Enough with the gifts, dude!
“You can stop thanking me now, it’s starting to creep me out. Like I said—we’re all good. Don’t make me regret helping you out. Or make me lift the ban on Sycamore Heights,” I add ominously.
“Oh, this isn’t a thank-you.”
He lifts the flap carefully, easing a card out of the envelope and holding it up for me to take.
I squint at it. “A racetrack pass?”
“Yup. Somewhere for you to go blow off some steam.”
I stare at the card.He’s gifting me time on an actual, real-life racetrack?
“But why?” I whisper.
“Because that’s how you get your kicks. And this way, at least it’ll be legal. I told the guy that you’re wild, by the way. I think it kinda turned him on. They’re closed over Christmas, but—”
“Stop!”
What is going on, here?
“What are you playing at?” I ask.
“Wow—you’re welcome…”
I take a step back. “What’s your game?”
“There is no game.” He frowns. “I thought that this way, you’d be able to focus on the job, at least.”
What is he even talking about?It’s like I’m missing a major part of the puzzle.
“What job?”
“Yeah, that’s the other reason I dropped by.”
“Something tells me the gifts were meant to warm me up.”
“Oh, so youdowant to keep them, then?”
I eyeball him. “Get to the point, buddy. What do you want from me?”
“Why are you looking at me like I just killed a puppy? We had a near-death experience in Brooklyn together—doesn’t that mean anything?”
Yes. Or at least, that’s what I hoped, for all of twenty seconds, out there in the motel parking lot.
I sigh. “Spit it out or get lost.”
“Play nice, Hitman,” he warns. “Because I’m here to give you another shot at joining the Campus Drivers.”
“What?”
“But you need to know thisdoescome with a few strings attached.”
I hold up a hand. I need him to shut up for a minute—I need to savor this moment.
“Slow it down, will you?” I pause. “Are you saying you want me to start training again?”
There’s a tangle of feelings about to explode inside me.
