Page 45 of Assassin Anonymous

It is not.

The rest of the meeting passes in a thick mist and ends with the serenity prayer, even though I’m not feeling very serene. When it’s over I head for the food table to grab a scone on the way out. I don’t want to bolt—that would look suspicious—but I don’t want to linger, either. Anyway, I need to find Astrid. I need to check for word from Kenji, and…

“Mark.”

I turn to find Lavigne with his hand proffered to me. I can’t tell anything about the look on his face, his demeanor, because all I can see is that nub on the side of his skull. I reach for his hand and we shake. “It is good that you came,” he says. “We need each other on days like this, no?”

“We do,” I say, holding my scone, wanting to run, wanting to tell him who I am, and why I did what I did. I was following orders, which is all any of us are doing, but the truth is, that wasn’t an excuse. I made my decision. And after I sighted him in my scope and pulled the trigger, when I saw his head jerk, as he looked around frantically before diving for cover, I was a little disappointed that I didn’t put the bullet into his cerebellum.

The Agency had said to stop him, so killing him was on the table. In a moment of professional solidarity, I figured it best to wing him, but later I felt like it was a sign I’d gone soft.

“I do not know how long you’re in town for, but would you be interested in grabbing a drink?” His eyes duck away from mine a little before meeting them again. “No shop talk, if you don’t want. We don’t have to talk recovery, either.”

Jesus.

He’s hitting on me.

This just keeps getting worse.

He’s a handsome man. And that accent. My taste for men is a little narrower than it is for women, but he’s definitely in my wheelhouse. As I’m playing it out in my head, he senses my hesitation. “Sorry, what is it they call this? Thirteenth stepping?”

Old-timers hooking up with people who have less time in recovery. It’s generally frowned upon, but it happens. If not for the insanely complicated psychosexual component of this, I might have considered it. It would certainly take my mind off everything that’s going on.

But then I can never make amends to him.

After he bared his soul, and I just sat and listened and didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I would. But I’m meeting a friend and things are a little complicated for me right now.”

He puts his hands up and takes a step back, showing me some deference. “Of course. Perhaps if you stay in town a little longer and things settle down…”

“I’m sorry about your ear.”

Lavigne draws himself to full height, puffing his chest out a little. “Thank you. But you do not owe me an apology.”

“Yeah, well…” I start, and then I see the hundred ways this can go wrong. “Just, sorry, is all.”

He shrugs. “It woke me up. It helped get me to this room, and…”

“Holy shit.”

We both look across the room to Hina, standing with her phone in her hand, staring at the two of us. If not for the intervention of a few tendons and some muscle, her jaw would be on the floor. “I just got a text…there was a video posted on the Via Maris…”

No.

She raises a finger at me. “It’s him. The Pale Horse.”

Lavigne turns to me, his eyes raging, and he says, “You…”

The second his shoulder twitches I have my arm up to block the swing. My lizard brain is calculating the angles—slip right, hook to the ribs, uppercut to the jaw—but I push down the instinct and shell up, going straight to defense. I don’t want to hit back. Part of me wonders if I should drop my hands and let him take his shots. So I let him hit me, absorbing the blows and hoping it brings him some modicum of peace.

He lands a few but suddenly they stop, and Ray is holding him in a bear hug. Lavigne is half of Ray’s size, and Ray is still struggling to hold him in place. Liam, meanwhile, is standing in front of Hina, his hands up, saying, “Not for him. He’s not worth it.” She’s trying to duck around him and he’s moving to block her path and I don’t know how long that’s going to last.

“You bastard,” Lavigne says, trying to break free from Ray’s grasp. “You just sat there with a straight face?” He spits in my direction.

“You better go,” Ray says to me. “Now.”

I don’t wait to argue or make my case. As I reach the door I hear Ray call out, “And don’t come back, ay? This particular group maybe isn’t for you.”

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