Monty narrows her eyes, and I see the flash of heartbreak, so quick that if I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t have clocked it at all. I don’t enjoy hurting her, but we’ve had this conversation a hundred times. I don’t date, and even if I did, I wouldn’t date someone in our world. I want out of contracting someday—Monty wants this forever.
“Fuck your little vanilla girl,” she hisses, tucking the gun back into her jacket. “And to think I came here to do you afavor.”
I sigh softly but feel myself relax. “What kind of favor?”
Monty presses her finger into my chest. “Whispers of a bounty for someone in this building have reached my pretty little ears.”
“Yes, Barnaby Fisher. He’s been taken care of.”
“Nu-uh,” she croons sweetly, tracing her finger down my chest and lower until I grab her hand. “You.”
I frown. “Me?”
“Well, the Flynn brothers as a whole. It’s not been put out there yet, but you know how I have my little spies.” She grins. “What on earth have you been doing to piss someone off?”
Fuck. It can only be the client that hired us. They must have heard about Gable saving Ella.
“Are you here to collect?” I ask Monty.
She looks genuinely offended. “Fuck you, Asher.” I raise my eyebrows, and she shrugs. “Okay, maybe I considered it, but you’ve reminded me how pretty you are.” She squeezes my cheek. “So, I’ll let it slide. Even for a quarter mil.”
“A quarter mil? Are you fucking serious?”
Monty sighs sadly. “And I wanted a new car, too. My current one is … borrowed. Anyway, maybe I’m getting sentimental. Or maybe the memory of your dick—” She stops herself. “Anyway, it won’t be long until that bounty is spread far and wide and you’ll be a tasty little retirement plan to any fucker with a trigger finger and half a brain.”
Fuck.
“How long do you think we have?”
She shrugs. “A week, maybe. It didn’t take me long to find you, but I’m smarter thanmost.”
A week. A week to find the hard drive or get the fuck out of San Francisco.
A week left with Ella.
“When the brunette finds out what you are and you feel lonely, don’t come crying to me.” She slips her sunglasses on. “It’s all or nothing now, Flynn. Marry me or don’t call me.”
She walks away, while I’m still trying to gather my thoughts. How has a hundred grand job for a low-life pervert hacker and information now become a quarter mil bounty on my and Gable’s head?
What the hell is on that hard drive?
“Monty,” I call out, and she spins to face me. “Thank you.”
“Tell me on our wedding day.” She waves me off.
One crisis averted, at least.
I take my phone out and call Hunter. He answers on the first ring.
“I was just about to call.”
“Who the fuck wants us dead?” I ask, not bothering to take the elevator, but heading for the stairs.
“No clue. Cleo is on it,” he says. “I’ll make it clear that anyone who accepts that job is picking a side, and it isn’t mine. No one touches my fucking kids.” My heart warms at the term, one he rarely uses, even if he’s always treated us that way. He may be barely twelve years older than me, but he feels older. “Any word on the drive?”
“Not yet. Also, I just had a visit from our least favorite Brit.”
He hisses out a breath. “Shit. An attempt or a warning?”
