Page 158 of Himbo Hitman
My pal,my buddy, my old friendLuther. He’s the man out here threatening everyone and footing bills for things he shouldn’t foot bills for.
Now I’m really thinking about it, it makes sense. Owning a labradoodle was obviously his cover.
I just didnotsee that coming. Fuck me.
Thankfully, Tommy and Everett are as shocked as I am, so I don’t feel like as much of a moron as I could. But then I remember that I had the chance to shoot him in the face and didn’t.
This could be over already.
We could have nothing else to worry about.
I mentally sob again over how close I got to putting this shit behind us without realizing it, and I fucking didn’t. So,soclose.
The comms crackles in my ear.
“Still nothing,” Lars says. He’s set up on a rooftop across from Lethal Poison. Without Arlie, he’s our best shot who will actually shoot, and between him, Everett, and me, we’re keeping an eye on the place. If I’d known Luther was this dangerous, there’s no way I wouldn’t have gotten Arlie out too, but I really, really thought she could handle herself.
I turn the music up that I’m listening to in my other ear. Thankfully, no one saw me slip the earbud in, or I’m sure there wouldhave been words about professionalism or whatever, but it comes right down to this:
I’m not a professional.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes.
And today, I’m cleaning up the biggest one of my life.
Then I’m putting it all behind me and starting my life with St. Clare. I’ll probablystillmake mistakes, but none of them will be like this, and I have to trust that he’ll handle anything I throw at him.
I’m nodding along to the indie pop, watching the front of Lethal Poison, filled with this sense of wistfulness and longing. Other than my actual home that never felt particularly homey, this place was always mine. My safety. My refuge.
All along, Luther had us do his bidding. Did he even have “clients,” or was it all bullshit?
Maybe I can ask him all these questions before he’s left alone with Everett for a while.
My nose wrinkles at that.
I don’t think it matters how bad Luther is or how many deaths he’s responsible for. I’m struggling. Vigilante justice is one thing, but Everett being excited over dismantling him is … unsettling. Does he deserve that? Probably, but I can’t bring myself to give it a definite yes.
People aren’t cars. We can’t be taken apart and put back together. As soon as we’re apart, we’re dead, and there’s no coming back from that.
And I thought I could be a hitman.
“For the love of Judge Judy, Perry Nikov. Youarea dumbass.”
“Ah … what?” Lars’s voice in my ear asks.
Shit. I forgot about the whole comms thing. “Nothing. I’m good.”
He chuckles, and it’s the warm kind of laugh I’ve heard him give St. Clare. “Don’t forget that luck is on your side today, Aries. You don’t need intelligence.”
“Well, thank fuck for that because I’m usually in short supply.”
That same laugh comes again, and it makes my chest all puffy. I’m slowly breaking him down.
“Anything on your end, Tommy?” Everett asks through the earpiece.
“Still quiet.”
“And we’re sure he’s in there?” I check for the twentieth time.
