Page 4 of The Hitman's Vice

Dane:Isn’t moving—he’s off the eastside, past the ghetto caution sign.Send M for him. Gettingtwins. Be ready.

“And where is it you want me coming, Dane?”Zara sidled up too close for comfort with a come-fuck-me giggleuntil he nudged her through the door.

“Enough, Z.”

She glanced back at the still-unmovingKirke. “Aren’t you going to take him too? If you’re ruining Gia’snight, you should get paid for it.”

“If I walk back over there, I’ll put two inhis chest for drugging your cute little ass.”

“I’m not drugged! I just had, like, threeshots.”

“Sure. I believe that. Now, where the fuckis Gia?”

She breezed past him into the ruins,wobbling ever so slightly, her phone appearing from her tinyclutch. “By the other bar. I think.”

Dane followed her. He wasn’t too worriedabout Kirke. Even if he woke up, he had nowhere to crawl. And whenAdam Fitzgerald found out his darling twins were in this shithole,someone would catch Hell and every one of its fires. Dane had asickening suspicion about who that someone was, but he prayed hewas wrong.Not that prayers do fuck-all.“Text her,” hesaid, swiping off another message to Sawyer. “The car’s meeting usout of the south tunnel.” He let his hand settle against her lowerback to guide her through the rotten mess of the outer room.

“Fuck. I’m way too drunk to go down thetunnels.”

“Should’ve stayed home, then.” He waiteduntil she glanced up. “Seriously, why here? Thiscannotbeyour new scene.”

She cast him a smile as bright as a summersky. “That’s what makes it perfect. Who would’ve thought to lookhere? Just bad luck about you…” Her gaze caught on his lips. Herattention flicked back to her phone. They’d gotten too close to theroaring party for much useful conversation anyway.

He took her hand to lead her through a knotof wiggling, grinding dancers. At the edge of the dance floor, hefinally spotted Gia. Zara’s twin held a red cup in her brightlymanicured talons and a neon-pink straw between her lips, her vapid,doe-eyes fixed on a slouching, slurring jackass with a man-bun andhoop earrings. Who was definitely not getting laid. Dane turnedsharply to reach her, already angry at losing contact with Zara’sskin. He tapped Gia’s shimmery shoulder.

Gia cranked her head around, her flawlesslydesigned brows knitting together until she got a good look at hisface. Her eyes rounded, and she cast a helpless stare at her twin.Man Bun opened his mouth, but Dane cut him off with a curt.“Leave.”

“Hey, bro, I—”

“Now.” Dane flicked his jacket showing thehandle of his piece and the bulge of a switchblade in his pocket.“You’re gone.”

Man Bun scurried off into the dance floormelee. Dane watched him vanish with a satisfied smirk. Nobody intheir right mind would fight for Gia. He let go of her glitteryshoulder and wiped his hand on his shirt—it was already fucked upwith Kirke’s blood, so why not add stripper glitter—before reachingfor Zara. A smidge of tension left him when her fingers threadedthrough his.

“Shit.” Gia set her drink down on a handystack of moldering pallets. “How’d you find out we were here?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you home,” Danesaid, his voice frosty. He knew damn well Gia was the reason thetwins were present in the first place. And the reason Zara wasalone with that scumbag. Gia was too selfish to give a single shitabout her twin’s welfare.

“If Dad’s bugged our phones again, I’msetting the guesthouse on fire, I swear to God,” Gia muttered, herbrown gaze mutinous. Coming from her, it wasn’t an idlethreat.

The twins’ near-identical exteriors fooledmany people, but one of them was rotten to the core. He’d watchedGia wheedle, lie, and bully everyone around her by turns foryears—whatever it took to get whatever she wanted. Dane reflexivelytightened his hold on Zara as memories replayed—particularly theday Gia shoved Zara down the grand Fitzgerald Mansion staircase.He’d stopped Zara from moving until the butler and maids camerunning while Gia stood ten stairs above them, fake-crying abouthow sorry she was. All because she wanted the lead in a recital,and Zara got it. He’d known for a long time that Ben was tormentinghis younger siblings— the same way he tortured anyone else and theoccasional kitten. But until the moment Zara’s right femur snapped,he’d never considered that Gia might torment the others with evenless restraint.

“Just bad luck this time,” Zara assured hertwin with the same unflappable calm she’d shown that day on thestaircase. Even with her leg broken, she hadn’t panicked. He likedthat about Zara. You could always reason with her. Gia was a humantornado fueled by vodka and spite.

“Whatever.” Gia sniffed. “Let’s go. Thisplace is gross, anyway. I don’t know why the fuck Ben picked thisvenue.”Ben.That name dropped into Dane’s gut like a stone.So, he really is running this hunting ground.Some lastcorner of Dane’s soul hoped it wasn’t true—that it was an associateor a coincidence—and Ben wasn’t really the one pulling the strings.But if Gia said Ben chose this place…

And he’s throwing a party where theOutfit drops bodies. Fuck.That was a message Dane didn’t wantto read.

Gia checked her phone and looked in thedirection Man Bun had fled. “At least you look half-decent tonight,Ryan.” She used his surname like she was addressing one of theregular household employees. “Dad must’ve given you araise.”

“You got it,” he said flatly. No matter howhealthy his bank accounts were, he wasn’t rolling in the Fitzgeraldbillions and never would.At least she isn’t fighting to stay.Yet.He didn’t trust Gia’s convenient equanimity would last, sohe pointed her toward the main entrance, surrounded by its fadingglow-stick markers, and marched off, towing Zara at his side. Giacould make her own path or follow in their wake. He’d tase and haulher out the hard way if she made him turn around.

****

“Jesus Christ on a cracker.” Sawyer gaped asthey walked out of the main tunnel. He stood beside an idling blacksedan. Dane checked the long-vacant industrial park around them,noting the fresh tire tracks and a few scattered cars hidden in theshadows of the rotting outbuildings and silos. “I thought you werejoking. But, uh, guess not.” Sawyer cleared his throat and pointedthe twins toward the car, tactfully ignoring that Dane had one armaround Zara’s waist to support her. She’d thrown up twice in thelast tunnel and every step was more unsteady than thelast.

“Zara’s sick,” Dane said by way ofexplanation. “Someone gave her something.”

Sawyer ruffled his sandy hair and dragged acouple trash bags out of the trunk where they’d been intended tocover Kirke. “Right. Okay. That’s fine. I’ll get the car detailedagain tomorrow. And the, uh, other guest is taken careof.”

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