Page 82 of Himbo Hitman
“Wh-what do you want from me?”
“I. Want. Him. Dead.”
And even though I know exactly who he means, my stupid mouth moves anyway. “Who?”
“St.fuckingClare. Bring him to me. Alive or dead, I don’t fucking care. I’ll shoot him myself if it means the job is done right, and I’ll even let your incompetent ass keep the money if it makes this mess go away. Itoldmy client it was done, and the second they find out it wasn’t, every single person in this fucking bar is at risk. They won’t stop to ask questions about who fucked up.”
“I … I don’t understand,” I say, mouth moving only a fraction faster than my thoughts. I’m gripping my beaded bracelet like it’ll somehow protect me. “What did St. Clare do that’s made him enemy number one? Why would anyone want him killed in the first place? It’s not like he’s selling meth to children or drowning kittens.”
“He lied to the wrong person and looked into things he shouldn’t have.”
“St. Claredid?” None of that sounds like him. Given how legitimately shocked he was about the whole being wanted thing, it’s not lining up. “Are they sure they don’t have the wrong guy?”
“They’re sure.” Luther’s eyes slowly narrow. “You know where he is.”
“I don’t!”
“Yes. You do.”
“How would I know where he is? I barely knew who he was when I tried to kill him in the first place.”
“I gave you simple, fast jobs with unsuspecting targets. Itshould have been an easy payday for you, and instead, you shat the bed.”
“Well, that’s disgusting.”
“I’m giving you a second chance, and you better see that as the gift from God that it is. I’m giving you exactly one week. One week, and I want thatfuckhere. And if my client figures out that you didn’t do what you were supposed to, I won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus. Understand?”
That I have one week to figure out how the hell to get me and St. Clare out of this mess? “Got it. Whoisyour client?”
Luther ignores me and turns his attention to Arlie and Everett. “And if I find out either of you has helped him, you’ll be next on my list.”
“Got it.”
They leave, behemoth glaring after them, and I’m stuck on my chair, feeling very much like Luther’s cozy office is more like a coffin for people he doesn’t like.
It’s just lucky he likes me.
I guess.
I’ve never known lucky to feel quite like this though.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ST. CLARE
The front dooropening makes the four of us leap to our feet, but we don’t get further than that before Perry barrels down the hall. He’s panting, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, and for one wild moment, he comes to a stop and looks around at us all.
“Ah … hey?”
“Where have youbeen?” explodes from me and Margot at the same time.
He does that thing where he forces a laugh, trying to act like everything is fine. “Just, umm, out for a walk.”
“A walk?” Margot echoes. “The kind of walk that could have gotten youkilled?”
Perry’s tan face pales, and he quickly looks around. “This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Who are you people? I’ll just?—”
“He told me everything,” Margot cuts him off, pointing my way as she tattles on me. And I wish she didn’t because the expression Perry sends me can only be described as complete and utter betrayal.
