Chapter Nine
Maren
O ne minute I’m lounging on the library couch, half-wrapped in a throw blanket and half-asleep with my head on Tuck’s shoulder and the fire crackling distantly in the background at I-don’t-know-how-late o’clock.
The next minute—
Bang.
The door slams open and three dripping-wet, mud-crusted, panting men burst through, all talking at once.
No, not three—four.
“What the hell?” I sit bolt upright, now fully awake and all afterglow extinguished, and let out a slight yelp when I realize there’s a stranger with them. “Who’s—”
I don’t finish my thought, as a shirtless Tuck hastily secures the blanket very firmly around my top, his cheeks brilliantly pink.
“Um, hey, guys,” he says. “Did you—”
I don’t let him finish. “Are you hurt?”
I look from one dirt-spattered, wild-eyed man to the next, and I can tell pretty quickly: no. Relief crashes over me like a wave.
But I’m not sure I can say the same about the guy they have with them.
LJ’s got him by the shoulder, and it looks like his hands are tied behind his back. He’s tall, ish, but compared to the three of them, he looks tiny: just a kid, in a soaking-wet T-shirt and ragged-looking cargo pants, dark hair pasted to his head and his eyes wide with terror. And...a little confusion, seeing me.
“What the hell happened out there?” I ask, scooping my hair out of my eyes. Behind me, Tuck discreetly stands and retrieves my clothing as the other three all mutter various beginnings of explanations.
“Hang on,” Rob says, cutting through the noise. “Let the lady get decent first.”
As if on cue, LJ claps a massive hand over the kid’s eyes. I blink once, then take the invitation and drop the blanket to pull my sweats back on, ignoring the intrigued gazes of the three patrollers. Later, please. An arm’s length away, Tuck hurriedly pulls on his own jeans.
“Okay,” I say, lifting my arms to demonstrate. “All good.”
LJ removes his hand. The kid stares into the middle distance.
“So who the hell is that?” I ask, gesturing at the interloper. “Who the hell are you?” I ask him directly.
The kid looks at the three of them as if asking for permission, then quickly seems to decide it isn’t coming.
Then they all speak at once.
“We found him trying to stalk us—”
“Out in the middle of the goddamn forest—”
“—little toy gun of his—”
“—almost broke his ankle trying to run—”
“—nearly passed out—”
Tuck looks at them, then at me. “I’m making coffee.”
I nod. “Good idea.” I look back at the bedraggled group from the forest. “Can we start again?’
This time, only Rob speaks. His auburn hair looks almost dark brown from the rain, and there’s a smear of mud on his left cheek.
“Kid’s name is Nick,” he says. “Or so he claims. Roving around looking for trouble with his BB gun, trying to round up the bad guys for a payday.”
“So a bounty hunter.”
Will snorts. His usually styled hair is a silvery mess, flecked with dirt. “If you can call it that.”
“It was a dumb idea.”
The kid—Nick—speaks so fast I barely can make out one word from another. He looks terrified to even be talking, glances at the ground. “Really fucking dumb.” He looks back up, even more terrified. “I mean, um, pardon my language.”
At that, LJ actually chuckles.
“She’s heard worse,” Will says mildly.
“She’s said worse,” Rob adds. “Anyway, obviously we apprehended him, and—”
I wave a hand to shut him up. There’s something smudging this kid’s T-shirt—too reddish for mud. I step closer, look from the shirt into his eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
He darts a glance in each direction, like he’s evaluating whether or not to tell the truth.
“I’m not going to make it worse,” I promise.
Nick hesitates, then lifts one skinny shoulder in the best shrug he can do with his hands behind his back. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Let me see.”
To my surprise, Will moves in to help pull his jacket back, pushing it down his arms to hang off the cuffs, and I see the source of the blood: a long, angry scrape up the front of his forearm, presumably from where he braced to break a fall.
“Here.” I grab it, delicately, and press my hand to his arm. In half a second, the warm energy flows forth and skims over the wound, leaving nothing but skin.
Nick’s mouth falls open. “Did you just...” He looks at Will, then the rest of them. “Did she just—”
LJ growls. Will sighs. Rob rolls his eyes. I guess they’re not fans of me just up and showing off my power. But really, what difference does it make?
“Coffee,” Tuck announces, swinging back into the room with a French press and a few mugs. He’s also put a shirt on, to my relative disappointment. “What’d I miss?”
“Just Florence Nightingale over here,” Will mutters. “Let me at that stuff.” He takes the carafe from Tuck and pours it into one of the mugs he sets down, then takes a sip and winces. “Think we could Irish this up a little?”
Tuck ignores him. “So what exactly is going on here?”
Rob launches in again. “All right. So we’re patrolling the perimeter, nothing suspicious—”
“They’re both taking for fucking ever,” LJ interrupts. “And I’m just trying to—”
“Excuse me,” Will cuts in, “but I was carrying literally twice what you were—”
The cacophony of voices rises again, and I decide to help myself to a cup of coffee even though it practically guarantees I won’t sleep tonight. I pour one, and, after considering a moment, offer it to Nick. He smiles a tiny smile, but shrugs again—his hands are tied.
Right.
“One of you got a knife?” I ask. “Or are you going to make him stand like that all night?”
LJ grunts, but I roll my eyes. “I doubt he’s going to book it,” I say, and hold out a hand. “Come on.”
Neither LJ nor Will moves, but Rob does. He fishes in a cargo pocket and pulls out a multitool, flicking open the blade. “Here. Don’t do anything stupid.” In a swift jerk, he’s cut Nick free.
Nick nods, looks at him, looks at me. “So...sorry, but is she like, your girlfriend, or—”
“Yes,” the four of them say at once.
Nick nods, then frowns.
They all launch right back into talking.
“Here.” I hand him the mug, which he accepts with the kind of reverence you’d give to the Holy Grail, gawking at me the whole time. I give a non-committal half-shrug and decide to make a joke.
“I mean, look at them. Could you choose just one?”
Nick goes very bright red. “Um...”
Before I can say anything further, a piercing, two-note whistle cuts through the chatter.
“Enough of this bullshitting,” Rob says, once we’re quiet. “Kitchen. We’ll sit and talk.”
I rise out of my slight crouch and follow them to the hallway and toward the back end of the house, watching Nick’s eyes somehow go even wider as he takes in the full sweep of the place. Once in the kitchen, everyone naturally settles into position: Rob leaning against the counter, arms crossed, Will sprawled in one chair with the foot on the seat of another, Tuck sitting easily at the table, hands around his coffee, and LJ pacing. For my part, I take up a spot at the breakfast bar, sipping my own coffee but mostly studying Nick, who stands just a step or two in from the threshold, shifting his weight uneasily and dripping onto the tile.
“And?” Rob says, throwing a glance at Nick. Nick says nothing.
Rob’s face hardens slightly.
“Start talking. Tell them what you told us.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Nick gives a little cough, rearranges his shoulders like he’s trying to look tougher and bigger than he is. “I was, uh...”
“Spare us the life story,” LJ interjects. “The hit order.”
“Right.” Nick nods again. “I heard about it yesterday. It’s some kind of open contract, I guess? Nothing official.”
“But a lot of cops on it,” Will throws in.
“Sure. For the cash. And I guess they have, you know, the skillset.”
“More than some people,” LJ mutters.
“Anyway,” Rob says.
“Yeah.” Nick’s nodding is like a nervous tic. “But I figured the money’s gotta be legit. Because coming from that guy—”
Rob leans slightly forward, eyebrows up, an unspoken prompt.
“Lackland,” Nick says, swallowing hard. “John Lackland. Some...rich asshole who hates you guys,” he adds, with a touch of bravado.
The name punches the air from my lungs. My ears ring, and the room goes slightly sideways, as I’m acutely aware of four—no, five—pairs of eyes boring into me.
“Yeah,” says a voice at last—Will’s. “So there’s that.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fucking...fuck.”
Nick darts his eyes this way and that, like he’s trying to gauge whether this is bad news for him personally or not. For whatever reason, I feel the need to explain.
“He’s my...” I don’t even know what the right word is. I press a hand to my forehead. “Was my legal guardian, for a while. Technically. He tried to steal from me, so I ran away, and that’s how I ended up...here,” I finish.
“That’s the abridged version,” Rob growls. “Man’s a goddamn bastard.”
“He hurt you,” Tuck says, his voice uncharacteristically low and cold. “In a lot of ways.”
“Yeah, and now he’s trying again,” I mutter. “Fuck.” Tears are pricking at the edges of my eyes, but I look to the ceiling and scrape them away. “Goddammit.”
I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard. Of course John’s going to thrash around like a weasel until the day he dies. Of course he’s going to find a way to make other people do the dirty work and squeeze everything he can out of what he sees as an opportunity. It’s not that—I knew that, know that.
It’s more that, for a little while, I’d let myself forget. And I’m angry that I did.
No one speaks. Everyone letting me compose myself.
And I do.
“So this is his endgame,” I say, my voice cool and hard as ice. “Knock you all out—or at least Rob—and then get me back in his fucking clutches.”
Rob nods. “I’d bet folding money he doesn’t even have the reward liquid. Probably plans to pay it out of whatever he’d finagle from you.”
“Or you, more likely,” I counter. “I’m tapped out, remember? Guy already filtered all my assets back to John.”
Will frowns. “So why’d he even want you, then, Maren? I mean, pardon the blunt question. But—”
“No, it’s a good one.” I think hard. John’s certainly never felt any kind of familial affection towards me. The only reason he never let me come to outright harm was to preserve the goose that laid the golden inheritance—that, and to keep up appearances. I lift a shoulder. “Maybe he just doesn’t want the drama. If I come back safe and sound and quietly, he can get people to stop gossiping and get back into society’s good graces.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
There’s a soft thud to my left. Nick’s wavering on his feet and took a sudden step to steady himself.
He’s exhausted.
“Not to sidetrack things,” Tuck murmurs, nodding at Nick, “but what’s the plan here?”
LJ rubs his chin. “We don’t babysit bounty hunters.”
“He’s not exactly a hardened threat,” Will says. “I mean, look at him.”
“That’s my point. He’s desperate. You ever try to cage a wounded animal? It’ll claw your eyes out.”
“He hasn’t done anything to hurt you,” I point out. For whatever reason, I feel obligated to intervene on his behalf.
“Yet,” mutters LJ.
Rob, though, is thoughtful. “He stays. For now,” he adds. “We’re not gonna decide how to handle this tonight.” He pushes off the counter and straightens up, striding over to Nick in two swift steps.
“Here’s the deal.” He points a finger just inches from Nick’s nose. “You sleep downstairs where we show you—spare room with the foldout, off the game room,” he adds, to the rest of us. “You don’t leave. You don’t take or break or mess up anything. You do what we ask, when we ask. You follow all that and whenever we cut you loose, you’ll go home with a thousand dollars, cash.”
Nick nods, blinking as if he can’t quite process what’s going on—not that I blame him.
“But you fuck around?” Rob closes his fist. “We bury you in the forest. Do I make myself clear?”
Nick swallows. “Crystal,” he croaks.
“Good.” Rob withdraws. “Now I’m taking a burning hot shower and drinking two fingers of bourbon. Possibly at the same time. I suggest y’all do the same. We’ll do better rested up.”
With a final shake of his head, spritzing rainwater everywhere, he leaves. Slowly, LJ, Will, and Tuck do too—“there’s more coffee if you want it,” Tuck adds before he leaves—all of them glancing at me to make sure I’m okay.
And I am...I think.
“Is he...” Nick’s voice cracks, and he swallows again, looking to where they all disappeared. “Is he serious?”
I guess he’s asking me. “Rob?” I sip the last bit of my coffee. “Yeah. They’re all...like that.”
Nick licks his lips. “Cool,” he says. “Cool cool cool.”