Page 108 of Himbo Hitman
Sosure.
Asliver of fear tracks down my spine. Did they follow me … or did they find me another way?
Tommy only knew where I was because I told him. I didn’t have my backpack. It was just me and … my phone.
I head over to the small table where I left it a few hours ago, and all I have waiting is a check-in message from Margot. Then another telling me I need to message hernowso she knows I’m alive.
I quickly do exactly that, not wanting her to worry, then turn my phone over in my hands. It’s very old and very secondhand. The thought of someone tracking it doesn’t seem possible, considering the signal I get on the thing is spotty at best.
Just when I thought I’d be able to upgrade to something that gets internet, all this shit went and started. Still, to be on the safe side, I text Margot that I’m turning off my phone for a bit in case it’s being traced and that I’ll check in when I can.
That should do it.
I think.
If someone was tracking it though, we’d probably be surrounded by now.
And since Luther needed me to give him St. Clare, he obviously doesn’t know where he is. Which means neither of them is being tracked either.
And again, if they were, we’d probably be dead by now.
I’m being paranoid. They clearly followed me, and I was too stupid to realize it.
Maybe St. Clare would be safer without me around.
I’m no criminal. I’m not cut out for any of this.
I cover my face and mini scream into my hand, just a bit, just enough to make me feel better about this shit. My fingers seek out my bracelet, tracing the familiar patterns and hearing an echo of Mom’s laugh as she picked the brightest, silliest beads she could find.
This is all going to pass.
I let all the doubting go.
Plan or no plan.
This is all going to work out okay.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ST. CLARE
My limbs are lockedup and not feeling great when I make my way out of the bedroom the next morning. Lars and Perry are who the fuck knows where, and without coffee to give me a jump start, they’re both going to have to put up with me being grumpy and on edge.
A gunshot rips through the air, and I hit the deck fast. My heart is in my throat as I glance around, wait for a shout or an answering fire orsomething, but all I see are dirty hardwood floors and the dusty underside of the kitchen counter.
Then, a second later, the shot is followed by a muffled voice.
I ease myself from the ground and creep toward the window at the side of the cabin that looks out toward where Lars had a fire last night.
“Itoldyou!”
That’s Perry’s voice. I move faster, pulling the tattered curtain aside to see him and Lars, both holding guns pointed toward the tree line. With no bad guys in sight.
I’m going to fucking kill them.
I cross the cabin and stalk outside to where Perry is loading up his gun again. Before I can reach them, he lets off another shot that hits the center of the circle they’ve cut into the tree bark.
“No way,” Lars says. “Lucky shot.”
