Adena
I find Jagger waiting in the hall, leaning against the wall like he’s been there a while.His eyes lock on me immediately as I cross to the table and slide the Bible toward me.
As I push the pages into the binder, unease starts to trickle in, slow and persistent.I should check in with Jake or find a way to swing by Baronne Street, find out whether Lucia made it, whether we’re compromised.
But I can’t.The risk is too high—for me and now, unavoidably, for Jagger.
I seal the binder, gather my brushes and pens, and tuck them into my satchel, forcing my hands to stay steady.When I straighten, Jagger steps forward and takes the bag from me, slinging it over his shoulder like it belongs there.
“You’ll probably need to buy a suitcase when you’re there,” he says.“Maybe two.”
I frown.“We’re only in Vegas two days.”
“So make it count.”He shrugs.“I got my finder’s fee from Marquez.”
“How much?”
“Seventy-five.”
The number lands wrong.My mind stutters before it catches up.Not seventy-five hundred.
Seventy-five thousand.
Tax-free.
I push the thought aside before it can settle.“What’s my cut?”
His mouth curves, pleased I’m staying in character.“Valentina will handle the details.”
Of course, she will.
He hasn’t brought any luggage.No surprise there.He’ll pick up whatever he needs when we land, like this is just another errand.I’m still wrapping my head around the amount of cash he’s carrying when I lock the apartment and follow him down the stairs to wait for Marquez.
Apparently, it’s an honor he’s slumming it.I would’ve preferred my bike to an escort, but that’s not an option now.
My gaze drifts to my bike anyway—and snags on a piece of paper fluttering in the breeze near the tire.There’s one taped to Jagger’s, too.
They’re everywhere.Lampposts.Doors.Railings.Whoever put them up didn’t rush.
I pick one up, mostly to give my hands something to do.
“What’s that?”Jagger mutters, close behind me.
I skim it.“Church revival.”
It’s garish.Bright colors that clash violently with the old stone church pictured at the top.Worse than that, the typeface is wrong—juvenile, careless, like someone let a kid loose in a font menu and never corrected them.
Artistically, it’s a mess.And the scripture takes up way too much of the page.
The Lord will be a high tower for those who are crushed down, a high tower in times of trouble.Psalm 9:9
Jagger’s already lost interest, but I can’t let it go.My eyes keep tracing the layout, the spacing, the emphasis.All the small decisions.All the mistakes.
With a few minor adjustments?—
The thought freezes.
With a few minor adjustments, this flyer would say something else entirely.
