Gable slowly takes his seat again and sips his beer. “That’s mail fraud. We should tell her dad.”
“The drive means more money. I can get it.”
“Yeah, and fuck her at the same time.” Gable scoffs and looks at Motor. “Asher always gets the best bits.” The dog huffs as if in agreement.
“I thought you said she was annoying.”
“She’s still hot,” Gable says. “A hate-fuck wouldn’t be terrible. Anyway, I thought she was with the detective?”
“Nope.” I grin, sipping my beer. “She says it’s over. And we just had ice cream at the park.”
“You are the dullest man in existence,” Gable says. “You killed someone earlier, which gives you cool points, and then you take a woman out for ice cream at the fucking park. Minus cool points. Did you at least kiss her?”
“Nope. It’ll take a lot more than that; she’s smart. And she’s a writer, so she’ll want all that romantic shit.”
Gable scoffs again. “Youloveall that romantic shit!”
“I know,” I almost dancing in my seat with excitement. “It’s gonna be fun.”
“Until we have to kill her.”
My stomach sinks a little at the thought, and I shrug before swallowing another mouthful of beer. “Maybe we can delay it.”
“Or we can torture her, ask about the drive, and be gone in an hour. I like that plan.” He looks at Motor. “Do you like that plan?” The dog wags his tail.
We could do that. I’m not a fan of torture, quick deaths are more my thing, but if Ella knows where the drive is, Gable will have her talking in minutes.
“No,” I decide. “I have a feeling she doesn’t even know she has it, or if she does, she doesn’t know its importance. We kill her, we might never find it. I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”
“Great,” Gable says. “Motor and I will starve to death, you and the brunette can boink until her dad arrests us, and dead boy can stay in the tub. Happy fucking Friday night.”
I take the bottle away from my lips. “Speaking of. Rock, paper, scissors, loser dismembers the creep?”
“Fuck you, you know that game is against me!”
I hold out my fist and Gable sighs.
Chapter 6
Gable
Rock, paper, scissors has finally turned in my favor.
Asher insisted on two out of three, but there’s no way I was taking that risk, not when I’d finally won. So, while Asher is cutting up Barnaby what’s-his-face, I wait in the lobby for the Chinese food I’ve ordered. A fair trade. Killing is fun, but disposing is not.
Besides, Asher has to make it up to me for landing us in this situation in the first place. I didn’t even want to come to San Francisco. I hate California, and even the offer of a hundred grand hadn’t been enough for me to want to. Asher had begged me, insisting it sped up our retirement plan, and that’s true. The sooner we hit that savings goal, the sooner we get the fuck out of this country and spend the rest of our lives doing whatever the fuck we want. Killing on our own time. Taking jobs if we want, ignoring them if we don’t.
Eventually, I relented because I’ve always found it hard to say no to Asher. When we were kids, we’d often end up in trouble because of his ideas, but I could never turn himdown, even though I’m two years older and soon to hit thirty-two.
So, we’re back in California after years of avoiding the state that barely raised us, and the plan is already going completely off fucking course. And all because of a brunette who is hot, but notthathot. She’s like … okay, yeah, she’s hot.
It’s damn typical of Asher to find a date during a job. All he’s ever told me is that work comes first while we’re on the clock, and here he is, wining and dining at a crime scene, despite the obvious precautions we promised to take.
Because this is not a straightforward job.
I’m sure that if we do get the drive, the people who hired us won’t trust we didn’t check it, too. There’s a good chance that once we get paid, we’ll have to dip pretty quickly. But I’ve watched enough movies to know that the last job of a hired contract killer never goes smoothly.
Exhibit A: The brunette storming through the lobby, her cop boyfriend on her heels.
