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“As many times as you want,” I vow, wrapping my towel tightly around my chest.

Lazarus’ eyes light up, and his chest heaves. “You sure?”

I nod.

When he leans in to kiss me, it’s soft and sweet, and my heart hurts because that man has been through hell, like me. Worse than me. He deserves better—and I could give it to him. Not just with my body.

Sex doesn’t have to mean much to me.

But this did. And it did for him.

I could put more and more of my heart into this.

If I wanted. If I knew it was safe. But I don’t really know how it’s all going to end up. Not when we both have targets on our backs.

Chapter Thirteen: Contacts

“I told the last lackey who phoned me that this could take weeks. You put months of work into this guy, didn’t you? Years!” If I sound angry and dangerous, it’s because I am. I stay near the window and keep my voice low, a tiny sliver of curtain open so that I can be sure Lazarus is truly heading away from the building. Even with him gone, I still intend to keep this conversation brief.

“I heard you were fast and efficient, unless you wanted to play with your catch. He might be a big gray whale of a mark, but don’t play with him. I want him. Now. Parts don’t last forever. The head I have in mind is getting suspicious—and that’s something, considering how empty it is.”

I swallow down bile and answer in a much flatter voice. “He’s not going to be stopped by a gun or knife. Fire or decapitation only. You need the body. That means the head comes off. That means I drug him. That means I get close enough to give him something strong enough to fell an elephant. That means he has to trust me—and you set that back months, Vincent. Months. In four days, I had him eating out of my hand. Then you called.”

Pazcuso huffs. He doesn’t apologize, just mutters something about millions and scrapping projects without proper returns. Then, his voice is back, loud and direct in my ear again. “All right. You have until February before I send someone out—for both of you. If you do it sooner... I’ll change the payment. Hundred grand on top of the fifty I already promised if you get him before mid-January. That’s when I have to start meeting with the accountants, see.”

A hundred and fifty grand. That’s permanent vacation money for someone like me. Get away, get out, get lost... I could take Lazarus, too. I... No. Never mind.

“It takes as long as it takes,” I repeat. “But thank you.”

“Damn, Vicky. You are one of the coolest bitches I ever met. If Bocella had brains bigger than his little cocktail sausage of a dick, he would have shoved his missus down the stairs, not you. I don’t like to see women in this line of work, but you have something valuable. A second weapon, a piece of bait the boys on my regular payroll don’t have. You come back with the body, and we’ll talk.”

“I’ll come back with the body, and the money needs to be in my account, or the body can burn, and before you threaten me... Do you really think I’d do this work if I were afraid of you?” My voice is so icy and cold that I almost don’t recognize it. I’d gotten used to hearing myself sound... Well, a little bit like I used to.

“You gotta bad mouth on you for such a good head, Vicky.”

I shrug. It’s funny, but I’m genuinely feeling brave. Lazarus wouldn’t let him hurt me.

Lazarus doesn’t know you’re betraying him right now. Setting him up. At least, it sounds that way.

“Bad mouth, good head, golden pussy, great eye for a sniper, steady hands for a round of drinks, nice legs, great ass... I’m everything your pet monster could want,” I sneer. “He ran from you. But he’s running to me. Right to these arms. Right between these legs. Don’t you think I could have him do to you what he did to your nephew? To Doctor Number One?”

There’s silence, followed by the rattle of ice in a glass. Pazcuso needs a drink.

That means he’s nervous. The silence means he’s thinking.

“Take your time. But if I find out you’re turning my boy against me, there’s going to be trouble. Lots of trouble. You bring him back as parts—that’s the deal. Otherwise, I don’t care about who dies. I’m not stupid like Bocella and his cousins. A whore gets put in her place once she’s no longer useful. She gets put in her place at any cost, even a very valuable investment. Do we understand each other, Vicky?”

I nod once. “We do.” I hang up before he can say anything else.

RHEA IS HOGGING VICTORIA.

It’s part of nesting. I get it. Sort of.

Manny explains it while he’s doing inventory, nervously counting and recounting every bulb and oil filter. “Having Victoria trained to completely handle the office is part of being ready for the baby. Rhea is holding herself back from decorating the nursery. She’s just stocking it with furniture. We can’t buy diapers yet. We can’t buy formula. Different ages of development. Different weights. There are too many unknowns.” He makes a scribble on his clipboard. “Better order another case of shop rags,” he mutters—walking past five unopened cases of the same.

Manny is nesting, too.

“But the one thing we know is that we have to leave the shop in good hands. You’ll take care of the shop just fine. I asked Alain Wymark—you know the mechamagi—”