Page 16 of Trigger Happy

“I’m joking,” she says. “Are you on a date?”

“I’m on a job.”

She pauses. “You’re not with that girl again, are you?”

I glance at Sabrina sipping her spiced martini. My gut tightens. “No. All alone.”

Sabrina waves up and down her body like she’s saying, Um, hello? I’m right here!

“Good. I’d have to disown you if you were, and it’s so hard to find a family law attorney who does things under the table.” Mom tsks in my ear. “I thought you were taking a break? It’s always work-work-work, and frankly, I’m worried about you.”

Christ, not now. “Ma, I’m fine.”

“And it wouldn’t kill you to get out more. Maybe go on a couple dates?” she adds, too damn hopeful. “What happened to Katya? I liked her. She was great with a machete.”

My stomach knots at Katya’s name. I try not to think about her anymore. Across the table, Sabrina arches a brow. My mom’s got a loud voice, so she clearly heard.

“ ‘Good with a machete’ isn’t what I’m looking for in a woman,” I say. “I know how to use a knife.”

I don’t know what I want, but it’s not Katya. And it’s not Ma’s saggy pep talks. If I hear the words get some fresh air! one more time, someone’s getting stabbed.

“It should be,” Mom says. “You never know when you’ll be out of bullets. What about—”

“You don’t need to set me up on a date,” I say.

There’s a gagging noise as Sabrina coughs up her cocktail. She better be choking, not laughing.

I’m not really in a spot to date a woman, anyway. What I need is a therapist, but the only one on the black market is the guy Walker used to see, but he’s Ted Bundy’s second cousin, and well, I’m a killer, not a psycho.

There’s a muffled thump on the line, then I hear Dad hollering about where the zip ties went. Mom yells something about checking by the tranquilizer darts, then returns to the conversation. “All I’m saying is that you should smile more like you used to. Save the glares for the criminals.”

Sabrina can’t stop laughing, so I mutter, “I have to go. Love you. Call me if you need anything.”

I slip the phone into my pocket before she can set me up on a blind date with a gold smuggler. Sabrina opens her mouth.

I point my finger at her. “Don’t start.”

She starts. “Okay, I thought I had dating issues, but are you really so bad at it that you need your mom to set you up?”

I haven’t wanted to date. Not since Walker died. But I’m not about to dump my trauma on the woman whose family is responsible for it in the first place.

“My mom’s got better taste in women than I do,” I say. “So I’d be an idiot not to give them a shot.”

“Is she the one who set you up with Katya?” she asks, sounding too casual about it.

There’s that familiar twinge in my chest. “I’m not talking about Katya with you.”

“Aw,” she says. “Did the—” Russian sniper, she mouths, “break your fragile heart?”

“Chastain,” I warn, low.

She gets the hint and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Fine. So why’d you lie to your mom about being with me?”

“ ’Cause I didn’t want to deal with the hour-long lecture about how I can’t trust you and you’ll stab me in the back.”

“I wouldn’t stab you. I’d soak your toothpicks in arsenic.” She flags down the waiter for the check. “As tolerable as this happy hour has been, it’s almost four, and I need to go check into my rental.”

“Where are you staying?”