“More are gonna come for her,” Hunter says. “Her bounty has clearly been picked up by others.”
He’s right. It’s rare that a contract gets handed out to more than one killer, but it happens if the client is desperate enough. Apparently, our excuses to keep Ella alive weren’t sufficient. But we can deal with that tomorrow.
“You coming up to see the place?”
“Your crime scene? No thanks,” he says, focusing ahead, one hand resting on the steering wheel.
He looks no different to the first time I saw him. The day he strolled into a crappy motel room, picked us up, and gave us a future. Fourteen years ago today.
“Thanks for coming, old man.”
“Old? Get the fuck out of my car.”
I grin and get out, and he gives me a wave before driving away.
While Ella and Asher go to her apartment to pick up some clothes, I shower off the smell of cops. The moment the hot water hits me, so does the exhaustion, a pleasant kind of sleepiness that sweeps over me in waves. In the quiet of the apartment, I fill Motor’s food bowl, who snoozes on the couch on his back, his legs in the air, not even noticing we’ve been gone.
Once I climb into bed and my head hits the pillow, sleep takes me.
For about five fucking minutes.
“I thought we were sleeping in here?”
I open one eye and glare at Ella in the doorway. She’s in matching flannel pajamas, her hair in a bun. “You can have the couch,” I snap.
“Ew, I’m not sleeping on that. Barnaby called it his wank station.” She climbs onto the bed and sits in the middle, switching on the TV. I put a pillow over my face, so I don’t put it on hers.
“It’s morning. Don’t you have work to do?” I mumble.
“I’ve been up all night and I almost died. It’s sleep time for Ella.” She snuggles into the bed.
“I am not sleeping next to you,” I say.
She shrugs. “Okay. Bye, then.”
I growl and turn over, yanking the covers up to my shoulder. “At least turn off the fucking TV.”
“What are we watching?” Asher asks, and I hear the door close behind him.
Whimpering into the pillow, I remind myself that I love my brother and killing him would probably suck. The bed dips as he gets in it, and Ella is shoved up to my back.
“True crime,” Ella says.
Asher pauses. “You just almost died. You really want to watch this?”
“It’s just until I fall asleep.” I feel her snuggle down and close my eyes, breathing through the urge to finish what the intruder started. It’d be so easy. And so quiet, and peaceful. And I’d be fifty grand richer.
As the commentator on the TV talks about a mysterious murder in Texas five years ago, we all fall quiet. My mind tries to drift off to sleep, but I’m too intrigued by the case, and I look over my shoulder at the television.
“Wasn’t this us?” Asher whispers.
My gaze snaps to Ella, but she’s already fast asleep. She’s curled into Asher’s side, her arm over his stomach, leg over his thighs. How can a person fall asleep that quickly? Freak.
I return my attention to the TV and sit up against the headboard. “I think it was.”
A picture of the victim pops up on the screen and Asher cackles. We high five.
“He’s the screaming jugular,” Asher says quietly, and I slap my hand over my mouth to smother my laugh.
