Page 40 of Hell and High Water

And my jobs were always high-stress, high-stakes.

Yet most of it managed to stay relatively mundane.

Post up. Survey. Find the mark.

Rescue the target.

Or take the shot.

Sifting through the mire of adrenaline and the murky waters of regret and remorse adds another layer, making remembering even more difficult. Which is why the only place I am going to find an answer, if there is one, is in my old stash, the backup files of every job I’ve done.

If Damon were alive, he’d shit a brick that I have any evidence of any of it.

I take the long way out and around the north end of my property, one of the dirt roads that will keep me out of sight of the main road in case someone’s staked out my front gate.

Everything is as I left it a few weeks back.

A little more overgrown.

Unlocking the garage, I clear the room first, sweeping the building to make sure no one has been in.

“Clear,” I mutter, dragging the workbench back and uncovering the slab where I keep my stash.

Snatching the leather case and leaving the rest of my old gear, I head down the drive, jiggling the back door lock and slipping into the house.

Still smells like Hellena.

Her laundry, her shampoo.

I let the scents calm me as I retrieve the code key from the spare bedroom wall, another hidden panel.

Setting up at the kitchen table, I plug in the laptop and wait for it to boot.

I’m about to sit down when the tiniest shiver runs down my neck, a split second before a knife presses to my throat.

It barely has time to touch my skin before I’m twitching away, driving my head back into the attacker's face, spinning and sweeping my leg out as I stab the wrist holding the knife with stiffened fingers.

“Ow!” The blade clatters to the floor a second before the body lands, my boot pressed to the attacker’s neck. A very familiar attacker.

“Gavin…’s me!” The strangled grunt has me growling, reaching down to drag the pretty jackass to his feet.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” I growl, forcing down my instinct to finish him off and shoving him back a step. “Sneaking up on me is a quick way to an early grave.”

Evan smirks, still cocky, like I didn’t just hand him his ass.

He doesn’t even have the decency to look disheveled.

“One of these days, I’ll get the drop on you.” Evan winces, rubbing his wrist. “I barely heard you come in.”

“I’ll give you credit, I didn’t sense you at all when I first came in.”

“Didn’t do me much good, now, did it? You’re fucking fast.”

I shrug, smirking back at him. “Hellena’s dirty mouth is rubbing off on you, pretty boy.”

He really is way too damn good looking.

“It really is. After all my hard work to be classy…” Evan smirks.

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