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“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You can go.”

She jumps up and hurries to the door, pausing in the doorway before turning and looking back, her eyes landing on mine. In that moment, I know she sees more than she should. That I’m more than merely a driver for her boss.

“Thank you.”

I incline my head and wait for her to leave.

“You turning into a softie, Pete?” Atlas asks, holding up the Post-it note.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m a changed man,” I say, gathering my notes into a pile before standing and walking over to take the address from him.

He chuckles. “Let me know when it’s done. I’ll make sure security monitors her.”

“I’ll do some recon, but it won’t be tonight. I have plans.”

“Plans that don’t involve murder?”

I laugh, shoving baby daddy’s address into my pocket. “I might be a gun for hire, but we both know out of the three of us, I’m the sane one. Fuck knows what that says about you.”

“Got me the girl though.” He smirks, looking smug as fuck. “How’s that working out for you?”

I glare at him.

“Ah, she’s your plans for tonight, huh?”

“It’s her birthday.”

“Ah. The big one eight. Just think, when you were her age, her mom was probably just learning how to swallow.”

“You’re one to talk. Pretty sure you robbed the cradle yourself.”

He grins unrepentantly. “And I have zero fucks to give. Advice, though—you might want to limber up. These young ones can be very bendy.”

“Fuck, I miss the days when I used to wonder if I’d walk in and you’d shoot me just for looking at you wrong.” I sigh.

He laughs as I head to the door and yank it open.

“And stock up on energy drinks,” he calls out as I slam the door behind me.

Everyone’s a fucking comedian.

I grab a beer from the fridge and pop the cap, taking a couple of mouthfuls before setting it on the counter.

When the doorbell rings, I grab my wallet and head down the hall to answer it. I open the door and pull out some cash to hand to the delivery guy before taking the bag.

“Thanks, man.” The guy smiles when he sees how much I’ve tipped him.

Giving him a nod, I close the door and carry the bag of food to the kitchen. Placing the bag on the counter, I start pulling out the containers. I pause when I hear the door open and close again, followed by muffled voices that get louder as they approach. Both Abbot and Starling appear in the doorway. Abbot notices the food and walks right in, while Starling hesitates, trying to avoid me, I guess. Unfortunately for her, that’s not going to work.

“What’s all this?” Abbot questions.

“Birthday dinner. I don’t know what you usually do, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with Chinese.”

Abbot turns to look at Starling, as if waiting for the green light.

“Thank you, Hudson. I don’t usually celebrate my birthday, so this is nice of you.”

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