watch the sun go down again, get her back in her routine. But the rippling orange and yellow colors across the Pacific Ocean were magical. Beautiful and filled with promise of a new tomorrow. The dissipating, diffracting light playing across the hot current of air in the desert has a hopeless feel to it. This desert sunset feels like the end. “You have to make a choice, Harper.” I take her hand and turn her around. “You trust me and let me lead the way.” I stop to search her for doubt. She holds her eyes steady, unlike mine. My eyes dart all over the place, waiting for lies, for pretenses and ulterior motives. But I don’t find any of that in Harper. I find grief. “Or you can go your own way. You’re not my contract, Harper.” I slip my hand behind her neck.

She’s sweaty from the heat. Her shoulders are turning pink from the sun and when she looks up at me, her eyes are pink too. She’s had enough for one day. “You’re not my contract, and if you stay with me, I promise to take care of you. I promise I will keep you safe. I promise that the only way they will hurt you is if they kill me first.” “Because I belong to you?” “Yes.” God, that makes me so happy there’s no way in hell I can hide the smile. “You belong to me. You’re mine. So if you stay, you need to understand that. You’re mine.” “And you want me now?” I slide my fingers down her arm and tug on her hand until she takes a step toward. “I’ve always wanted you.” She stares into my eyes, so intent on finding motive there. But she fails. Because I’m telling the truth. “Sasha,” I say as I turn and lead Harper over to the porch. “Bedtime.” ‘”Bedtime!” Sasha snorts. “I don’t have a bedtime!” “Whatever.” I ascend the stairs with Harper and take her back inside. “But we’re going to bed.”

Chapter Nine - Harper I let James take me away. Back into the house where the air-conditioning isolates me from the outside and makes me feel protected. Which is absurd, because James just admitted to being responsible for something akin to genocide. Maybe what the Company does is good. I’ve been told my whole life it is. They keep things in check. The assassins take out very specific targets to stabilize world governments, world economies, and preserve the future of freedom. But that’s the kind of bullshit Nick and I used to read in comic books whenever we could get our hands on them in a port city. Superhero stuff. He was fascinated by it, since he was being trained to assassinate people too. He believed in them. He made me believe in them. Until we learned I was sold. And even though that book says I was promised to James, I’m having a hard time accepting it. Why would the Admiral give me to some killer? Wouldn’t he want me to be safe? How could I ever be safe with James? I study his muscular back as he leads me down the hallway to the bedroom. He’s a dream in the body department, but the shit inside his head is something else. Something I might not be interested in seeing more of. Tet. It has a whole new meaning now. And the fact that I used his calling-card poison to kill… what does it mean? For me? For him? How did the Company interpret what I did? And how did he not know? He told me he was briefed right after I ran last summer. Didn’t they tell them how I did it? Didn’t they assume he was in on it? We walk into the last bedroom and he closes the door. The room is dusky, but he makes no move to turn the lights on. Instead he walks over to the window and closes the blinds until the place is near dark. He stares at the covered window for a few seconds and then lets out a sigh. “Where do you want to start?” My body goes still. “What do you mean?” He turns and tips his chin up, like he’s building up his confidence. “I’m not gonna talk about it in front of the Smurf, but whatever you want to know, here’s your chance. Ask me. Ask me anything.” I’m momentarily stunned. I think I should take my time, have a plan of attack for getting the truth from him because this might be my one and only chance. But the question rolls off my tongue like it was waiting all day. “What happened to Amber?” “My brother shot her in the chest on the last job I did.” “Why?” His jaw clenches. “Because she got in his way.” “Is that all it takes for you guys? Just get in the way? And that’s enough to forfeit a life?” His eyes narrow at these questions, hopefully because he’s thinking it over and not because I’m pissing him off. I shift my weight from one foot to another, the silent moments ticking off from a clock on the wall. “Sometimes.” “Is that why you killed your brother? Because he killed Amber?” “Not specifically, no. It was a combination of factors. He was my target. Your father wanted him eliminated, but in addition to that I owed my friend Merc a favor. Merc owed his friend Ford a favor. Ford wanted Tony out of his family’s life. I had two contracts on him.” “And… there was never a moment where your inner self said, ‘Hey, James, this is the guy you grew up with. You’re not gonna kill him. You’re gonna find a way not to, or you’ll die trying?’ Because if I was ordered to kill my brother, that’s what my inner self would say.” “I did think that, Harper. And there was a brief time where I thought I could pull it off. But

everything went wrong, people showed up. Amber showed up. She wasn’t supposed to be there. And her sister, Ashleigh… she was Tony’s high-school sweetheart. He risked everything to try and keep her out of the Company, faked his own death. Abandoned her right before she gave birth to their child. And then Ford appeared. He found Ashleigh. And Ford decided he wanted what Tony walked away from and made it happen.” “And Tony wanted her back.” “He was not about to give her up after all he did to get to that point, especially to that guy. But Tony never saw me coming.” “They never see you coming, do they?” “I’m not the kind of guy who likes to be seen.” “And Sasha? How does she fit?” James looks away quickly, then recovers. It’s fast, but I catch it. Nick and I used to play a game when we were kids. Who could tell a lie better. Who could spot a lie better. I was always a better spotter than liar. And that momentary glance away was the tell-tale sign of a lie. “Sasha is… collateral damage. Left over from a job Merc did last Christmas. Merc is responsible for her because he got her father killed in an off-the-books job, but somehow Ford claimed the Smurf and decided Merc owed him a favor for fucking up her life. He and Merc go way back, so…” James throws up his hands. “Merc took that debt seriously and called in a debt I owed him.” “So Merc cashed in his debt to Ford by having you kill Tony. Because you owed Merc. And debts are… meaningful?” He nods and it rings true. And yet it’s not the whole story. But I’m not very interested in Sasha now. I’m interested in us. James walks over to me and takes my hand. “Harper, listen to me. OK?” I nod and then he’s pushing me to sit on the bed. “None of that matters right now. It’s fucked up, I get it. I killed my brother. But he had a hit on his head. He was a dead man whether I did it or not. No amount of running or new identities would ever erase that. And Amber, she wasn’t a girlfriend. I did care about her. But I left her behind years ago. Years, you understand? I had a bodyguard put in charge of her, they fell in love, I guess. She married that guy. OK? She wasn’t a girlfriend. Ever. Yeah, I loved her in some way, but it wasn’t the way you think. I liked the idea of keeping her out of my dirty life. I just wanted to keep her safe. And I did. She moved on, got her own life. But then it all fell apart and that letter, you need to understand, that letter was regret for my failure to keep her safe and nothing else.” I don’t know. Some of what he’s saying makes sense. “But why did you hate me so bad? What did I ever do to you? I was just a kid.” He pushes me back on the bed and my stomach does little flips inside. But at the same time, I don’t want sex to be the reason I let this go. I need more. I put my hand on his chest to ward him off, but he grabs my wrist and hikes it over my head, pressing it into the mattress. “Now listen, Harper. Hold still and listen.” His eyes plead with me and I nod. He swallows hard and then scoots up next to me on the bed so we’re lying together. He places his fingertip on my forehead and then lightly drags it down the bridge of my nose and pauses on my lips. My mouth opens of its own accord and I nip at it playfully. “I never hated you, Lionfish. I loved you the very first moment I set eyes on you when you were six.” “You did?” He nods. “I did. But loving a six-year-old is wrong. You have to understand that. It’s so dirty, there’s no way I could deal with the powerful draw you had on me. And that was before you were promised. The Admiral paraded you out on the beach that day for me. You were in that little ruffled bathing suit that made you look like a Swan Lake ballerina. You were the cutest fucking thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Perfect. And

innocent. And sweet.” I smile at that characterization of me. I’d forgotten about that ridiculous bathing suit. I threw a tantrum to get it in some hotel gift shop the day before. And normally a tantrum is the last way to get my father’s attention. But he gave in. Did he give in on purpose? To parade me? That makes my stomach sick. “I wanted you to be my age so bad that day.” We both laugh a little at that. “You have no idea how hard it was to listen to your father talk about you and have to turn down his offer.” He stops to cup my face and plant a soft kiss on my lips. “You will never understand how much it hurt to say no. I wanted you. But it was wrong, Harper. Accepting a child bride as payment and promise for a job was wrong.” I sigh a little. I can certainly see that. And before I knew he was my promise, I was repulsed by the thought of belonging to someone in that way. I felt sold. But with James, it’s… different. “I want you now, Harper,” he says, like he’s reading my thoughts. “I have you now. And I know you want me too. But if I’m wrong, here’s your opportunity to say no.” I can’t move. This feels permanent. Like this yes or no answer will decide my fate. “I’ll take that as a yes,” James says. And then his bare chest is brushing up against my body and his mouth takes what he came for. Me. His tongue twists inside my mouth as he lifts up my shirt, gently at first, but then he loses patience and lifts me up off the bed and drags it over my head in one swift move. Before I can even appreciate the coolness next to my bare skin his hands are on the button of my shorts. Then the zipper. “Take them off,” he commands softly. I wiggle them down my hips, over my knees, and then fling them away with my foot, my eyes never leaving his. He grins and everything I saw under the pier that day, back before I knew for sure that he was a killer, all those thoughts flood my mind. How beautiful he is. How he holds my attention with his gaze. How he makes me throb with want and longing. My hand goes to the bulge in his jeans. He’s so hard against my hand, the throbbing between my legs becomes an uncontrollable ache, letting me know that I am very close even though we haven’t even started yet. “Harper,” he says, bringing my attention away from my pulsing need and back to him. “Yes?” I answer back in a whisper. He smiles and lies down next to me as he lets out a breath that sounds a lot like a sigh. I feel him relax and then he takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “I’d like a do-over.” “What?” I laugh a little. And in that instant, that laugh changes everything. I put aside my tally and the Admiral, and the loss and sadness I’ve been feeling since my brother split us apart last summer. The sensual mood breaks with the laugh as well. But in its place comes something else. In its place comes… “A do-over,” he says again. His fingertips find my belly button and the light touch traces little concentric circles around it. And then he releases my hand, flips on his side—propping himself up on his elbow—and extends his hand again. “I’m James Fenici, nice to finally meet you.” I bite my lip to stop the tingling in my nose and throat that comes before tears. He takes a deep breath like he might be worried his gesture will go unappreciated. But he’s got nothing to worry about. I extend my hand and we join together in a new way. “Harper Tate,” I whisper. He flops on his back and then reaches for me, pulling my cheek up to his chest as he puts his arms around me. “Miss Tate, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted your name. I’ve been thinking about you for almost thirteen years. And I’d like to erase that little pink notebook. I’d like you to forget all of that stuff. Because those were the words of a man trying to convince himself he was not in love.” He leans down and kisses me softly, his hands cupping my cheek as he grabs hold of my lower lip and then releases

it. “But I am in love. I fell in love with a six-year-old. I’m sorry, it’s fucked up, but that’s just how it happened.” “I fell in love with you that day too, James.” “But I’m not sorry for telling your father no, Harper. I’m not sorry because it was a test. Men don’t give away daughters like you.” I look away and shake my head. “But he did. I don’t understand that part.” James turns my head back to him with a gentle touch to my chin. “A man worthy of his daughter would say no, Harper. He was never going to give you away. And now that I have you here, I have to ask you.” My heart does that now-familiar thump. “Ask me what?” He slips out from under me and pulls me up to a sitting position as he drops to his knees on the floor. I cover my mouth to hide the smile. “Harper Tate,” he says. “Will you trust me?” My whole face goes hot and tingly and I look away to hide my reaction. James guides my gaze back to him again. “Don’t turn away from me, please.” I stare down as he gazes up. And then I notice how naked I am. His bare chest is pressed up against my knees. His breath is tickling the inside of my thighs. My heart beats faster as all these senses crash together like I’m caught in a wave. Suddenly I’m trembling. He slides his hands up my thighs and grabs my hips so he can scoot me to the edge of the bed. He places himself right in the v of my legs and then looks up at me, awaiting my answer. “I don’t know…” “Just give me a chance, OK? Get to know me a little, and give me a chance.” He leans his head down to kiss my belly. “You have to trust me.” His eyes dart back and forth as he searches for doubt inside me. But he doesn’t find it. I might not know what’s really going on. I might not understand what he’s asking. But I do know that trust can be easy if you want it to be. You either do—or you don’t. You believe in the love and loyalty and good intentions—or you don’t. “I don’t trust anyone, James. Except Nick.” He gets up and sits on the bed. “So why’d you come here?” I stand, unashamed of my nakedness, and move across the room. It’s too small so I reach the wall with only a few paces between us, and then I’m forced to turn and look at him. “I don’t know. I’m tired of waiting for things to begin, I guess. I have no idea why I’m here.” He’s nodding his head as I talk and then he stands up and covers half of the distance between us. “Keep going,” he says. “Tell me, just find those feelings, those words… and admit it to yourself and then to me. Tell me why you’re here.” I stare at him. His scent is different now, the sweet scent of soap lingering on his bare chest. I want to touch him so bad. I want to run my fingertips down the hard muscles of his chest. I want his hands to cup my face as he kisses my mouth. I want my legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes himself deep inside me. I want, I want, I want… “I want you,” I finally admit. “I waited for you to come back, but you didn’t. And I’m so tired of waiting for people. I’m so tired of being everyone’s afterthought. So I had this address in my head. The text came in while we were together, and I memorized it.” “This place could’ve been anywhere, Harper. It was a big risk.” “I need a little risk in my life, James. I’m tired of standing still.” “Then”—he steps forward and the gulf between us evaporates—“take a risk on me. I’m on your side, Harper.” “No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re on no one’s side. You’re only here for your own interests.”

He stares back at me for a few seconds and nods in response. “You’re right. But baby, the only thing I’m interested in right now is you.” I don’t have anything to say to that. The talk is over. The truth is on the table. I can either play another card or fold out of the game. And I’m a terrible decision-maker, so I opt for both. “I want you. I came here because I want you,” I say as my hands touch the top of his shoulders, resting over the curve of him, like they have always belonged there. They cup the hard muscles, then slide down a little and James pushes me backwards until my knees reach the edge of the bed and I am forced to sit. His large hands grip under my knees and part my legs as he settles in front of me. And then his mouth is on my pussy.

Chapter Ten - Harper It’s a long, slow—so agonizingly slow—lap of his tongue up my slit. He pauses at the crest of my sex and flicks his tongue back and forth until my hips come right off the bed. My fingers weave through his hair and then they grasp hard, pulling his whole face towards me. He sucks on my clit, just a slight suction at first. But that’s enough. More than enough. I’m grinding now, unable to control my desire. And the orgasm is coming fast, it’s building to a climax that might be monumental in scope, that’s how fucking astonishing it feels to have James’ mouth on me. I wait for him to pull back, to deny me like he did last time. But he doesn’t. He thrusts his tongue against my clit, alternating with sucking and lapping, until I’m writhing and the only words in my mouth are his name. “James. James. James.” My back buckles as the sensations crest and crash, over and over again, and James never stops. He rides the wave of pleasure with me until, after almost a minute, the aftershocks subside enough to allow me to breathe again. “I’m so jealous,” I finally say once I’ve calmed my racing heart. “I’m so jealous of all the other women you’ve given this kind of attention to.” “Well,” he says as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, “you’re goddamn lucky you were a virgin when I came along, otherwise I’d have a hit list for anyone who ever touched you.” Before I can tell him that’s an inappropriate joke, he sits down and grabs my shoulder. “Flip over. We do it my way now.” Before I know what’s happening, I’m face down on the bed. I peek over my shoulder to watch him fling his jeans across the room. He shoots me a crooked grin and I start to get worried. He said something about—“Ow!” My train of thought is obliterated in one swoop of his hand as it smacks down on my ass cheek, leaving a sting behind. Before I can put together a coherent objection, he’s straddling my upper thighs and massaging the sting away with his rough hands. “That was a love tap. Just to warm you up.” He rises up on his knees, then places his hands on my outer thighs and pushes my legs all the way together. The fingers search for my pussy again, but this time they slide right past my ass. That feels so fucking good. I moan. “You like that, Harp?” Before I can answer his finger drags the wetness leftover from my orgasm up into my perfect pink bud. I brace for the pain I felt back at the beach apartment when he tried this same thing. But this time he’s slow. And gentle. And he goes back several times for more of my slick juices. “Will you—” “No. Not tonight. I just want you to know how good it can be. I want to take my time, make you want it. Make you beg for it.” “What if I want it now?” I chew on my lower lip as I try and look over my shoulder at him again, but he leans his chest over my back, trapping me underneath him. He lifts his hips and one hand goes to his cock. He flicks it back and forth, still dragging the wetness from my pussy to my ass, and every few seconds, he stops to push his thumb against the tight muscle at my entrance… until… it slips right inside. “Ohhhh,” I moan. And it’s not a bad moan. It’s not a moan of pain or pleasure, but some elusive mixture of both at the same time. I’m throbbing again, and it’s like James can read my mind, because even as I become distracted by the new sensations, he’s twirling my clit with his fingertip. Dragging, dragging so, so slowly, up and down the crease of my opening, all the while he pushes his thumb farther inside me. “Do you want my dick in your ass yet, Harp?” he asks, pressing his lips up against my ear, sending a jolt through my entire body. “I’m ready to beg for it.” He presses his mouth into my neck and kisses me, getting mostly hair for his efforts, but he’s chuckling, so I know he doesn’t care. “I do love you, Harper. I’ve loved you for so long. But now I want

more than love and sex. I want to know you.” He lifts his hips again, but this time, his cock finds his mark and he thrusts himself inside my pussy. He rocks back and forth, still teasing my asshole with his thumb. He repositions himself so he’s straddling my upper thighs now and this changes everything. All the feelings I just experienced pale in comparison to the sensation of his dick sliding past my ass cheeks as he fucks me from behind. “Your fucking ass is beautiful. The way it hugs my cock as I take you.” Oh God. That’s the only thing I can think of. Oh God, oh God, oh God! And then he flips me over again and before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing me down to the ground. I hit the cold tile floor and the sting on my knees registers for a brief moment, but then James pushes his cock towards my mouth and I open for him. Everything else is forgotten as I look up into his eyes. Now. Now I can see the truth in him. “Fuck me,” I whisper. He doesn’t wait for a second request. His cock slides past my lips and I flick my tongue along the underside of his shaft. My eyes never leave his and even though he’s definitely the one in charge right now, even though he’s one of the most dangerous men in the world, and even though I’m the one on my knees—I have the power. He gives everything to me when he throws his head back and explodes down my throat. I have the power. But that’s not what makes me happy. It’s the way I receive the power that makes all the difference. I have power because he gives it to me.

Chapter Eleven - James I’m out of bed in an instant, reaching for the gun that’s not there, as I try to wake up from a night of sex-induced deep slumber. Where the fuck is my gun? Harper is standing next to me, pulling on her top. Her shorts are hanging off her hips, half-zipped, a phone sticking out of each pocket. Before I can make sense of what I’m seeing, she whispers, “What was that noise?” “The Smurf?” I answer as I find the gun on the floor and check the chamber and the mag. The FN Five-SeveN holds twenty rounds. Twenty is more than enough. A scream jolts us into action and we bolt for the door at the same time. I push Harp back. “Stay here,” I growl down at her. “I’m not kidding.” I don’t wait for an answer, just open the door and press my back against the hallway as I maneuver towards the living room. Where the fuck did we leave the Smurf? Outside? But no, the TV is on, cartoons are playing softly. There’s wrappers and stuff on the coffee table like she’s been helping herself to food. I notice the open back door in the kitchen and hear the whine of a dirt bike engine at the same time. “Fuck!” Harper’s next to me and we hop down the porch steps in tandem and run for the garage. “Get in,” I bark at her. The keys are in a magnetic holder to the left of the tailpipe, so I grab those, get in, and start it up. “Where did they go? Did you see where they went?” I pull forward out of the garage. “That way.” Harper points behind us, to the desert beyond the back yard. There’s a cloud of dust. “Did someone take her?” I ignore her. This kid isn’t going anywhere without me until I say so. I gun it. “Hold on!” I yell to Harp over the roar of the engine as we bounce along the scrub. I glance in the rear view and there’s a trail of decimated yucca plants. “Oh my God,” Harper says as she grabs the handle above the window. We gain on them and the biker looks over his shoulder at us, then increases the throttle and pulls away on a flat stretch of hardpacked sand. The sun is just starting to rise and the glare blinds me for a moment, but it blinds him too, and he swerves west to avoid it. Harper has her head out the window pointing at something up ahead. “There’s something up there. What’s he heading for?” Mesquite trees are lined up in the distance, signaling there’s a dry river bed up ahead. They are thick, big enough to possibly stop the Hummer if I try to plow through them. “If he can make it to the river bed he can lose us. Harper,” I say, pointing to the gun tucked under my thigh, “grab the gun. When I pull up next to him, you shoot out the tires, OK?” “What? No! I don’t shoot guns! I’ll hit Sasha!” “How the fuck do you not shoot guns?” But the conversation drops off when I hit a good-sized ocotillo plant. Instincts kick in and we both shield our eyes from the onslaught of flying limbs that splatter against the windshield. “Fuck! The ocotillos are everywhere!” It’s like someone planted the tall twiggy bushes on purpose to keep off-roaders away. “Harper!” I grab her by the arm. “You drive, herd him towards that wall of ocotillos over there! I’ll shoot out the tires and even if he gets away, the thorns will —” “James! I can’t drive!” “What the fuck? How the hell?” But the biker is on to me and he swerves. I head the opposite direction, anticipating his evasive move, and direct him back where I want him.

“I don’t see Sasha! What if she’s back at the house?” She’s right. Fuck. “There’s a scope in the back, Harper, get it out and look. I think she’s slumped over on the tank.” Harp climbs in back and starts fishing through a box of gear on the floor. A few seconds later she gasps. “She’s on the tank, but she looks dead!” I swerve again to keep the biker going towards the ocotillos and not towards the line of mesquites. He guns it, mistaking the dried stalks as dead tree branches, and throttles through the wall of thorns. I follow, but unlike him and Sasha, I’ve got a windshield to protect me. The bike swerves severely, and they are going forty-five or fifty miles an hour at least, so for a moment I panic, thinking he’s gonna kill the Smurf with a wipeout. But he recovers and now that he’s through the wall of thorns, he’s got a straight shot to the riverbed where the wall of mesquites will let him slip by and stop us dead. Harper opens the sun roof and sticks her head out. “Shoot that fucker, Harper!” She ignores me, but she’s climbing up through the sunroof. “What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass back in here and get this gun!” The bike is way out ahead now, more than fifty yards, and the whole thing is looking more and more hopeless when he begins to slow. “The tire’s going flat from the thorns!” Harp yells. “Pull up to him, James, pull up next to him and I’ll shoot the other tire.” She reaches down and grabs the gun, then lifts herself back up through the sunroof. But this time her legs disappear. She’s on top of the fucking roof! She’s gone crazy!

Chapter Twelve - Harper “Pull up closer, James!” I yell down from the roof. I might not be able to shoot and I might not be able to drive, but I can fight hand to hand like a motherfucker. I’m not nearly as helpless as people think. We swerve one way, then the other and my body goes sliding across the roof. My fingers latch onto the sun roof opening and my feet brace against the roof rack and I hold fast until James straightens out the Hummer. The dirt bike is slowing considerably now, but the wash is not far away. If the biker makes it through the mesquite trees and down into the dry river bed, he can ride that flat tire right into town. And then we’ll lose Sasha. Maybe I just met her, but she’s with us. And that means she’s important. “Shoot now, Harper!” James yells from below. He’s pulled up close, within a few feet. “Shoot!” I throw the gun down into the cab because there’s no way I can shoot that thing and not hit the little girl slumped over the top of the tank. She’s bleeding from the thorns, I can see that now. The biker has a helmet on, so he’s just fine. But poor Sasha. “What the fuck are you doing?” James swerves as he yells and my body goes careening off to one side again. I grab the sun roof as I slide past and pull myself back to the driver’s side where I can see the bike. James has the gun now, he points it, but we hit a bump and the shot misses. The Hummer and the bike slow at the same time once we all realize there’s a large gully less than thirty feet away. This is it. If he gets into that thing, we’ve lost. James swerves to avoid a spiky desert plant, and that brings us to within a few feet of the struggling bike. I’ll take it. I pull myself into a crouch, then launch myself at them like a missile. I hit the biker in the back and he collapses forward on top of Sasha. The bike swerves beneath us and then we’re sliding sideways on the sand. My legs burn as millions of grains of dirt turn into an endless sheet of sandpaper, but I manage to keep his body between me and the ground. The bike comes to a stop but I keep going for a few more feet. This gives the biker a chance to grab a gun from a shoulder holster. I feel nothing. No pain. The only sense I have at the moment is sight. The only thing I see is a killer with a gun. I scramble towards him at the same time he gets a shot off. The bullet passes so close to my shoulder I feel the breeze of luck. And then I see red. I see red and my world is silent as the counter-move presents itself in my mind. I breathe, once, twice, and then I’m upon him. He lands a punch square on my cheek and my head snaps to the side, but I compensate. I feel nothing in a fight. I only see. And what I see now is my opportunity. So while his fist is following through in an arc required by the laws of physics, my hands are wrapped around his helmet. I squeeze tightly, and then… I twist. The span of a breath changes everything. I dislocate the head from the spine in less time than it takes to breathe one breath. His body goes limp just like that. Life. Ended. It’s that easy. His head falls into my lap and then the red subsides and the rush of reality snaps back into my forward senses. I hear yelling. James is yelling for me to stop. I look down at my hands as they tug on the helmet. “Stop!” he screams. “Do not take that helmet off!”

Chapter Thirteen - James “Stop!” Fuck! I grab Harper’s arm and drag her away from the body before she can take that helmet off. “Over here, Harp. Over here!” Her eyes are wild with the fight and this is the moment when I realize something. This girl is everything they ever said about her. She is lethal. She snapped the biker’s neck like she was tearing a chicken leg off a roast. Her breathing is labored, but not fast. Which means she’s not working off adrenaline. She’s working off experience. Only people who’ve been trained to react first and think later can avoid an adrenaline rush. Hell, my heart is about to jack itself out of my chest this very moment and I didn’t even do anything. But I sure the fuck saw something. I saw a sweet girl just take the life of… I rub my face with my hands to hide from her for a moment. “Sasha?” When I look up Harper is crawling over to the Smurf. Who is fucked up. I snap out of my shock and go over to help get the bike off of her. “She’s still alive!” Harper says with hope in her voice as she checks for a pulse. “It’s… not strong.” Her elation deflates and I bend down and pick the kid up. “Sasha?” I take her to the Hummer and Harper follows, opening the door so I can sit her ass in the back seat. “Sasha?” I ask, louder this time. I lift up an eyelid and find her pupils unresponsive and contracted down into pinpoints. “Drugged. She’s been drugged with opiates.” I put my ear to her chest and listen for a few moments. “Slow. She might’ve been given too much.” “What do we do?” “I have a med kit in the cargo area. Watch her for a moment.” You know there’s something wrong with your profession of choice when naloxone is standard in your first-aid kit. I open the kit and search for the rescue pen. It’s dosed for a full-grown man, so administration to a hundred-pound kid is more of an art than a science. But considering the alternative might be dying from opiate overdose, it will have to do. I uncap it and thrust it into the meaty part of Smurfette’s arm, then depress the plunger. There’s only two real possibilities for pinpoint pupils. Opiate overdose or pons dislocation, a fancy name for a deep-brain injury. If it’s drugs, the naloxone will reverse the opiates and she’ll come out of it with sand rash and thorn scratches. If it’s the other… then she’s brain-dead. Harper scoots into the backseat with Sasha and positions herself on the table-sized partition that separates the two bucket seats. Harper lifts her head and then I pick up the feet, and we drag Sasha’s body onto the flat surface so she can recover. Harper talks softly into her ear and then the Smurf starts to wince. I walk back over to the biker, trying my best not to notice how his neck is bent at the wrong angle. How does this bother me? After all the killing I’ve done? How can one dead body bother me so bad? I don’t answer that. I can’t think about it now. I just want to get the fuck out of here before Harper starts asking questions. I reach into his leather jacket and pull out a gun and a phone. “She’s getting better!” Harper says excitedly from the Hummer. “That’s great, Harp,” I say automatically. But one hundred percent of my concentration is on the phone in my hand. Because it’s vibrating. I press the home button and it lights up an alert. Scheduled message sent. A second later I hear another vibration. Only this time it does not come from the phone in my hand. I get up and walk to the truck to find Harper staring down at a phone that is not hers. One of the two she was stuffing in her pockets when we left the house.

“A message,” she says as she stares down at it. “What’s it say, Harper?” If my heart was beating fast before, then it’s about to explode right now. “Tell me what it says.” “It says…” She hesitates and then seems to change her mind, because she holds the phone up. “Yesterday I got a message from… well, I thought it was Nick.” “What’s this fucking message say, Harper?” She stares down at it for several seconds and I’m so impatient, I almost rip it out of her hand. But then she looks up at me, scared and pale. “‘Tock. Tock..’ What’s that mean, James?” “I dunno,” I sorta lie. I might know, but… “There’s a mushroom—” She stares at the message again and squints. “What?” My heart rate increases as I scan the area. “What about a mushroom?” But when I look back to her, she’s scowling down at the phone in my hand. A phone that looks exactly like the one she’s holding. “Is that your phone?” I shake my head. “Whose phone—” But she jumps to a conclusion before she finishes. And then the lethal girl launches herself at me. No, not at me. Through me. She hits me square in the chest and knocks me over, scrambling to her feet in a rush. I grab her ankle and she falls on her hands, kicking and screaming. But I hold tight. No fucking way is she taking that helmet off. No fucking way. Because if that message as from Nick, then that dead guy on the ground might be her brother.

Chapter Fourteen - Harper “Let go of me,” I cry. My heart hurts. Oh, my God, does my heart hurt. Please, please, please tell me I did not just kill my brother! Please God! I slam my bare foot into James’ chest and he stumbles backwards just enough for me to slip away, scramble to my feet and run over to the body. “Nick, Nick, Nick…” I just keep saying his name as I try to pry the helmet off his head. James is on me again, pulling me away, wrapping his arms around me as he talks calmly in my ear. “Calm down,” he says. “Calm down and I’ll let you go and we’ll check it out together, OK?” “No, no, no!” I wail. “No!” “Harper,” James says as he pins me down to the ground, straddles my hips, and then wraps his lower legs around mine so I can’t get him off me easily. He’s learning. “I need you to calm down.” He leans all of his weight on my chest now, and he’s very heavy. Heavy enough to make me stop talking because there’s not enough breath in my lungs. “Enough,” I beg. “I can’t breathe!” He eases up slightly, not enough to let me breathe comfortably, but it takes the crushing pressure off. “Now listen to me. You will calm the fuck down or I swear to God, Harper, I’ll tie you up until you do as you’re told. You are out of control.” He leans into me again to make his point, and I whine in response. “Do you understand?” “I need to know right now, James. I need to know.” “I’m gonna check, not you.” He eases up again, to test my response I think, but I give up. What’s the point of fighting over checking a dead body? “You OK?” I nod. And then he’s off me. I sit up and watch. The sun is starting to come up now, so there’s enough light to see a few details. The color of the bike. Orange. The hair sticking out from the helmet in little tufts. Blond. I have to put a hand over my mouth to stop the wail when I realize that. James grasps the helmet and twists. But the neck is broken, so it jiggles back and forth in a sickening way that make me lean right over and puke. “I can’t watch, I can’t watch.” “Don’t watch, Harp,” James says as I cough and gag. And then all I hear is, “Oh, fuck.” I roll over and press my face in the sandy ground and cry. “It’s him, isn’t it? It’s him!” And them James is next to me, his calming hands rubbing my back. “It’s not him, Harper. It’s not him.” I roll back to look James in the face and sit up to see for myself. “It’s not him!” James pulls me into his chest and kisses me on the head. “It’s not him, but I know that guy.” “Who?” Tears of relief are running down my face and I have to wipe my face. “Someone who should be dead.” “What?” I ask, still a bit slow from trying to process everything. “What do you mean?” “I mean…” James hesitates, like this isn’t something he wants to talk about. “I mean—” “He means,” Sasha says behind us, “he killed them all. Or so he thought.” We both turn around to find Sasha sitting up in the back seat. Her face is all bloody, her arms and legs covered in thorn scratches from the kidnapper riding through a wall of ocotillos. “It was a setup, James,” she elaborates in a voice so devoid of emotion chills climb up my spine and prickle the skin at the nape of my neck. “I told you it was a setup.” And with those words she cracks and my chills evaporate. Her lips tremble and then she’s crying. James gets up, pulls me to my feet with him, and then he walks over to the girl. “Hey, it’s the drugs, OK? You’re coming off some drugs. Just try and relax.” “No, it’s not the drugs. It’s…” She trails off as she wipes her nose. What a fucked, fucked, fucked-up way to start a day. “It’s what, Sasha?” James prods in that cool assassin voice. “It’s what? If you’ve got something to

say, now is a really good fucking time to say it.” She drags the back of her hand across her face one more time. “I don’t know much, but”—she points to her kidnapper—“I just want you to know I’m not a part of that. I don’t know what I’m a part of, but it’s not that.” She looks over at me now. “I’m not a part of that, James.” “Do you know why he’d take you, Sasha?” James asks. She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter who I was working for yesterday, because today”—she looks at me again—“I work for no one. I’m not anyone’s pawn, or killer, or Smurf.” She snarls that last word out as she looks over at James. “I’m just a kid. I’m tired. I want to go home. I want Ford.” I glance over at James to see what he’ll say but he just nods and leads me over to the Hummer. “Get in,” he says. It’s not his assassin voice, it’s worse. Because even though his words are calm and his volume is soft, it’s a do-not-fuck-with-me command. I push Sasha until she scoots over the table hump and then James closes the door and jumps in the driver’s seat. He puts the Hummer in gear and does a U-ie, then heads back the way we came. “What about the body?” I ask as it disappears out the back window. “Who gives a fuck? He was already dead anyway. Like the kid said, I killed him last year.” I don’t know what that means, but Sasha snorts and mutters, “Well, that was a huge fail,” under her breath. James doesn’t hear it, or maybe he pretends not to hear it. He says nothing back to her. When we get to the house he parks in the driveway and sits for a few seconds. We sit with him. In silence. And we wait for our orders. Because life just changed. We’re no longer some ex-Company associates playing house. “Harper.” He does not turn to look at me or even glance in the rear-view to see if I’m listening. But I am. “Harper, I’m gonna be honest with you here, OK? I know you took something with you when you left the yacht last summer. Everyone knows you have it.” And now he does turn to look at me. “I need it. Where is it?” My mind is racing with suspicion. Why now? After all these months, why now? Why are they coming for me now? Is everything he said to me a lie? “You need to trust someone besides Nick, Harper. Because Nick’s not here.” He studies my face to gauge my hesitation. I say nothing. “Is it back in the OC? Just let me know what direction to head, Harper. Because people are gonna die.” He lets out a long breath. “What you have is very important.” “Important to who? My father? You’re working for him, aren’t you?” “Do you think this is over? Do you think one twice-dead assassin changes their game? You’ve been playing for years, so let’s cut the shit. You and Nick are doing something. You two managed to get the upper hand and that’s why you’ve been left alone this past year. But they made their move today, Harper. Game starts now. We’re outta here in ten minutes and we’re heading west.”

Chapter Fifteen - James “Every room has a box, Harper. Check each one, pull out anything we might need, and pack it in the back of the Hummer.” She nods and walks off so I take my attention back to Sasha. “You, come with me.” I walk down the hallway and wave her into the bathroom. “Take a seat.” Sasha sits on the toilet lid while I grab a t-shirt from the bedroom. I go back to the bathroom and shuffle through the first-aid kit from under the sink. I grab some antibacterial gel, some bandages, and then turn the hot water on and grab a washcloth off the rack on the wall. I start with her legs and wipe them down. She has a lot of tears but no sobs. And that is just sad. I move on to her arms after I finish her legs. Then her face. I get a new washcloth for her face, there’s so much blood. “You’re gonna be really sore, but you’re OK. So try not to think about it.” I look her in the eyes as I wipe her forehead. “Can you do that?” She swallows hard and nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve been trying not to think about it for months now, James.” “I know. And you’re doing a really good job.” Her chin quivers for a moment, but she gets it in check before she loses control. “And I know you have a secret. And no amount of asking or demanding is gonna make you give it up before it’s time. So I’ll drop it. But I need to know, kid. Are we working for the same guy or not? Because you seem to have a lot of information about me and I seem to have none about you.” She turns her head away, looking at the blue shower curtain. “I think we are on the same side. Is that good enough?” The relief I feel at not having to kill this child is almost overpowering. I smack her on the knee and she cries out with a wince. “You can wash up properly when we get to the next safe place.” I dab the antibacterial gel on her wounds. “But this should get you through.” There’s a gash on her thigh from the bike wreck that needs a bandage, so I fasten one of those on her and then wash my hands. “James?” she asks quietly as she waits. “What?” I say as I pack up all the crap and stuff it back into the box. “If I have to stay with you until this is over, then can you please…” “Can I please what?” I open the door and wave her forward. The screen door smacks against the house as Harper loads up the Hummer. “If you’ve got something on your mind, spit it out.” She stares up at me with those blue eyes and she looks eight or ten instead of thirteen. So fucking young. Too fucking young to be doing this shit. “Can you make sure if I die, then I don’t die for nothing?” I turn her around and push her towards the kitchen before she sees my reaction. Because nothing… nothing prepares you for words like that coming from a kid’s mouth. “Look, Smurfette,” I say, playing the asshole role. “You work for me now. So there’s no checking out on my dime. You wanna get yourself killed, then you do it on someone else’s time. You got it?” She nods and keeps walking in front of me. But I catch her wiping tears as she fishes a pair of sneakers out of her backpack and slips them on. I wait patiently as she meticulously laces them up, and then we leave the house, pulling the door closed behind us. Harper’s in the passenger seat, waiting for us. I open the back door for Sasha, and she climbs in and buckles her seatbelt. “You get everything we need?” I ask Harper as I close the door. I catch a nod from her as I walk around to my side, then get in and start the engine. “Where are we going now?” Harper asks. “Merc’s got a place in Palm Springs. He’s not there at the moment, so we’ll hole up there today and decide what the fuck we’re gonna do.” Someone did this to the kid and someone absolutely is setting me

up. I need this drive to think about it. I need time to put these pieces together. Because this is all wrong. None of this shit is adding up. We had a plan, this… thing this morning was not in the plan. I get silence from both girls. So I just flip a bitch in the front yard and head on out, taking the back roads into California, then crossing over Interstate 15 into the Mojave National Preserve. “Turn off your phones and give them to me.” I wait as the girls shuffle through pockets and then three phones are presented in my waiting hand. I chuck them all out the window, then fish mine out of my pocket and do the same. The girls turn around to watch them disappear as I buzz the window back up. The dash thermometer says it’s a hundred and fourteen degrees outside, but inside we’re all cold and it’s got nothing to do with the air conditioning. We’re killers. And isn’t that what they always say about us? Cold-blooded? Like the lizards scurrying across the sand-covered highway. We’re all cold out here.

Chapter Sixteen - James “What did you mean back there?” Harper asks once there’s nothing to look at on this drive but Joshua trees and the occasional flattened snake in the road. “When you said, ‘Someone who should be dead.’” I glance over my shoulder to see if the Smurf wants in on this conversation, but she’s sprawled out across the central console, sleeping. “Check Sasha’s pulse for me, will you? That opiate antagonist I gave her wears off, and if they dosed her too high, she’ll be all drugged up again.” Harper leans into the backseat with a loud, annoyed sigh as she grabs the kid’s wrist and a half a minute later she says, “Sixty-eight.” “OK, she’s pretty good.” “Well, I’m not, James. I need some answers. Nothing about you makes any sense and I want to know why all this is happening.” “I could say the same thing about you, Harper.” I give her a sideways glance, then take my attention back to the rough desert terrain. I consider how to fill her in without fucking things up too bad and come up with evasion. “Back when I was just some teenage punk who thought being an assassin would turn me into a better, stronger, faster killer version of Boba Fett, I asked why a lot too. But I learned pretty fast that why was a dangerous question. Why are people after Sasha? Why are you and I together? Why is Sasha with us? I mean, really, besides being Company kids, what do we have in common?” She’s silent. Maybe thinking, maybe avoiding. I make it easy for her. “Killing, Harper. That’s what we have in common. Do you know who was at your birthday dinner that day on the boat?” I glance over and she shakes her head at me. “You poisoned everyone by lacing the water, some,” I stress, “more than others. But of those thirteen who died, nine of them were section leaders. All ranking officials. Do you know what that means as far as Company organization goes?” She knows. But she’s quiet so I fill it in for her. “Restructuring. Promotions, new ranks, new leaders. Now ask yourself, who benefits the most by restructuring?” Her silence is starting to piss me off, and I’m tired of babying her. “Your father, Harper. He’s the head guy, he calls the shots, he has enemies, maybe some who think they can run the Company better than he does. He takes them all out in one act. Only he never gets his hands dirty.” “So he used me to do his killing?” She lets off a snort. “Right.” “That surprises you? I mean the man was gonna give you away to me when you were six years old —” “James,” she snarls. “That’s highly unlikely.” “I agree, it was unlikely he was serious, but he made the offer just the same. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough to use you in that way enough to make you believe he could use you in other ways? Did you hear the offer?” I ask her. “Do you want me to repeat it word for word so you can decide what his intentions were?” “That’s not what I meant. I mean, he might’ve said that to you, but he didn’t really mean it. You said yourself, it was a test. He would never give me to you.” “Why, because you’re so out of my league, you can’t imagine your father deeming me worthy?” “I’m not answering that. It’s stupid. You already said you knew that the offer was not real, so why this resistance to admit what you already know?” “Because you’re missing the point, Harper. The point is that he’s capable, regardless of his intentions.” “He has nothing to do with my actions on the ship that night. It was—” She stops short and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. “It was who, Harper? You and Nick?”

She shakes her head at me. “How would my father know?” “How would he know, Harper? Come on, who gave you that plan? Who told you to use Visine?” “It’s just something we had on board.” She shrugs. “Visine and ocean swimming go together.” “It was a good plan.” I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a fantastic plan. But don’t you think it’s a little convenient that a bunch of old cronies got offed by a poison that points right to Assassin Number Six?” “I didn’t know anything about that Tet stuff, James.” “No.” I look at her. Stare at her. “No, you didn’t. But Nick did because he was one of us. And if he wanted your father dead, well, then your father absolutely would be dead. And since thirteen Company cronies are dead and your father is not, he was obviously in on the plan. So what’s his endgame? What’s your endgame?” I look over at her as she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up, then looks back to the road. “Freedom, James. All I want is my freedom.” “And you need your father alive for that? The person who was gonna enslave you in the first place?” Harper huffs out a breath and starts shaking her head. “You sure do ask a lot of why questions. I mean, for someone who was taught to shut his face and do what he’s told. And that answer is God’s honest truth. So now it’s my turn. Why was that guy back there someone who should be dead?” I give Harper a quick glance, then deflect the question for a few more seconds as I swerve to miss a tortoise crossing the highway. Her bare feet are propped up on the dash and she’s leaning back against the door so she can get a straight view of me. “One of my recent jobs, that’s all.” “So what did he do? To deserve an assassination by you?” “I have no clue, it was just an order.” “But you failed. So…” “I thought he was dead,” I growl at her. “I didn’t fail. Something else happened.” “Oh.” She sighs, and then mutters, “OK,” at me, tiring of my evasive answers quickly, and for that I’m grateful. I’m not in the mood to talk about what I’ve been doing the past two years. “So how come you haven’t killed Merc?” Sasha, that little faker, asks from the back. “Why would I kill Merc?” “You killed all the rest. So how come not Merc?” I scowl at her in the rear view. “You killed all the other what?” Harper asks now. Fuck. “Assassins.” Sasha again. “He’s supposed to be the only one left besides Merc. So I’m just curious, why Merc? Because he’s not a nice guy. He’s not a good guy. He’s not a Company guy either. He’s nasty and mean and since I knew all those other assassins you took out, even if it was just casually, I just don’t get it.” I say nothing. Because this is yet another puzzle piece that requires some thinking. How the fuck does this kid know so much about my business? And who the fuck is setting me up? And if Sasha and I are actually working for the same person, that’s one thing. But I’m not getting the impression that’s the case. In fact, all my previous loyalties are coming into question at the moment. Who do I trust? Whose plan is this? “There’s more, you know,” Sasha continues in the wake of my silence. “More what?” I laugh out the words in an attempt to feign amusement. “More assassins. More than you know of. Lots more.” I am not amused. “I don’t want to talk about it, OK? Just a couple more hours and we’ll be in Palm Springs. Until then, shut the fuck up.” “James,” Harper says in a calm voice. “It’s better if we all know what’s going on.” “The Smurf back there is the only one who knows what’s going on, why not ask her.”

“He’s crazy,” Sasha says as Harper turns back to her. “They’re all crazy. You had to have seen them growing up, right? Even if it was just briefly, you had to have seen them. It’s not easy to miss the fact that you have to be psychotic to do a job like this.” “Sasha, I’m not gonna say it again. Shut the fuck up. I’m not the crazy one here, OK?” I look over at Harper and she’s got that look in her eyes again. That same look she had back in Huntington when she was trying to figure out if she was my target. And she has no fucking right. No fucking right. “I’m not the one who just jumped off the roof of a moving vehicle to tackle a dirt bike. I’m not the one who just snapped a man’s neck like it was nothing. I’m not the one who’s been living in the middle of nowhere for three months. You two”—I point to Harper and then jerk my thumb in the direction of the back seat—“you fucking girls are the crazy ones.” “Hmmm,” is all Harper says. Sasha keeps her mouth shut for once. And that’s how they leave it. With me being a dick. I try to forget about the question and just drive. I don’t want to fight with Harper. She’s the only fucking reason I’m doing any of this. Fighting with her defeats every objective I have. I just want to get out of this goddamned sun, close the curtains, make everything dark, and— “I think I know why he didn’t kill Merc.” “Why?” Harper asks quickly, turning around to see Sasha. “Because Merc is gonna kill him.” “That’s fucking it!” I swerve the Hummer over to the almost nonexistent shoulder, and slam on the brakes. “You shut your fucking mouth, kid. Or I swear to fucking God, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” Harper asks, her eyebrows raised up to the ceiling. “She’s got legitimate questions, James. And to be honest, I’m interested in the answers. Who was the guy who took her? And why was he sending me messages?” “Harper, use your fucking brain. Why do you think he was sending you messages?” “Why? If he knew where to find me, then why didn’t he just take me? Why play this game? I’m sure my father has a reward out. Or a hit.” “Oh, is that where we’re at again? You think I’m here to kill you? Did you know the Smurf is a killer too? Or did you not put that two plus two together yet?” “Don’t insult me, Tet. I figured that out, thanks.” “Then maybe you’re her target and not mine? How about that?” “So why hasn’t she killed me?” “I haven’t killed you either, but you still think that’s my job. And while we’re all playing let’sconfess-to-shit-we’re-not-doing, what’s your job, Harper? Who the fuck are you and your brother after?” “Oh, snap!” Sasha says. “Shut up!” Harp and I yell together. “She’s playing us, you do realize that, right? I mean, you can see that now, right? She’s egging us on, making us fight.” “I’m just trying to tell you something,” Sasha squeals. “Something you don’t know but I do. And you know what? Forget it. You don’t deserve my help if you’re gonna treat me like a traitor! I was kidnapped for her!” She shoves Harper on the shoulder and Harp slaps her hand off, turning around like she’s gonna dive back there and start a real fight. “Sit back, Harper,” I growl as I yank her by the arm and push her against the door. I pull back onto the road before one of these girls decides to get out of the car. I am not in the mood to chase them down in this heat. “I don’t want to travel with you anymore,” Harper says as she crosses her arms and turns her back to me. “I’m leaving when we get back to civilization.”

“I’m leaving too. I’d rather die than go back to Merc. I’ll find Ford on my own.” Called that one. Fuck. Thirty minutes ago I was having warm fuzzies for that little brat and dreaming about Harper’s lips wrapped around my cock. And now this. I drive in silence as the anger and resentment lingers in the air like a cloud of dust. I roll over all the possibilities in my head, replay the conversation to figure out where it all went wrong. And then make a decision to take one for the team. “OK,” I say. “OK, what?” Harper asks without looking at me. “Two years ago,” I start. “Two years ago I had a meeting about my brother.” I check Harper in my peripheral vision, then the rear view. Both girls are listening, I know that much. “Lots of people wanted him dead and I can’t say I disagreed. He was one fucked-up individual. I admit, I am one fucked-up individual. But Tony… Tony was the worst of all of us. He was too young when he started doing jobs. Three years younger than me, and I was only sixteen. I was sent away, learned my trade and completed my contracts in faraway places, filled with faces I never cared about. Entire populations of people who meant nothing to me. It was a movie. A video game. A book. It was not me killing and they were not real people. But Tony did jobs in fucking San Diego on the weekends and went to school on Monday like he was just another kid. He never had the chance to dissociate.” “Dissociate?” Sasha asks, leaning forward into the front seat. “What’s that mean?” “They tell me,” I continue, irritated with her, “they being the Company shrinks—that the dissociation from society is normal. Key, really. It’s the only way to kill people for a living and not go off the rails. Of course, we all go off the rails. That’s why there’s only two of us left. And I’m the only one still here.” “You really killed them all?” Harper asks, appalled. “I really did.” “But,” Sasha interrupts, “there’s more than ten assassins, James.” “Thank you, Sasha. I’m so fucking glad you’re here to school me.” I catch her rolling her eyes in the rear-view. “I know there’s more than ten fucking assassins.” “Who gave you those jobs?” Harper asks. I don’t look at her as the words come out. I just stare straight ahead. “Your father.” “Why?” “I have no idea. I just do what I’m told.” “You’re lying,” Harper says. Her anger is almost dripping off her, that’s how hot she is right now. “You’re lying and I’m sick of it. Just tell me what the hell is going on before you get us all killed!” “Harper, believe me, if I fucking knew, I would. But I don’t know what’s going on.” “What if more assassins show up?” Sasha asks. “What do we do then?” “You don’t do anything. You let me handle them.” “Pow,” Sasha says quietly as she shoots her finger at the windshield, her arm extending between Harper and me. “They’ll be dead with a shot to the head.” She laughs a little and sits back. “He’s probably gonna kill Nick, Harper. Just like you killed your brother, huh, Tet?” I don’t take her bait. I let it ride. Because if I stop right now, I’ll snap her little Smurf neck and leave her body in the desert.

Chapter Seventeen - Harper Just like your brother… I replay that sentence in my head over and over. She emphasized your when she said that. But why be so obvious? This kid is confusing me. One second she’s on our side—if we even have a side—and then the next minute she’s not. She’s creating problems for James on purpose, like she’s warning me not to trust him. And this just pisses me off. That this stupid thirteen-year-old girl thinks I’m dumb. Of course, I do my best to play dumb, and in fairness, she didn’t catch the show when I snapped the guy’s neck during the daring rescue. So I should cut her some slack. But nothing about this group makes sense. Nothing about what we’re doing makes sense. If James is after Nick because my father ordered a contract on him like the other assassins, then why all this bullshitting around? I have no idea where Nick is. I’m pretty sure he’s not waiting for us in Palm Springs at this Merc guy’s house. So… “What the hell are we doing?” “Taking a piss, Harper,” James says as he pulls off the road and into a parking lot and stops the Hummer in front of a place that claims to be a visitor center. There are two cars in the parking lot. Including us. “They have food here too. Next chance is couple hours away.” “I want food!” Sasha says as she opens her door and jumps out. I open mine as well, and the heat blast is so powerful I almost can’t breathe. All three of us hurry under the shade of the front awning and then sigh with relief when we enter the air-conditioned building. “Here,” James says to Sasha as he thrusts some cash at her. “Get something for everyone.” She smiles at the bills and then trots away. I’m still watching her, wondering about her story, when James tugs me off in the other direction. We head towards the bathrooms and just as I’m about to pull away and go into the ladies, he ushers me into the men’s with him. “What are you doing?” I push him off me, but it’s too late. He’s already got both my wrists and I’m being forced back against the wall. “Really?” I laugh. “You’re gonna take me by force in a government building?” He glares at me, those hypnotic green eyes of his deathly serious. I shut my fucking mouth and stare back. Is this a fight? “You still think I’m a rapist?” “You have a thing for manhandling me,” I snap back. I have lost my patience with this man. “Why are you with me then, Harper? Because you might not think I know you very well, and that’s probably true, I’ve been a watcher in this relationship so far. And one day a year and three months of stalking barely count. But here’s what I do know about you. You might not be able to kill me outright, but you’d put up a damn good fight. And if you didn’t want to be in this restroom with me, you’d be somewhere else right now.” I yank my wrists free and push him off me with two solid palms to the chest. He rocks back just far enough so I can slip under his arms, and I turn to stare at him. “You’re right. I would, so what do you want?” “Your brother is not my hit.” “The hell he’s not! Even I can figure that shit out.” “Even you?” James laughs. “Please. Spare me the stupid blonde routine, OK? I know better.” “You were contracted to kill all the other assassins and that includes Nick, doesn’t it?” “No,” he says, the clenching of his jaw a warning that I’m beginning to push him. “You’re lying.” “So I’m a liar now too? A rapist and a liar.” “Don’t forget brother-killer. Or was that a lie too? Is he still alive?” The look I get in response almost makes me piss myself. But it’s too late now, so I take it a step further to see how much James can

take. “If you’ll fulfill a contract on your own brother, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to mine?” He turns away from me, walks to the door, reaches for the knob, and then he twists the lock and turns back. “Loyalty.” And to my surprise, his one-word answer is low, almost a whisper, yet powerful enough to make me pause. “I’m a loyal employee. But I’ve only ever worked for one guy. Myself. My brother broke his word to me. He killed someone I cared about in front of my face. He was about to steal his exgirlfriend and baby away from a safe home and bring them into a life that would get them both killed in a matter of weeks. So regardless of how you feel about what I did, my brother had to die to save these other two people. It was a call I made in the heat of the moment. I saw a chance to set things right for my niece, to free her from Company life, and I took it. You of all people should understand what that little girl’s life would be like if the Company got a hold of her. If she fucking lived. Because I had a little sister and she sure the fuck isn’t around anymore. So if my little niece was taken, she’d be promised to some old fuck as soon as the next assassin got a hold of Tony. So I’m not fucking sorry. He’s dead. I did it. And it was the right thing to do.” I hold my breath through that entire explanation and then it comes out in a rush as he finishes. His jaw and fists are clenching in unison, like he’s got so much tension and rage building, he has to let it out slowly and with complete control. Otherwise he might explode. “Who do you work for?” I finally manage. “Me. I work for me. How about you? Who do you work for?” “I don’t work for anyone. I’m not a hired killer.” I snarl out the words, but it has no effect on him. “No, you kill for free. You kill for yourself. So it looks like we’ve got something in common after all.” I huff out a few incredulous breaths at that remark. “Boy, Sasha is right. You are delusional if you think my escaping a life of sexual slavery with some old man—” “I’m not that old—” “Tet,” I cut him off. “You are insane if you think my father was giving me to you. OK? No offense, because you’re hot and I’d go back and do it all differently if I thought you really were the guy I was promised to. But there’s no possible way on earth that’s the case. OK? So yeah, I killed a bunch of people to get away. And I’m not sorry either. I’d do it again and never think twice!” I bite my lip as my hysterical words echo off the tiled walls for a moment, and then the place goes quiet. He takes three quick steps towards me and I back up instinctively, but I hit the sink. And then before I can come up with another plan, he’s pressed up against me, standing over me almost. His stare is captivating because everything about his expression, his body language, his breathing—all of it says this moment counts. His hands hover over my shoulders and then he give me a crooked smile. “Harper,” he says calmly. “What?” I snap again. “I want you. I’m going to touch you. I’m not fighting with you anymore. It’s a waste of time. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you right here, right now. In this goddamned desert shithole bathroom even though you deserve to be fucked on a tropical beach or somewhere with a mountain view, or, hell, even the goddamned Hummer would be better than right here. But you know what?” I swallow down my surprise. “What?” “You gotta make the most of what you got. And we’re not on a tropical beach or in front of a goddamned beautiful mountain. And fucking Smurfette is probably out in the Hummer. So this is all I got.” “None of this has anything to do with the fight we’re having.” He smiles and then nods at me. “Oh yes, it does. Because here’s the thing, Harp. We are about to have makeup sex. Right the fuck now. And if you don’t want me to do that, then feel free to finish this fight

properly. You ready?” “So you’re gonna force me.” “I’ll count to three so you can have a few more moments to decide. One.” My heart begins to beat wildly. “What the hell—” “Two.” His hands are still hovering above my shoulders but now they slowly descend to rest on my upper arms. “Three.” I expect to be turned around, pushed against the sink, and fucked from behind. But that’s not what I get at all. His hands descend down my bare arms, stopping at the elbow for a brief moment to caress the soft skin on the underside. And then they continue down to my waist. He eases them underneath my tank top, and then places both palms flat against my skin. “I’ll take that as permission to proceed, but feel free to stop me at any time.” And then his strong hands grab my waist and place my ass on the edge of the sink. He cups my face and leans in, his lips lightly touching mine. I kiss him back. With tongue. I can feel the smile on his lips. Because he knows I gave in with that tongue. He won this fight hands down. I am out for the count before the bell even rings. “I win,” he whispers into my mouth. “I’m not here to fight with you. I’m not here to trick you. I’m not here to kill your pain-in-the-ass piece-of-shit brother. I’m here for you, Harper. And that’s all there is to it. And if I have to yank your cute little ass into a roadside bathroom to make you understand that, I will. Every single time. I will. You and me,” he says, pointing to each of us. “We are the only ones who matter.” I shake my head as I try and absorb this. “I don’t understand any of this, James. Why, why, why? All I want to know is why?” “Why, Harper? I have no why answers. Your father, your brother, Sasha probably, they have the why answers. But your father and brother are lying and Sasha is very close to copping out on her own. So we’re gonna let all this run its course and you’re gonna follow my lead.” I don’t know what to say. Some of this makes sense. Especially Sasha. She wants to tell us what she knows, but she’s holding out for reasons that have nothing to do with loyalty to the people working against us. She’s holding out until she can trust us. So he’s right about that. I rest my head on his shoulder as he unzips his pants, pulls out his dick, and grinds his hips against me. “Lift up,” he says, his voice still soft but controlling. I lift up and then my shorts are dangling off my ankles. Then his hands slide under my ass, lifts me up, and he walks me across the bathroom and pushes me up against the heavy wooden door. His cock slides in, but so slowly it’s driving me crazy. “Harder,” I whisper. “This doesn’t qualify as fucking the shit out of me.” He chuckles against my ear as he slides out, again, so very, very slowly before entering me again. “You’re wrong, Harp. You’re so wrong.” His hand slides over my behind and one finger finds the bud of my ass. I moan a little as he pushes it inside, and then something overtakes me, and I’m pushing back against the pressure. “More,” I pant. “I want more.” “Baby,” he growls, “you will get all of it very soon. But right now this will have to be enough. Now, put your hand under my balls and hold them, like you’d hold something very precious.” My hand is in motion the second he asks. I love when he tells me what to do during sex. It’s so completely fucking hot. My fingertips find the soft skin of his balls and I cup them gently, moving them back and forth in my palm. “Yes, that’s perfect, Harper. I want them in your mouth.” I’m already struggling to be let down so I can make his wish a reality, but he stops me. “Not here. Because I will want to fuck you all night long once I get your head between my legs.” He removes my hand and lifts my fingers to my lips. I suck on them the way he likes. They slide in and out slowly, like we’ve got all the time in the world to orgasm.

Then the door handle jiggles next to my hip and then comes knocking. A man’s voice talks in Spanish. “Ignore him,” James whispers. “He is no one to us. I meant what I said. We are the only ones who matter.” The man knocks again, talking louder this time. But James responds with a hard thrust and I moan. Another thrust, another moan. And I realize he’s doing it on purpose when the demands on the other side of the door become furious. “Me,” James says, lowering his face so I have to look him in the eyes. I instantly forget the commotion on the other side of the door and all I see is the soul he’s hiding behind the green. “Only me, Harper.” He leans in and bites my shoulder, making me squeal. “Yes, do that again.” And he does. He fucks the shit out of me. Slowly. Taking his time. Thrusting his hardest. Ignoring the world on the other side of the door until he spills himself inside me, calling out my name as I moan his. We collapse into an embrace, a hug really. And wait for the aftershocks to dissipate. And now there are more voices outside. Someone threatening to call the police. I raise my eyebrows at James for that one. “Please,” he says, probably loud enough for the people outside to hear him. “It’s the fucking Mojave Desert. I’m pretty sure no one’s coming.” And then he sets me down and grabs a few wet paper towels to clean me up. “Thank you,” I whisper, as he holds my shorts open so I can step back into them. He even pulls up the zipper and buttons them up. And then, when we are good and ready, he unlocks the door and opens it up. We get angry stares from the little Mexican guy, a thumbs-up from some teenager, and a look of disgust from an older couple. “Sometimes,” James says, stopping in front of the old people, “you gotta grab that moment, ya know? I just never know which ones will be the life-changers, so I treat them all the same. We had a fight. And then we made up. Life is good again. So”—he does a little bow to the smirking old lady, who is charmed by his honesty—“my apologies.” He holds my hand, swings it, actually, until we reach the Hummer, and then he opens my door for me and goes around to jump in his side. “Well,” Sasha says. She’s lying down on the seat of the Hummer stuffing her mouth with multicolored candy worms, sweating like crazy because it’s hot as hell in here. “If you try and explain what took you so long, I will plug my ears and sing la-la-la. So just don’t.” “Finally,” James says as he starts the Hummer and puts it in gear. “I have a way to render the Smurf speechless.” And me too, I think to myself as I stare at the desert going by. Me too. Because slow and honest will get me every time.

Chapter Eighteen - James I like the thought of the desert when the blood is practically dripping off my hands after a kill, but experiencing it outside of an air-conditioned house, that’s another thing altogether. And the 1992 Hummer is not known for its awesome air-conditioning power. We might be in hell. But the desert is a hell I can relate to. It’s a hell I belong in. It’s a hell that calls me over, invites me in, and offers me sanctuary from my sins. The desert heat is a penance I joyfully accept on the off-chance that suffering in the heat is enough to dry the blood on my hands. I hate the fucking heat. I hate the fucking desert. But when you deal in death, you must atone in all ways possible. And my motto is, Things can always get worse. Hell could be worse than the Sonoran Desert in the summer. Hell could be the Sonoran Desert in the summer with ninety percent humidity. “Um,” Harper says, as we stare at the shack Merc calls ‘the Sonoran safe house’ from the tepid comfort of the climate-controlled Hummer. “I don’t think it has air-conditioning.” “It barely has walls,” Sasha adds. “I’m not going in there. I bet there are more rattlesnakes inside than there are outside.” She’s probably right about that. “Come on, you two are exaggerating. It’s fine.” Fucking Merc. That asshole never comes through for me. Ever. Who has a shithole for a safe house? Mine are stocked with anything you could need on the run. I got guns, I got a vehicle, I have first-aid kits in every bathroom. I have dry goods in the pantry and— “Let’s get a hotel,” Harper offers with a wave of hope in her voice. “I’m sure Palm Springs has nice hotels. It’s a resort town, isn’t it?” She makes a face as she looks around. Right. I’m getting the feeling she hates the desert too. I turn the engine off and the air-conditioning stops. The three of us begin to sweat simultaneously. All of a sudden we can’t get out of the Hummer fast enough. “Come on, let’s just rest a little bit and then we’ll see how we feel once the sun goes down. We should at least stay the night, then start again in the morning.” “It’s lunchtime, James,” Sasha says with an irritated clip as she smacks the back door closed. “Sunset is practically tomorrow.” I take Harper’s hand and ignore the Smurf. She can go wherever she wants. I’m not her keeper. We make for the front door as Sasha checks for snakes and Harper drags her feet behind me as I tug on her. Merc’s place looks like it was built by mud-hut dwellers in ancient times. The kid was wrong, walls are the only thing it has going for it. Thick—I’m talking like three feet thick—adobe mud walls. I know this because the front door is recessed back about that same depth. I grab the handle, then pull back from the sting of burning metal on my palm. Fucking desert. I use my t-shirt to twist the handle and find it unlocked so the door swings inward. A rush of cool air smacks us in the face and all three of us say, “Ahhhh,” in surprise. “It does have air-conditioning,” Sasha says. We all move forward into the house and then I close the door. “No, I think it’s just naturally cool in here because of the adobe walls.” We’re standing in a small foyer in front of a flight of steps leading down to a sunken room. Up here on the terrace is another room off to the side. It’s got bars on three sides. “It’s a jail,” Harper says, looking up at the cell as she walks down the stairs to the living area. “An old jail, from like the cowboys and Indians days,” Sasha adds. “I bet Jesse James stayed here. Or some other famous outlaw.” She laughs and looks at me. “Like you, James.”

“Like you, Smurf.” “Merc belongs in a jail,” Sasha says as she follows Harper. “If that asshole has a style, this is it. Retro poky. But it’s better in here than outside. I guess we can stay. These couches look comfortable.” She’s right, the couches do look comfortable, and the coolness makes everyone love it instantly. It’s a helluva lot nicer on the inside than it is on the outside. I have my gun ready in case there’s someone here, but I know where Merc is, and it’s not anywhere near Palm Springs, so it’s just a formality. “Is there a kitchen? And water? I want to take a shower. I’m still gooped up with blood and dirt.” The morning’s bullshit comes rushing back to me. I’d already forgotten about the kid’s drugged-up bike ride this morning. It feels so long ago. “Knock yourself out. I’m sure there’s a shower somewhere.” I pull Harper over to the couch. It’s just some old comfortable thing with a white sheet over it to keep the dust off, but I do not care. I plop down and then pull her into my lap. “We can stay a night, right? Have some alone time?” I waggle my eyebrows at her. God, I just want to settle for a little bit. Hold her close for a night and forget about shit. Is that too much to ask for? “Shit,” Sasha calls from another room. “James, you better come in here.” I push Harper up and we find Sasha in a pretty decent modern kitchen. It’s got new appliances and stone countertops. It even has a six-burner stove. “Nice,” Harper says as we look around. But then I notice what Sasha is staring at. A phone. “What the fuck?” I look over at Sasha and she’s shaking her head. “I didn’t,” she insists. “I have nothing to do with this phone. At all.” “And it’s lit up,” Harper says. “Like the one I found at your place, James.” “What fucking phone at my place?” “Remember? I told you about that phone that was waiting for me on your kitchen countertop. When I came in it was lit up and there was a message from Nick on it. That was the phone the assassin was sending messages to after he took Sasha.” I shake my head. “No, you did not tell me that.” “Yeah,” she insists. “I thought it was from Nick, and it said, ‘We’ll talk soon. Don’t forget why this is happening.’ And it had that little mushroom icon, like the one on the message this morning.” I don’t want to hear about a mushroom. There’s no way that can mean what I think it does. I look away from her so she can’t watch me struggle to make sense of this. This whole fucking job is a mess. Nothing has gone right. “James?” Sasha tugs on my t-shirt. “Should we listen to it?” I turn back around but Harper already has it in her hand. “Listen to it?” “There’s a message,” Harper says as her finger swipes the screen. It takes everything in my power not to snatch that phone right out of her hand. Her finger connects with the right button and there’s some static as a voice cuts in and out. “That was not in the plan.” And then the phone beeps to signal the message is over. “What plan?” we all say together. I play the stare game with them. They look at me with narrow eyes. I shoot them back a silent don’t-fuck-with-me and then direct my attention to Sasha. “It wasn’t me.” She’s shaking her head. “That message was not for me.” I look back to Harper. “That was Nick?” She nods. “But… I don’t know what he’s talking about. None of this makes any sense. And don’t even bother asking me what the plan was when we left last year. He never told me.” I believe her. So I don’t ask that question. I just need some fucking time to think. I need some answers. I need a way to get those answers and I need to make contact. “Well,” Sasha says as she puts her head on the counter. “I’m tired. Nick is obviously not gonna come try and kill us. That would make no sense. Let’s just stay here. I don’t want to drive any more. Besides,

that message could’ve been for Merc, right? I mean, this is his house.” Harper shoots me a look. “Your friend is working with my brother?” I don’t answer, just let the question hang there. I change the subject back to Sasha. “I thought you were worried about snakes inside, Smurfette?” She yawns and walks off. “You guys can do what you want. But Merc’s like my default adopted father, so the way I see it, I own this place. I’m gonna find a bathroom and clean up. Then I’m going to sleep.” We watch her walkout of the kitchen and then Harper turns to me. “That kid is like a pendulum. She swings in every direction. I thought Merc was the devil?” I don’t know what to say to that, either, so I change the subject. “Do you want to stay?” She gives me a wicked little smirk. “Do you?” My grin is so wide, she starts laughing. “I do,” I whisper in her neck as I pull her close. “We need some down time. It’s been go, go, go since we met. I can use some peace.” She wriggles free and puts a hand on my chest. “No more sex.” “What?” I almost choke. “It’s not right. I have so many personal questions for you. Questions I should have answers to if we’re together. And if we’re not together, then none of this is appropriate.” “Harper,” I say softly as I grab her hand and twine our fingers together. “How much clearer do I have to make it? You agreed to be mine when I took your virginity.” She pries her hand free of mine and then walks back out to the living room and sits down on the couch again. I sit next to her and she lays her head down in my lap. “Things have changed though.” I play with her long golden hair, making sure to touch the back of her neck with each pass once I figure out it makes her shiver. “What things?” “I mean, everything that happened today, James. I killed a man. You admitted to killing all the other assassins. My brother leaving cryptic messages. Who’s this message for? Me? I guessed that the first one was for me, but it was in your house and that one might’ve come from the guy I killed. So maybe it was for you?” She tips her head back so she can look me in the eyes. “Do you know my brother?” “I’ve met him, of course. I’ve seen him every year on your birthday. So yeah, I know him. But this morning’s message was clearly not him. Why would he kidnap Sasha?” “Why seems to be the only question we are able to ask right now. Who do you work for?” “I told you, I work for me. Who do you work for?” I counter. “I work for me too, I guess. And Sasha seems to work for whoever she’s with. So how do we know whose side we’re on?” I swipe a few stray strands of hair off her forehead. “Trust me. I know what’s best. If you just trust me, Harper, it will be OK.” I lean down and kiss her on the nose. “You and me, Harper, we’re in this together. I’m the only one you should always trust. No matter what’s happening. I’m the one you look to. Because everything I’m doing is for you and me. Not just you, not just me. But both of us.” “But I don’t even know you, James. Trust is something you earn. And I’m not sure you’ve earned that kind of trust. I think you’re hot. And sex with you is something I want to get used to. But back under the pier, that first day you came to me, you said you didn’t just want to fuck me, you wanted to know me. And so far you’ve done a pretty shitty job at getting to know me. All you really did was fuck me. In fact, you know nothing about me outside of those one-day birthday trips. And I know even less about you. So which one is it?” She sits up and turns around, tucking her feet underneath her so she can be eye level with me. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you want something convenient and fast filled with sex and that’s it. Or you want something meaningful and you earn the trust that comes with it.” She stops talking and I’m still playing her words over in my mind. It comes across as a hesitation, so she makes to get up. But my brain kicks in before her feet find the floor and I pull her back onto my

chest. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll tell you anything you want.” She thinks for a moment and I imagine every horrible question she can possibly dream up. What did it feel like to kill the first time? Why did it take them so long to rescue you when you were captured? Do you think your parents love you? Why didn’t they fight harder to keep you safe from the Company? Do you miss your brother? What happened to your sister? I draw in a breath, running all the ways in which I’ll have to lie to her when these questions are asked. But all of that’s unnecessary. Because her question finally comes out. And everything about it throws me off my game.

Chapter Nineteen - Harper “What was the best present you ever received?” I ask him. “As a kid, like a little kid. Because the best present you ever received as an adult was me.” I bat my eyelashes at him to let him know I’m not mad. And I’m not mad. I’m not trying to push him away, I just need more… details. More personal things. More job things. More killing things. Getting to know someone is a process. And I don’t want to skip it. I don’t know if I love him, but I like him. A lot. And knowing he’s been with me since I was a kid, even in just that small, distant way once a year, it means something. It makes him more than just a guy. He’s a guy who knows things about me. About my family. And he still wants to stick it out. Or… he’s using me to get to Nick. Which might be the case. And this is a good way to figure that out as well. I have trust issues. I know this. But either way, getting closer—more personal—this will meet the objective no matter what. He’s watching me with a very skeptical look as I think all this through. Probably a mirror of the confusion I’m battling internally as well. “Well…” He clears his throat. And then he pauses so long I decide to pick it up. “I’ll go first. OK?” I tip my head up and smile. He’s considering his options, I can tell. He’s trying to decide to be honest or lie. If I want something from him, I need to give it first. This is how they work, right? The assassins thrive on favors. You owe me, I owe you, and we’re even. So I lie back down in his lap and start. “My best gift was not that stupid Hello Kitty notebook you gave me.” His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and I bite my lip to stop the smile. “It was a fish from my brother.” James threads his fingers through my hair and that feels so good, I want to close my eyes and moan. But not yet. “He always gave me presents when we were small. Little things. An extra piece of fruit at breakfast. Rocks and seashells. One time he made me coconut dolls.” I smile so big when I think about this and I almost let the sadness seep in and ruin the moment. But I push that down and remember how happy he made me. “That was a great present too. And he scraped all the coconut husk off the shell, except where the big bushy eyebrows went. And I had a mom and dad and a brother and a sister. The perfect family.” The sigh comes out before I can shut it down and James traces the curve of my lips. “That was such a good present. But the very best present was a lionfish.” I look up at James again and he’s shaking his head with a grin. “He caught you a lionfish?” I nod. “He did. I was obsessed with them. I told you that day we became Six that I touched them. And I did. Every time I saw one snorkeling my hand just reached out.” “And they didn’t sting you?” James asks with a laugh. “They’re venomous, you know.” “I know. And I did get stung, like four or five times. My dad was so pissed, he finally said I wasn’t allowed to snorkel anymore.” “This was before or after the present?” “Before.” “So Nick gave you the forbidden fruit. And you were allowed to keep it? On the ship?” I nod as I remember. “Yeah. We had a nice tank. We were twelve. Old enough to take care of it ourselves. It was big too. Of course, we had a guy on board who really took care of it. But back then Nick and I felt like we were in charge. We had a pufferfish too.” “You did not.” James laughs. “Pufferfish venom is another calling card of mine.” “We did,” I exclaim as I try to sit up and make my case. But James pushes me back down into his lap, and I’m too comfortable to fight it. “That came after. Because one day we came upstairs and all the fish were dead. Oh my God, I cried so hard over those fish. No one knew what happened. My father was furious. I’m not sure if it was because I was crying like an idiot over it, or the inconvenience of replacing them. But we cleaned up the tank and a few weeks later we were near a reef and Nick got permission to

go catch fish.” “And he came back with your lionfish.” “He did.” “He loves you, I guess,” James says as he drags some hair off my forehead. “I know.” “Did you ever give him such a fantastic present?” I shake my head but suddenly it’s difficult to talk as a lump of sadness appears in my throat. I swallow it down and find my voice. “I could never think of something special like he could.” “I think you were his something special, Harper. I’m sure he didn’t need a present to let him know you loved him.” “Yeah.” I sigh. “But I wish he had something to think about like I do. The feeling when you receive a gift from someone who loves you. And everything about that gift says you’re special.” “Well,” James says through his own sigh. “I can’t think of a single gift I’ve gotten that actually… meant something.” “You never got gifts?” “No, I did. Cars. Trips. Shit like that. Shit rich kids get. But to me, they were just things. Were you spoiled, Harper?” “Hmmm.” I think about it for a second. “I guess. I had a nice life.” “Did your father buy you things instead of spending time with you?” “No, we didn’t get a lot of frivolous presents. And my dad hardly spent any time with us at all. We were mostly ignored except at dinner or parties. But when you live on a two-hundred-and-twenty-foot yacht and your whole life consists of sailing around the tropics visiting paradise, that’s probably enough to qualify as spoiled.” And so that was my life. The beaches, the boats, the water. And once a year on my birthday, a party. I think back to those birthdays, but they mostly run together. Presents, beaches, swimming, fireworks… They all run together except for one. “What did you think when you first saw me?” He sucks in some air and when he exhales I close my eyes and picture that day again. “Well,” he says softly. “That day on the beach when we both became Six I thought you looked like a sea nymph who would sing a song and I’d lose my mind from the beauty of your voice.” “You are such a liar,” I snort. He pokes my armpit, testing to see if I’m ticklish. I am, so I squirm, and then his hand slips to my breast and finds the hard pebble of my nipple. He pinches it and I moan a little. “You want to know what I thought about when I saw you in Huntington that first time?” My hand slides up my stomach and I place it over the top of his and then grip him a little harder and rub my breast using his hand. “You’re turning me on, Lionfish. You know that, right?” “Tell me what you thought, James. I want to know.” My eyes close again. He slides his hand underneath my shirt and squeezes the nipple again with no fabric to dampen the pleasure. “It was my first day in HB. I had an apartment on PCH. I had some ripped Levi’s. Some vans. Some expensive sunglasses. Just fitting in like I do wherever I’m sent. And I had just finished taking a walk down the pier to check it out. It was just about sunset, and it was cold that day. Rainy and cloudy. So no one was paying any attention to the sunset.” “Except me,” I say softly. “Except you. I spotted your hair first. Then there was this break in the clouds and the sun hit your face in a way that turned your brown eyes to this incredible gold, and your hair was like a beacon on that gloomy day. Your beauty called to me, the same way it did back when we turned Six. And I knew the very second I saw you. You were my only reason to live.”

I tip my head up so I can see him and he’s got a sad frown on his face. “Because you had to shoot your brother?” He looks away and he takes a deep breath that lifts my whole body up with the effort. “There’s no one left for me to love but you, Harper. My brother is dead, my sister is probably dead. They took her that first year I was working because my mother was ‘getting ideas’ about my little sister’s promise. It was hard to get upset about my lot in life before that. I mean, that was just how it was, ya know? It never occurred to me that I was allowed to be outraged at the thought of my baby sister being promised to a man. So she disappeared. A few years later one of my contracts was shooting his mouth off before I pulled the trigger and he claimed he killed her. I took him at his word, because you know what? The idea that my sister was kidnapped as a toddler and given away as a child bride is just more than I can deal with.” “God, I’m so sorry. They never told me about the marriage stuff either. Not outright anyway. Not until I turned sixteen. And then that’s all they talked about.” “But your brother made sure that day never happened. Well.” James stops to correct himself. “No, that’s not true. You took care of it yourself, really. But either way, the gloomy sunset day was like… an ending to the bad things. That’s what I told myself. And then the day I finally decided to ask you your name, I wanted it to be dawn instead of dusk. I didn’t want it to be an ending, I wanted it to be a beginning.” I picture him in his sorrow on the beach. “I was sad too. Missing my brother so bad my chest hurt all the time, and I used to hold that bottle of pills so tightly in my hand, I’d have sore arms the next day.” “But you never took them. I used to count them every night.” What? I’m back from the moment and I need more answers about this surveillance he was doing. “Who sent you to the beach?” “Your father.” “So he was watching me.” “Probably.” “You were watching me for him?” “I guess. It was not a job. I was on leave. And I never reported to him. Not one thing I did on that beach was reported.” I’m silent for a long time. Long stretches of minutes go by and the only thing that registers is the feeling of James playing with my nipples. Every now and then he squeezes a bit and the now-familiar wet feeling between my legs makes me squirm. “Do you want me to keep going?” he finally asks. “Will I want to hear the rest?” “I’m not sure, to be honest.” “Do you want me to know the rest?” “Yes, I do. I have wanted to say these things to you since the day under the pier.” I tip my chin up so I can see him better and nod. “OK.” “I followed you home after the sunset. I broke into your apartment that night. And every single night thereafter. I watched you—” And as soon as he says this part, his hand slides into my shorts and slips down to play with my pussy. “Did you touch me?” I ask, my breath becoming faster as his fingers begin to explore my folds. “Or did you just watch?” “I touched you.” “Where?” I slip my hand inside my shorts and begin to caress my clit in slow circles. “Here?” “No,” James says softly. And then he pulls his hand out of my pants and brings it to my lips. “Here.” His fingertip traces the curve of my lip again, like he was doing earlier. But this time it’s slick with my

own juices. “Did I suck you?” “I wish,” he laughs. “No. I was afraid to wake you, so it was a very small touch.” “Did I ever moan?” “Yes. It drove me crazy.” “Did you want to fuck me?” He slides his hand back into my shorts and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I dreamed about fucking you. Every night.” “Did you masturbate as I slept?” “Yes,” he whispers. “Show me,” I whisper back. He draws in a sharp breath, staring down at me. “Sit up on your knees,” he commands. I get up, my heart beating faster at the prospect of watching him. “Take off your shirt.” I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head as he unfastens his pants. His dick is so hard it springs forth once the confining fabric releases it. “Take off your shorts.” I stand up, unbutton them, and let them slide down my legs. He takes his shirt off and then stands up next to me and lets his pants drop before sitting back down. “Kneel and put your head here,” he says, patting the top of his thigh. I never stop looking him in the eyes as I kneel and lay my head on his leg and my hands automatically begin to stroke his muscled calf. His cock is only a few inches away and I want to put it in my mouth so bad I tremble. But then his large hand grabs hold of the shaft and begins to pump. I watch as he grows even bigger and it scares and excites me at the same time to think of that inside me. After a few strokes he stops. “Get it wet for me, Harper.” I raise my eyebrows. “Suck it.” OK, sucking I can do. I lean forward and touch the tip of my tongue to his head, licking off the pearl of wetness that has already gathered there. “Deeper, baby,” he says through a moan. I open wider to take in more and then his hand is on my head, forcing his cock down my throat. I breathe through it like he taught me last time he did this. “Good girl. You’re a very good girl.” But his pressure increases as soon as the words are out and I gag. He doesn’t let up and my mouth fills up with saliva. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. “Make my dick wet.” The pooling saliva drips out of my mouth and onto his cock, then slides down towards his balls. “Rest your head back on my leg, Harper. Relax now, and watch.” I do relax. His cock is slick with my saliva and he pumps it in long strokes. I can tell he’s squeezing hard by the way he groans when his hand fists the top of his head. When I look up at him, he’s staring at me. “I did this in front of you when you slept sometimes.” “Did you want to stick it in my mouth?” “No.” He smiles when I have a look of surprise on my face. “No, I always fantasized about you waking up and watching me and then you’d stick your fingers in your pussy and we’d masturbate together, coming at the same time.” “And then what?” I open my legs and finger myself, making sure to keep my head on his thigh. His eyes never leave mine and mine never leave his. “And then I’d kiss you and tell you it was just a dream. And you’d close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

“You didn’t want to fuck me?” “Shit,” he laughs. “Yes, Harper. I wanted to fuck you. But not like that.” “You’re so weird.” “Why’s that?” He kneads my breasts, twisting my nipples gently every few seconds. “I just don’t get you. You want me, but you feel guilty for wanting me. It’s because of the promise? And my age? You hate that I’m young, don’t you?” “Jesus fucking Christ, no. Just thinking about how young you are makes me want to fuck you harder.” “Then what do you want that I’m not giving you?” He waits a few beats and it makes me so nervous I want to scream at him. “Tell me,” I finally beg. “Just tell me what you want. I’m ready to do almost anything.”

Chapter Twenty - James “Trust me,” I tell her as I pull her up off her knees and have her straddle my lap. “That’s it. I feel like I’ve fucked that up along the way and I’m not sure how to get it back. You think I’m here to kill you or your brother. And I’ve told you over and over, that’s not my job.” I put my fingers on her lips and she opens her mouth to suck. And holy motherfucking shit, all I can think about is stuffing my cock down her throat again. “Let me finish before this body wipes my mind of all coherent thoughts.” She giggles a little, like I’m kidding. And it pisses me off that she’s not hearing me. So I grab her face and hold her a little too tight. “Harper,” I say sharply as I fist her hair and make her gasp. “Listen to me. You’re not the job. But there is a job.” Now she’s listening. “Who?” “It’s not a who. Just trust me. Either you do or you don’t. Everything I’ve done since we became Six, whether I realized it at the time or not, it was all for you. For our moment. For a future that does not involve being in debt to anyone, especially the Company. So no matter what happens, I need you to understand this. Everything I’m doing is about you. And your safety.” “You’re going to do something bad, aren’t you?” I throw up my hands a little at that statement and roll my eyes like a teenager. “I’m an assassin, Harp. You know what I do. I wish I could tell you no, I’m a good guy and I’ve always been a good guy. But I’m not. I’ve never done a good deed in my life. Not really—not for real, because if I was helping someone, then it was to gain a favor or pay a debt. But I want you, us,” I add quickly. “I want us more than anything else in the entire world. The fucking second I recognized you out on the beach watching that ugly sunset, that’s all I can think about. And yeah, having you rubbing up against my cock as you sit in my lap right now—that’s all part of it. But just part. And the sex is not enough.” “You want things like… marriage? And babies?” she asks with a puzzled look. “Don’t you?” She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want my sons to be made into soldiers or my daughters turned into trophy wives. And I don’t want to marry some old man who only wants me for sex.” “I just told you, I want more than sex and I’m not that old. Twenty-eight is not that old.” “James, how many times do I have to explain this? You are not my promise. My father is using me to make you do things.” “It’s working.” It’s really fucking working. That bastard can ask me to do anything right now and I’d do it if it meant I could keep her. “Then I want you to stop. I don’t want you to play his games. Just run away with me. We can go anywhere. A big city where no one has a face. We can start again and forget all about the Company.” “Please, Harper.” I shoot her a sidelong look. “You cannot be that naive. The Admiral’s daughter and the last assassin. If ever there was a pair begging to be hunted down and killed, it’s us.” “Then let them try. Let them hunt us. Let them kill Harper and James and then maybe we can live again as other people. As new people.” “You want to fake our own deaths?” I laugh. “It would never work. They’re not stupid, Harp. They have endless resources, they have satellite surveillance, they own entire towns. If we were stupid enough to run away for real, they’d hunt us down like dogs to make sure we never talked.” “So it’s hopeless?” She’s got a sad pouty face on and I’m suddenly tired of this depressing conversation. I stand up, cupping her ass to keep her body close to me, and then walk across the room to the hallway closest to the kitchen. There’s a bedroom down here, I think. I walk with her head resting on my shoulder and stop at a door. “Open it,” I say. She leans down a little, making her still-wet pussy rub against my stomach. The door swings open and presents the master bedroom. I walk her over to the bed and then ease her down gently, straddling her

hips as her body settles into the soft down comforter. “Nothing’s hopeless, Harp. But this is an area I forbid you to go. You’re not in charge of finding our future, I am.” “But what if you need help? I’m not allowed to help?” “No. And we haven’t properly talked about what happened this morning with that—” Shit, what do I call it? “Murder?” she finishes with the word I was trying my best to avoid. I scoot down until my cock is nudging towards her entrance, pushing against her clit. She tries to open her legs, but my knees have her locked together. She whimpers as I thrust the head of my dick into her crease. Her folds are so wet, I have no problem sliding right inside her. Fuck, she feels so damn good. I ease out slowly, making her breath all ragged with panting and little moans slipping between her perfect lips. “Harper,” I say as I cup her face once again. “Look at me, Harper.” She opens her eyes, just enough to be legitimately open, but with my next thrust they close again. “If I tell you to stay put, what do you do?” “Stay where I am,” she answers dutifully. But I’m not convinced she means it. Hell, she looks like she might come at any second. She’s cunning. And she’s got moves. I need to hammer this home. “Tell me why.” “What?” She opens her eyes now because I’ve stopped moving inside her. “Jesus, James, I’ll listen, OK?” “No, that’s not enough. Tell me why you’ll listen.” “Because you said so.” I shake my head at her. “Wrong answer. If I tell you to do something and you do it, the reason you do it is because you trust me. You understand?” “I trust you.” “Why do you trust me?” “James—” I lean down and kiss her softly. “Tell me why,” I whisper into her mouth. “Tell me, Lionfish. Why do you trust me?” My hips grind against her, moving my cock deeper inside her. She buckles her back and moans as her body protests the depth of penetration. I pull back and she groans, thrusting her hips towards me now, asking for more. “You trust me because I love you.” She opens her eyes and smiles. “You understand now? You trust me because I would never”—I cup her face harder as my movements inside her gentle—“ever hurt you. Do you understand that? If I tell you to walk through fire, it’s because I know beyond a doubt that you are fireproof. If I tell you to take a bullet, it’s because I know that you are bulletproof. If I tell you to walk away from me, it’s because you know I will come back for you. No matter what I tell you to do, you will do it, and you will be safe because I said so. Because I love you. Because you trust my love.” I stare at her and she holds the moment with me, but then my pace quickens and the gentle lovemaking becomes more urgent. I can feel her body writhe beneath me, and even though we’ve only had sex a few times, this is her signal. “You will follow orders, soldier,” I say as I unlock her legs from between my knees. I hike her ankles up onto my shoulders and pump hard. She gasps and squeals with each penetration. “Say yes, sir, captain. Say yes, sir.” She explodes under me, murmuring something close to a, “Yes, sir, I will, yes, sir, I’m yours.” And that’s all my cock needs. I come inside her, spilling my seed into her, hoping against hope that we are creating a future together. Creating more than just me, more than just her. Making us. It’s every kind of love I’ve ever felt. It’s a gushing of emotion. It’s a promise and a conclusion at the same time. This chorus of long, satisfying moans wipes away all the blood years, all the contracts, and all my sins. It

cleanses me in a way the desert never could. It doesn’t dry me out, it fills me up. If death is a deal, then love is a promise. “You fill me up,” I growl, biting into the soft flesh of her neck until her back buckles and her fingernails claw into my back. “You fill me up and make me realize—” “Realize what?” she breathlessly prods when I don’t finish. Our hearts are still racing, pounding against each other, feeding off each other as they pump life through our veins. Pump life back into us. Take us away from the past and towards the future. I don’t even know how to convey what it is I’m trying to say, but words just pour out of my mouth like water. “You take away the dark emptiness, Harper. You take away all the years of indifference and dissociation and right now”—I cup her face again—“right now, this is more real than anything I’ve felt in years. Maybe ever. This feels like something new. Something apart from what I was and a way forward into what I can be. This feels like hope, baby.” She stares up at me, her expression solemn, her eyes searching, her brow worried. “I’m afraid to hope, James. I’m afraid to hope because I just think hope is a trap. Hope makes you want things that won’t come. Hope breaks your heart.” “Not my brand of hope, Harper. This isn’t about luck, baby. This isn’t about circumstances or fate or coincidence. It’s about construction. Building, from the bottom up. It’s layer upon layer of secrets and debt. It’s level after level of subtle calculation and overt completion.” She tisks her tongue as I collapse on top of her, and then pushes on my body until I fall off to the side and wrap her in my arms. “All those words are meaningless unless I know what you’re doing. And you’re not telling me anything specific. And you know I’m not on any kind of birth control, right?” My eyes get heavy from the perfect combination of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Jesus Christ, woman. You did not hear a word I said. Just fucking trust me already.” I lean in and kiss her, this time with tongue and lingering, and we exchange breaths like lovers. I’m all talked out. Completely wiped out. But just before we drift off I feel her gentle touch as she moves my unruly hair away from my forehead. And then the press of her sweet lips as she whispers into my ear. “I trust you, Six. But you need to trust me too.”

Chapter Twenty-One - James “…you need to trust me too,” she whispers. I don’t answer. I can’t answer and besides, we’re too tired to talk about it now. The house is still cool enough to want her close, so I pull her towards me and place her head on my chest and just enjoy the moment. Things can change pretty quick in my line of work, so the moment is all you have. She falls asleep before me so I just lie here, twisting her long hair up in my fingers. For a guy who has no boundaries, no rules, and no oversight until after the fact, I’ve played it pretty straight with the Company since I took my number. I do what I’m told. I get the orders and I fulfill the contract. Death is my job. And even though most of the people who received my brand of justice over the years were walking scum and I had no regrets—hell, not even a slight hesitation—none of those killings were personal. Death is just a job. A contract is nothing but business. And I’ve always been on board with the business. But I’m tired of the job. I’m tired of the killing. I’m tired of being flown into places with no knowledge of anything other than my target. I’m tired of making nice with locals, and sometimes the targets themselves, just to get the lie of the land before I blow the whole place apart. Figuratively, you know. I don’t often blow whole places up. But I have. I’m tired of making friends, getting people to trust me, and then backstabbing them. How many disappointed looks have I seen over the years? Too many to count. But Tet, the inner James starts up, did they haunt you? Did you care? Nope. Not even once. I should be haunted by the dead, or at the very least, have a little bit of self-doubt over whether or not what I do is for the greater good. But I don’t. And it’s not because I’m a believer. No, I’m not much of a believer at all. The Company can preach that sermon to me all they want. I will nod and say yes, sir to their face, but I have a built-in bulldozer and its only job is to clear away the shit they’re selling and leave my conscious clean and level. It’s because unlike Tony, I was trained right. I might be ready to shrug off the dissociation right now, but separating myself from reality got me through. Why should I have remorse? Does a cashier have remorse for taking people’s money in exchange for goods? It’s just a fucking job. Harper moans and pulls away from me, the heat of our combined bodies too much, even though the thick adobe walls keep this place pretty comfortable. I let her have her space. She deserves to rest. It’s been a long fucked-up day and it’s not over yet. I get up and start the shower in the en suite bathroom. Merc’s place is not bad at all. And even though the outside is the shell of an old jail, the inside is clean, cool, and modern. I don’t know how much time he actually spends here, but it looks to be more than just an occasional squat house. He won’t be interrupting our visit though. He’s got his hands full with a personal job. This place has plenty of feminine touches that tell me he’s had women here, maybe even living here with him at times, but I know for a fact there’s no fucking woman calling this place home right now. Merc has a… checkered past when it comes to keeping girlfriends alive. I’m not saying he kills them. I’m just saying they often meet an untimely end. He admitted this to me himself back when we first met. I dropped that subject quick and he never brought it up again. And I didn’t get the impression he was avoiding it either, he just lost interest. Sasha is half right about Merc. He’s not the right guy to take care of her. But she could do worse.

She could get me as her adopted caregiver, for instance. As bad as Merc is, I’m worse. I definitely would not have left her alone out on the Colorado prairie. But not for altruistic reasons. I’d have put her ass to work. She’s not at a professional level, not even close. But she’s competent. And that makes her an asset. If she can be trusted. And I’m not sure she can. I wash my hair real fast, then finish up and wrap a towel around me and put my dirty jeans back on. I have no idea if Harper thought to pack me clothes, but I’m not about to go fish through the Hummer to find out. I leave the shirt off since it’s warming up in here, and go looking for the AC. I find the modern thermostat in the living room near the kitchen, and turn the temperature down and then make my way to the kitchen to check the food supply. And this kitchen he has, damn. He must cook or something, because the six-burner stove and the French-door fridge are telling me he knows his way around a frying pan. Inside the fridge is a selection of bottled water, some OJ, two bottles of wine, six beers, all with different labels, and some condiments. How thoughtful of him to leave us drinks. I smile at that as I grab a beer, fish the new phone out of my jeans pocket, and kick back on the couch as I play the message again. “That was not in the plan.” No, none of this was in the fucking plan as far as I can tell. If it was, I never got the fucking memo. I blame it on the blackout. I bring up the keypad and dial my secretary. She picks up on the second ring. “Law offices of Poslow, Poslow, and Twifter. This is Janet, how can I help you?” “Janet, Poslow Senior here. Do I have any messages?” “Yes, sir, you got a call this morning from Mr. Twifter. No message, just wanted to know if you checked in. And Poslow Junior called as well. He left a contact number.” “Give it.” I key the number in as she talks, then give her a polite, “Thank you,” and hang up so I can press send again. I let out a long breath as I listen to it ring. Merc picks up on the second ring too. I love consistency. “Jasus fucking Christ, where the hell have you been?” “Traveling. You think I have hidden wormholes I can pop in and out of to get places or what?” “Yeah, well, Twifter is not happy, asshole.” “Twifter can kiss my ass. None of that shit this morning was me. But anyway, we’re here. Thanks for the beer.” I take a swig and let out a long, “Ahhh,” trying to piss off Merc, but that’s when I see the Smurf watching me from the jail cell up on the foyer terrace. “Call you later,” I say, and then I press end on the phone. “What the fuck you doing up there?” “Who the hell were you talking to?” she snarls back. “Merc.” I hold up my beer and give her a pretend cheers. “Obviously that phone call was Merc. Before Merc, who the hell were you talking to?” “My secretary.” She stares at me and then gets up and walks to the jail cell door. That little shit was sleeping up in that jail cell. What a freak. “Why? I ask her. “You got a problem with me making calls?” She walks towards the steps and stops at the top. She’s all sweaty and flushed from the heat, and her hair is still wet from her earlier shower. The scratches from the thorn run-in this morning are still there, but now that the dried blood has been properly washed away, they are not so bad. She looks better and worse all at the same time. She looks unstable. “When you make a call to an associate from a phone that’s supposedly not secure, a phone that had some cryptic message you tried to blame on me, then yeah. I have a big fucking problem.” “Watch your fucking mouth around me, kid. Or I’ll smack the shit out of it.” She reaches behind her and pulls out a gun and points it at me. “Is that right?” “You better shoot me right the fuck now. Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you just for pointing that

weapon at me.” She reevaluates her target and decides on a spot above my head. Smurfette is clever. “Who were you talking to?” I eye the diameter of the chamber on her weapon and guesstimate .40. “You sure you can handle that thing? It’s got a nice kick to it. And if you miss me, I won’t miss you.” “I don’t miss. And I’ve been shooting this Glock for a while now. So I’ll happily take my chances. Now, who were you talking to?” “I already told you. My secretary, checking for messages. And Merc, returning a call.” “You were checking in. Who’s running this operation?” “I thought you knew?” She thinks about this for a few seconds. Gives it some consideration before she answers. “I know who I’m working for. I know who sent you to get me. And I don’t think we’re on the same side anymore.” “That’s too bad then,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders. “I was just beginning to like you. I was starting to hope I wouldn’t have to kill you.” “Funny,” she says with a coolness that sends a chill up my arm. “I was thinking the same thing.” My guffaw echoes off the ceiling and I have a genuine moment of amusement. “Looks like we’re at an impasse, then.” She stays silent, but her hard stare never wavers. “So let’s make a deal.” “I don’t make deals with terrorists.” Another laugh bursts forth. “Kid, even the American government cuts deals with the terrorists these days. So dismount the high horse and listen.” She waves her hand at me, like I need her personal invitation to keep talking. I ignore her bravado because she’s earned it at the moment, and start picking my way through the minefield. “You have a measurable objective? Or just doing recon?” “Why would I tell you that?” she snorts. “I must look like an idiot to you. You must think I’m a joke. And that’s fine, you know. Because I like to be underestimated. If those guys out at my grandparent’s ranch had assessed me properly, well, I’d be dead right now, wouldn’t I? So be my guest, Tet. Give it your best shot. But I’ve grown up around every scumbag killer you can imagine. I know how to pick out the good ones. And it only took my nine-year-old self thirty seconds back at the Boise gun show to figure out you were never even in the running. You… are a very bad guy.” My fists are clenching the entire time she’s talking and by the time she’s finished, my palms are aching to hit something. It’s not what she said that pisses me off. It’s what she didn’t say. But I’m the professional here, so I keep my cool. “Yeah, got it. You still worship the ground Ford walks on. He’s the hero and I’m the villain.” “You and Merc are both the bad guys. I saw it in Merc too. Before he got my dad killed he was just another asshole. But after the accident I had a lot of time to think it over. He’s not really an asshole.” She pauses. Choosing her words or reconsidering or who the fuck knows what this little monster is doing. I get impatient. “What is he then?” “Evil,” she replies with a cold edge to her voice. “He’s evil, just like you. You’re using Harper to get to Nick.” “Another good guess from the Smurf. But sorry, not the case, kid. I’m not even remotely interested in Nick at the moment. I’m not saying it will stay that way forever, but that’s not my objective. And while I am using Harper for lots of things—sex for one. Comfort. Passion. Friendship. Conversation. Take your pick, because I am using her for all those things right now—I’m not using her to get to Nick because I don’t need to. And I’d just like to make it clear that I won’t be doing anything that could hurt her. So if you’re suddenly feeling loyal to the Lionfish, you can rest your weary mind. I’m on her side.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says immediately. “I can respect that,” I tell her back. “I can. I’m no one to you. You think I’m scum. You think Merc is scum. And maybe we are. But there’s another level of low beneath me, Sasha. There’s people out there who eat the scum like me alive. Bottom-feeders. And you’re on the verge of scum yourself, so I’d like you to put down the gun, sit on that step right there, and listen to my offer. We can decide what to do about the impasse once you hear it. But you can’t act out of ignorance. Your father taught you that much, I’m sure.” Her mouth tightens at the corners when I mention her father. It’s pretty clear she does not put him in the company of scum. But whatever. He was an illegal arms dealer working for a shadow global governance. In my mind, he was every bit as scummed up as the rest of us. She steps down, then lowers herself into a seated position as she lowers the gun. “Good girl.” “Don’t, Tet. I grew up being patronized.” I throw her a nod. “Fair enough. You do not know who I work for. It’s not Merc. He’s not involved in any of this, OK? He’s off doing recon on a project you will probably be interested in. Paybacks, Sasha, always come due in our world. And someone got your dad killed, but it wasn’t Merc. We know who did it though.” “You do not.” “Shut up and listen,” I scold her like the child she is. “Because I’m not fucking around right now.” I stare her down until she looks away and then I continue. “He knows who did it. And maybe the reason he’s gonna get his revenge has nothing to do with you, but does it matter why he sets things right? Does it matter why he gets his payback? Do you care if the person who ruined your life is dead for your reasons or his?” She takes a deep breath as she thinks it through. “He’s gonna kill the person who set them up?” “What do you think happens to people who get caught in Merc’s net, Smurfette?” She visibly shivers. And that pretty much says it all. I’d be shitting my pants if Merc was coming to kill me, that’s for sure. He might not be a trained Company man, but that fucker has no scruples. He never blinks. “So here’s the deal, OK? You’re gonna keep quiet about what you just heard and I’m gonna ask Merc for proof that the job was done.” She starts to object, but I raise my hand and stop her words before they start. “And I promise you, everything I’m doing is good for us.” “Who’s us?” she snorts. “The three of us, kid. You, me, and Harper. We’re sorta stuck together. So I’m making you a professional promise right now. All right? Whatever I do from here on out, it will be in our group interest.” “What if it’s in the best interest of the group that I die?” Jesus, she has trust issues. I stand and walk towards the stairs. She never moves. I take each step slowly until I reach the top, and then I sit down and put my arm around her shoulder. She flinches, but that’s expected. “Sasha, if you trust me right now, I promise I will get you the proof you need from Merc and I will take care of you until you decide I’m an asshole and you can’t stand to look at me for another second and walk away.” Her shoulders slump a little and I can almost feel the sadness inside her. “I think you’re lying.” “So tell me no deal.” “I can’t. You know I can’t.” She turns her face up to me and she’s got tears streaming down her cheeks. “I think I need you, James.” “I think I need you too, Sasha. So give trust a chance.” She wipes her tears and hands me her gun. I handle the pistol, checking the weight, then the chamber —fully loaded. “You been carrying this the whole time?” I ask, trying to lighten up the mood. “Yeah, that’s my gun. My dad gave it to me last year for my birthday.” She sniffs again. “He even put

in a new barrel and got me a suppressor for it.” “You ever shoot anything with it?” She nods. “One of the guys who tried to kill me on the ranch. I picked three of them off with a rifle, but this last guy thought he got away.” She turns her head up at me and smiles through her tears. “I hid in his truck cab. Then shot him through the window.” “Sounds pretty dicey.” I try to imagine that scene and make myself stop. “It was.” She sniffs again but it’s not the wet mid-cry sniff like it was a few minutes ago. It’s an I’mover-it sniff. “So you’re pretty serious about this job stuff, Sasha? Because I really need your word that you will not talk.” I hold out her gun and she stares at it for a few seconds before taking it back. “I could use a backup, kid. I don’t like to get people involved in my jobs unless I have to, but I can’t have you doubting me. Or”—I put a finger under her chin and make her look me in the eyes—“making Harper doubt me. It’s gonna be hard enough to get this shit done without complications. I need you on my side, Sasha. And if you’re on my side, I’m on your side. Got it?” She nods and swats my finger off her chin. “Got it.” “Got what?” a wet-from-the-shower, fresh, delicious-looking Harper says from down below. She’s dressed in clean shorts and new tank top, black this time, and she’s got some cute sneakers on her feet. “What’d I miss?” I stand up and walk down the stairs. “Not much. Just making sure Sasha knows we’re all in this together.” I look back up at the kid and wink. “Right, Smurf?” “That’s right,” Sasha says as she gets to her feet and comes down to join us. She looks at Harp and produces a smile. And if it’s fake, I’m convinced. “He said we’re partners now. So you know, when we find that buried treasure we’re after, I get a cut. Right, James?” “Buried treasure. Right, kid. You’re in.” And then Sasha takes Harper’s hand and leads her towards the kitchen as she talks about food. Her crying jag is over, her sadness tucked away, her smile in place, and her attitude adjusted. The relief I feel at procuring her cooperation is real. Sasha Cherlin is not a kid you want to fuck over without a plan.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Harper “I don’t think there’s any food in here, Sasha.” “I bought us food at the visitor center, remember?” “Ohhhh… I forgot. What’d you get? I’m so hungry!” She goes over to her backpack and pulls out a plastic bag and then begins emptying the contents on the kitchen counter. Chips, those disgusting orange crackers, a half-eaten bag of gummy things, a chocolate bar that looks like it melted then congealed, and four sausage sticks. Even though I have not eaten in two days, my stomach flips over just thinking about that food. “James!” I call out. “Yeah,” he answers back a few seconds later. What’s he doing in there? I walk towards the living room and find him pulling on a shirt. “What’s up?” he asks. “I’m hungry and Sasha only bought junk food.” “Hey,” Sasha complains. “It was a vending machine, what do you expect?” “Can we go get something real?” I smile sweetly at James because his eyebrows are all knitted together, creating some serious worry lines across his forehead. “Just some tacos or something? Please, I’m so hungry.” His worry lines soften and he smiles at me. “Yeah, OK, we gotta eat, right?” He looks over at Sasha now. “Are we all in agreement that we’ll spend the night here?” “This place is practically my home,” Sasha says with her new attitude. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here while you guys go get food.” “Negative, Soldier Smurf,” James says. “Get your shoes on, we’re sticking together from now on.” Sasha laughs at her nickname and then runs off to grab her things, while James puts his hands on my waist. “You look… fuckable.” “Mmm.” I place my palm on his perfectly muscled chest. He draws in a breath as I let my fingertip trace the outline of his nipple and when I look up his mouth is already there. His lips are soft right now. He gives me a small open-mouth kiss, and pulls away, then comes back to nip my lip the way he does. My hands automatically wrap around his neck. I am eager for more. Whenever he’s near, I feel a want inside me. I want to touch him, lick his beautiful body, wrap my legs around him, and never let him go. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper impulsively as he continues to gift me with his small, tender kisses. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” “That’s not true and you know it. We have to part sometime. What does our future look like? You will have jobs to do. Like Nick. You’ll leave me standing here on the deck of the boat, waving. And my heart will crash and burn every time, thinking I will never see you again.” “Harper—” “Don’t,” I cut him off gently. “Don’t say that’s not how it will be, because we both know it will. I want to do things with you, James. More than just sex. I want to have dinner with you, and go on vacation with you, and celebrate things with you. Like birthdays and Christmases. It’s a child’s dream to never be away from the ones she loves. I understand that. But I’m getting so used to you, James.” I look up at him and he’s frowning. “I’m getting so used to you, it scares me. Because I know this is only our beginning. All the struggles are out there yet. In front of us. Things we have to get through to have some kind of future. And I can’t do it, James. I’m not that strong of a person. I need pills if I have to stay behind and wait to hear if you’re still alive.” “No,” he says, tipping my chin up to make me look him in the eyes. “No more pills, Harper. Promise me. They’re a crutch and they make you weak and vulnerable. Your father gave you those pills to control you, don’t you understand?” I disentangle myself from his embrace and turn my head. “If you’ve never been overcome with

panic, then you have no idea what’s it like. I feel like I’m dying, James. Like my heart will come flying through my chest and life will be over. And if I don’t take the pills, then my mind starts in. Imagining my own death. Imagining the end. Giving to the inevitability of it. If I don’t have the pills I give up.” I look back at him and swallow. “You take that giving-up feeling away. You make me feel safe… you’re like my cure. But without you…” I just shake my head. His hands find my waist once again and he pulls me close and the heat of his body combined with the heat of his stare makes me want to melt into him, make myself part of him, and never let him go. “I can’t promise you we’ll never be apart. It wouldn’t be honest. But I can promise you one thing. If I leave you, I will come back.” “How long will it take you to come back?” I ask, desperate for something to hold on to. “Give me a number of days. So I can count them.” He laughs at me and I laugh with him. “Harper.” “I know it’s stupid, but just give me a number. Five days?” “Five?” He laughs again, but it’s a hearty laugh. A genuine laugh. Like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Five days.” He breathes the words out. “It’s not very long. I can’t get much of anything done in five days, Harp. How about fourteen?” “Fourteen!” Now it’s my turn to laugh. Only I’m appalled. “Nick was only ever gone for ten days at the most before we turned eighteen. And I about died of heartbreak that time. And now he’s been gone for three hundred and thirty-four days!” “Shhhh,” he says to me. “Stop now. Ten days I can promise. OK?” “I don’t know,” I waffle on the ten days. Ten days feels like forever too… “Ten days. You can count them.” “And you won’t be late?” I plead up to him. “You won’t forget?” “I won’t,” he says as he kisses me once more. His fingertips thread though my hair and he pulls back just enough to whisper in my mouth. “I promise to never be late.” I sigh with relief. But it’s just a small relief. It’s stupid to ask for this promise because there are so many ways for him to break it. I’m just setting myself up for disappointment and heartbreak. “OK,” Sasha yells from the living room. “I’m ready.” James kisses me one more time and then leads me back to the living room. “I’m so hungry, I want seafood,” I tell him. “This is the desert. You might have to settle for fish tacos.” “Oh.” I let the disappointment slip out, but then I recover so my sucky attitude doesn’t ruin our night. “OK, fish tacos are fine.” You’d think I’d have taken advantage of all the fresh seafood while I was living at the beach, but I didn’t frequent any of the nicer dining places. I only ate takeout. I’ve never had a fish taco. We usually ate on the ship when we were in port. But if we did go to a restaurant, it wasn’t the beach huts where one usually finds fish tacos in the tropics. But if that’s all I can get here, I’ll take it. We pile in to the sweltering Hummer. Sasha complains loudly about the hot leather seats and scoots over to sit on the ‘hump’, which in a Hummer is as big as a table. There should be a nice long bench set in this thing so a person could use it as a bed. But no. Two regular-sized buckets and the table thing in the middle. “Sasha, sit your ass in a seat,” James barks at her. “And put your seatbelt on.” She does what he says, but not quietly. I peek back at her and smile. We feel sort of like a family. James is talking about restaurants as we pull out of the long driveway, then wait for a lone car to pass before turning towards the late afternoon sun and heading into the actual city of Palm Springs. Sasha talks about things kids think about. Things I might have thought about last year, like the shimmer you see on the road off in the distance when it’s hot out or the different types of cactus. Back when I was a kid. Back before I gave up my family for this life of

waiting. I know James is lying about the ten days thing. But he knows, no matter what my head says about it, my heart will believe him once. And I just have to hold out hope that once is all it will take for him to come back for me.

Chapter Twenty-Three - James “What’s this place?” Sasha asks as I pull into the Palm Destiny Resort valet. “What’s it look like?” I ask back. I gauge how much time until sunset and come up with an hour and a half, maybe. Merc could live a little closer to town if you ask me, but whatever. So far Harp and I have not had a proper sunset. But this restaurant is on the top floor and has a view of the pool, palm trees, and the mountains—so it faces west. The perfect sunset is within our grasp. Even if I do have to share it with Smurfette. “A hotel,” Sasha says dryly. “Why are we at a hotel if we’re going out to eat?” I look over at Harper as we wait for the valet to finish up with the car in front of us. She said she wants to have dinner with me and celebrate shit. Like families do, that’s the way I took it. And while the Smurf in the back is not part of my plans for the future, she’s a partner for now. So she’s family too. “The lionfish wants seafood, so seafood she shall have.” “This looks like a place you need reservations, James. I bet we can’t get a table.” “Reservations. Pfft. Please, Harper. A little bit of faith.” The valets appear, opening doors for the girls, and I get out and shake the hand of the guy on my side. I slip him some cash. “Park it outside where you can see it, please.” And then I walk around the dirty piece-of-shit Hummer and take Harper’s hand. We’re not dressed up, and the top-floor restaurant typically requires top-floor attire, but they won’t be turning me away. I lead the girls inside and then take them over to a seating area filled with plush couches and chairs. “Watch TV for a sec, will ya? I’ll be right back.” I peck Harp on the cheek and go looking for my contact. I bypass the front desk, the concierge, and all staff wearing anything that resembles the kind of uniform required when you work with customers, and instead head straight for the door that says, Housekeeping, Employees Only. I bump right into a large older woman wearing a maid’s uniform. “Can I help you?” she asks cautiously in her thick Spanish accent. “I’m looking for Raul,” I reply back. She eyes me with suspicion, making the lines on her forehead come together in a v pattern. “Who is asking?” “Six.” “OK,” she says, sucking in a breath, like she’s preparing for terrible news. “I am tonight’s Raul. What you do need?” “Dinner,” I say with a smile. “For three, top floor.” She laughs. “Dinner?” She laughs again. “Dinner,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Whew, I OK with dinner. I do dinner for you, Mr. Six.” It comes out Meester Sex, but that’s just fine with me. I bet she thought I had a body cleanup job for her. She’s a maid, after all. That’s what Company maids do. “You go upstairs,” she says, scribbling something down on the back of a business card that has a sailing yacht on it and says, Tate Global Engineering. She hands me the card and I flip it over to read the script. Company Man. “You go up, I tell them you coming.” “Thank you,” I tell her as I leave the way I came in. When I get back to the lobby Harper and Sasha are huddled next to each other as they watch TV. They could be related, that’s how alike they look right now. Long blonde hair. Sasha has blue eyes, and Harper’s are brown, but they both have petite features. Small noses, small mouths, and lean bodies from years of being outdoors. “Let’s go, girls.” I wave them to me and they both come quickly. “What’s wrong?” I ask them. “Harper thought she saw someone she knew outside.” “Who?” I ask as I hold the elevator doors open for them. “I don’t know,” Harper says, looking over her shoulder. “He just looked familiar. Some guard we

had on ship. But that’s silly. He was a personal guard, and they never leave the ship.” We’re silent as the elevator takes us to the top-floor restaurant. She’s probably imagining things, but I don’t like the new vibe in the air all of a sudden. The doors part a few seconds later and before us is the grand dining room. The maître d’ smiles widely, even though we are not dressed. Being Six has certain perks. Getting your ass kissed by a glorified waiter is not usually up there with my top ten, but right now, it’s number one. Because I just want Harper to have a nice evening. “Your table is waiting, sir,” the maître d’ says. And then he waves us forward to the waiter. We are taken to the far side of the restaurant and seated in front of a window with a view that impresses even me. “Wow,” Sasha says as she takes a seat facing the window. “I bet the sunset is fantastic.” I look over at Harper and smile. I sure the fuck hope so. The waiter calls off the day’s specials and Harper’s eyes light up with the mention of fresh fish flown in daily on the weekends. The waiter takes drink orders and as soon as he leaves Harper leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “A fish taco stand this is not.” “No fish tacos for you, baby. Not unless we’re sitting on the sand in some Third World beach and washing it down with a bottle of beer.” “That sounds just as good as this.” “Yeah, but there’s no beach here, so fish tacos are out. Now what’s it gonna be?” Both girls look over the menu and that makes me smile inside as well as out. They can both use a nice normal dinner for once. I’m pretty sure Harper has not has a sit-down dinner since she left the ship. And Sasha… well, I doubt she’s ever had a formal dinner like this. I glance down at the menu, opt for my usual, and then turn to Sasha. “You gonna get the buffalo burger?” She shoots me an annoyed glare. “Why would you assume I’d want the buffalo? Because I’m from Wyoming?” “You were in Wyoming, James?” Harp asks. “No, I found Kamikaze Smurf camping out in the middle of Colorado.” “Alone?” Sasha lowers her head and pretends to be busy with the menu. “It’s a long story,” she mumbles. “Harper,” I say to distract her away from the long story. “What are you getting?” “Hmmm, the grilled mako shark with pineapple rice, I think. How about you?” She smiles sweetly at me as the bright sun hits her at an angle and illuminates her bronzed shoulders. I lean in and grab her thigh, then fist my hand in her hair. “Fuckable. You are simply. Fuckable.” “Hello?” Sasha says. “I’m right here.” And then the waiter appears and I rattle off my order. “Chilean seabass for me and the mako shark for this lovely lady.” The waiter nods and murmurs something about good choice. I’m making him nervous but I don’t care. “Sasha, what’s it gonna be?” “The buffalo burger.” I hold in my snicker, but she hears it anyway and shoots me a glare. “What? It’s the only thing on here I recognize.” I turn back to the waiter. “The buffalo burger for lovely lady number two.” He nods and retreats. “Pffft, like you really think I’m a lovely lady,” Sasha says. “I think you’re a little shit who has no idea how good she’s got it right now. Better?” I shoot back. “James,” Harper admonishes me with a kick under the table. “Be nice.” “This is me being nice.” Her hand on my thigh captures my attention and all thoughts of Sasha disappear. “Harp”—she giggles—“don’t start something you can’t finish. They have a men’s room here too.” “You wouldn’t dare!” “Oh, I don’t need a dare to fuck you in a public restroom, darling.” She tries to withdraw her hand but I capture it before she can, and then I slide it tight up over the top of my thick hard-on. “You do this to

me, you pay the price.” I place her hand on the table and lean in to her ear. “If you do it again, I’ll take you right here on the table. Don’t test me.” “Oh my God,” Sasha says. “La-la-la. I can’t hear you.” She closes her eyes, covers her ears, and shakes her head. “La-la-la…” “So, Sasha. What’s your job in the Company?” Harper asks, changing the subject and managing to make me more uncomfortable than I just made the Smurf. “Nah,” I say, waving a hand at Sasha. “We’re not talking shop tonight. This is down time.” “I disagree, James,” Harper says. “I saved her life this morning and I hardly know anything about her. We’re living in the same house and we’re traveling together. So I want—” “No,” I interrupt. “Not—” “Hunter,” Sasha says, ignoring me and cutting me off at the same time. “You’re a girl. You’re not a hunter,” Harper says with a laugh. “I am a hunter. My dad raised me to be a hunter and he was in charge of training all the hunters before this current group. So I’m even legitimate.” Fuck. “You’re not the first Six, James,” Sasha sneers at me. “Conversation. Over. Let’s move on to something else.” She redirects her attention to Harper. “I’ve been trained to hunt. I’ve been around the hunters my whole life. Not you,” she says to me. “They kept you away. But some of those guys you killed this past year? They were my friends.” “Friends? Please. How many times could they have been passing through Wyoming? Or picking up guns from a western gun show? A handful at the most.” “If you say so,” she says sweetly. I might not know her all that well, but I know her well enough to understand what that means. “You’ve got another secret you’d like to share?” “I have lots of secrets.” “Um,” Harper interjects. “You’re right, James, let’s talk about something else.” “No,” Sasha says. “Let’s talk about secrets. I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours, James.” “James,” Harper says, turning to me and placing her hand on my thigh. It’s a diversion this time. “I don’t want to hear secrets, OK? Secrets are darkness. Secrets keep the darkness alive. I hate secrets and I don’t want to know them.” I remove her hand from my thigh and place it back on the table, never losing eye contact with Sasha. “Sorry, baby. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up. You first, Cocky Smurf.” Sasha smiles broadly and then turns her head and shoots me a sideways glare that makes her look every bit the hunter she claims she is. “OK. My secret is…” She smiles over at Harper now. “I met someone special last summer.” “Who, a boy?” Harper asks, eagerness in her voice. Apparently this is a secret even Harper can get in on. Sasha has to bite her lip to stop her smile. “Yes.” She slowly pulls her gaze from Harper and redirects it to me. “Nicholas Tate.” The entire restaurant goes silent. Or maybe not. Probably not. I think it’s just that I stop hearing everything because the only thing I do hear is an echo of those two words. “Pardon me?” Harper says. “My brother went to see you?” Sasha is still looking at me. Her mouth moves and if I was a little bit closer to her, I’d slap my hand over it to stop her secret from spilling out. But I’m not. So it does. “He’s come to see me a bunch of times.”

“You’re lying,” Harper says. “How would he find his way to Wyoming?” “Does it matter how?” Sasha asks. “I mean, really, that’s not even in the top million most important things to ask about what I just told you.” “What should we ask then?” I finally come back to reality to deal with what she’s saying. “Oh no. Not until you tell me your secret, James. Then if you want to keep playing, we can. But now you owe me.” You owe me. She said the same thing on the plane when she told me Harper was not at home. “Make it a good one, Tet. Because mine was a bombshell.” I take a deep breath and look over at Harper. She’s gone white. Her perfectly tanned face is sheet white. “Have you seen him lately?” Sasha shakes her head, like she’s saying no. But that’s not what she’s saying. “No more questions until I get a secret from James. And don’t lie, James. I’ll know.” I have so many questions. And I want them all answered. But I have very few secrets, at least none that can be revealed at this table right now. I roll them around in my head and make a decision. “You want to know why Merc isn’t around? The details? Not what I told you earlier.” She weighs this internally and then gives me a slight nod. “That will do for starters.” That will do for enders too. Because that’s the only one I have that won’t ruin everything. “The person who killed your father was US Senator Channing.” She swallows, and then nods. “I knew that.” “You did not know that. You guessed it, but now you know. Because I just told you. My turn. Who —” But then the wait staff is here with our food, looking very uncomfortable as they serve us. I wait until the food is all on the table and then we all thank them like the polite people we really aren’t. “That conversation is over,” Harper says. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just eat.” She’s on the verge of tears and I’m instantly sorry. I lean in and whisper, “Just enjoy your dinner. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined it. I just wanted you to have a nice night.” “It’s not ruined, James. It’s fine. I just… I just want to talk about normal things tonight.” She picks up her fork and cuts into her shark steak. It flakes apart like it’s supposed to and she smiles when it touches her lips. “This is really good fish for being out in the middle of the desert.” “I caught a shark once,” Sasha tells her. “Me too!” she says excitedly. “Deep-sea fishing was something we did a lot.” “I’ve never caught a fish in my life,” I admit. “What?” Even Sasha joins in on this conversation. I’m sure she’s thrilled about being better at fishing than me. And as is starting to become the norm, we drop the deep dark secrets and talk about nice things to make Harper happy. Growing up on megayachts. Growing up on cattle ranches. Growing up on the beach. There’s no mention of the Company. It’s a dirty world we live in. It’s dangerous and deadly—we know this. But we don’t have to talk about it right now. Those secrets aren’t going anywhere. We’re carrying them around on our backs like a cross. Or, maybe more fittingly, an albatross.

Chapter Twenty-Four - James The sun is just starting to drop on the horizon, already washing the sky in a haze of red and orange. In about fifteen more minutes, it’s gonna be perfect. I don’t want to miss it, so I kiss Harper on the head and push back my chair. “Be right back, gotta take a piss.” I make my way through the tables to the short hallway where the restrooms are located and push the door open. The attendant nods to me and then goes back to his feigned towel-folding. I whip my dick out at the urinal and do my business. I don’t talk to the attendants. I’m not a snob, I just want to finish my piss and get the fuck out of the bathroom. The door whooshes open, so I look over and see the attendant make a quick escape. He must read minds. I give myself a shake, zip up, and then turn to wash my hands. “Hello, James.” It’s been a long time, but there’s no mistaking who the man is entering the facilities. Tall, dark, and yes—he fits the bill in all the cliché ways. The once-brown hair is graying a little at the temples, but not much. And maybe it’s a trick of time, since I was so young when we first met, but he looks the same to me now as he did that day on the beach when he offered me his daughter in exchange for my freedom. The funny thing is, I never wanted my freedom back then. I wanted to be Six in the worst way. He should’ve asked Tony. Tony would’ve jumped on the chance to kill his way out of the Company. But he didn’t ask Tony. He asked me. I never wanted to kill my way out of the Company. I wanted to kill my way in. Careful what you wish for. You just might get it, Tet says in my head. “Your boys are getting sloppy, Admiral. She spotted one as soon as we got here.” “How is she?” the Admiral says back, ignoring my statement. We may not have had a lot of face-toface meetings over the years, but we’ve talked hundreds of times by phone. I know him better than most and ignoring my dig on his security is typical. He likes to control the conversation at all times and he hates to hear about less than perfect performance. But he does hear it. And I know for a fact he will speak to that guard later. There is zero tolerance for fuckups in our line of work. “She’s well, I hope? I realize you’ve only been in contact for a very short period of time, but I expect her to be well.” I’m suddenly imagining Harper bent over a couch with my finger in her ass. He will kill me if he finds that shit out. No doubt, promise or not. I turn the water on and begin washing my hands. “She’s doing real good, actually. She’s happy. She wanted seafood tonight, so this place worked out perfect.” “And you’re on track? With the mission?” What mission? Jesus fucking Christ, how many mission do I have going right now? “Yes, sir,” I say calmly. “One hundred percent on track.” “And the files? Has she… mentioned them? A hiding spot? Something?” “No, sir,” I reply as I turn the water off and reach for a towel. “But I haven’t brought it up yet. I had to leave for a little bit, so we just reconnected.” “Yes,” he smiles. “Are you enjoying my gift?” I smile back. What fucking gift? But of course I don’t say that. Because I have missing hours… Or days, Tet adds inside my head. It might be days. “Yes, sir. Much appreciated.” “She’s wild, isn’t she?” “Wild…” Who? Harper? “Her father was an important man at one time, but his loyalty was questioned. Never proved, obviously, or he’d have been dead a long time ago. So I expected the girl to have a similar nature.” Sasha. He sent me Sasha as a gift. To do what? “Yes, sir, she’s a little shit. But fairly easy to manipulate. Do you have something specific you’d like me to use her for?”

“Her father was wild as well,” the Admiral says, ignoring my words once again. “So the apple and the tree, right?” We share a small chuckle. Ha ha, yes, the apple and the tree. I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about. “And my son?” I shake my head. This I can answer and it’s even the truth. “No, sir, nothing on his location.” “Well, I have to say I’m a bit surprised by that. You haven’t done much, Tet.” The Company name stings a little, I have to admit. I’ve always been James to him. Or Six, but only once that first day. It’s always been James. “My time’s not up, so I’m not worried.” “If the child has not given up his location yet, then she’s of no use to you. Have you questioned her about it?” I feel like I’m coming in on the middle of a meeting, that’s how confusing this shit is. Did I miss a message somewhere? What the fuck was I supposed to do with Sasha? “We were just talking about it at the table, actually. So she’s close.” “Good. Get that location tonight and I want her eliminated before dropoff.” “Yes, sir,” I say automatically. “Drop off is still on schedule.” “Don’t cut it too close, understand?” His dark eyes bored into me. “I have a deadline too.” “Sir, I understand. We’ll be on our way tomorrow.” “Excellent.” He smiles at me and I force one back. “I’ll see you soon. Please bring me good news.” “Yes, sir,” I say, but he’s already turned his back, walking out the door. I wait a few seconds, then follow and make my way to the bar. “Pack of Reds, please. And a lighter.” The bartender walks off and returns a few minutes later with my smokes. I am not a big smoker these days. In fact, I officially quit three years ago. But ever since Tony, I’ve been using them to think things through. And right now, I need to do a hell of a lot of thinking to understand what just happened. You know what happened, Tet says in my head. “Elimination order,” I whisper to myself. The bartender is only a few feet away and he catches my words, shoots me a terrified look, and quickly walks off. There’s no smoking indoors in California, so the only thing on my mind right now is getting the fuck out of this place so I can get a nicotine fix. I slip my pack into my pocket and walk calmly back to our table. Harper and Sasha are laughing about something. They clue me in and I laugh too, but I have no idea what was said. The Admiral’s words are echoing through my mind. I want her eliminated before dropoff. The girls stand and I throw some cash down on the table for a tip. My meals here are complimentary, there is no check. But the girls won’t know that, so when Harper starts questioning me about what took so long, I tell her I paid already. She buys it, laces her hand in mine, and she continues her conversation with Sasha as we start walking out. The windows are on the left and I look out over the valley, towards the looming mountains. A feeling of doom washes over me. A leftover reaction to the Admiral’s order, maybe. Or maybe it’s from the approaching darkness. Because that sunset I wanted to see so badly is long gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Harper James is quiet the whole drive home, and this bugs me. So much about him bugs me. It’s like one second he’s everything I need right now, then that gets turned off and he’s back to being the job. Plus, I admit, I’m falling pretty hard for him. All it takes is a look and I’m wet between my legs, secretly begging him to touch me. And after he said all those things to me last night about trust—if I tell you to walk through fire, it’s because I know you are fireproof, and the ten days’ promise—it’s like he knows just what I need. Like he’s got the inside scoop on how to make me feel desirable. And safe. He knows how to push all the right buttons. He takes the anxiety away. Hell, the past few days have been so easy for me in terms of keeping the anxiety in check. But why them? Why am I here with these two? It’s just weird. There has to be something the Admiral wants from James to give me to him. The only other explanation is that the Admiral is setting James up. But for what? And why? The Admiral made that offer twelve years ago, so how can all this be related? Shit, I have no idea. James turns into the long driveway that leads us back to the house, and I notice Sasha is quiet in the back. I turn around in my seat and she’s sprawled out across that table thing that separates the buckets. “You didn’t make her put her seatbelt on?” “No?” James answers absently as he parks the Hummer. “Well, hardly matters now. We made it home and she’s still alive.” Maybe this is a stupid example, but earlier he’s demanding she buckle up and sit straight, like her safety is second nature. But now he’s… distracted. Sasha is off his radar. James gets out and then opens Sasha’s back door. I watch from the front seat as he nudges her. “Wake up, Smurf, we’re home.” Home. Hmmm. This is not home, but again, he’s using a term to evoke feelings. Is it for himself? For me? For Sasha? Or is it genuine and it’s for all of us? I just can’t tell. He slaps her on the leg and she kicks him. I have to chuckle at that. But James just pulls her out of the backseat and throws her over his shoulder. “Let’s go, tough kid.” I get out and follow him to the door. Sasha is half awake now, kicking and complaining for him to set her down. He opens the door with one hand and flips her over, making her squeal as she is unexpectedly placed on her feet. “When I say move, soldier, you move.” He winks at her. “Or I’ll make ya move, brat.” She growls at him and then stomps off down the hallway towards the room she’s using. “I’m ready for bed,” James says as he shuts the door behind me. “You ready for bed?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and leads me over to the other hallway where our room is located. We don’t even bother turning on lights. The moon is half full, and there are enough skylights in this place to allow the moonshine to filter in and give it a surreal quality. Once we get inside the bedroom, James closes the door, reaches behind his head, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. “I’m fucking exhausted. Tomorrow we’re heading back to the OC.” I’m a little bit stunned at this revelation and I lose a whole second through hesitation. “Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us?” “Yeah, probably,” he says, unapologetically. “They’ve been looking for you all year, Lionfish. I highly doubt it’s secret. But I just got a message about some missing files that were found.” “What? How?” I recover quickly but that’s my second hesitation in this conversation. I’m not sure it’s quick enough. “I mean, how did you get a message?” “I used the bar phone at the restaurant. I have an answering service. Merc and I share one, actually. It’s not covert or anything. 1-800-Rent-A-Receptionist or some shit like that. We leave voice mails on

there. And Merc left one saying he found some intel on some files your father’s been looking for.” He eyes me, asking the silent question. “I don’t have any files, James.” “Obviously not these files. Because these files have been traced to someone else. And I’ve gotta go collect them.” “So you’re on a job? You’re gonna kill this person?” “Whatever it takes.” He smiles at my revulsion. “I’m kidding, Harper. Shit, have some faith in me. I’m capable of getting everything I need without violence. Look at you,” he says as he wraps his hands around my waist. “I talked you into being mine. Not a shot was fired.” I smile at him. But inside my mind is spinning. Did someone find the files? Jesus, I hope not. We’re well and truly screwed if we don’t have those files. “Come on,” he says as he leads me over to the bed. “Come sleep with me.” I can’t say no to that. Not even if I wanted to. I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed. The covers are all disheveled from our earlier tryst, but they are soft and easy to appreciate. This Merc guy might be a cold-hearted killer according to Sasha, but I am in love with his house. I could totally picture myself living in a cozy place like this. The adobe walls keep the place cool, but it’s warm in all the ways that count. How bad could a guy be if he owns a place like this? James scoots in next to me, his shoes gone, but not his jeans. “Aren’t you gonna get undressed?” “Aren’t you?” he asks, teasingly. I slip my shorts down my legs and kick them until they fall off the bed. He leans in and kisses me. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye. Is it OK if I ravish you in the AM?” What? Oh my God, I think that was a rejection. “Um… you’re not in the mood?” I have no reference point for this. He’s been dripping sex since we met. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close to his chest until I position myself with my shoulder in the crook of his arm and my cheek over his heart. I listen to it beat for a few moments. Steady. Calm. Strong. I think I love that sound. “Not true at all,” he says, kissing my hand. “I’m just…” “Just what?” I’m anxious for a moment. Because something is wrong and he’s on the verge of telling me what’s bothering him. “Stressed, I guess.” “About me?” I ask, lifting my head up off his chest so I can look him in the eye. “No, this job and stuff. That’s all. Not you, Harp. You’re the only good thing in my life right now.” “You just need to think?” “Yeah, baby,” he says in a whisper that tells me he wants this conversation to be over. “Nick used to get like that. All withdrawn and moody. Need to plan shit, Harp, he’d say. Sometimes I’d play music for him when he was like that. He’d sit in in the saloon and pretend to read, and I’d play the harp or the piano.” This makes James chuckle in a very sexy way. It rumbles up through his chest and caresses my face. “You do not play the harp.” I smile. “I can play the hell out of a harp.” “One of these days I need to hear that. I’d like nothing more than to think all my worries away to the sound of you strumming a harp.” God, that makes me so warm inside and I am wishing so hard for a harp right now to ease his mind. “I can give you a massage if you want.” I don’t wait for an answer, just sit up. “Turn over. This will make you feel better.”

For a second I’m afraid he’ll reject me this way too, but after a slight hesitation he turns over onto his stomach and props his hands under his forehead. This makes the muscles of his upper arms look delicious enough to lick. I’m about to lean over and do it too. “I think there’s some little lotion samples in the bathroom. Go get them.” Ah, my bossy man is back. I like him better this way. I jump up and make my way to the bathroom in the dark. “Leave the light off in there, I don’t want any lights on tonight. Just in case.” “Just in case?” “I think they’re under the sink.” I drop it because I’m not interested in talking about bad shit right now. I find the little travel-sized bottles of lotion and grab three. I go back over to the bed, put two on the bedside table, and then twist off the cap. “Mmmm. This one smells like flowers.” I straddle his thighs and my pussy is instantly throbbing as the rough denim of his jeans presses against the sensitive area. Jesus, I’m going to regret this if he’s really not in the mood to fuck me tonight. I lean over his back and drip the lotion all over him. He sucks in some air through his teeth and mumbles something about it being cold. But then my hands take over and his mumbling ceases. I knead the muscles in his lower back first, moving my thumbs in an outward pattern. I’ve never given a man a massage before, but I’ve had lots of spa days at various resorts. So I know what feels good. I work on that for a few minutes, then ease my way up his spine, being gentle in this area because that’s how I like it. When I get to his shoulders I have to reposition myself because I can’t reach. I straddle his waist this time, and he and I moan at the same time. “Take your panties off, Harper,” he says in a whisper. I roll off him and have those panties off so fast he barely notices. I straddle him again and this time he growls. “You’re wet.” “I am,” I say as I squirt some more lotion on his upper back this time. I begin working on his shoulders, gripping his muscles tight enough to make him moan and then easing up as I move down his arms. Each time I do that, I rock forward a little, rubbing myself on him. I’m not sure what that feels like on his end, but I’m in heaven and my desire is building. “Do you like that, Harper? Do you want to get yourself off on me?’ I bite my lip. “Um, that’s not really what I was thinking…” “I want you to. Rub your pussy on me. I want to make my whole back wet with your come.” My mouth is making a little o-shape as this request echoes in my brain. “Do it,” he says again. “Now. And don’t stop rubbing my shoulders. That feels fucking fantastic.” I gulp a little air and resume his massage as I begin my own. I lean forward, gripping his shoulders as my pussy glides against the dip in his lower back, and then when I move backwards, I slide my hands down his arms. “Harder,” he whispers. I’m not sure if he wants me to grind on him harder, or for me to massage him harder. So I do both. My hips begin to rotate back and forth, pushing on him, slipping back to the firm muscles of his ass, all the while I massage his shoulders. I have to lean way over in order to reach and this makes my breasts lightly brush against his shoulder blades. “Take that shirt off,” he demands after a few passes of my confined nipples. I have that shirt off so fast, he’s barely done speaking, and then I’m reaching under him to unbutton his jeans. He rises up on his knees for a moment, my body still lying across his, and my fingers frantically free his cock. Then he lies back down and I begin pulling on his pants until they are down far enough to allow him to kick them off.

And for the first time… I appreciate his body for what it is. A thing of pure beauty. I was surprised to find he had no tattoos when we first met. Killers and tattoos seem to go together. But now I know why. He is beautiful. His body is not a blank canvas. It’s a masterpiece. Adding to it would detract from its perfection. I place my pussy over the top of his ass again, leaning forward, letting my breasts dangle down to caress his shoulder blades as I move my whole body back and forth across his chiseled back. My nipples perk to attention and everything beneath me becomes slick with my own wetness and the heat we are creating. “Come, Harper. Come for me, baby.” Our breathing becomes loud and heavy, ragged and on the verge of gasping as my belly rests in the curve of his lower back and I twist my hips and place my hand between my legs. “No,” he whispers. “No hands, Harper.” “This isn’t enough. I need more, James.” He flips over so fast I lose my balance and fall over to the side of him. His hands wrap around my waist as his hard cock pushes against the slit of my pussy. I grind against him. “Put it inside me, James. Please,” I beg. He pushes me up so I’m straddling his waist again, only this time I’m facing him and I can see the desire painted all over his face. “You’re not getting off that easy, soldier.” “Please,” I pout. He shakes his head and pulls me forward by my arms. “Come up here,” he whispers. “Come up where?” I’m confused. “Put your pussy over my mouth.” I almost come from that request. In fact, I gulp down air. “Now, Harper. I don’t like asking twice.” I nod and scoot forward. He licks his lips and I lift my hips up and straddle his head. A flick of his tongue almost does me in, and I take in a huge breath and hold it. He pushes my hips up a little and then says, “Grind on me, baby. Grind on my face.” I can’t even think straight, those words… I move my hips back and forth, dragging my clit over his scratchy jaw. At first it’s too rough, but then my pussy is so wet, I only feel the contours of his chin. I am close, so very, very close… but when he reaches around and inserts a finger into my ass—I’m done. I’m gone. I’m moaning out his name. His tongue is flicking my clit, then he places his whole mouth on my pussy, tightening his grip on my hips, and sucks. I lose all control. I gush all over his face. I might’ve joined the O game late, but I’m on the team now. There is nothing better in this world than this man making those feelings burst forth from my body. The shudders of pleasure continue for several waves, and when they finally dissipate he throws me off to the side, gets up, and stands in front of the bed. “Kneel, Harper. Now.” I am not even close to recovering from my orgasm, but I scramble to do what he asks. I don’t want to keep him waiting. I lower myself slowly to the floor, my knees soothed by a rug in front of the bed. His fingers thread though my hair and pull it back into a ponytail. “Do you want to know how I like it, Harper? Do you want me to tell you how to suck my dick?” Oh God, this question. He asked me this that first night. I swallow hard and nod my head. “Yes, James. Yes. Tell me how to do it right.” He smiles and fists his cock, pumping it, even though it is rock hard. “Open your mouth, tilt your head back, and take it down your throat. Breathe like I told you before.” I open and the tip, already wet with anticipation, enters my mouth. “Don’t suck yet, just take it in.” The length of his cock slides to the back of my throat, bounces against my soft palate, and I gag. “Shhh,” James says softly. “Stop, just breathe through your nose and watch me, Harper. Eyes up here.”

I focus on his face, watching him watch me. “Now, baby, put your left hand behind your back, and cup my balls with your right. Oh, fuck,” he moans as I obey. “Fuck, yes, that feels good.” His eyes close for a moment and this affirms that what I’m doing is making him as crazy as he makes me. I grip his balls tighter. They overflow my small hand and they are drawn up tight. And then he begins to grind his cock against my throat. “Swallow me, Harper.” At first I think he’s gonna come down my throat, but then I realize he wants me to move my throat muscles against the head of his cock. I swallow for him and he growls. “Yes, do it again.” I swallow again, then again, and then again. And each time his fist pulls my head forward and his hips push against me. There is so much saliva in my mouth I begin to drool. I’m still watching James, my attention is only on his face. I feel that power I have again. I own him right now. He will do anything to keep his dick in my mouth. I open more, gag a little, swallow it down as best I can. And then he opens his eyes and says, “Groan for me, groan against my cock, Harp.” The noise is a natural reaction to how fucking horny I am. The groan rumbles up through my throat and I can tell he’s close, and I’m preparing myself for the gush of hot semen when he pulls out, dragging a long string of saliva with his cock. He lifts me to my feet, pushes me against the dresser and hikes my leg up. “I’ll take your pussy over your mouth any day, baby. Pussies are made for cock.” And then he thrusts inside me, lifts me up by the ass, sets me on the dresser, pushing me back against the mirror, and he thrusts until we both explode. He collapses on top of me after the last pulsing wave is finishes. “Goddamn, Harper. You drive me wild.” I have to bite my lip to stop the laugh. If he only knew. “That’s how you like your cock sucked?” He chuckles. “Yeah, that right there was fucking heaven.” He’s breathing hard into my neck and I’m almost horny again. But he lifts me up, slaps my ass, and walks me over to the bathroom. “Shower time.” He sets me back down on the counter but my arms are wrapped around his neck and I can’t make myself let go. “I know you said you’d come back for me, James. But I can’t do it. Please don’t leave me. Please, please, please.” He frowns down at me, unable to give in to my request and unable to lie. “Ten days, Harper. I’ll never be gone longer than ten days.” “I can’t live ten days, James. I won’t make it ten days without you. I swear, I won’t. So much can happen in ten days.” “You will, baby. I promise. I’ll make sure of it. But just relax. I’m not going anywhere. That’s just a what if. It’s not real.” “It’s not real?” I’m desperate for anything so I latch on to this. He shakes his head. “Just a what if.” But this what if just makes me think of all the other what ifs that might happen. What if those files are really gone? What if Nick is dead? What if James really does leave? And the worst what if of all. What if he doesn’t come back for me?

Chapter Twenty-Six - James Harper is breathing deeply, completely exhausted. I’m exhausted too, but sleep seems to be very far away right now. What a motherfucking day. How does all this shit happen in one day? That kidnapping was this morning. That murder was this morning. I still don’t know what that was about. One thing is clear about that—it wasn’t us. It wasn’t us as in the job the Admiral has me doing. And it wasn’t us as in the job I have going with Merc. And it wasn’t us as in the job I have keeping Harper safe. So Jesus Christ, James, Tet says in my head. What other job do you have going? It’s a good question. You know what would be cool? If fucking Tet would take over when those blackouts occurred. Right? That’d be awesome, even if it meant I was certifiable. Because at least I’d have answers. But reality, James, I tell myself. Stick to reality. Who else is involved? Sasha, obviously. A lot of this shit today was about Sasha. And just what the fuck? It’s like this kid was dropped in my lap to… No. That can’t be it. I laugh to myself. But how fucking perfect would it be to send her? Especially after that meeting with the Admiral. Eliminate her, he said. What if he told Sasha the same thing? I mean, it’s crazy. That little Smurf against me? I laugh. She’s good, for a kid. But not good enough. Not even close. Harper is pretty good too. But she can’t shoot. Hell, she can’t even drive. I sit up in bed and look over at her. Sleeping so soundly, oblivious to all that’s happening behind the scenes. Must be nice. I get up out of bed and pull out a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt I brought in from the Hummer after our shower, and then I grab my gun and go looking for my new target. I’m barefoot, so I stalk down the hallway and out into the living room. It’s totally quiet. The moon lights up the room well enough to see, but not much more than that. There are way too many shadows in here for my comfort level. Any one of them could be the kid. I stalk down the hallway and check the first room. Nothing. The door is closed to the second room at the end of the hall. I walk quietly up to the door, lean in to listen, then knock softly. “Sasha?” I turn the handle and peek in. “Sasha?” There’s a strong breeze coming in from somewhere, like the window is wide open, but all the windows in this house are long and skinny, up near the ceiling. Or skylights. I look up, and for half a second I think this is it, the little fucking Smurf is hiding up on the ceiling like some Company version of Spiderman. She’s not up there. But there is a skylight up there. And it’s open. That’s where the breeze is coming from. There’s a ladder leaning up against the wall, slanted at a severe angle. I stand underneath the skylight and call up. “Sasha! You up there?” A shadow appears over the entrance to the roof. “Yes.” “Can I come up?” She peeks cautiously over the side. “I guess.” I stuff my gun in my pants and climb. She’s on the other side of the roof when I step out of the hole. “What are you doing?” I ask, walking over towards her. She’s got a hand behind her back so I figure she’s been having the same doubts about me as I’ve been having about her. “Looking for something.” “Oh.” Hmmm. “Like what?” I sorta laugh. “It’s a roof.” She nods up at the sky with her head, never taking her eyes off me. “Did you know today is the

summer solstice? The longest day of the year.” “Fuck, well, it certainly felt like the longest day of my life.” “Right?” she asks, smiling a little. And then her smile drops into a frown so fast my heart skips. “What?” That question is all it takes for her tears to start. “What? What’s wrong?” She walks over to the short adobe ledge around the roof and takes a seat. Her gun comes out from behind her back and she wipes her face with the back of her other hand. “We had plans today.” “Who?” Fuck, what’s she talking about? Plans? To kill me? Does she have a partner? Who is her partner? All this shoots through my mind as she pulls herself together. “My dad and me,” she finally manages through her tears. “We had plans to go to some secret place where ancient Indians marked the solstices using stones lined up like a wheel on the ground. And I used to know the name of it, but…” She sniffs and shakes her head. “I’ve forgotten what it’s called. And you know what?” Her eyes are all teary with sadness as she looks over at me. I kneel down where I am so even though we are a good twenty feet apart, we’re at least eye level. “What?” “I forgot about him too. I forgot all about him until I went to bed and then saw the date on the digital clock on the nightstand.” Fuck. She’s thinking about her father. “And I know you said to try not to think about things, but it’s really hard.” She lets a little sob loose. “And my body hurts from this morning. I’m not a complainer, James, I swear. But I don’t feel so good.” She drops the gun on the ground now and then wipes both hands across her face. “My head hurts. And my shoulder hurts. I don’t even think I can shoot that gun. You were right earlier. It’s got a lot of kick to it.” I don’t know what to say. Is she playing me? Is she really sad? Is she really hurt? What the fuck am I supposed to say? The silence goes on for too long and she takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Merc was right, I guess. I’m a crybaby. And you hate me, don’t you?” “I don’t hate you,” I reply, a little defensively, blowing out my own long breath. “I just don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know why you’re here.” She shrugs, then winces as her hand goes to her shoulder. Well, pain I can deal with. So I start there. “I have a med kit in the pull-out drawers in the back of the Hummer. Take one of the tablets called Motrin before you hit the sack.” I don’t know what to say about the father thing. I’m no good at this shit. I’m the last guy to look to for sympathy. All I know is business. Death is my business. I walk over to her and kneel down so I can see her Glock. And then I pull out my Five-SeveN, pop out the magazine, pull the barrel back, and empty the chamber, letting the cartridge fall out into my palm. “Here,” I say, handing it over to her grip first. “You wanna trade guns, Smurf? This thing’s nice and light. Almost no kick at all. Just a .22 round, but you know, the shape of the bullet gives it velocity.” She takes the gun, then the mag. Every few seconds she sniffs as quietly as she can, trying not to call attention to the fact that she’s crying. “Cop killer,” she says as she pops the magazine in. “Yup, that’s what they call them. Cop killers. You know why, right?” She nods. “Because the cartridge goes through Kevlar.” “Yeah, that’s why.” She knows her shit. “Load it up. You wanna shoot it?” She sniffs again. “Where?” I smile and pan my arms wide. “Here. There’s no houses for miles. No one’s gonna care. Pick a target. Shoot something.” She scans the area, making a little circle as she does it. Then she points off in the distance. “How about that sign at the edge of the property?” “Wow. You’re cocky, huh?” She smiles at me and I smile back. “I tell you what. If you hit that target

in this light, I’ll let you keep that gun forever. We can trade, huh? I’ll take that Glock off your hands and you can have this Five-SeveN.” She gets a wide grin but tries to hide it. “I can hit that target.” “Show me. Pretend your dad is watching you. Right now. He’s looking down on you and he sees you with me, and maybe he’s a little worried.” My voice drops and she looks up at me, her face a mess of grief, but at the same time I know she’s listening. She wants to hear something real from me. She needs something real from me. “He’s probably a little suspicious of my motives. And maybe he’s worried that I’m a bad guy. So show your dad you can handle me just fine. Shoot that target and take my gun.” She stares at me for a moment. “Are you a bad guy, James?” I nod slowly. “Yes.” “I’m a bad guy too.” “So I guess we’re even,” I say back. “Maybe,” she says as she takes aim. She draws in a long steadying breath, then breathes out and squeezes the trigger. The Five-SeveN is loud, but the ping of a bullet going through a metal sign echoes for a second after the gun blast dies away. That’s all we need to confirm her aim was true. “If we’re even,” she says, turning back to me, “then what do we do?” “Well”—I reach down and pick up her Glock, check the magazine, finger the thread on the barrel where a suppressor would fit, then stuff it in my pants—“I guess we need a plan.” “I guess we do.” I nod as I stand. “I’ll let you know when I get one.” And then I walk back over to the open skylight, half expecting to hear the crack of a high-velocity round being fired before crashing straight through my head. But I hear a long, sad sigh instead. I guess her trust—even if it’s conditional, temporary, and precarious—is the best I can hope for at the moment.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - James I go back inside, walk straight through the house, go out to the Hummer, open the door, sit inside, and slam it shut. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing? I weigh my options in my head. I imagine all the ways in which each path could make life better. Then worse. Every decision has a consequence. Every moment in my life accumulates to this moment. And this moment will determine my next moment. Life is a tower. A very tall tower. Decisions lead to actions, and action stack up—one on top of another, on top of another. And sometimes you know why you’re clawing your way up that tower, but most of the time, it’s just pulling yourself up, hand over hand. Finding each foothold one crevice at a time. And every now and then, as you climb your tower, there’s a bridge. And you stand there looking across that bridge, but you know that’s too fucking easy. There’s no other side. If there was another side, you’d hop off the fucked-up tower you’re climbing and try something new. But there’s no other side in sight. Just a bridge. So it’s a risk. Do you keep climbing? Do you use all your stacked moments to lift you up towards the ending you’ve been envisioning since you started this journey? Or do you step onto the bridge and cross over into the unknown? I guess it comes down to regrets. Not things like, Did I kill the right people? Or, Did I do my job the best way I know how? No. Life is not about work, it’s about… love. Unless, of course, your work is what you love. Do I love my work? I pull out my phone and call the number from memory. It rings and rings and then finally goes to voice mail. “Harrison,” I say in a low voice. “Call me back, I need a big.” I end the call, go back inside, find the smokes I bought at the bar, and then walk out the back door so I can enjoy them. I flick the lighter and take a deep drag, then let it out and a little bit of comfort and relief floods into my bloodstream. I walk out towards the sign Sasha just shot and when I get there, I turn and look up to the roof. She’s gone now. Maybe back to bed. Maybe she’s pacing inside, weighing up her stacked moments too. Considering her options as she decides whether or not to step out on to that bridge. I flick the lighter on the sign since the half-moon has dipped behind some clouds and it’s darker now. It’s just silver, but then I realize I’m looking at it backwards and walk around the other side of the post. There’s no fence. It’s just a post in the ground facing the empty desert. But it does have a message on this side. It says, I shoot everyone, and there’s a bullet hole smack in the middle of the sign. Sasha is a damn good shot. My phone buzzes in my pants and I let my cigarette dangle as I fish it out and press the green tab. “Yeah,” I say. “What kind of favor do you need?” Harrison asks. “You still in Vegas?” “Yeah, till tomorrow, why?” “I need you to pick something up in Colombia.” His laugh is so loud I have to pull the phone away. “I’m not doing drug runs, asshole.” I take a drag on my cigarette and let it out. “Not drugs, you freak. I’m gonna place an order for you to pick up, but I need it tomorrow night. Can you do it or not?”

“Dude,” he says, laughing. “That’s a three-leg journey at least. It’s gonna cost you a ton of dough.” “Money is not a problem. I just need this package. Tomorrow night. Delivered to Orange County.” “I can, but you will owe me more than money.” “I’d expect nothing less. Look for deets soon. Later.” I press end and immediately key in another number. It reroutes several times, making loud clicking noises that would usually have me on high alert for wiretapping. But this is just how it is when you want to talk to Roberto. “Hola,” a woman’s voice says. “Roberto Moreno Diseñador.” “This is Tet. I have an order and I am sending someone to pick it up tomorrow.” “Yes, sir,” she says, switching from Spanish to English effortlessly. “How can I help you?” I give her my request. It’s nothing special, at least for Roberto. But they don’t sell them here in the States. At least not of this caliber. And I need the best for this job. I end the call, text Harrison the details, and go find Sasha. “Come in,” she says softly after I knock on her door. I open it up and she’s curled up in a chair on the far side of the room, still holding the gun I gave her. “That was fast,” she says through a yawn. “I hope it’s not some crackpot idea that will get me killed.” “Well, you can let me know afterward, OK?” She stares at me for a few seconds and I can almost see her mind spinning with questions. Will she ask them? Will I answer them? I don’t think I can, not yet anyway. “Medicine Wheel or something like that.” “What?” I shake my head at her randomness. “That place my dad was gonna take me today. Something about a medicine wheel. And he had special permission to go up with some Native American friends because normally it’s closed to the public on the summer solstice.” “Sorry, kid. I have no idea.” “It doesn’t matter,” she says, her expression blank. “Who cares about stupid stuff like that anyway.” She turns away from me, curling her little body up in the chair like she’s cold. But this is the desert. It’s still almost eighty degrees out in the dead of night. Her posture is just another defense mechanism to protect herself from all the hurt. And not the physical kind. She’s got plenty of that tonight too. But missing that trip with her dad, that’s the kind of pain that can’t be fixed with a pill. Not easily, anyway. “Hey,” I say after her eyes have been closed for a few minutes. “Stupid medicine wheels are the only things that count, Sasha. How about… how about I make you a promise. For when this is all over.” “What kind of promise?” She asks the question out of duty, it seems. Because she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes. “I’ll take you to that place. We’ll find it and I’ll take you there.” The tears start to fall down her face. “It’s too late. The solstice is today. I missed it and I don’t want to go anymore.” I have nothing to say to that. Do you convince them? Kids, I mean. Is that what parents do? Convince them that they really do want to go, they’re just acting like… well, kids? Or do you take them at their word? I’m not sure. So I just get up and walk out. It seems like a cowardly move on my part, but fuck it. I’m not her father. She’s not my kid. She’s not my problem. She’s my solution and nothing more.

Chapter Twenty-Eight - James “We should’ve left last night,” Sasha whines. I swear to God, if this kid complains all the way to Huntington Beach, I will not be held responsible. Already this morning she’s complained about the lack of breakfast, her lack of clean clothes, and her sore body. “It’s soooo hot.” The air-conditioning is on full blast, but even though the sun just came up a half hour ago, it’s almost a hundred degrees outside. “I’m hungry.” “Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever shut up? I’m ready to drop your ass off on the side of the road.” Sasha lets out a big sigh and I glance over at Harper. She’s been quiet the entire ride. I reach across the center console and tap her on the shoulder. She pulls her distracted gaze away from the window and smiles half-heartedly at me. “You OK? You haven’t said much since we left.” “Yeah, fine. Just hungry.” She looks away again. “OK.” I scan the horizon and see some civilization coming up. “We’ll get off at the next exit.” I know why she’s quiet. I told her I was going back to the OC to get some files. That has to be it. She has them stashed somewhere and she must’ve felt pretty confident about the hiding place, otherwise she would’ve taken them with her. But I checked her backpack. There is no flash drive or papers or any other means of containing information that I can see. And her unease this morning is proof enough. Those files are stashed and we are headed right for them. When she escaped, as she calls it, she hopped a plane to Hawaii, changed her name and credentials, and then hopped another plane to LA. From there she was tracked to the UCLA library. And that’s as far as they got. Meaning the Company forensic surveillance team. Because for some odd reason there was a power surge at the library that day. About three minutes before Harper entered the building, to be precise. And even though the general power kicked right back on, the security systems went down. All cameras were affected. Accident? Hardly. Everything about that day was coordinated by Nick. All the surveillance footage show a confident and purposeful Harper making her way through two international airports, changing identities, accessing a cab in LA, a city she had never been to before. Then navigating her way around UCLA campus like she’s been a student there for years. In fact, she had a UCLA ID, she was wearing it around her neck just before she entered the library. There was no footage of her coming out. After that she was back on the record. New cab procured, ride out to Huntington Beach, dropped off at the Main Street Pier. Paid with cash. She got out, walked north one block, turned up Fifth, and from what we can tell by the street cams in that area, she went straight to the apartment. There’s a gap in the footage at that point. Obviously she took the apartment, she technically still lives there for another few weeks. But I didn’t find her right away. And I was not given orders. I learned all this way after the fact. My original explanation about why I was watching her was true. I’m obsessed. I want her. She’s mine. My information comes to me in different ways. Like the Sasha thing. The Admiral says he sent me to get her. OK. I had not expected that, to be honest. The receptionist thing Merc and I share is not a secret. I’ve had the same arrangement with lots of different operatives over the years. So it does not surprise me that the Admiral figured it out… it’s just… Why would he care about this one little girl? That part makes no sense. I check for Sasha in the rear view and find her watching me. I smile at her. “We’re gonna stop soon.

There’s a restaurant up here, I’m sure of it.” I look back over to Harper, but she’s got her cheek pressed up against the window, her back angled towards me. She’s avoiding something. Maybe it’s the files. Maybe it’s me. But either way, this day is starting to feel… off. And when I get that off feeling things are building up to something. Something big. I’ve been in this business long enough to understand intuition is your best friend. Right now my intuition is screaming at me to be careful because this is the endgame. Or at the very least, the beginning of the end. The Admiral got in touch last night. And that can only mean one thing. Nick is about to pop back up. I searched her apartment almost every day back in Huntington. The Admiral might’ve said I was on leave, but once I found her, I knew that was not the case. I was there for Harper. Keep an eye on her—or fuck her. Same thing. I allow myself a small smile as I think about that. Her father will flip when he finds out. And there’s no way that will stay secret for long, but he’s the one who came to me twelve years ago and made that promise. I’m simply taking what’s already mine. Back in the OC I searched her apartment thoroughly. There are no secret panels in the walls, or loose floorboards, or special compartments in the box spring. I checked. There are no special knickknacks that look like useless crap, but have a screw-top lid hidden into the design so you can hide stuff in plain sight. Nothing. I checked that little mechanical room she used to stash her money and key too. That wall did have a loose brick, so it was easy to find. But there was only one. “Let’s stop here!” Sasha says, leaning between the front seats to point out the window. “Look!” She laughs and suddenly I can imagine the little kid in her again. She flip-flops between killer assassin and hormonal teenager, but right now I can see her the way her father might’ve. A little girl who just wants to be a kid. “Dinosaurs!” she says. Sure enough, we are in Cabazon. Home of two massive roadside dinosaurs. I pat Harper in her leg. “Want to go see the dinosaurs, Harper?” “I do!” Sasha says excitedly from the back. “Look, they have a restaurant there too. We can stop and eat and then go look at them. Can we look at them, James?” “Harper?” I ask again. She turns towards me with a smile, but something is definitely off with her too. “You in for food and a tourist trap?” “Sure, I’m starving and that looks fun.” I try and ignore all the warnings going off in my head and just pay attention to the moment as I get off the freeway and head over to the giant T-Rex. I park in front of a restaurant with the sign Eat in front. I switch the engine off. The lack of air-conditioning affects us immediately. If you don’t have a constant stream of cool air blowing on you, the desert heat moves in. All three of us open our doors to get out at the same time. You can’t fight the sun. Even three hardened killers know this. Sasha takes a long look at the gigantic dinosaurs and then notices me watching her and blushes in embarrassment. “I was obsessed with dinosaurs when I was a kid.” “You’re still a kid, Smurf,” I tell her as I open the door of the restaurant for them. Inside it’s cool again. “Did you ever see Jurassic Park, James?” I laugh. “I think everyone’s seen Jurassic Park, Sasha.” “I haven’t,” Harper says. “See!” Sasha exclaims. She’s very excited about the dinosaurs and this makes me smile. “Harper

grew up on a boat, she probably never even had TV. I grew up with TV, and we went to the movies, but not a lot. I saw Jurassic Park on TV once when I was like six and that’s when I decided I’d like to be a paleontologist. Did you know that Thermopolis, Wyoming has real dinosaur tracks and bones in the same place, James? That’s not very common. You almost never see them both in the same place.” I shake my head as I hold up three fingers for the waitress. She smiles at Sasha, who has directed her impromptu dinosaur lesson towards Harper now, and winks at me. “They are fun at that age, aren’t they?” “Who?” I ask, following behind her as she leads us to a table. She sets the menu down and smiles again. “Daughters. I have three.” And then Harper and Sasha arrive and sit together in the booth. The waitress walks off before I can correct her and for a moment I just stand there. Daughters? I slide into the booth across from the girls, but I’m sorta stunned. “I’m only twenty-eight,” I say. But she’s long gone, already chatting with another group of people on the other side of the restaurant. “Twenty-eight is old, James.” Sasha quips. “You’re definitely old enough to be my father.” “I’m not your father, Sasha. And it would be a very big mistake to think of me that way.” I feel the silence more than hear it, because neither of the girls were actually talking. But things go still. When I look up Sasha is glaring at me. “Don’t worry,” she says through her clenched teeth. “I’d never want you for a father anyway. You’re an asshole.” People in the next table look over at her swearing. “Sorry,” I mouth to them and they look away quickly. “Sasha, watch your mouth. Especially in public. You are thirteen years old. Act like it.” “I was acting like it,” she says on the other side of her menu. “And you are definitely an asshole.” “OK,” Harper says. “What’s everyone gonna get? I’m thinking one of everything.” Sasha puts down her menu and looks at the dinosaurs through the window. “I’m not hungry.” I let out a long grumble before I can stop myself. “I’ll order for you if you don’t choose. And you’re gonna eat it whether you want to or not.” “Whatever,” she says back. I take my case to Harper. “She needs to eat. We have no clue what will happen after we get back to the Beach. I need her to be ready.” “Ready for what?” Harper looks around cautiously. “Do you think we’re in trouble?” “Not yet, Harp. Calm down. I just feel like something’s coming, you know? And I’ve learned to listen to my gut intuition. If things feel off, then they probably are.” “Things feel off with me too,” Harper finally admits. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it feels bad.” “That feeling is James betraying you, Harper. And If I were you, I’d definitely listen to that one.” My hand comes up, ready to smack the shit out of her, but Harper reaches for it before I can do something I regret. “James, stop. She’s trying to make you react.” I take a deep breath. “It’s working, and believe me, she does not want to be on the receiving end of my reactions.” “I’m right here, you know.” “Sasha,” Harper says sternly. “Shut your mouth and choose some food. You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Sasha glares at Harper now. “I don’t get you. He’s here for you, ya know. And you’re practically handing yourself over.” I put my hands on the table this time, ready to get up and drag her outside so we can have this out for real, but the waitress comes. “You all ready to order?” I relax back in my seat and point to Harper. “I’ll have the…” She looks down at her menu again. “Dino Supreme.” And when she looks back up

she’s got that glowing smile on her face that makes people love her. Makes me love her, that’s for sure. “Scrambled, please.” The waitress looks over at Sasha and waits. I expect something atrocious to come out of her filthy mouth, but she says in her best sweet-little-girl voice, “Dino Egg Pancake Plate and orange juice.” “Oh, I want OJ too,” Harper says. “Does that come with hash browns?” Sasha asks. “No, those are extra, sweetie.” “James,” she says, looking over at me. “Can I get hash browns too?” I almost glare at her because she’s baiting me again, but if she wants to playact, I can go along. “Whatever you want, Princess Smurf.” I order the T-Rex T-bone with a side of eggs and by the time the waitress leaves, I’m calm. But this fucking kid. What the hell was that? I watch her look out the window at the dinosaurs again, and then Harper takes my hands in hers, leans across the table, and kisses me on the cheek. “We’re OK, James.” “I know,” I say back with a smile. For now, at least. But this trip will be over before we know it and then… I’m not sure what happens. After that Harper keeps the conversation going. She asks Sasha all kinds of dinosaur questions and gets a well-articulated answer for each and every one of them. Sasha reports on shit I’ve never heard of before and it’s clear this is her passion. Not guns. Not hunters. Not revenge. Although I’m pretty sure she harbors a deep resentment for the Company and would get some revenge, if offered. I’m counting on that, in fact. But right now, she’s Sasha the dino nerd. The food comes and the girls go quiet as they eat. Sasha finishes everything on her plate and she’s done long before we are so she excuses herself to use the bathroom. Harper slides out and then back in after Sasha takes off. “So,” Harper starts. “What do you think all that was about?” I should’ve expected that, but somehow I figured she’d moved past it. “Look,” I say with a little bit more exasperation than is necessary. “She’s a very troubled kid, OK? Her father was blown up last Christmas Eve on a job Merc was doing. Then she went to live with her grandparents and they were blown up too.” “That’s what she was talking about when she said she killed four people?” “Yeah, her father, from my understanding anyway”—Tread carefully here, Tet, my inner voice cautions. This is new info from the Admiral last night—“was a former assassin trainer and he left that position and became an arms supplier out of Cheyenne. And Sasha seems to be his only living legacy.” “So she’s a trained hunter?” Harper looks away as she puts these things together. “Like me? Only she can shoot and I can’t.” I smile at that. “I like the fact that you can’t shoot. Or drive,” I add. “It’s sorta sweet.” She almost chokes on her orange juice. “Why sweet?” “I dunno. Because you’re so deadly on your own terms, right? The hand-to-hand stuff. You kick some serious ass like that. And you can sail a megayacht, but you can’t drive a car.” “Well, I can’t sail that thing alone. It’s crazy big. You have to have a crew. So it’s not that impressive when all you do is bark orders.” “But if someone asked you to captain their megayacht and take them to… wherever, you could do it. Couldn’t you?” She shrugs. “I suppose. If the crew was competent.” “And what if the sailboat was smaller? Could you sail that?” “Oh yeah,” she says with an excitement in her eyes that’s been missing since I met her. “If it can be

manned by one or two people, I’m all over that. Sometimes Nick and I would sail alongside the main ship in a sloop.” “And no one was on the boat with you?” “No, it was only a two-person boat. Very small.” “See, Harp. That shit is sexy as all fucking hell. I’d get us all killed, if I had to be in charge.” “Well, we had a whole ship full of people who’d jump in to save us if we needed it. It was not unsafe in the least.” She slides out of her booth and comes to sit next to me. “I miss the ocean.” “We’ll be back there tonight. Maybe we can walk out to the pier and watch the sunset?” She grabs my upper arm and rests her head against my chest. “I’d love that.” “Then it’s a date.” I’m suddenly glad we’ve missed all those other sunsets. That way this one tonight can be the one. “Where’s Sasha? She’s been gone a while.” “Shit,” I say as I push Harper to slide out of the booth. I fish through my wallet, throw forty bucks down on the table, and then take Harper’s hand. “Wait,” she says pulling me back towards the window. “Is that her over there?” I squint as I look out the window and sure enough, there’s Smurfette, walking over to the huge-ass dinosaur. “You should go talk to her, James. She’s just having a hard time.” “Harper, I have no patience for that girl. I feel bad for her, but I’ve done everything I can to be nice, and she’s just a brat. You go talk to her. I’m gonna take a piss. But we do not have time for her whackedout bullshit. She needs to pull herself together or she’s gonna get us all killed.” “OK, I’ll go see what’s up. But I don’t think she’s doing this on purpose. She’s just mixed up and confused.” “About what?” I whisper in her ear, my anger surfacing as we walk towards the front of the restaurant. “There’s only one fucking thing she needs to understand. None of us are in a very good position right now. There’s a global organization that wants you back and wants her dead. If she’s half as smart as I think she is, she’ll fucking take a clue from you and do as she’s told.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Harper Do as she’s told? Can he be any more of a caveman? I sigh as I watch his ass walking to the back of the restaurant. It’s a nice ass. Then I notice several women checking him out right along with me and an unfamiliar feeling creeps up. Jealousy. One woman notices me watching and quickly averts her gaze, so I just turn around and walk outside. The dinosaur is on the other side of a large parking lot and just this trek has my shoulders burning from the morning sun. It’s so hot here. I’ve spent most of my life in the tropics, so I’m used to hot. But the heat out here in the desert is suffocating. It zaps the life from you. And there’s no water to ease your discomfort. Our biggest yacht, not the sailing one, actually has a pool. But even if there was no pool, the spray of the sea kept you cool most of the time. I’m only halfway across the parking lot when another emotion hits me. Homesickness. I have to admit, I miss the ship. I miss that life. I was not abused or treated badly. I miss the ocean and the salty wind. I miss the crew too. I am almost upon the big gray beast when I spot Sasha sitting underneath. At least it’s shady. I walk under, bypass an empty stone picnic table, and cop a seat on the brontosaurus toe next to the one she’s occupying. “What’re you doing?” “Thinking,” she says as she rolls her flip flop over some stones on the concrete. “Oh.” This is going great. “I think James is ready to leave. He wanted me to come get you.” She’s silent for a few seconds and I’m racking my brain trying to think of something else to get her feet started when she finally pipes up. “Did you ever miss living in a house? With parents and school and stuff?” “Ummm…” “We lived in an RV until I was almost ten. I kinda liked it.” “Oh.” I consider this for a second. “Well, that’s sorta like living on a ship, isn’t it? You move from place to place and see lots of stuff.” I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and turn, automatically looking for danger. But it’s just James. Leaning up against the dinosaur leg, smoking a cigarette. He shrugs at me and I turn back to Sasha. She’s not paying any attention to James. “The best thing about living on the ship was the whales.” Sasha looks up at me, her eyes bright with curiosity. “The humpback whales migrate in certain places every year, so we’d have to be in that part of the world to catch them moving in groups like that. But we saw them enough for it to leave an impression, ya know? Like—it became a part of my life. It was something special when I woke up in the morning and discovered a whale outside.” Sasha laughs as she pictures it. “Did you ever swim with them?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No. No, I’m not brave like that. You could never pay me enough money to swim next to a whale. I like to snorkel, but mostly in shallow waters.” I take a deep breath. “I’d probably have a panic attack if a whale ever came up to me in the ocean.” I sigh heavily. “I have those attacks a lot. It makes me need the pills.” She stares at me for a second and then shakes her head slowly. “That’s not true. You haven’t panicked since I’ve met you.” “Which is only two days,” I say back, chuckling under my breath. “It feels like forever since that night you pulled a gun on us.” And then she looks over to James, who is still calmly smoking his cigarette, leaning up against the dinosaur’s front leg. Just waiting us out. Sometimes he is very patient. “I know,” I say, picking the subject of panic again. “I’ve been pretty good. But you know why?” She shakes her head and resumes rolling her flip flop over the stones.

“I think because James is here to help me. And you remember that first night when you said he was being mean to you all day, and for me to not take his anger personally? Well, I’ve thought about what you said since then and I think you’re right.” She stares hard at me and I can see the tears building. “He’s all I’ve got,” she says as a tear slips down her face. “He’s all I’ve got so I have no choice but to forgive him when he’s mean.” “Well, that’s sorta true. You always have a choice whether or not you want to forgive people. And he’s not really all you’ve got, because I’m here too. But what I think you meant was—we’re together now. Whatever it is we’re doing, we’re doing it together. So even though all three of us are used to doing it alone, we’re not alone now.” She starts crying for real, sniffling in rapid succession as she tries to make it stop. I think a distraction is in order, so I come up with a question for her. “Tell me what you liked about living in an RV. Did you see cool things?” She nods her head as she wipes her wet cheeks. “We—” A new sob escapes despite all her best efforts and she takes a moment to pull it together. “We were dinosaur hunters.” James is suddenly in front of me. He takes a seat on the dinosaur toe next to Sasha and flicks his cigarette away. “I killed a dinosaur once,” he says as he blows the last of the smoke out of his nose. Sasha laughs and wipes her eyes. “I swear,” James continues. “You know, that’s my job. I’m a killer for hire. So one time, I’m on this tropical island somewhere off the coast of South America. And they have this theme park there where they grow baby dinosaurs using genetic cloning. And they have all these electrified fences and shit, but some asshole was stealing the DNA to sell on the black market and knocked out the power so all the dinosaurs got out and they needed me to come in and save everyone.” “James!” Sasha says, laughing. “You never went there. That’s the movie. Don’t believe him, Harper. He’s making all that up.” “Sure I did. Who do you think gave that writer the whole idea for that book? It was me. I’m the original dinosaur hunter. Animal Planet wanted to give me a show—” “James!” she squeals again. “You’re lying.” “—because I found a stash of living dinosaur eggs—” Sasha punches him on the arm and then he winces and rubs it, like she hurt him. “I’m not joking, James. We were dinosaur hunters, only we looked for bones and stuff. We used to spend the summers in Utah looking for fossils.” “Did you know this past year was the first year I actually had a winter?” I pipe in, since we are sharing. “What?” Sasha says through her laugh. “Yeah, whenever winter rolled around we just crossed the equator and sailed towards summer. I’ve never seen snow.” “Oh my God,” Sasha says. “What do you do on Christmas if there’s no snow? I can’t even imagine a Christmas without snow.” “We never really celebrated Christmas. We never had a tree or anything. We just had dinners. And people would say it’s Christmas, Merry Christmas or whatever… but it never really meant anything to me other than we had lots of guests on board.” “Wow,” she says, looking at me with pity. “I think I like my life better than yours.” I shrug. “It’s not all that different. I still have a father, but I ran away from him. So really, I’m all alone too.” Her somber mood is back and I feel bad for being responsible. “Well,” James says. “Both of my parents are still alive but I hate their fucking guts.” He lets out a long, controlled breath of air and then flicks his lighter and starts puffing on another cigarette. “How do you sell your kids?” He blows out a stream of smoke through his nose and shakes his head. “Who the fuck

sells their kids?” “It’s not like they have a choice, James,” I say, trying to defuse the anger that is bubbling up inside him. “They did the same thing our parents did. They were born into this fucked-up Company too.” But James is shaking his head before the last of my words are out. “That’s not true.” He stares at me. I can’t see his eyes because he’s got those damn sunglasses on, but I can feel his stare like it’s the desert heat. “You wanna know how I know that’s not true? You wanna know how I know your fathers”—his fingers make a v-shape and he points to both Sasha and I—“put up a fight and mine didn’t?” I’m not sure I want to know, but Sasha says, “How?” before I can stop this conversation. “Because your mothers are dead.” He blows out more smoke and then slides his glasses up onto his head so we can see his eyes. “And mine’s not.” The entire world goes still for several moments as I take in his words and the only thing that snaps me back is Sasha’s small hand lacing her fingers with mine. “What’s that mean, James?” she asks. He gets up off the dinosaur toe and walks away. And when he’s walked the length of the dinosaur’s underbelly, he turns and walks back. He stops right in front of us and looks down as we look up. “It means your mothers are dead because they killed them. That’s just what tends to happen when you have girls. Boys? They just get trained, right? Trained to do what? Jobs, I guess. Most of them aren’t killing people for a living, are they? No, only a few of us get that privilege. But the girls are just handed over.” James stops talking and his stare focuses on me with laser precision. “You know this, Harper. You were given away.” “To you, James. I was given—” But he’s shaking his head. “You were the one who said it was never gonna happen, right? Why would your father give his prized possession to me? A killer. My family is wealthy, but only because the Company sets them up that way. I’m nothing. I’m nobody. You knew it right away. You feel it inside. I’m nothing but a filthy killer. You father made that promise, but he never expected to have to live up to it. He never expected me to make it this far.” My heart is beating so fast I might pass out. My head begins to spin and I know I’m gonna have a panic attack. I want him to stop talking so bad, but Sasha—“But why would they kill them?” she asks. All I want to do is cover my ears, but James is already talking. “When you have a girl, they take the mothers away because they put up a fight.” And then he stares down at me. “Not even the Admiral is immune to this, I guess.” I’m shaking my head. “My mother died in childbirth.” “Yeah,” he says in response. “How’d your mother die, Smurf?” Sasha squeezes my hand and whispers, “Childbirth.” “That means they refused to give you girls up. They come when the babies are born and make deals with the fathers. This is how they keep it going. The Company is dependent on the next generation. They need us to continue their dirty work, or else things would just degenerate until they fell apart. They need that birth promise. And most of the time, the parents give in. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they really have no choice. None. The kids belong to the Company no matter what. And most parents give in and sign them over. But every once in a while”—he points to us with his v-shape again—“every once in a while they fight back. And then the Company kills the mother to make an example of them.” “Kills them…” Sasha says in a voice so weak I turn to look at her to make sure she’s OK. Her face is ashen and her grip on my hand is tighter than ever. “They killed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. When I look at James he’s nodding. “They kill them if they put up any kind of fight. So while my mother was busy signing over my sister, your mothers gave their lives for you. And your father, Sasha, from what I can tell, almost made it out.” “They killed him too?” she squeaks out. “The Company?”

“James, stop,” I say. “Just stop. She doesn’t need to hear this.” “She does, Harper. She really needs to hear this.” He looks back at Sasha and even though his words are harsh, his voice is soft. “They killed him, Smurf. But hey.” He bends down and tips her lowered chin up with a fingertip. “I told you, Merc is busy doing something important, right?” “He’s killing that senator?” “I’m not sure he’s doing that right now, but believe me, he’s gonna get them back.” And then James looks at me. “And while he takes care of that end in his way, the three of us will take care of this end in our way. But I need your trust, girls. I need your trust. I can’t do any of this unless you trust me because I can’t do any of this alone.” I swallow hard and look him in the eye. “Why should we trust you? You’ve done their dirty work for them your whole life.” James doesn’t even blink. Like he’s used to the insult. He’s been called a killer so much, that label has no meaning to him anymore. “Because they took my baby sister. My mother sold out my baby sister and they took her away. And someone needs to pay for this shit, Harper. Someone needs to stand the fuck up and say enough. And maybe we’re not much. One man, one woman, and one kid. But I’m tired of waiting for that someone to come along and make things right. We might as well put a bullet in our own heads right the fuck now because we are already dead.” He stops to make sure this is sinking in. Both Sasha and I are shaking now, so yes, his shock tactic is working. “We’re already dead except for you, Lionfish. Sasha and I have hits on our heads. There’s no way we’re gonna be allowed to live. But even if we did make it, even if I did make it out and I was allowed to keep what was already mine”—he takes the hand Sasha is not holding and gives me a comforting squeeze —“what kind of future will we have if our daughter is sold? What kind of future will I have if they make an example of you? Because there’s no fucking way on this earth that I would let them take my child, girl or boy. That’s never gonna happen. What kind of life is that? What kind of man lets this happen? What kind of coward lets his own family be sold off or killed?” “That’s not any kind of life I want, James,” Sasha says. All her tears are gone now. Her expression is the opposite of the one she was wearing a few minutes ago. That sad and lost child has disappeared. And I suddenly feel like I’m looking in the mirror. Because the expression on her face is the same as mine. Cold killer. The desert wind is whipping my hair around and the temperature outside the shade of the gigantic dinosaur is at least one hundred ten. But my skin shivers from the cold within. Like the reptile sheltering us, our blood runs cold. We’re all cold here.

Chapter Thirty - James We walk back to the Hummer in silence and my mind, opened up from sharing these details with the girls, is buzzing like it’s got something to say. Memories flicker in an out, and I press my fingertips to my temples. “You OK?” Harper asks me as she entwines her arm in mine. “You don’t look good.” “Fine,” I say. But I’m not sure I’m fine. I’m not convinced any of us are fine. Sasha glances over her shoulder at the dinosaur one last time before she opens the back door on the driver’s side and hops up into the truck. “Put your belt on, kid.” She does as she’s told without comment. Her earlier sadness, despite her bravado back under the reptile, has turned to hopelessness. I prefer her sad if the alternative is hopeless. So I smack her leg, trying to change her mood. But she just shakes her head. “This is worse.” “What’s worse?” my dry throat croaks out. “Knowing,” she says, her eyes still avoiding mine. “At least I had something to believe in before.” She directs her gaze up to mine as Harper gets in the front and closes her door. “You can believe in me, kid. I told you, I’m working on it. I’m gonna keep you safe.” I look over at Harper as she silently watches us. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe.” Sasha turns her whole body away from me and I close her door and open mine, get in, and just as I’m pulling my door closed I hear her whisper an answer. “I don’t believe you.” I let out a long breath and start the truck, the air-conditioning blasting away her words as the warm air shoots out. I don’t answer, just get back on the freeway and head towards LA, waiting for the chill to take over. Actions always speak louder than words and all I’ve given her so far are words. When the Admiral called me to the twins’ sixth birthday party I knew why I was there. To be given a number. An assassin had just been killed off. How? That’s an excellent question. One I never cared much about until recently. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s too late to make a difference. The twelve years between then and now have wiped that advantage away. Besides, if I had known then what I know now… I’d definitely be dead. I was never lied to. At least by my parents. They were upfront from the time I was small. You are a Company child, James. You will always be a Company child. But being honest and being forthcoming are two very different things. I should know, I use that to my advantage all the time. I try to be honest when I can, but I’m almost never forthcoming. And there is a big difference. For instance, telling me that I am owned by the Company is honest. But leaving out the fact that my children will be traded for favors like secrets and my wife will be killed if she objects is far from being forthcoming. And call me what you will—sell-out, naive, shill—whatever. I admit I’ve been all those things at one point or another. But that’s only because people who said they were being honest were very far from forthcoming. At sixteen, looking at my promise playing on the beach, yeah. That was all very much OK with me. I refused her, so I know I have some honor. But I wanted her, even if I refused to admit it. I wanted her enough to listen to the Admiral’s plan for me. I wanted her enough to kill on command for more than a decade. I wanted her enough to follow every order sent to me, without fail. I wanted her enough to kill my associates and my own brother. Even after my little sister was taken that first year I was working professionally, I wanted to be what

the Admiral thought I was. His personal assassin. Because I wanted Harper. I might not’ve admitted it back then, but I wanted to please him, I wanted to show him I was worthy. And fuck it, I still want what’s mine. I do. I’ve lived my life the past dozen years based on the fact that there’s a reward for me when it’s all said and done. My mind flickers again and I suck in some air as the stabbing pain shoots across my forehead. But that was before I got the message. It’s funny how one text can change your life. How a few simple words can tip all your plans upside down, redirect your life’s work, and make you do things you never thought yourself capable of. I’m capable of anything, though. I know that now. I’ve killed enough people in cold blood to understand what it means to be capable of something. People who assume I will blink when things get too hot typically end up dead. I never blink. I never stumble. I never fall. I never pull punches. When I’m in, I’m all in. And even though everything I’ve done since that day on the beach when Harper and I turned Six was building towards a future, I know now I can never follow through with it. The message that changed my life was about a girl. And this almost makes me laugh. Because now that I’m here looking back, every major turning point in my life has been about a girl. This girl was one I had forgotten about and yet she was always there, in the back of my mind. Nagging at me. A girl the very same age as Harper. A girl I loved long before I even knew Harper existed. It came in the first day I was at the beach taking the edge off. Just before I recognized Harp as the missing twin, as if I was being reminded where my loyalties lie. The text said… Meet me. That’s it. I get these messages all the time. I get phones dropped off at various places for me all the time. The one in the green house in Sandy Valley was not for Harper, it was for me. The one in Merc’s house was not for Sasha, it was for me. And the one I found sitting on the railing of an apartment balcony last March —the day I went to see if it would suit me as a rental as I endured my mandatory take-the-edge-off punishment at the beach—also for me. Meet me is a code we assassins use when we need help. It means find the nearest gas station, go there, and wait. So that’s what I did. I waited, expecting to see one of two men show up. The only two left who know how to find me. The dead man who walked through the doors of the Stop-N-Go on Beach Boulevard was so off my radar it took me almost a whole minute of open-mouth staring to come to terms with what I was witnessing. He was beach-bumming, like me. His jeans were old and torn. His t-shirt a little too big, sporting a faded image of a mushroom on it. Vans on his feet. He was holding his hands up, like he was surrendering, but he was not surrendering. He just didn’t want me to shoot him straight away. He needed a minute. He got it, because I was stunned. “You look good,” he said. “You look better than you should,” I replied. He nodded and shook a hand in the air so I’d notice it. “I have something for you here.” He was holding a phone. “A message.” Whatever message he had, it was not one I wanted to hear, but I said, “What message?” involuntarily. “Take a look.” He held out the phone and I reached for it, thinking he’d use that as an opportunity to attack. But he didn’t. He handed me the phone and I took it, never taking my eyes off him. “Press play,

Tet.” I looked down at the phone and squinted at the girl on the still shot of the YouTube video. The still shot was a close-up of her face, her eyes wide with fright. Green. Her eyes were as green as mine. Her hair was as dark as mine. Her features reminded me of pictures of my mother when she was young. But there were bruises on her face. Not recent ones, which made them all the more ugly. “Nicola?” It was a question in my head. A desperate, desperate question as I hoped against hope that what I was seeing was real. I pressed the play icon on the screen and her voice carried though the noise in the busy gas station. “James,” she said to the camera, her eyes filled with fear. “Help me. Please,” she begged that day on video. “Please, help me.” How do you deny your sister when she returns from the dead and asks you to save her? You don’t. You say, Whatever it takes. Because blood runs thick. That fucking blood sticks to your hands no matter how much time you spend in the desert. That fucking blood makes you do things. Things that you never thought you’d do. Things like kill your brother to save your niece. Things like give up your future to save your sister. I’ve been looking for someone to save my whole life. Since the day I shook death’s hand and walked away from a dirty promise. Since the day I decided I am damned and I’ll take them all to hell with me. Since the day I realized blood might run thick, but revenge runs deep. I did make a choice that day. But that was just hours before I met Harper. How could I have known? I remember now. I remember what was hiding behind that black curtain of denial. I remember those missing hours I forced myself to forget to avoid the consequences. I remember the dirty deal I made with death. And death is coming back to collect.

Chapter Thirty-One - James “Are we there yet?” Sasha asks from the backseat as I shake Nicola out of my thoughts. “Almost,” I say absently. Nicola is not that easy to shake. My debt is not small. My debt makes any future I wanted impossible. I look in the rear view and Sasha catches me staring and smiles. “James?” “What?” I say back as I study her face. “Do you think we’ll have time to go to the beach today?” I nod at her and then look over at Harper. She’s asleep. Or faking it, I’m not sure. “Yeah, I’m counting on a sunset tonight. We’ll definitely go to the beach.” “Tonight?” she whines. “Can’t we go before that?” “We’ll see, Smurf. You can see the ocean from my house, but I want you to stay inside. I’ve got some business to do first.” And that’s when Harper’s shoulders stiffen. Yeah, she is faking it. “Harp,” I say as I smack her leg playfully. “Harper? You awake? We’re back.” She pulls herself up and turns to me. Her smile is slow and just as fake as her sleep. She’s worried. As she should be. This plan is far from perfect, especially for her. And now I have a new player in the game. Fucking blackouts. “I’m gonna drop you guys off and then I have to go meet some associates.” She just stares at me. “OK?” “Where are you going?” she finally asks. “I’m not sure yet. I got a message about these missing files. So if I can get a hold of them, then I need to make the delivery.” “Delivery to where?” I force a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Harper. But it’ll be fine, babe. Just relax at my place for a few hours, then I’ll come back, we’ll grab some dinner and head towards the beach and have a nice night.” She nods but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Hey,” I say, my hand going to her knee. She’s starting to shake a little. Barely noticeable, but it’s there. “You’re OK. We’re OK,” I stress. “Don’t worry, it’s all gonna work out fine.” “What are we doing?” she asks in a low voice. “We’re going to James’ house, Harper,” Sasha pipes up from the back. I have her, at least. She’s totally on my side right now. We’ll see if it stays that way. “It’s a small job, Harper. No killing, I’m on leave, remember? This isn’t a job like that, so stop worrying.” All that is true. None of this is a job, not really. But while I am being honest, I’m not being forthcoming. “Let’s go to Mexico,” she says with a bright hope in her eyes. “Let’s just… run away and go to Mexico.” “I wanna go to Mexico, James,” Sasha says. “I’m ready to go anywhere. You guys just say the word. I’m there.” “Harper,” I say in my serious voice. “Listen to me, we’re fine. We can’t run away, you know that. You can’t run away, because they know where we are.” “Then why am I still with you? Why hasn’t my father come to take me back?” “Because he knows you’re safe with me.” “We’re being set up,” Sasha says from the back. I nod to her image in the rear view. “We’re definitely being set up, Smurf. But look, you guys, just

fucking trust me, OK?” I study Harper’s face and she’s not convinced, but when I turn my head to see Sasha, she’s smiling. I have her, and right now, that’s all I need. Harper’s trust would be nice, would make this job easier, but it’s not necessary. “I just don’t…” Harper is clearly not on board. But I’m not sure if she’s really worried about the files I keep mentioning, or if it’s about something else. “I don’t think you should do this job, James. I think we can get away. I think we can sneak out somehow.” When I look over, her eyes are darting around like crazy. Like she’s desperate to convince me to do anything but this job. “Baby, relax. Why are you so worried? This is no big deal.” “But if we’re being set up, and we all know we’re being set up, then why the hell are we playing along?” I turn off Superior Avenue and onto Pacific Coast Highway, using my merge into traffic to stall her question. “Look!” Sasha squeals. “It’s the ocean!” She opens her window and the sea air blasts into the Hummer. I flip the AC off and roll down all our windows. It feels so good to let the outside back in after being in the desert these past few days. “I feel sick,” Harper says. “My stomach, James. I feel sick.” I rub her leg again. “Relax, Harper. I told you, I’m taking care of things. OK?” She shakes her head. “Pull over, I’m gonna throw up. Pull over!” I pull into a restaurant parking lot and park in the shade. Harper opens her door and leans out. She waits, spits a little, but she holds it together. “What’s wrong, Harper?” Sasha asks, worried. I look back at Sasha and shush her with a finger to my lips. “Harper,” I say, rubbing her back. “You’re fine. OK? Just relax.” She leans back in her seat and wipes the perspiration from her forehead. “I don’t want you to do this job, James, I don’t want to go back to HB. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I’m not ready for this.” God, I feel so fucking guilty. “You won’t be alone, Harper. I’ll be there too. I have a gun if anyone tries to mess with us. James gave me one of his Five-SeveN’s. It’s kickass!” “Sasha,” I say sternly. “Do not shoot that thing here, do you understand me? This is Orange County, not the desert.” “I’m not stupid, James,” she says with an eye roll, like I’m her father and we’re talking about curfew instead of killing people. Fucking girls. They are so emotional. I’m just not used to it. I’ve never worked with so many damn girls. “Harper,” I say to get her attention back and take her mind off her worries. I get out and walk around to her side of the Hummer, slide my sunglasses up onto my forehead, and take her face in my hands. “Just fucking trust me.” I look her in the eyes. “If you give in, let go of whatever’s got you all worked up, and just let me handle things, I promise you. We’ll be fine.” “And what if I don’t give in to you, James? What if I can’t give in to you? What then?” “Harper, I’m here no matter what. You don’t have to trust me, but everything I do is for us. You got it? Remember what I said. If I ask you to walk through fire?” “I’m fireproof,” she says back in a sad voice. “If I ask you to take a bullet?” “I’m bulletproof.” “And if I walk away?” Her eyes are gathering tears but both my thumbs swipe the corners of her eyes before they fall down her cheeks. “What happens if I walk away, Harper?” She swallows hard and shakes her head no. “I’ll come back for you, Harp. If I walk away, it’s because I’ll come back for you.” The tears stream out now and there’s nothing I can do to catch them. “I don’t want you to walk away.”

I lean into her ear and whisper, “I never said I was going to, you crazy woman. It’s a just-in-case scenario.” She sniffs. “You won’t walk away.” I shake my head. “I’d have to be torn away, Harp.” I smile at her. “They’d have to tear me away.” “You promise?” “I promise.” This eases her fears and I feel her relax in my embrace. “We’re like ten minutes from my house, wanna go check it out?” “I do!” Sasha says. But I shush her with another finger to my lips. I close Harper’s door and walk back around to my side, catching a suspicious look from Sasha as I pass her window. Great, I get one on board and the other is immediately suspicious. It’s like these girls are opposite forces, able to see through me, but only one at a time. “You’re not walking away from me, are you, James?” Sasha asks with a desperate edge to her voice. I slide my sunglasses down and glance in the rear view. “Never, Smurf. I need you more than you can ever imagine.” And then I shoot her with my finger in the mirror and she smiles.

Chapter Thirty-Two - Harper I don’t believe him. I do not believe one word he says. I’m not fireproof. I’m not bulletproof. And if he walks away, I will die. Die. That will be the end for me, because nothing feels right. My stomach is in knots. My mind is racing with all kinds of scenarios. My body is shaking with fear. If they have those files, then what? What happens to me? And if they don’t, what am I supposed to do? Nothing about this makes any sense. Where is Nick? He said he’d come back for me, just like James. But our year is just about up. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. And the farther we go up PCH, the sicker I feel. My stomach is all over the place. One minute I just want to hurl everything, the next I’m desperate to keep it all inside. The pier comes into view on the left and Sasha squeals with delight. She’s so happy. But I’m not. I groan and put a hand on my stomach. “James, please, just turn around.” But he can’t even hear me over the wind and Sasha. Besides, he’s not listening. We pass the pier and turn up Fifth Street towards my house. The little Mexican restaurant is busy because it’s lunchtime now. He slows down and turns left onto Walnut, then makes the first right into the alley. My alley. I grab him by his upper arm. “I don’t want to go to my house, James!” He ignores me, just parks the car in front of my garage, then gets out. But he’s not going to my house. He walks up to the garage across the alley, flips open a control pad, and keys in a code. The garage door opens as he gets back into the Hummer. “I live right here.” He smiles down at me and I feel my worries lift for a moment. “You lived across the alley from me that whole time?” He pulls into the garage and cuts the engine. “All the better to stalk you, my dear.” “Ha,” Sasha says from the back seat. “James, you really are the big bad wolf. He was gonna tell Merc wolves ate me out on the prairie if I didn’t behave, Harper. You better watch out.” “All right, enough,” James says as he opens his door. “Let’s go inside and I’ll give you the tour before I head out.” Ohhhh. My stomach does another flip and I have to swallow down the puke. I reluctantly get out and follow them over to the key pad by the inside door. James presses in the code and the garage door closes as the condo door opens. Inside there are steps leading up to a second floor. Sasha and I follow him up to a bright and open living area. “You can see the ocean,” Sasha says. He does have a very nice view. One block away, but looking down Sixth Street. When I follow them out onto the balcony, I realize you can even see sand from here. “That’s quite a view the Company pays for.” I don’t know why I say it. To be a bitch. To hide my insecurities. To make him feel guilty for being here on their dime. Or maybe all of the above. What’s he doing with me anyway? I get that he wants me to trust him, but why should I? He has never denied that this is a job. He has denied certain very specific things about why he’s here. It’s not to kill me. It’s not to kill Nick. But beyond that, he’s been very evasive. “You should see the third floor,” James quips back as he takes my hand and leads me over to some stairs on the other side of the living room. “I wanna see the third floor!” Sasha says excitedly. “Stay here, Smurf,” James growls. I know what he’s doing, but I follow him upstairs anyway. He takes me past a bedroom and an

office, until we get to the end of the hallway, and then he opens the double doors that lead to the master and waves me in. The doors close behind me and then his hands are on my hips. Lifting my shirt and caressing my breasts before I can even begin to protest. I want to protest. That’s a lie. I want to fuck him. I want to suck him off so hard he forgets all about these files and stays in bed with me for the rest of the day. But that’s not gonna happen, so the best I can hope for is an hour of dirty pleasure. I drop to my knees and begin unbuttoning his pants, but his hand grips my upper arm. “No, Harper. That’s not why I brought you up here.” “What?” He pulls me to my feet. My face is hot with embarrassment. “What’s wrong?” He just smiles. “James, please, you’re scaring me.” And then he pulls me into an embrace. His mouth drifts to my neck and his hot breath is enough to cause prickles to stream down my spine. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I just… I just don’t want you to think I’m only here for that. I brought you up here to talk, that’s all. In private,” he adds quickly when he realizes my confusion. “Nothing bad.” I’m not sure I believe him. Sex, that seems to be our new normal. It’s very obvious he’s been using it to get what he wants. To control things and keep me off balance so I’m more compliant. But talking? “Why are you so nervous?” he says, cupping my face in that way that allows his thumbs to caress my jaw. I let out a long sigh. “I’m just not sure any words we say will be very comforting.” He leads me over to the balcony and opens the slider so we can step out onto the terrace. The ocean hits me immediately, and it’s breezy today, so even though it’s probably not possible, I feel the sea on my skin. I inhale deeply and then realize James is watching me. I smile, a little bit more at ease with all these familiar scents and feelings. “What?” He shakes his head and stares. “You’re so pretty.” Pretty. It’s such a simple word. Pretty. It’s something kids say. And yet it says so much more than gorgeous or beautiful or hot or sexy. It’s the implied simplicity of the word that make my heart swell around the echo of his voice in my head. “I wish we were Six again.” He nods at me. “Yeah, a do-over. I wish we could have a do-over. But you know what I’d do different?” Tears are suddenly running down my face. I wipe them away and swallow down whatever this new emotion is and answer him. “What?” He closes the distance between us with one step, but that step changes everything in my eyes. That step makes me his. And when his arms come around me, the way they have so many other times, that changes things for me too. “Why are you crying?” he asks me softly. “Don’t you want to know how I’d do it over?” I smile a little and wipe my face. “I do, I want to know. I’m sorry, I just feel so sad all of a sudden. Like something is going to go wrong at any moment.” “Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up so I have to look him in the eyes. “Nothing is gonna go wrong, OK? I’ve got it all under control.”

“All what?” I say, trying to stop the tears. “What needs to be under control?” My heart is racing so bad, I might faint. I reach out for the glass railing of the terrace, but then James has a hold of me. He leads me over to a chaise longue, sits down, and then pulls on me until I sit in front of him and rest back against his chest. “You’re getting all worked up now, Harp. Stop. I brought you up here to tell you about my do-over. So just relax and enjoy the story.” I take a deep breath to calm myself down. I realize this is an overreaction, but as usual, I’m helpless to stop it. “I need those pills,” I say more to myself than James. “Harper,” he says sternly. Stern enough to make me jump a little. “I do not want to hear about those fucking pills again. I’m not fucking around, either. You are not to take them, do you understand me?” “I don’t even have any, so it’s not like I could.” “Do you understand me?” “Yes,” I reply back. I turn around enough to see his face and he’s genuinely angry. “Sorry, it was a joke. Just a stupid throwaway comment. That’s all.” “He controls you with those pills, Harper.” “Who?” “Your father, who else? He’s the one who had them prescribed for you. He’s the one who encouraged them.” “To control the panic attacks, and he’s not even around, so just drop it.” “Promise me—” “I promise, Jesus. Just tell me your do-over.” I cross my arms, angry at my mood swings. And his. We are all over the place today. “Sorry,” he says with a kiss to my head. “Sorry, I just know how hard it was to wean you off them, so I don’t want you falling back on old habits.” “When would I even have the chance?” “OK, fine. Are you ready?” I turn so I’m lying sideways on his chest and then I close my eyes and enjoy his scent. His strong arms around me. His gentle caress up and down my arm. “You’d come see me that day we turned Six and you’d say yes to my father’s offer.” I chuckle a little as I look up at him. And then stop. Because he’s frowning at me. “No, Harper. I can’t say yes to that dirty offer. That was the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life. You had a good childhood, right?” “I did,” I admit. “So taking you away back then would ruin you. All that you are today, all the things I love about you, both good and bad, are all because of those twelve years we were apart.” “Then how is that a do-over?” I ask, confused. Everything today is so confusing. “It’s a do-over because I’d do it all over again.” My tears are back again. He presses his face into my neck and hugs me tight. “I love you for who you are. I love you right now, everything about you. I want you the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing, Lionfish. Not a damn thing. I love the way I met you. I love that stupid ballerina bathing suit you were wearing. I love that you were trying to bury me with a pail and a shovel and you drew me your secret in the sand—” “You knew?” “No, baby. I didn’t know until you told me your name under the pier. It took me twelve years to figure that out.” He laughs. “But I want you to know, I thought about you every night. No matter where I was in the world. No matter what I was doing. And even though I had to tell your father no, my answer was always yes.” He turns my head and kisses me gently on the lips. “My answer was always yes. You are mine, Harper. And you have always been mine. And if I tell you to walk through fire?”

“I’m fireproof,” I whisper back. “Do you believe me?” I shake my head no. “I’m not fireproof. I’m a sad mess.” “You’re bulletproof. You cannot be touched, baby. You can’t. Because I’m your shield. That’s all you need to know. That’s the only thing you need to know. Just—” He pushes on me until I turn around enough to look him in his eyes. “Just believe in me.” “You’ll come back for me?” He smiles and my heart breaks. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” “No,” he says too quickly. “I’m not leaving. Not for good anyway. I’m gonna go get what I need and I’ll be right back. And then we’re gonna go watch the damn sunset. If it’s the last thing I do, I will get another sunset with you.” And then his chest rumbles with a laugh and I feel like the saddest person on earth when he tilts me forward, slips out from behind me, and walks out to do his job.

Chapter Thirty-Three - Harper A few minutes later a door slams two floors below me. A few minutes after that, Sasha appears on the terrace. “Harper? Are you OK?” “Do you trust him?” I ask her as I stare out at the Pacific Ocean. The view he has, holy mother, it’s perfect. Sasha lets off an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, he’s not very nice most of the time. And he’s killed a lot of people compared to me. So I guess not. But—” I look over at her and then point to the chair next to my chaise longue. “But what?” “But he’s good underneath, I think. Well…” She backtracks as she takes a seat. “Maybe not good. But I think he’s… trying really hard.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I think he wants what’s best.” “Best for who?” “You, I guess. Him. Maybe even me, I’m not sure about that. But he’s nicer than Merc. Not as nice as Ford, but he could be a lot worse.” “Hmm. I’m not sure could be worse is good enough to trust him with my life.” “Why are you in danger anyway? I don’t get it. Why does everyone want you? Why don’t they just leave you alone?” “Because when I ran away last summer I took something very valuable.” “Like… gold?” she asks. I laugh, not to make fun of her innocence, but to appreciate it. It’s been a long time since I felt that innocent. Even though people think I’m this weak little girl, I’m not blind to what’s happening. I just bottle it all up inside. That’s where my panic comes from. That’s why my heart races. That’s why I need those pills. Because those pills make me forget what’s real. Those pills let me live in the fantasy everyone sees on the outside. But on the inside—“No, not gold. A drive with important things on it.” “Oh,” she says. But her face is scrunched up in confusion. “Does it have money things on it? Because my dad says money is what makes people do bad things. Well…” She stops to think about this. “He used to say that.” The fact that she can say that without crying almost makes me want to cry. She’s like the rest of us Company kids. She’s learned to live with the bad. She’s learned to bottle it up, or at the very least, keep it to herself until she can release it. She’s learned to deal. “No, not money. Names. Names of families in the Company and what they paid to be who they are in the organization. That determines who they are in the outside world.” “Oh,” she says again. But this time she gets it. “I know it’s wrong. The stuff with the kids and the promises. It’s wrong to do it.” “It’s very wrong. But that’s not all they do, Sasha. If this was just about prearranged marriages, well, there might be some sort of public outcry, but no one would care enough about a few girls who are given well-to-do husbands when they turn eighteen to make any kind of difference.” “Oh.” This time it’s clear that she’d rather not talk about it, but my lips are loose and I have such a need to tell someone. “They control everything. All the largest governments. All the critical infrastructure. Power companies. Water. Farmers. Armies.” I look over at her. “Hospitals, and airports, and medicine.” She tries to swallow down her question, but it comes out anyway. “Do they do bad things with that control?” “Sometimes. They killed your father. James says they killed our mothers. Those are bad things. But I don’t think they do the really bad things just yet.” “Yet?” Her word echoes mine. I look at her intently. She’s so strong for being so young. She’s like me, only much, much better at it.

“There are worse things they can do with that control, Sasha. They could…” I let out a deep breath. “They could change the world with it. And not in a good way.” We sit in silence for a few minutes and then I stand up and turn to her. “I have to walk across the alley to get something in my apartment. Do you want to come with me?” “Should I get my gun?” “Yes, Sasha,” I say calmly. “You better get your gun.”

Chapter Thirty-Four - Harper Since the day I met James under the pier, nothing has ever happened the way I thought it would. For instance, my apartment is not trashed. It looks exactly the way I left it. Of course, there’s not much to trash if people did break in. But the door jamb seems fine so I’m gonna assume that the people who came here looking for what I might’ve left behind were either very considerate… or they never showed up. Reluctantly I admit that no one came looking. And that stings a little. Because what the fuck? My father knew where I was all year and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up? It makes me angry. Or maybe it hurts. I’m not sure. But I am sure that it doesn’t feel good to run away for a year and not even the most valuable stolen property on earth can make him care. I want to scream. But Sasha is looking at me weird as I stand in the middle of my puny living room. “What?” I ask her. “Why are we here?” “Just check the bathroom and the closets to make sure no one is hiding.” She raises an eyebrow at me but she walks off to do that. I grab a butter knife and a mini flathead screwdriver from my silverware drawer and then walk over to my one chair and tip it over. The floor in here is uneven, severely in places, so two of the legs have nickels glued to them to keep the chair from rocking. I pry them off with the knife and take them over to the kitchen counter and turn the light on so I can see them better. One nickel is real. One nickel is not. Well, that’s not true, they are both real. But one is special. “What’re you doing?” Sasha asks as she comes out of the bathroom. I pick up the special nickel and then I stick the mini precision screwdriver in a groove that runs the diameter of the smooth metal on the side. There’s a barely audible click as the two halves of the nickel separate, and then I use my fingernail to split them apart. I smile when the contents are revealed. “What’s that?” Sasha asks. “That important something I took when I ran away last year.” James was lying. Or he really was talking about some other files. Because these files are right here. This is the same micro-SD card Nick left hidden inside the USB flashdrive I took from the locker back in the UCLA library. I know this because he knew I wouldn’t be able to read the card, so he put a tiny red dot on one corner of the label so I could identify it. The tiny red dot is right where it’s supposed to be. They never found it. I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. “This, Sasha”—I turn to look at her amazed face—“this has enough information on it to bring the whole Company down.” “How did you get it?” “I didn’t. Nick got it.” “He’s smart, huh?” “Very. But he’s also hot, you know what that means?” She nods yes. She knows, she grew up with the hunters. I only grew up with one hunter, but he and I were inseparable. Even though we were not together on his missions, he told me about every single job. He told me every single detail. He told me every weakness he ever saw in every person he ever met on a job. Hot means he’s got a hit on him. Hot means he might already be dead. So me and this little card might be the last chance there is to set things right.

Nick never mentioned James. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. If all the assassins are dead except James, Nick, and that Merc guy—and James was the one responsible for those deaths— and my father had me kill all his guests at my birthday party last year using James’ calling card, then James is being set up. “I can save him,” I tell Sasha. “I can get James out of the Company, and probably you too.” “How?” she says with an incredulous snort. “You help me find Nick and we can give this to him. If I can find Nick, then he can make it all OK. He’s got a plan, Sasha. We need to find Nick. And you said he came to see you. Lots of times.” Her face hardeners. “I’m not telling you what he told me. He said to tell no one.” “I’m his sister! Besides, you already told me he was there, what’s the difference?” She shakes her head. “Big difference. You’re just a girl. You can’t even shoot. You can’t even drive. How would we get there? We should give it to James.” “I really like James, Sasha, but I do not trust James. I don’t think he’s on our side. Yet. He needs me to convince him to leave. I want to convince him to leave with me. And he won’t do that unless Nick and I can finish what we started. James is still a wild card, he’s not on the right side.” Her eyes squint down and her gun comes up. It points right at my chest as she steps back a few paces. “You’re wrong. I’m on his side, so if you’re not, then it’s you who’s on the wrong side.”

Chapter Thirty-Five - James I watch her from the roof. It surprises me that Sasha goes along. Then again. Girls. They have to do everything in pairs. That includes pissing and obtaining stolen micro-SD cards. That’s the only drive the files could be on. I’ve ruled out all other options. I’ve known Harper’s had them since last summer when the Company briefed the assassins after she ran. She was a high-priority target. Not my target. I was busy with Merc last summer. I was busy with Tony last summer. I was not even remotely interested in hunting down the Admiral’s daughter and finding those files. But Nick changed everything. Nick found me in Colorado last March right after I killed my brother. The second I got out of my truck at the Burlington airport so Harrison could take me back to the OC after Tony’s hit, he was there. He called me James. He talked rational. He made his case. He made an offer. And I wouldn’t even have to kill anyone. All I had to do was keep Harper alive until they made their move. The Admiral was already sending me to the beach to take the edge off, so it was set. No changes had to be made until summer, and then he’d be in contact with Merc, who would be in contact with me. We set up the secretary, we set up the fake lawyer names, we agreed to meet in July. But this week something happened. Sasha happened. That’s when I lost control. Sasha. And that kidnapping. Harper said the message she found on the phone at my desert house was from Nick, but it wasn’t Nick. The assassin Harper killed wasn’t working for Nick. But the only thing on my mind right now are the files. I need those files to make a deal. Not a deal with Nick. Or Merc. Or the Admiral. My deal. A micro-SD card can be concealed in just about anything. It’s barely the size of a fingernail. The cursory checks were done early. Every time she left the apartment I searched. I looked every-fuckingwhere. A futile assignment because if someone wants to hide one of these micro cards, that fucker is gonna be hidden and there’s just no way around it. They are just too small. Add in the fact that the files could’ve been transferred to paper, or flash drive, or hard drive and you can see the Company’s problem. Hell, who’s to say there aren’t hundreds of copies of these files floating around? Who’s to say Nick didn’t replicate the fuck out of them and spread them around. I don’t think he did, mostly because he told me he didn’t when we first started working together. But also because it decreases his power if someone else gets a hold of them. This was always my plan. I might’ve forgotten it for a while as my mind decompressed from the last mission, but this was always my plan. I was never here for Harper, I was always here for the files. Not officially. Sure, the Admiral knew he could count on me to keep an eye out for her if he put her in front of me. And I’m sure that’s why I was sent to the beach. I have kept an eye on her because of Nick’s job, but the Admiral is not pulling my strings. Not this time. Not ever again. He set me up. I might be a lot of things, but forgiving is not one of them. My mission with the Admiral started back on Six Day with Harper playing on the beach. We can change the world, he said. We can make it a better place, he promised. You can have my daughter and leave this the life of a killer behind, was his deal. The deal I earned. She’s mine. No matter what happens now, Harper Tate belongs to me. But the one thing he never counted on was me walking away. I refused his offer back then, not because I’m a good guy, but because I’m a bad one. I am a killer. I was born to do this job. And while I do fully plan on keeping my prize, Harper is not enough to filter the cold blood running through my veins.

Sure, it took the Admiral ten years to figure me out. But the year Harper turned sixteen and I was not sent a plane ticket, he had me. She was my addiction by then. Regardless of how I claimed to loathe those birthdays, he finally figured out what motivated me. His daughter and killing. All the assassins had to be eliminated if he wanted to restructure the Company. And who better to kill Company assassins but another Company assassin on the inside? I did not lie to Harper. Nick, he was never on the list. Merc was, but I made sure he got away. I was never on the list either, obviously, but you can bet your ass, I’m on someone’s list now. Sasha’s maybe. And I might even deserve to be on her list. Because that’s how it works, right? You get one guy to do all your dirty work and then you have only one witness to take care of when he’s done. Him. Me. I’m the last assassin; I’m the last to die. But Merc is still alive. And Nick is still alive. And Sasha is still alive. And Harper is still alive. There’s more than us still alive too. That kidnapper yesterday morning, for one. But the Admiral’s order to assassinate the assassins was not my only job. I have lots of jobs. Lots of invested interests. Lots of plans that don’t include the Company. My eyes dart around the alley as the girls cross, linger on some graffiti painted on the garage in front of Harper’s building, and then settle on my little partner-in-crime Smurf. Sasha. I remember that message I got about her back in March now. It turns out Sasha really does have a dirty little secret. But she was set up too, so I’m totally on board with her trust issues. Because Sasha Cherlin was promised to Nicholas Tate and that’s why he was visiting her last year. The Admiral wanted her dead, but like Merc, Sasha is not one to lie down and just die. The Admiral left her out on the Colorado prairie to keep her away from Nick. And even though I don’t know for sure that she was told to kill me when I showed up, I feel it to be true. And she failed, so it’s her turn to die instead. I watch the girls enter the gate that leads to Harper’s back yard. She’s the only one in the basement, so she will be inside and have that card in about two minutes. I’m about to get up from the roof so I can intercept her on the way back inside my condo when my gaze settles on the graffiti again. A mushroom. My stomach flips and my heart gives off one solid thump before beginning to race. The mushroom comes with a message. It always comes with a message. ‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar, a quote from Alice in Wonderland, is written in a hippie style straight out of 1969. I frantically search the alley, knowing I am too late because I’m on the roof, when he steps out from behind a truck parked a few spaces down. “Tet!” he calls and then laughs. “Tet, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I thought we got that coming-back-from-the-dead stuff out of the way back at the gas station? No? You’re still recovering? Still on vacation?” I think… for the first time in my life… I’m not sure what to do. So I start with his number. “One.” He pounds his bare chest, bronzed to a golden tan from beach living. “The one and only One. Still alive. Still fighting the good fight. Still… winning.” He laughs again. “You’re a good dog, Tet. A very good dog. Dropping the bird at my feet like this.” I’m confused. He stops directly below me in the alley. “What’s wrong, Six? Having trouble recalling our deal? That’s OK,” he says, digging a phone out of his pocket and waving it up at me. “I’ve been sending you

messages all along, buddy, you just weren’t getting them. Sorry about that.” “I remember the deal,” I snarl. I remember most of the deal, anyway. “And the deal was I bring you the card. So why are you here?” “Well, brother, excuse me for not trusting you, but we’re gonna need a new deal. I want something else you have. And it’s not the little girl and it’s not the Admiral’s daughter, either.” He pops off a salute, turns on his heel, and walks into Harper’s back yard.

Chapter Thirty-Six - Harper “You’re shitting me, right?” I ask Sasha as she continues to step back from me, that gun trained on my chest. “I’m on your side, Sasha! Put the gun down.” “Yes.” A voice from the open doorway startles both of us and I whirl around. “Be a good girl, Sasha Cherlin, and put the gun down.” I look back at Sasha and she has not put the gun down, but she’s not pointing it at me anymore, either. “Do you remember me?” the man asks her. He’s blond, tan, looks like that surfer guy I propositioned to make James jealous when we first met last week. Sasha nods. “I know who you are. And if you come any closer, I’ll shoot you.” “Awww, the little girl is all grown up.” Sasha growls at his patronizing tone. “Well.” The blond man moves two steps close to me, but steers clear of Sasha. And then he drags his gaze from her and directs it at me. “Harper Tate. We have not had the pleasure. I’m Number One. And you, I’m sorry to say”—he smiles then, and that is the most evil smile I’ve ever seen—“belong to me.” I recoil at his words. “I don’t think so.” “We had a deal.” “We did not have a deal,” I half snort, feeling more confident. Who the hell is this guy? “Not you and I, dear. Tet. Tet and I had a deal.” My stomach turns over. A gut-wrenching ache engulfs my heart. I have never felt such an emotional force internally as I do now. It almost knocks me over, that’s how hard this betrayal hits me. “And it involved that little card you have there.” I look down at the SD card I’m still holding between my fingertips. My out. The only thing I’ve been living for all year was this card and the promise that Nick would come back and get me. We’re gonna save everyone. We’re gonna make everything right again. I look back up at the man called One and shake my head. “You can’t have it, I don’t care who promised you. I won’t—” He’s got me by the throat before I can finish, the inner crook of his elbow a crushing force against my windpipe. I forget everything. Everything! My hands are clutching at his arm, trying to pry it away as my vision begins to black out. And then I hear Sasha scream, a sharp prick to my inner arm, and… nothing.

Chapter Thirty-Seven - James “One,” I yell, as Harper’s body goes limp in his arms. She’s got a red streak around her neck, like she was strangled. “If you—” “Don’t come any closer, Tet. She’s out from the asphyxiation, but she’s drugged too. It was a big dose. She needs an antagonist stat.” Fuck. “I will fucking kill you. I will fucking—” He holds up the SD card in his hand and a wave of defeat washes over me. “I’m leaving, she can stay,” he says, lowering Harper to the ground. “Because it was Nicola I always wanted, Tet. And before you get all big brother on me, you should know, this was her idea.” He smiles as I internalize what he just said. The betrayal sinks in. The set up sinks in. “You think I’m lying? I’ll send you proof when we’re safely away.” And then he nods his head at Sasha. “That useless kid over there is also your problem. The Admiral gave you an order, so I imagine you’ll know what to do with her to get back into his good graces once he learns of this coup.” Sasha is actually pointing her gun at him, but the shock in her eyes renders her helpless. “I’m leaving, and if you’re smart, you’ll go get your naloxone and save the Admiral’s daughter, because Nicola doesn’t need saving, Tet. She’s right where she wants to be.” He grins. “With me.” “She’s turning blue, James,” Sasha says in a voice that should not be that calm. “Better go get it, Tet. She’ll be dead in a minute or less.” I bolt back into the hallway, take the steps three at a time and crash through the door that leads outside. I practically tear the gate off the hinges and slam into the garage door as I key in the numbers to open it up and get to the first-aid kit in the Hummer. I punch in the wrong code and get a red flashing light, it cycles through a mandatory waiting sequence before I can try again, and I force myself to breathe deeply as my shaky finger presses each number correctly. The door slides up and I drop to the ground and shimmy underneath as it rises. I open the cargo area and then the tub where the first-aid kit is stored. I grab the naloxone rescue pen and retreat at a full run back to Harper’s apartment. When I get there, Sasha is kneeling down next to Harper, shaking her and calling her name over and over again. “She’s dead! She’s dead!” No. I push Sasha out of the way and stab Harper with the pen, then press the plunger. I check her pulse. So weak. So very, very weak. I lean down on her chest and hold my breath as I listen for hers. Nothing. Sasha is screaming now, hysterical. But my world goes silent and I only see Harp. “Lionfish,” I whisper in her ear as I position her neck for rescue breathing. “Lionfish, you’re not getting out of here that easy.” I hold her nose, cover her mouth with mine, and breathe. I breathe into her. I place a hand on her chest to make sure her lungs are inflating. I do this over and over again. Sasha is crying. Harper is not breathing on her own, but that’s OK. I’m breathing for her. That’s all I hear. My lungs drawing in air, then her lungs taking it from me. It’s a comforting rhythm that calms me down. A minute passes. Then two. Her heart is beating and that’s all that matters. As long as I breathe for her, her heart beats. As long as her heart beats, she’s alive. Three minutes pass, then four, and five. Her eyes fly open and she takes a long gasp of air. She struggles to sit up. The naloxone has dissociated the drug from the receptors in her nervous system, rendering it inert. I hug her. Tight. Sasha squirms her way in and hugs her too. Tight.

Harper starts to cry and my whole body goes cold. My blood turns to ice. I will get that that motherfucker. I will get. That motherfucker. I will torture him using techniques he’s never heard of before. I’ll flay the skin off him, one layer at a time, until he’s screaming for death. He will beg for death. But death and I have an understanding. A deal. He can have them in the end, but I always get them first.

Chapter Thirty-Eight - James I put Harper in the back of the Hummer with Sasha. They are both silent, but they are both alive. “Sasha, make sure she doesn’t fall into a deep sleep, OK? You need to check her pulse so we can make sure she’s not still drugged and give her another dose. Check her every ten minutes.” I explain how to do that and hand Sasha my watch so she can keep time. Then I give her the rescue pen, in case Harp needs more meds. When Sasha looks up at me, she’s crying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve shot him. I didn’t know what to do! It’s the city! It’s not the same. I didn’t know what to do.” Harper leans over the stupid table hump in between the two bucket seats and grabs her hand. “Don’t cry, Sasha. I’m fine, OK? I’m fine.” I push Harper back into her seat, lean over both of them so I can find her belt, and then drag it across her body. “Just keep still.” “James, that guy said he sent you to get the card.” “Don’t,” I growl at her. She recoils a little but I don’t care. “Don’t mention him again. I’m gonna take care of it. But I’m not gonna explain what happened, because I’m not sure. So no more.” I pull back and stand at Sasha’s door. “We’re not talking about today. Ever. Do you understand?” They just look at me and I guess that’s as good an agreement as I’m gonna get, so I shut Sasha’s door and open mine. Harper is on the passenger side in back, so I can keep an eye on her as we drive. She’s still drowsy so I’m hoping she’ll fall into a light sleep as we make our way to the airport. I can use some quiet time to sort this all out. I put the Hummer in gear and back out of the garage, then head up the alley so I can catch Beach Boulevard up to Fullerton. My blackouts are a problem. I’ve pushed them off as short-term and transient, but I can’t be certain. Too many things are missing. I could be missing so many details. I could have made more deals. There’s a Wal-Mart near the 22 freeway, so I park the truck and check on the girls. Sasha is wide awake, her eyeballs huge saucers as she waits for me to explain myself. Harper is asleep. “Stay here and this time, kid, if someone comes to hurt you or Harper, you shoot those fuckers.” She swallows and nods. I go inside the store and buy a disposable phone, a book about vampires, and couple of celebrity magazines, and some junk food and soda. We are camping out in the parking lot until this phone is charged and I can make a call. I take it all back out to the Hummer, turn the engine on so I can plug in the phone and run the AC… and we wait. Sasha reads the vampire book out loud as Harper drifts in and out of her post-narcotic slumber, and when the battery light on the phone finally turns green, I step outside and make my call. “Harrison,” I say with relief when he picks up on the second ring. “Did you get it?” “Shit, dude, you are fucking crazy! Sending me all the way down to Colombia for this!” “So you got it?” He laughs. “I got it. And you got a huge bill, both from me and Roberto.” I smile, then look back at the Hummer where Sasha is watching me. “Good,” I say, turning my back on her, “because here’s what I need.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine - Harper “Where are we?” “The harbor, Harp. You hungry?” “What time is it?” “Seven thirty.” “Where are we?” I’m so confused. “We’re at the beach?” “Yeah, the beach. To eat. I know you’re hungry.” He unbuckles my seatbelt and grabs me by the arm. Not roughly, but securely. “I do not feel good.” “I know, baby. But it’s OK. You’re gonna be OK.” “Where’s Sasha?” “I’m here,” she says. I look over and there she is. Her face is nothing but a frown. I smile at her but she does not shoot one back for me. “Why are you wearing a life vest?” Something is wrong. “We’re going on a boat, Harper. Kids have to have vests.” “I’m so confused. We’re eating on a boat?” And sure enough, when I look around, we’re in a marina. Have we always been in this marina? “It’s the drugs, Harp. They’re still wearing off. I had to give you two more doses of antagonist.” He helps me down from the Hummer and I’ve never noticed how high up it was before. My legs are not working right, my head is all fuzzy, and my whole body is hot. I look around. “There’s a lot of boats on the water.” “There’s a boat race going on in the harbor.” “Which harbor?” “Newport. You ready?” James smiles at me. I smile back. “We’re gonna walk this way, OK?” But Newport rings a bell for me for some reason. I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard of it. Where? Why? Why have I heard of it? I rack my brain as James leads me along a dock and stops at a charter. He helps me get in and I have to admit, I like this trip. “Are we gonna watch the sunset tonight?” “You bet, babe.” I’m irritated with his answers and now that I’m coming out of my drugged-up stupor, none of this is making sense. James is not manning the boat. He’s facing me and Sasha is sitting up near the bow, in front of the captain. It’s a little boat, only seats four, so we’ve filled it all up. We are going very slow because of the boat races. There must be a hundred sailboats in the harbor, all following their pattern. We weave in and out between them and the salty air refreshes me and starts to lift the confusion. God, I’ve missed being on a boat. I smile and then laugh a little when we pick up speed and I get splashed with saltwater. I am hungry. I open my eyes and spot a nice-sized yacht anchored off to the side. “Where are we going again?” But just as the words are out of my mouth I remember why I know of this harbor. Megayachts. Megayachts can anchor here if they get permission. I look at James and he’s staring at me intently. He’s got hold of my wrists and he reads the understanding on my face and squeezes them tightly. “Don’t fight me, Harper. I won’t put up with it.” His face is deathly serious. I stand up and he stands with me. My head turns, looking. And there she is. It’s pretty hard to miss a two-hundred-twenty-foot sailing yacht. “You sold me out.” I don’t scream it or get hysterical. It sorta

comes out matter-of-factly. Like it was inevitable. Like I’ve always known I was nothing to him but a mission. We slow down again as the boat captain tries to weave his way through the sailboats to get to the open garage of the yacht. It’s the High Summer. My favorite. The one I left last summer. The one where I committed all my crimes. My father is waiting. He actually smiles, and then he frowns. I follow his gaze and it lands on Sasha. She’s ignoring everyone. Me, James, the looks my father is shooting at her. The seat she’s sitting on is way in the tip of the bow, and she’s leaning over. I look back to my father and catch him nodding in my direction. But it’s not me he’s nodding at, it’s James. When I look back to James he’s got a gun out. It’s a big gun with a silencer thing on the end of it. He points it at Sasha, just as she stands up on her cushion and turns to smile and wave at me. James shoots her in the chest, the fluff from her life vest flies up in the air, and then her body falls overboard. All I hear is my scream and then I’m being hauled out of the boat and into the garage. Four men are holding me by my limbs. I’m not even allowed to walk, I’m carried. I squirm, elbowing one in the neck as he loses his hold, my feet get free, and then James is in front of me. I lift both legs and give him a twofooted kick to the chest. He stumbles backwards, the breath knocked out of him. But he never stops looking at me. His eyes are saying something, but it’s not anything I want to hear. “You’re a traitor,” I spit at him. “You are a traitor!” I scream it this time. He says nothing. My father walks up to him and claps him on the back. “Well done, James. And the card? Did you find the card?” James shakes his head. “No, sir. But I know where it is. I’m going there next.” He drags his eyes from me and stares at my father. I’m being carried away, my arms and legs again captured by the security guards, and some of his words get lost in the bustle. But then I hear it. “Ten days,” he says. “I’ll have your son and the card in ten days.” He looks straight at me and lowers his sunglasses. And that’s the last I see of James Fenici as I’m dragged into the interior of the ship.

Chapter Forty - Sasha Don’t let anyone tell you getting shot is a piece of cake. I’m looking at you, James Fenici. Of course, he’s not here. So I’m really just talking shit in my head. I shiver as Harrison pilots the sailboat back to shore. My custom made-in-Colombia-for-drugdealers’-kids bulletproof life vest is gone. Ceramic panels and layers of Kevlar tucked inside some Disney cartoon fabric is not exactly the best flotation device. I had to slip that thing off as soon as I hit the water or I’d sink straight to the bottom. So I’m pretty cold right now. “You OK, kid?” Harrison asks. “Do I look OK?” I ask back. He shrugs. “You could be worse, I think.” “I’m freezing. How much longer?” “Well, we’re sailing, so the wind is our engine. We have a motor too, and we could speed off like we’re getting away from something, but it’s better to play it cool.” He’s right. We came this far. I got shot, Harper is back on her fancy yacht, out of the way. And James is probably on his way to the meeting place. “Play it cool then,” I sigh. It takes us another half an hour to get to shore, and by this time the sun is going down, the sailboat races are over, and the harbor is clearing out. I can still see Harper’s ship. It’s very hard to miss since that thing is as big as an apartment building, and I have to admit, I’d sorta like to be her right now. I’d sorta like to be anyone but me. We get to shore and Harrison ties up the boat and points to a rental car in the parking lot. “Go sit in there. Your gun’s under the passenger seat in the front.” I do as I’m told. What choice do I have? I wait for about ten minutes before Harrison comes back. He smiles at me as he starts the car and then we are on our way. The drive back out to Fullerton airport takes almost an hour. Accident on Harbor Boulevard. But when we get there and I see James leaning against the side of the building smoking a cigarette, my sadness melts away. He grins and then holds up a stuffed dinosaur and shakes it at me. Oh, James. You are such a surprise. I get out as soon as the car stops and walk over to him. I do my best not to run, but I admit, I skip those last few yards. I hug him around the waist and start to cry. “I’m so sorry, Smurf. Look, I got you a dinosaur, to make up for shooting you in the chest.” I sniff and wipe my eyes as I pull away. I take the pink T-Rex toy and hug it close. “That’s not why I’m crying.” “Does it hurt?” he asks, kneeling down to look me in the eye. I nod, why lie. “It does,” I whine. “I feel like someone hit me with a baseball bat.” Harrison whistles. “Let’s fucking go!” James scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the plane. “Fuck, kid. I’m really sorry you had to be part of this. I am. And Harper is never gonna forgive me. Even if we set things right. But I told Nick I’d keep her safe and this is the only way to do that while we take care of business. No one can get to her on the ship.” He sets me down at the stairs to the plane and then takes my hand as we climb. “She will, James. She’ll forgive you. You know how I know?” “How?” he asks as we enter the plane and take our seats across from each other. “Because I’ve decided you were right. Ford is just like you.” He chuckles. “Yeah, we’re both killers. I’m glad you finally got that straight.” “No,” I say. “That’s not what I mean. I mean you are just like Ford.”

He tilts his head and gives me a funny look. “Nice,” I say with a sigh. And even though he tries to pull it off. He tries to pretend my words don’t mean anything to him. I know they do. He’s a killer, he’s an asshole, and he’s one of the most dangerous guys on the planet. But he’s my partner now. And we’re gonna go kick some serious ass and save the world.

END OF BOOK SHIT I’m writing this in the Word doc I used to plot the book and holy hell, I did not do one thing I planned on in my outline. Like nothing. And the ending I knew (and did stay the same) but I didn’t bother to write it down, so that doesn’t count. Oh well. It turned out OK, yes? :D I just re-wrote the description for this book because I’m getting ready to upload it and I always see if it can be improved before I do that. I looked at my original description, which I wrote before I started the book, and it’s pretty dead on as far as my intentions go. It needed some cleaning up and I added in a fuck, (Fuck-able, actually because hey, I think we have already established I love the f-bomb) but if you look at the original description on Goodreads, then the new one on Amazon, they are pretty much the same. The new one is catchier, but the intentions I started with are quite similar to the reality I ended with. That’s a good sign. :) So my street team got the ARC’s a few days ago (thank you for reading Team!) and I was reading their reactions as they read—we have a secret Facebook group where we hang out and shoot the shit and Jana made up all these discussion threads based on chapters completed—anyway, I was reading their reactions and it occurred to me when they were trying to figure out who Number One was and didn’t believe ANYONE I killed off in ANY of my other related books was dead, (characters who had their HEADS blown apart at close range, people) that I might’ve written a very twisty plot. Did I mean to? No, I have to say I never start a book thinking, “Let’s fuck with their heads!” I just get bored if my characters aren’t doing something. And not just fucking, right? Sex can be boring too. I need my characters to be exciting or I just lose interest. So even if I start a book with no secrets, they just… appear. I can’t stop it. It’s my default setting. So if you didn’t like this one, I apologize. It’s fucked up twisted, I know that. I am writing a fun series that releases next month that has fewer twists that you should check out. But if you DID like this one – holla! Bitches, I have so much more to tell you about the definition of twisted! Hehe, insert evil laugh with hand rubbing here. I have Merc, for one. A very dark erotica that will release early 2015 (two books, one month apart). And I have a very dirty erotica planned for December or January 2015. I will have it done by December, but I’m not sure if I want to release just before Christmas or not. I’m debating. Slack released just before Christmas and did not do well, so I’m gun-shy. (Speaking of Slack, if you have not read it and you liked the characters in this book, read it. Sasha comes straight out of Slack.) And of course, the third and final COME book will release in November 2014. So a few months away. I have that two book fun series releasing in August and September 2014, so after I finish those, I’m all about COME #3 (title to be released later). And then I have this Rock Star book that I just proposed to my agent so she can try and sell it. I’m not sure if that will sell to a traditional publisher, because it is twisty one but with some super sexy, angsty, controlling, asshole rock stars. If it doesn’t sell, I will release that in April and May of 2015. And then I have something SUPER SPECIAL planned for summer 2015. So stay tuned for that announcement. So that’s where I’m at with this writing gig for now. I have a lot of plot ideas and I really don’t intend for them to get complicated, but they just come out that way. I’m not sure if I can change that, so if you hate the twisted stuff, try that Secret Summer Series (title to be announced on August 4th 2014) and let me know if that’s more your style. I can write those too. I’m having a blast with this one because the plot, while more traditional romance, has a really fun hook. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for your review. (You’re gonna write one, right?) Thank you! :) Wanna know about upcoming books? Sign up for the newsletter or promo posts at www.jahuss.com and

never miss out on an upcoming event. Follow me on Facebook and you’ll get all the deets. Also, I have a very cool Facebook group called Shrike Bikes where I hang out everyday. My street team is in there too, along with some crazy fun ladies. So if you’re a Facebooker, request to join and we will add you. See ya next month. Julie