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Bennett
An argument upstairs captured my attention sometime after the sun set again. Thus far, no one came downstairs. I could have been dead in here and they’d never know. Which, according to the argument, wouldn’t have been good for them.
I tracked the thumping back and forth as one of the men paced above me, cobwebs and a century’s worth of dirt drifting downward. The other voice remained stationary.
“This ain’t good, man. Not good at all.”
“Just tell me what the fuck happened.”
“Jesse’s arm is broke in two different spots!”Broken, hillrod. Not “broke.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Jesse. I mean, how the hell did you two screw this up in the first place?”
“Tall, skinny, in a suit. That’s who we saw. How were we supposed to know it wasn’t the right guy?”
My brows furrowed at that. Not the right guy? IfIwasn’t the target, that meant Leander was. I exhaled my anger so I could focus on the rest of the conversation.
The stationary one, and the one who had to be the “brains” of the operation, answered in a yell. “Because you were paid to know!”
The pacing stopped. I pictured the man cowering. I didn’t know if he was afraid of the man in front of him or the one writing the check.
“I’ll make it right,” Dumb Dumb said after a minute.
“You better. ‘Cuz it’s not going to bemyass on the line,” the other voice snapped before heavy boots thumped across the floor and a door slammed shut.
Learning I wasn’t the one they were after was a turn I wasn’t expecting. But the fact they wanted Leander made me equally furious. Expelling a sharp breath, I tried to reel my emotions in. I couldn’t let anger get the best of me. Even if I was pretty sure I could outsmart Tweedle Dee and Dumb in my sleep, I needed to stay focused so I could get out of here.
The same reasons I was potentially targeted applied to Leander as well — revenge or ransom. He had his own stack of bodies beyond being the most-hated person in Easton. Not to mention his big ass bank account.
But things had been good lately.We’dbeen good lately. We hadn’t planned to murder anyone new, nor had either of us actually offed anyone since I took out Lorelei’s meddling mother. Lorelei retracted her damn article on the last day of her deadline and forwarded her email to the journal as proof, along with the shortest, shittiest mea culpa known to man.
We removed a corrupt lawyer from his own firm, guaranteeing he wouldn’t take advantaged of his poor, unsuspecting clients ever again. With Caleb’s help, Leander was able to recover most of the money stolen from the trust over the years.
He also got the remainder of Russ’s payout for the damages he won in civil court, which prompted a lengthy discussion of Russ and Nora’s untimely demise. I, for one, was simplyshockedto learn Russell owed money to some rather unsavory people. Wouldn’t you know it? Those debt collectors came and murdered Russ and his innocent girlfriend, Nora, and left their tortured bodies in a soybean field before setting Russ’s beat-up truck on fire.
Leander didn’t look like he boughtanyof my bullshit, but he kissed me all the same and gave me one hell of a blowjob for my efforts. For the first time in weeks, he had a peaceful night of sleep, which meantIhad a peaceful night of sleep.
Other than sending off a complaint to the Illinois Department of Professional Regulation detailing Lorelei’s unethical relationship with both her patient and the prosecuting attorney on Leander’s case, I hadn’t done anything to anyone. Scout’s honor.
The majority of our attention had been focused on the renovations at the mansion, adjusting to a cozier lifestyle in the little teal cottage, and settling into domestic bliss.
So what the fuck was I missing?
* * *
The metal doorswung open with a groan. It could have been minutes or hours after the argument upstairs. Other than a general sense of light and dark outside the window, I had no way to tell the time. All I really knew was the concrete was beyond uncomfortable and as soon as I was out of here I was spending a week at the spa.
Tucking my hands behind my back, I secured my grip on the ice pick and waited.
A man stepped inside, wearing a worn flannel shirt and jeans with dirty knees. From the gunk under his fingernails, he looked like a farmer or a mechanic, not a kidnapper.
“Good, you’re awake,” he grunted, making his way over to me with a bottle of water.
“Who are you?” I knew the odds of him answering were slim, but I had to try.
He ignored me and unscrewed the cap from the plastic bottle.
“Where are we?”
