“It’s okay,” I say, interrupting him, because it was okay. It’s fine.
Suddenly, Hayden appears beside me wearing a totally perplexed expression. He shoots me an inquisitive look before turning his gaze back to the man bleeding out on the ground.
“Huh,” Hayden says in obvious disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“You owe me fifty dollars,” Jacob teases while dropping to the ground. He presses a gloved finger to the man’s bloody neck, then looks up at me with a grin so similar to Parker’s that I feel a little thrown. Twins. “I knew you had it in you.”
I can still feel the warmth of Parker’s hand as it rested briefly on my arm to steady me. My heart pounds in my chest, but not from anxiety, from the thrill of finally doing something without thinking about it fifty million ways to Sunday.
Jacob stands and nods toward the laptop Hayden is clutching to his chest. “Do you need to delete camera footage of us being here?”
Hayden rolls his eyes deeply. “I disabled the cameras. Why do you think there aren’t any cops here yet?”
Jacob’s eye twitches in the corner but he remains silent. I return my gaze to Parker to find him already watching me, that same calm, understanding smile on his lips from the last time he watched me kill a man. A sense of knowing washes over me. Deep understanding that maybe, in some way, I was always supposed to end uprighthere. It’s such an intense feeling I feel a little dizzy with the knowledge. I must sway on my feet because Parker takes a hesitant step closer, like he’llgrab me if he must, but he prefers not to in order to protect my space.
“I’m going to get a complex about not being allowed to kill anyone,” Reid whines, breaking whatever spell Parker and I are under.
I clear my throat and look away, toward Reid at the back of the room. “I think it’s the right call to not let you kill anyone.”
Dante looks absolutely thrilled, but Reid’s fury is quick and violent. Just as he’s about to say something, Dante covers his mouth with a big hand and tugs my brother back against his chest. Whatever Dante dips down to whisper in Reid’s ear settles him, but his eyes stay squinted and his chest heaves a little.
“Let’s go,” Hayden orders, and like that, everyone moves.
The emergency lights in the warehouse flicker on in front of us, then turn off as we exit the building still under the cover of night. We all walk fast back to the car. Once we’re all in the safety of the vehicle, the silence is a little overwhelming. Parker fiddles with the stereo and puts on the same singer as earlier, which seems to appease everyone in the back seat.
When we get back to their house, everyone hops out of the car in a hurry, except for Hayden.
He leans forward on the console, careful not to touch me, and eyes me with the same look someone might give a zombie. Finally, he sighs from deep in his chest and nods in approval at Parker.
“Welcome to the team, Red.”
“Oh…” I don’t know what to say.
Hayden turns to fix Parker with a softer—but similar—look. “You’re still liable for him until Robin gives the go-ahead to make him official. Just like Dante was liable for Reid. Hopefully this one doesn’t get kidnapped and almost blow our cover.”
Hayden hops out of the car before Parker can even form a reply.
“Is he always like that?”
Parker’s eyebrows furrow. “An asshole?”
“No. Bossy?”
“Well,” Parker says slowly as he starts the drive back home, “he is the boss.”
“I thought Jacob was the boss?”
Parker’s howl of laughter is so genuine and raw that I can’t help but grin. Maybe it’s worth saying something wrong if it makes him laugh like that. I get the feeling Parker doesn’t laugh as much as he could or should. He’s got the sort of face made for smiling, especially when those dimples pop in his cheeks. Devastating—that’s what Parker has the ability to be to me.
“Jacob is definitely not the boss, but he wishes he was, so maybe that’s why he treats Hayden the way he does.”
“How does he treat Hayden?”
Parker looks thoughtful for a moment. “Like he’s waiting for Hayden to fail.”
Interesting. We spend the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence. The weight of the night finally hits me, and so does the exhaustion that comes with it. I killed a man tonight. A second man in the span of a week is dead at my hands. And I can’t explain why it gives me no anxiety. Maybe Iambroken, but not in the way I always expected.
But god do I need a shower. I want to scrub my skin raw, climb into bed, and sleep for an eternity in my nice, clean bed. We undress quickly in the garage, until we’re left in just boxerbriefs, but I pointedly aim my curious gaze away from Parker to avoid getting caught staring at him with drool dripping down my chin. I carefully peel the clothing off me, folding it. I’m sure it’ll need dry cleaning at some specialty murderer dry cleaner.
