Page 118 of Trigger Happy

She snorts. Then I do. It spirals from there. I clutch my stomach, laughing harder and harder until my abs feel like I just did a thousand crunches. We probably sound deranged, but the only thing around to judge us is the mountain lion.

After another few bouts of snort-laughter, we compose ourselves, staring at each other with a What now? expression.

Bobbi swipes at her mascara-streaked eyes. “I can’t believe you saved me from becoming cat food, especially after—”

“After you came up with a murder scheme that makes Charles Ponzi look like child’s play? Yeah. I did. So you better remember that the next time you think about killing me.”

She looks down at the dirt. “Why not just let the cat get me?”

Her betrayal is of the highest order, a crime worse than athleisure companies making gray workout clothes ready to show every pit stain. I’ll need a few (a hundred) more apologies from her before having a heart-to-heart and admitting I actually liked our fake friendship.

“Because watching someone get mauled is a level of trauma I, personally, do not need in my life. I already have enough issues.”

“You have issues?” she says, brows flying to her cropped hair. “My dead ex-boyfriend was a serial killer.”

“You want my psychiatrist’s number?”

She lets out a wet laugh. “So… are we good?”

“Good?” I cackle, an actual deranged cackle. “No, we’re not ‘good.’ You tried to kill me, so if I were you, I’d be working on a handwritten, ten-page apology letter. You should be thanking me for saving you from a tragic death. I bet you were next on Walker’s list.”

I can’t think about all the women on that list without gagging. I should’ve dragged out Walker’s death, made it more painful.

She holds up a hand, but I notice her lip wobbling. “Don’t even say his name. I can’t. If he were still alive, I’d dip a chainsaw in gasoline, light it on fire, and use it to shave his head.” She suddenly dry heaves, looking down at her wrist. “Oh my god. You’re taking me to a tattoo removal place because I need these coordinates off my skin.”

“Yeah, when we found Ella Payne’s body there, we…” I trail off when her face goes green. “You didn’t know? Walker must have—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Okay.” I nod. My guess is he lured Ella into the woods sometime when he was here to visit Bobbi.

She puts a fist to her mouth and gags. “I have made some really terrible life choices.”

“Yeah. Corpse Candles? Did you really think people would buy those off Etsy?”

She frowns. “This is the part where you make me feel better, bitch.”

“Your taste in THC seltzer?” I give her a chef’s kiss. “Impeccable.”

“Much better.”

She loops her arm through mine, and we stroll back down the mountain. I try to push her off, but she won’t let me.

This woman’s insane.

We zigzag through the forest, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, the cicadas swelling in the peaceful quiet. I keep one hand on my gun though, in case she flips another switch, but for once, she’s quiet. She doesn’t make any jokes or go off on random tangents. It’s like all the sunshine is slowly leaking out of her, and I can’t blame her. It has to be hard finding out your ex was a murderer, so I give her the space to process and stay quiet.

“You think all this was just fate’s weird way of bringing us together?” she eventually says. “Like twisted soulmates or something?”

“Soulmates?” I nearly choke on my saliva. “You tried to murder me, lest you forget. You’ve gone from a situational acquaintance to a frenemy, at best, so you’ve got a lot of groveling to do before you reach platonic soulmate level.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, stop lying to yourself. You know you’re glad you found someone like me. Now we can both complain about how much it sucks to drag a corpse through the woods at night. Do I look like a Pilates instructor? Don’t answer that.”

“No. You’re not toned enough. It’s all that fancy cheese.”

“I said, don’t answer that,” she says, punching my arm. “I hate you.”

“Hate you too, babe.”