Page 55 of Hell and High Water

Cleaning myself up, I wrap my ribs, my ankle, my wrist.

“Last job, my ass,” I mumble, licking the blood off my split lip.

It’s time I got to the bottom of who’s been pulling the strings since I got here. And then I can decide what to do about Gavin.

I want to know why members of this organization keep hiring me to kill them all off. What are they trying to keep secret in Sanctum Harbor?

I think there’s one person who can help me with all of the above. Someone I am just dying to meet. I think we’ll have a lot in common, too.

It’s time I paid Gavin’s little girlfriend, Damon’s kid, Hellena Michaels, a visit.

11

EVAN

“Holy shit,” Gavin growls, offering me a hand. “You all right?’

“Great. So good.”

Shaking my head to clear the fuzz, I cough, slouching in the doorway for another second before letting him help me up straight. Pathetic. I barely got a hit in.

“Are you?”

“Absolutely not.” He leaves me once I’m standing without wavering, glaring out the door after our assailant.

The slender, tall whip of a woman who just handed me my ass and nearly killed me like I was barely a threat. I definitely need to get back to training.

“So, that's a shooter, huh?”

“Yep. No two ways about it,” Gavin mutters.

“Why do I get the impression you know exactly who that is?”

Gavin grimaces, avoiding my gaze. I can visibly see him clamming up, shutting off. It’s not hard to recognize an old wound, freshly opened.

I have a few myself.

And now I have another, a bloody slice along my shoulder that burns like hell. Better than getting shot through, I suppose.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here, just in case they come back. Need to get you patched up.” Gavin storms out, slinging the safe up onto his shoulder like a sack of grain instead of a two-hundred-pound iron box.

Everything aches as I follow him, adrenaline fading, leaving me feeling frayed and drowsy. It’s been a long time since I've been in a real fight. My muscles are tight, cramping.

Doesn’t help that I have been sitting at a desk for the past two weeks, barely working out or training.

“Do you want to take the back way home?”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

The entire way back to Gavin's house, we're both charged, watching the mirrors for any sign of pursuit. He takes a few roundabouts, backtracking and looping to make sure.

We can’t afford any more surprises.

Not that I’m not expecting one once he finally tells me what the hell is going on.

“I’m not typically one to pry, but…”

“So don’t.”

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