Page 119 of Trigger Happy

“Admit it.” She pinches my side. “You like me a little.”

“You’re…” I shake my head, slowly, “kind of scary.”

She places her palm over her heart. “Thank you. Everyone always says I’m ‘too much,’ but I feel like you get me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I keep my smile sealed shut, because over my rotting, maggot-infested body will I ever admit she’s right.

56Sabrina

Three hours after our hike, Bobbi’s trudging up to the barn with a pout on her lips and a bandage wrapped around her wrist. I’ve texted Lawton no less than fifty times, begging him to talk to me, but there’s been no response.

The silence is worse than him pressing a knife to my throat.

“What did you think would happen at the removal place?” I ask, toeing off my shoes on the front porch.

“I thought they’d, like, scrape off the tattoo with a knife or a laser,” Bobbi says. “I didn’t think it’d take six to twelve months of repeated sessions and a commitment to a rewards program.”

“At least you got fifty points for your first visit.” I push open the door to the living room—and reach for my gun.

Orange, buttery sunlight trickles in from the expansive sunset, outlining a man wearing a mask, holding an axe in one hand. There’s a plastic tarp, a pair of pliers on the coffee table, and three cannisters of bleach on the floor.

The only thing missing is a dead body.

For a second, my heart leaps into my throat because I think it’s Lawton, but then the man rips off the mask. Arch.

“Where the hell have you been?” he grunts. “It’s been three hours. Do you know how hot this apron is? It’s pure plastic.”

Bobbi kicks off her hiking boots on one of the cowhide rugs. “Oh, shit. I forgot to text you. We got sidetracked with girl bonding time.” Bonding? “But long story short, we don’t need that axe anymore. Everyone’s limbs will be staying on their bodies tonight.”

The tarp, the pliers. My mouth gapes. “Was that for me?”

All Bobbi does is pat my shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Arch says, tossing the axe aside. He cracks open a bottle of beer instead. Impressive, considering he’s wearing black rubber gloves. “What’s she still doing breathing?”

“Lovely to see you too, Arch,” I say, stealing his beer and taking a sip for myself. “Unfortunately for your IPA, your elaborate murder scheme failed.”

He looks equal parts perplexed and flabbergasted as he turns to Bobbi. “Are you gonna explain or did you want to play twenty questions?”

In typical Bobbi fashion, she launches into an hour-long rant about Walker with a lot of huffing, puffing, and even some axe throwing. A few tears are involved. Arch rubs her back. I’ve taken three bathroom breaks by the time she finishes.

“Damn…” He whistles, eyeing Bobbi, then me, then her again. “So, we like her now?”

“I tolerate her,” I say at the exact same time Bobbi says, “She’s obsessed with me.”

I roll my eyes and turn to Arch. “What’d you get out of this whole disaster?”

“Arch and I go way back,” Bobbi interjects, squeezing his knee. “He saw me through my mouth-guard stage, so he’d set the world on fire if I said ‘please.’ ”

He takes a long, drawn-out sip of beer, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps it down. He won’t look at her, and…

Oh.

I have enough romantic problems that need fixing, so I’m not touching their love life.

I look around the barn. I don’t know where Lawton is, but I thought he’d be back by now to get his things. His cowboy boots and leather jacket are still by the front door, the fresh flowers he stuck in mason jars to seem like the Perfect Husband are there, and the eucalyptus-scented Corpse Candle he insisted on lighting (which—ew) is flickering.

I blow it out.