Page 82 of Pretty Nightmare

“No. Not specifically. Just that he’s been around. And…” He rubs his head again. “How can he be around if he’s fuckin’ dead?” Andrik glances at Maggie. “Pardon my French, little lady.”

Maggie doesn’t say anything back. Not because she doesn’t want to. But I snag her hair with the brush in that same moment and she turns to chastise me with an angry look.

I ignore her and start a French braid high on the top of her head. “Let me deal with those rumors. If anyone else starts talking about Nicholas Tate you will politely remind them that I don’t pay them to speculate.”

Andrik nods. “You got it, boss. Anything else I can help you with today?”

“Yeah. Find me a rubber band for this hair.”

“No,” Maggie says, pointing her finger at Andrik. “Not a rubber band. They snag. Please find Adam a proper hair tie.”

Andrik’s face scrunches up and I imagine he’s wondering what the fuck a proper hair tie is. Because he has no clue about braids. His past experience hasn’t included the specifics of caring for little girl assassins.

I leave the braid untethered. “Never mind, Andrik. We’ve probably got one in the truck somewhere. I’ll catch up with you in a day or two. I have some things I want to talk over. But not today.” Then I slap Maggie on the leg. “Let’s go.”

I’m just closing Maggie’s door and walking around to the driver’s side of the truck when my phone buzzes. Wendy. “Talk to me.”

She blows out a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Nathan called.”

My heart skips. And Maggie is watching me from inside the truck because I have stopped in front of it to take this call. “What did he want?”

“He wants to meet you and McKay in Savannah tomorrow morning.”

“Why?”

“That he did not say. I’ve got details. You gonna go?”

“Probably. I’ll have to talk to McKay first.”

“I would not stand him up. If he’s calling—”

“Hey, why aren’t you surprised that he’s alive?”

“What do you mean?”

“He was dead.”

“He was never dead.”

“Wendy—”

“Adam.” She practically snarls my name. “I don’t owe you explanations, OK? When I agreed to work for you I made it very clear that I had a private life and you were not invited into it.”

“And Nathan is part of your private life?”

“Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Fine. Talk.”

“OK, so several months ago I got word of a woman who was killed out in Wyoming—”

“What’s this have to do with Nathan?” Maggie is making to get out of the truck to listen to my convo, so I put up a hand and shoot her mean eyes. She pouts and crosses her arms as she flings herself back into the seat.

“Nothing. This is something else.”

“Do you have anything else on Nathan?”

“No. I’m trying to tell you about a woman who was killed up in Wyoming.”