11. Scarlett
SCARLETT
CHECKING IN
Istroll the aisles of a dinky little grocery store in the middle of a dinkier little town aptly named Mount Gaines. Just as promised, mountains surround the place in every direction, and since December is already here, those mountains glow white with thick snowcaps settled on top.
Holding my phone in one hand, I toss a box of cookies with the other so they land in my grunt-propelled cart with a noisy clatter.
“How’s it going?” Linc’s voice is tired and gritty. Guarded, though it so rarely is when we speak. “You doing alright, Little Girl?”
“Mm.” I’m inclined to bitch about my housemate, but seeing as how he walks a mere six feet behind me, I exhale a harrumph instead. “It’s alright, I guess.”
“I’m proud of you for not killing him yet.” A tense chuckle rolls along the line. “Right? He’s still alive?”
“Unfortunately.” I grab a bag of potato chips and toss them harder than I mean to, so the bag slaps Sebastion’s annoyingly broad chest and plops into the cart.
Oops. “We’re buying groceries right now.
He eats a lot, so there’s nothing left in the house.
” I select a second bag of chips, since I’d rather not share mine with this dude.
But I set mine down carefully. He can have the crushed bag.
“He’s paying for these, right? I’m not bankrolling his roid hunger, Linc. I work too hard for that mess.”
“Roids,” Sebastion scoffs. “My ass.”
“I’m not paying for this. Also, Karissa called. She’s not mad I’m not working right now, but she’s gently encouraging me to get the hell off my ass and tidy her house. Have you figured this out yet?”
“Your clients need to shut the fuck up and wait. Their desire for a clean home is not more important than, ya know,” he growls. “Your life. Yes, tap your credit card for this food. I’ll transfer money across. And no.”
For a single moment in time, just a fleeting second, I hoped Linc was calling with good news. But now my bottom lip drops into a pout, and my shoulders sink. Sighing, I continue along the aisle and move into the next.
“Nothing? Not even a second note with bank account details this douchebag wants payment made into?”
“Nothing. Half the cops in this city will take my call any time of the day or night, and most of its snitches, too. I’m talking to them all, Scar, and sifting through all the noise coming back, but right now, I’ve got nothing to move on.”
“But you found Jones, right? If you already know where he is—”
“Just because he talks shit about you doesn’t mean he’s our guy. Big mouths talk, and the word going around is that he and Roy were pretty tight. It’s entirely possible he’s just mad Roy ditched town after the breakup.”
“Ditched town,” I scoff. “Pissed his pants and begged for freedom, more like it.”
Silence hangs for one beat. Two. Three. Then finally, Linc scratches his stubble and exhales. “He deserved everything he got.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“Good,” he breathes. “But now we’re dealing with this.
Jones isn’t off the hook yet, but from where I’m sitting, whining doesn’t make him our guy.
He’s done nothing, and said nothing, to seal his fate yet.
He’s a brainless nobody with less inclination to get up off his ass and actually do something with his life than a ten-days-dead corpse.
Mills wasn’t wrong for bringing him to our attention, but I don’t think he’s who we’re looking for. ”
I want to weep. To rage. Most of all, I want to get back to the life I worked so damn hard to reclaim.
“If it’s not him, that means we’re back to square one, right?
” I firm my jaw. I refuse to let it wobble.
I grit my teeth. I won’t let them chatter.
I’m strong. I’m capable. I’m not that woman anymore. “We’ve got nothing at all?”
“We have reason to believe our guy knows enough about your security system to disable the entire building before he dropped the note.”
Well, that’s a fun thought.
“And that he’s connected to Richard Aster in some way. Somehow. Could be one of his soldiers. One of his security personnel. Could even be his former tax accountant.”
Could be his grandson.
I peek over my shoulder and meet Sebastion’s hard eyes. He’s sticking close, silencing even his steps like doing so will help him hear my conversation.
“Scarlett? You still there?”
“Yeah.” I break eye contact and bring my focus back to a display of cereal boxes. “It would make me very happy, and significantly less anxious, if you figured this out soon, Linc.”
He sighs. “I know.”
“Like, today.”
“Doing the best I can, Little Girl. How are things back there? Jameson being a decent human being?”
“Eh.” I grab a box of high fiber wheat bran and lob it into the cart. “He offered to fuck me last night.”
A ferocious growl booms through our call, and a single moment later, Sebastion’s phone dings with an incoming text.
“He suggested I tell him in advance when I plan to visit his bed.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Lincoln snaps.
“Because if I snuck up on him, he might accidentally on purpose break my neck.”
Sebastion pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks the screen, and chuckles. He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even unlock the device. He simply slips it back where it came from and reaffirms his grip on the cart handle.
“He’s laughing at you, Linc.” I continue along the aisle and steal fifteen feet from my muscled mercenary. “He’s disrespecting you. In your own home. Why don’t you come back, end him, and toss him in the trash where he belongs? I’ll help.”
“Cute.” Sebastion moves faster than someone of his size should be able to and drops his hand onto my shoulder before I shoot straight through the damn roof. “You missed the Frosted Flakes, Princess.”
My heart thunders wildly out of control, but I don’t let him see me rattled.
I refuse. Instead, I peek along the aisle and study the giant blue box with a hungry tiger on the front.
For just a moment, I pretend to consider his words.
Like I actually give a crap about his cereal needs.
But then I shake my head and keep going.
“I don’t want Frosted Flakes. I guess that means you missed them. ”
“Scarlett…” Linc’s grumbled warning vibrates in my ear.
“Is it so fucking difficult to grab the man a box of cereal and not tempt military psychos into dumping your body? Especially since he just heard your plans to dump his first. In the race to life and death, there can only be one winner, dummy.”
“You assured me he wouldn’t hurt me.” I exit this aisle while Tank hangs back with the cartoon tiger.
Turning to the next, where they keep baking supplies, pasta, and cake mixes, I enjoy just a single moment of solitude.
Of freedom from his beady stare and bristling impatience.
But the squeak-squeak-squeak of the cart’s crappy wheels announces he’s on his way.
And he’s moving fast.
I peruse the vast display of pasta-in-two-minutes packets, select a half dozen of the macaroni and cheese variety, and the instant my shadow skids around the corner, I toss them into the cart and miss hitting his chest by a hair.
Shame.
“How’s Nova doing, anyway? Is she enjoying her nights spent in a car and peeing in bottles while her man stalks random dudes for his sister? Is this the life she expected when she stupidly fell in love?”
“Ya know, it’s pretty sad how young and averse to love you are.” He does something on his end of the line, moving onto a seat… off of a seat… out of a car… I dunno. He grunts and exhales a breathy groan. “Twenty-six this month, and you’re already done with men?”
“Are you suggesting I reconsider? Open my eyes to the possibilities?” I glance back and firm my lips. “While I’m shacked up with Rambo’s smaller, uglier understudy?”
“Fuck no. Keep those eyes closed, at least until I get this mess cleaned up and have that asshole shipped off to Guantanamo… or the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”
I cough out a silly giggle and regret the way it ruins the disdain I wanted Rambo to see.
Sebastion’s brows shoot high on his forehead.
Dammit, Scarlett. Go back to being a bitch.
“Sounds like you’ve got things under control over there, anyway.
” Linc definitely climbs into a car now, because the sharp squawk of birds silences, directly timed with the slam of a car door.
“It’s been five days and you’re still alive.
He’s got this mental deficiency where he thinks his cock is the king of mankind, so keep telling him to fuck off and shut up when he starts talking about it.
In the meantime, keep doing whatever it is you’ve been doing.
Draw. Cook. Relax. Stay away from the weapons. ”
I pout. “You don’t want me to kill him?”
“I don’t want you to be that chick waving a knife around, then the guy who is bigger and stronger than you disarms and guts you with it.”
“Oh wow.” I roll my eyes and stomp along the aisle. “Sounds like a lovely gentleman you’ve stuck me with. Thanks, Linc.”
“Better to be stuck with him than to be stuck with the knife you handed him. Now stop whining. I gotta go.”
“Where are you going?” I plug one ear and listen carefully to the robotic drone of his GPS. “Linc?”
“Out. Don’t spend too long in the stationery section. The sooner you get back to the house, the safer you’ll be.”
“Linc—”
“Talk later.” He kills our call and tosses me mercilessly back to my reality, where supermarkets are barely bigger than my entire apartment, Savage Garden plays through the speakers, and Sebastion ‘Tank’ Jameson glares at me with fierce determination.
And scorn.
He’s the guy tasked with protecting me, but he may also become the guy who snaps my neck in the middle of the night or spills my intestines if I foolishly hand him a knife.
Goodie.
“You finished yet, Princess?” He glances down at our woefully stacked cart, with packaged sugary crap, and not a single fresh fruit or vegetable to be seen.
“You spoke to your brother, snitched the way spoiled princesses snitch, and now my body is cannibalizing itself because I haven’t eaten in two hours. I’m ready to go.”
“Oh, well, in that case.” I flash a sadistic smile and go in search of the stationery section. “I might stay another couple of hours. How long do you think it’ll take until you wither away completely?”