42. Chapter 42
TIERNEY
"I thought we were going home?" I asked as we pulled into the parking lot of the small hardware store.
My seat belt tightened painfully, pressing me into my seat and the tires chirped against the pavement as he stomped on the brakes.
"Wait here. I'll be quick. Ten minutes tops." He said, slamming the door and jogging toward the store without waiting for our reply.
Larissa and I exchanged confused looks, but largely remained silent as we waited. True to his word, he was back in less than ten minutes, carrying what appeared to be three flashlights.
"Here. Take one of these." He said, tossing one to me and Larissa. "They’re UV lights. Black light basically. These aren't as strong as the bulbs, but they should be easier than replacing light bulbs everywhere we go," he reasoned .
"Smart idea."I muttered, peeling away the packaging and sliding the battery into its slot.
"I'll try not to be offended by the tone of surprise," he teased.
"So not home then."
"No. We need to check out fucktard’s house. There might be further clues there, and we need all the information we can get."
"His name is Jason." Larissa said, barely above a whisper.
Ahren's lips parted, a wicked reply no doubt on the tip of his tongue, but one look at his wounded friend, and he swallowed every word, responding with a simple nod.
"Sorry." she murmured, her fingers picking at the wrist strap on the flashlight. "Obviously, Jason is connected. I brought him into your lives. I—"
“You don't know that he had anything to do with this,” I said, trying to soothe her, but the words sounded hollow, even to my ears.
She nodded, but kept her eyes on the silver flashlight in her lap, not bothering to look up until we pulled into her boyfriend's driveway nearly twenty minutes later.
The two-story Spanish-style house came into view. The exposed beams and wrought iron details gave it an old world flare that stood out against the surrounding modern homes.
"You're welcome to stay in the truck," he said, no trace of the cocky bastard he usually pretended to be.
"No." she said, straightening her spine. "I owe this fucker a piece of my mind."
She glanced up at Ahren and sighed. "Besides, Ahren is probably planning to shoot him. If I want to get this shit off my chest, now is the time."
He shrugged, not bothering to deny the accusation.
"If you're sure, then. "
Her eyes locked straight ahead, she stepped toward the house without another word. Ahren and I followed behind. Both of us had questions of our own, but we agreed Larissa got the first crack.
The first strike of her fist against the door was soft—tentative. He pushed past, pounding on the door with deep, heavy thuds.
"You're not doing this alone. He will fucking listen to every word you have to say." His whispered voice held an edge of violence that sent a shiver of something delicious through my system.
His eyes met mine, and he tossed me a wink, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me.
After several minutes, he pounded on the door again. "Fucker." He reached for the knob and the door swung inward.
Immediately, the unmistakable scent of decomposition slammed into us. Though none of us were strangers to the smells of death and decay, it still hit us hard.
Larissa turned away, gulping fresh air before turning back to the open doorway. She shifted into work mode, the silver line of unshed tears the only sign she was affected at all.
Bright orange terracotta tiles covered the floor in the foyer, wending their way through the house. The smell grew stronger the further we walked inside. I pulled my shirt off and used it to cover my nose and mouth, but the pungent odor still took my breath away.
Ahren stopped abruptly, blocking the path forward. He only hesitated for a moment, but it was enough for us to know he'd found Jason.
Larissa grabbed his arm, pulling it back and pushing through into the kitchen. Moving in slow, measured steps as she approached his body.
Blood and brain matter painted every surface in the spacious kitchen. The entire left side of his head had been obliterated, but there was enough left that Larissa sucked in a quick breath at the sight of him.
"Is that him?" I asked, needing her confirmation.
Her head bobbed silently. She kneeled beside him, her head cocked to the side as she examined the wound.
"Does this look right to the two of you?" she asked.
We stepped forward. Even the thick rubber soles of my boots had trouble gaining traction on the slick floor and I would have fallen on my ass if Ahren didn't have lightning reflexes.
"Careful." he murmured, helping me steady myself before letting go.
"Aw, fuck." I muttered, finally getting a closer look at the wound.
Ahren studied the wound, walking a wide arc around the body. With no commentary on the body or the wound, he turned and began studying the walls on the far side of the kitchen.
He pulled open drawers until he found a screwdriver and began picking at the wall.
"Shit." I muttered, realization dawning on me.
He swirled the materials in his hand, considering them thoughtfully as he walked back toward the body.
"It fragmented." His eyes still focused on the small metal fragments, even as he spoke. “Part embedded in the wall and the rest was scattered on impact.”
"What does that mean?" Larissa asked, trying to hide the tremble in her voice, even though neither of us begrudged her the moment of grief.
"I'm not sure yet. Another piece to the puzzle."
"But it's not what you were expecting." It wasn't a question, he was clearly confused by the fragments.
"I don't have all the pieces, but it looks like one of mine. "
"Well, considering the message at the other house, that shouldn't be surprising."
He nodded, his brow drawn in confusion as he tried to make sense of it. "I love my Dragunov. But it's hardly the newest model. There are lethal upgrades."
"Like armor-piercing rounds." I said, continuing his thought. "You're right. Why not use the most lethal round? I guess I could ask you that question, too." I said, turning to him.
"Superstition. I guess that's the best explanation. My first purchase was a Dragunov. It felt like an extension of me. The shot was perfect, easy money. "
I nodded. "Same with my Scout. After a few kills—swapping it out felt like I was giving credit to my tiny death machine. Not upgrading felt like declaring that I was the weapon. I was the thing they should fear, regardless of my hardware."
"Exactly. Now to make sense of the bullet—"
"That's easy." Larissa interrupted, her gaze bouncing between us. "Don't you get it? She wants to kill you with your own gun, down to the same ammo. "
I blew out a heavy breath, immediately regretting it when I sucked in another mouthful of putrid air.
"Speaking of my gun," he said, pointing to the obliterated half of Jason's head. "That wasn't from a rifle. Looks to be a shotgun blast."
"Agreed. Most likely, she wanted to make a statement, and the wound was too small, so she—improvised."
"See if there are any other clues on the body. I am going to use this," he said, holding up the black light, "in the foyer and see if there is a message. There are too many splatters of blood and fluids for there to be a message in here."
One final look at Larissa and he strode from the room .
My hand landed on hers, stilling her trembling hand as it hovered above his lifeless form. Comfort wasn't really my thing.
Come to think of it, I hadn't allowed myself to be soft with anyone in nearly seven years—not since Carissa died. My sister had been the final shred of humanity tethering me to this life—without her, nothing had any value to me—until now.
I thought I had to choose. That I could either be a world class assassin, or surround myself with friends. Watching Ahren seamlessly balance the two had been eye opening. Sure, he kept his circle small, but he was proof that it was possible to have both.
These were my people now. Ahren, obviously. But Larissa too. So even if comfort wasn't my strong suit, I would try, for her.
"What can I do?"
Her head shook softly. "I need to do this myself. Need to check."
I released her hand, and she reached for the hem of his shirt. My breath caught in my throat as his bloody stomach came into view. "FERAL" was carved into his flesh. Unlike the shallow, halting cuts on Larissa's stomach, these were much deeper and more fluid.
"Found it." Ahren called out, entering the room, freezing at the sight of the new message.
He snapped a picture on his phone. " We should go," he said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder.
She nodded, placing her hand over his as she rose.
"Take your shoes off," he said, toeing his boots off as we stepped onto the front porch.
"Why?" Larissa asked, her brow pinched in confusion.
"Blood. The rest of our clothes should be fine. But our shoes are covered."
"It's best not to track it into the truck," he said absentmindedly .
He jogged the few feet to the truck, opened the passenger door and dug around, coming back with a handful of items that looked like receipts, napkins and other random papers, along with a box of matches.
"Need help?" I asked.
He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips.
"No. Get in the truck. I'll be there in a minute." He said, stuffing the paper into the shoes and dropping in a few unlit matches.
Time passed in heartbeats as we waited for him to emerge, black smoke already beginning to curl around the edges of the door frame. Finally, I released my captive breath as he strutted into view, walking more like a runway model than a man escaping a burning building.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
At his apology, her mask slipped and cracked, and the tears began falling freely.