Page 29

“You left that in the hole,” he says gently, sitting across from me again.

I don’t speak.

He was already putting pieces together. This is just the last bit of the puzzle.

If he looked in my trunk and saw my “work bag,” oh, God. I’m so dead.

I’m already gonna be dead.

“Who’s after you?” he asks in a calm, serious voice.

“Wh-who?” Wait. That’s not what I thought was going to happen...

“I know that you don’t want to trust someone like me—especially not since I mentioned my ties to some bad people—but I need the truth, or I can’t help protect you. Who is after you—and why?”

If he kills me, it’s over. That might be a relief.

I’m not sure if I believe in Heaven or Hell, not if you can take dead things and just make them into other living things.

But if I don’t believe in Heaven—then where’s Emily?

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not affiliated with the mob anymore, but as someone who ran from them—I know the signs. Travel light, no extras, dark car, dark clothes, big gun, stay hidden...” Lazarus shakes his head. “Something happened in California. Something that made them chase you.”

I swallow hard, because yeah, it’s true. And I killed them. The first ones after Frank were the hardest, but then Pazcuso recruited me, and things got easier. He wanted to clean out anyone still loyal to Frank and still moving product for Bocella’s organization. Those were all the men who’d used me, who’d given me reasons to fear and hate.

“I killed someone,” I whisper, feeling my heart pounding as the words escape.

Lazarus flinches, one big, full-body twitch. “What?”

“Frank Bocella. The man who punched me. Knocked me down the stairs. The one who wouldn’t let me say no,” I half-whimper. “He killed my baby. Emily. I call her Emily. I killed him.”

“Bocella! Shit, I know him. Well, I know of him. The guy who ‘commissioned’ me was a rival of his. You ever hear the name Pazcuso?”

I nod jerkily.

“Bet you did. He and Bocella hated each other. So. You killed the bastard who killed your little girl?”

I nod, breath gone again. Waiting.

“Oh. Well. Makes two of us. I killed Joe Pazcuso and Dr. Lazenby. The ones who made me. They were trying to get me to go kill someone else at the time. You reap what you sow. That probably means bad things are going to happen to me,” Lazarus gives a dark chuckle.

“Me too, I guess,” I whisper.

“Nah. Not you. He had it coming.”

“From what I know of Pazcuso and his people, they all have it coming,” I hiss, and yes, I’m aware I’m one of his people, so I’m on that list.

“You think?”

“Yes. Likely.”

“Then, I guess we don’t suck. We killed the killers.” Lazarus holds out a fist.

I flinch, but his hand is still. He wasn’t trying to punch me.

His smile stretches slowly, hesitant and almost shy, like when you’re just making a new friend, and you’re not sure if it’s going to work.

“Fist bump?” he asks.