Page 74 of Himbo Hitman
“But that’s still information. They don’t need to know how much or little we know. And, no offense, Perry, but you’re exactly the type of guy who’d squeal under torture.”
I can confirm that, considering the torture I put him through last night.
“Hell, they could probably skip the torture, considering how easily you gave all that up on them,” Lars continues, like he’s determined to drive the point home.
“You think I’m going to give you guys up?” he asks, sounding hurt.
“Probably not on purpose, but yes.”
His frown deepens, and he goes back to eating.
Lars and I share a look. As offended as Perry is, Lars has a point. We can’t risk Perry accidentally letting slip where we’re staying and having more contract killers at the door. Even though I know that, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to make him feel better.
“Lars is only saying that we need you to be careful.”
Lars grunts.
“Verycareful,” I add. “We’re trusting you.”
His sunshiny smile comes out. “I told you: I’ve got this!”
It takes everything in me to almost believe him. “Yeah. So. Good luck.”
“Don’t need it.” Perry gets up to rinse out his bowl before he stacks it in the dishwasher. “By tonight, we’ll know where to start. I hope you guys are ready to be blown away by my skill.”
Hell, if he wants to be this confident, who am I to bring him down?
Even if I know it will never, ever happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PERRY
There’sone thing that can be said about potentially walking into danger and your impending doom: I’m not thinking about St. Clare anymore.
Not him or his kisses or his dick.
When I woke up, it was all I could concentrate on, but sometime during my breakfast and talk of planning, that memory dripped away and was replaced by the reminder that today might not be a very good day.
I’ve had a lot of not-good days, and I’d like to have a whole lot less going forward. This new-perspective version of me probably shouldn’t be playing with fire, but what other choice do I have?
It’s fairly important that I know if I need to look over my shoulder from here on out, and the name of who’s behind these nefarious deeds would really help in that department. Thankfully, Luther is a good guy. I ran a few jobs for him, they didn’t work out, he’ll understand. Underperforming staff is a problem in every industry.
I’m really better suited to the cafe and should be left to my own devices over there. It’s the best outcome for all of us.
And paying the money back. I guess.
That part isn’t the best outcomefor me, but in a choice betweena padded bank account and my organs all where they belong, it’s a mostly easy choice.
I catch another whiff of myself as I huddle into my dirty hoodie.
Fuck, I wish Lars had washed my clothes with theirs. It’s too cold to wear my puppy shirt, so I’m back in my hoodie, hoping that the deodorant I coated myself with will cover the stench of yesterday’s dry sweat.
I mean, if I can’t reason with Luther, maybe I can gas him instead?
I stuff my hands into the front pocket, sort of wishing I’d thought to bring my gun. Even if I never plan to shoot it, the weapon is enough to intimidate someone until I can get away. Or at least it is in movies.
I dispel a massive huff of air and remind myself that I’ve got this. I wasn’t worried at all about going to Lethal Poison before Lars and St. Clare got in my head. Maybe this is part of their plan? Make me trust them, twist my thoughts, cut me off from my friends and family … WWJJD?
