“I’m thinking we need to find this fucking guy and hope he gave Colin the second option.”

Lars’s knees bounce beneath where his elbows are resting on them. “That doesn’t sound like you’re planning to disappear.”

“Nope.” Maybe I’m just asking for the guy to show up and kill me, but getting him alone again is sort of what I need. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to dance down the fucking street and advertise that I evaded a hitman, now am I? I can keep a low profile while I look out for this guy. It’s no issue.

“Fine,” Lars says. “But from now on, you don’t go anywhere without me. Got it?”

He really thinks he needs to threaten me? I point to my ear. “There is no fucking way I’m letting you leave my side.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

PERRY

Unlike the first two times I’ve done this, something isn’t sitting right. Don’t ask me why—the super-secret pinky oath is sacred, so I shouldn’t have any worries there—but I’m not so sure that St. Clare knows that.

I dunno. There was something in his cunning eyes.

Something calling me stupid and a terrible shot.

If you ask me, being a terrible shot has worked in his favor, so I’m not sure the taunting was warranted.

Hurt my feelings a little bit, if I’m honest.

The truth is, though, I’m not cut out for this line of work. It’s a fact I probably should have cottoned onto after that first time out with Arlie, but sometimes I need the point hammered home with me.

And it has been hammered.

Multiple times.

With every missed shot.

Turns out that hitting a target that’s sitting there waiting for it is easy. Hitting a human target isn’t.

Probably because they, you know, move.

Luther is behind the bar, and I walk right up to him, oozing confidence and giving him absolutely no reason to doubt my story. I knock on the bar top and flash him a smile.

“Just wrapped up a job,” I tell him, which is code for I killed a guy, not that I want to think about that.

Luther eyes me for a second before pouring me a Coke and dropping a wedge of lime into it. “I’ll add it to your account,” he says, code for great job, Perry, you’re the best, I’ll send that payment through. The payment you’re getting for killing a guy, not that I think about that either.

“Thanks.” I take my drink and go to turn away when he speaks again.

“You’ve got a real taste for it.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s not talking about the drink. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s … delicious?” I’m not sure I’m speaking bad guy right, but he gets it.

“Need another?”