Page 113 of What We Bury

I bristle. “Is that what she is to you? A fuck?”

He looks at me, brow quirked. “Down boy. I’m not that big of a dick.” Back to the road. “If that was all she was, I’d already be in her bed.” He shakes his head. “No. This is different. It’s like that for all of us. It’s why I’m giving her space. She’s not ready to deal with my brand of fucked up yet.”

I nod, because he’s right. This is different. I’ve been with women before—strong, dangerous women, the kind who walk toward gunfire instead of away. It’s never felt like this. Never felt feral, or inevitable, or like every atom in my body wanted to crowd closer and stay there. She’s nothing like the women I’ve known. She’s softer and somehow more brutal at the same time. Built from the same anger and hunger as the rest of us, she just hasn’t figured out where to put it yet.

I’ll teach her.

Holden parks in front of the club. “Hudson. Next Tuesday’s the deadline.” His hands stay on the wheel, eyes scanningthe street, always on surveillance. “I’m not waiting on Eli to come through with a plan to start groundwork. Hudson plays golf Sunday mornings at Pinecrest. Private club, gated, but the restaurant’s open to the public for brunch. Figure we eat some overpriced eggs, get eyes on the layout, see who he drinks with after the round.”

“Sunday?”

“You free?”

I think about it. I’m working at the club Saturday. But my shift ends at two. Four hours of sleep would be enough. I’ve operated on less. “What time?”

“Nine. I’ll pick you up.” He glances at my outfit—black T-shirt, black cargos, black combat boots. “Wear something that doesn’t scream hired killer. Khakis, maybe. A polo.”

“I don’t own a polo. Or khakis.”

“Then we’ll stop on the way. You can’t walk into a golf club looking like you’re there to collect a debt.” A pause. “Actually, scratch that. You can’t walk into a golf club at all without people noticing. You’re the size of a refrigerator.”

“I’ll wait in the car.”

“No. I need you inside. I need you reading the room while I read the mark.”

“Fine. Not wearing khakis.”

“Navy chinos.”

I sigh. “I’ll figure it out.”

He grins. “This guy’s going to be different from Davis. Connected. Careful. Probably has security on rotation. We’ll need to be smarter.”

“We’re always smart.”

“We’re usually smart. Last time, we let a wildcat loose and look where that got us.” Said without judgment, just fact. “Odin’s right. We can’t afford another situation like that. We take this guy out clean. No witnesses. No fallout.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt. Sit there a second longer than I need to.

“Sunday at nine.”

“Bring your eyes. Leave the feelings in the car.” It’s said like a joke. His face isn’t laughing.

I get out and shut the door. The Audi pulls away before I’ve taken two steps, Holden disappearing into traffic like he was never there. Two seconds later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Holden:

fuck you, Milo

Smirking, I’m about to pocket it when it buzzes again.

Milo:

Enjoy your night off, sweetie!

I wait to see if there’s anything further, but all I get is a notification I’ve been invited to a group chat called “Kitten’s Hangmen.”

Fitting.