So either someone broke into Decker’s cabin, or his half sister showed up a day early too.
And she’salsoparanoid as fuck.
Best-case scenario. Could be others. Crazy exes. Squatter. The third triplet invited someone to use the cabin too.
“Friend,” I gasp.
“That’s what anyone breaking in would say. Do you really know Decker, or do you just know he owns this place?”
The tremble in her voice is the only thing keeping me on the defensive instead of the offensive.
“Gave me—” I pause and cough my lungs out again, the burn still burning my eyeballs, before I finish. “Door code.”
“Decker gave you the door code?”
“Yes,” I wheeze. Fuck on a kumquat, how did I ever call myself a Marine? This is embarrassing.
Her voice is farther away. Still shaky, but growing more commanding by the moment. “Drop the fucking axenowor I’ll bash your brains in.”
I don’t believe her, but it doesn’t matter what I believe.
Have to quit coughing.
Eyes need to quit stinging.
Paranoia’s gonna fucking suck for the rest of this trip.
If I don’t bail.
Which I won’t, because this gig comes with a side gig that should be my way back into the personal security world, and I desperately need that.
Need a job.
Need to get back to my roots.
I drop the maul and hold my hands up in anI’m harmlessgesture. “Found—outside—should be—put—away. Not weapon.”
“Who are you?”
“Friend,” I rasp again. “You?”
“Why are you here?”
“Decker—said stay.”
“Decker told you that you could stay here?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Did he consult a calendar first?”
Wait.
I know this voice.
