She had been so sure in that second that he would be bloody and dying. There would be a crash. She would find him dead.

“Yeah,” she said, sitting on an old railroad tie next to him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Go ahead and eat,” he said. “We’re together, so we’re safe.”

Lia laughed and smiled. “My brave assassin shield.”

“I’m just glad you finally started talking to me again.” He opened the bag and pulled out a cinnamon roll larger than his hand. “We’ve got five minutes. They really just congregate and stare at trees while two country club guys talk about this one time they saw an ivory-billed woodpecker.”

Lia pulled out her cinnamon roll. It was still hot and gooey, the cinnamon filling laced with chopped walnuts and pecans. The first bird-watcher showed up with a car full of kids when Lia was halfway done with her roll, and Devon ducked down with her behind the bushes. He shoved the last handful of his roll into his mouth and cleaned up with hand sanitizer. Peter arrived second, stepping out into the cold with a puff of warm breath. The crowd grew to fifteen over the next five minutes.

“I bet he always arrives second,” muttered Devon with cinnamon clinging to his lips and cheek. “He likes to arrive places on the hour.”

“Devon, wait,” she whispered, and wiped the cinnamon sugar from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “There.”

His lips parted slightly. His face tilted to hers. “Lia?”

“Assassins with cinnamon on their lips aren’t scary.” She let her hand linger on his cheek. “You’re ready now.”

Lia downloaded a map of the trails. Peter was at the start of the group, alone and red-cheeked. Devon and Lia followed them for a minute to check which path they took at a fork and then returned to their seats, where they could see the end of the trail. The bird-watchers returned in small groups with thermoses and cameras clasped in their hands. Peter wasn’t last but he was close. Devon narrowed his eyes as Peter left. The other person who had arrived first stayed until everyone was gone. They stretched near their car.

“Wait here,” Lia said.

Nothing could happen to him when they were only a few feet apart.

Lia crept forward to see who it was. She stayed low and darted through the trees to the other side of the lot. She pushed some branches aside. The guy in charge wasn’t old at all; he was an alum from Mark’s year. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew where he lived. Mark had made her wait in the car often enough when stopping by his house. He left after a few minutes. She turned back to Devon.

A shadow stood in the foliage behind him. It raised an arm, something dark grasped in its hands. Lia darted back, ripping her own water gun out in a blink, and fired one shot. It splattered against the trees, and she tackled Devon. His back hit the forest floor, her body slamming into his chest. The shadow fled deeper into the park.