“He can hear you.” Hudson blows a bubble.
“Kid you sent. He’s got what it takes.”
“What kid?” Hudson asks the same question I’m asking myself.
A smile jimmies one corner of Trenton’s lips. “Glad to hear it. I’ll call you later.”
I hear Quinn shriek in the background. “Trenton Caruso, let Cook?—”
The thud of something falling echoes down the line. That better not be Quinn’s body.
“Handyman?” Trenton growls, purpling from hearing his full name blasted over the phone.
“Yes, boss?”
Not bosses. Not Messiah either. Although Hudson rules alongside his twin, Trenton is the one for whom the seven lieutenants in the room—and all the crazies outside of it—would lay down their lives.
Regrettably, the unhinged and the merciless always rise highest.
“Teach her a fucking lesson!” Trenton barks.
“Consider it taught.”
Trenton punches the Call End button on his brother’s phone. The line goes dead in time with my heart, because Sullivan Hayes is a psychopath—one who murdered his wife and claimed she deserved it.
“He better not fucking hurt her…” I start.
“Or what,Reevey?” Trenton spits out Quinn’s nickname for me. “You’ll go after him? You know Handyman. He’d love nothing more than to have a reason to eliminate you. Do you know how many times I had to stop him from hunting youdown after you left?” My stepbrother and his constant need for recognition… “You owe me. Don’t forget that.”
The only thing I owe him is a guided tour of his future burial plot.
As I seethe, Hudson repeats his earlier question, “What kid?”
“Handyman’s bored so I’m sending him recruits to train.” Trenton’s soulless eyes stay locked and loaded on my face.
Oh, how he wishes he could end me. But he can’t, because he wants the mine destroyed more than he wants me dead.
“The art shit Cook gave you for Fox,” Trenton asks his brother. “You went through it, right?”
“I’m not an idiot.” Hudson leans back in his chair, annoyance charging across his face, making him chew his gum extra vigorously. “I inspected every item. Removed a few.” He eyes me the same way Trenton eyes him—with condemnation. “So, how much longer till you get into the Atlantean cunt’s pants, Reeve?”
My molars grind the next words down to verbal dust. “I’m trying to earn her trust, not a notch on her bedpost.”
“Answer the fucking question,” Trenton growls.
My contact lenses feel like suction cups, but I don’t blink. No, I keep my glare steady on my stepbrothers. “Sex isn’t on the table, so never. But I scored an invite to breakfast with her parents tomorrow.”
Trenton’s attention flicks to me before returning to his cards. He splits the deck and cracks the laminated papers together.
“I saw Monta at her house. Electra just found out about their connection. What if I brought you our parents’ murderer?”
“We’d love that,” Hudson says.
Trenton’s face settles into false ease and a wide smile—the exact expression he wore the day he showed up at my camper. “If I wanted Monta, I would’ve grabbed Monta. What I want is the mine, and you offered to get it for me.”
“What if I forfeited the money? Would you agree to trade Quinn for Monta?”
His smile opens like a wound. “I realize you’ve been out of the organization for some time, Cook, and only worked under me for six months before you retired, so I’ll overlook your attempt at haggling. But understand this—negotiations happenbeforea deal is struck. After that, you have two options: complete the mission or defect.”
