Page 129 of Three to Fall

“Or we go hit up a different target on the list?”

I grinned at him. “It’s like we share one brain.”

Scythe screwed up his face. “I already share mine with someone, so I’d prefer if we didn’t.”

I chuckled as he directed me to the target’s house, and I parked the car right in the driveway, like I owned the place.

Scythe eyed me. “Bold.”

I reached between us into the back seat and pulled out an empty pizza box. “Less suspicious than parking on the street. This way the neighbors think I’m a friend.” I held up the pizza box. “Or the delivery driver. You coming?”

“Is there actually pizza in that? I’m starving.”

“Focus, Scythe.”

“Right. Sorry. You lead. I’ll follow.”

I nodded, and we both got out of the car. I sniggered at the glint of metal just barely poking out of Scythe’s sleeve. It was the same place I liked to keep my knife as well. I pressed my wrist against the edge of the pizza box, and the steel of my blade touched cold to my skin, reassuring me I hadn’t left it at home.

That had only happened one time, and Whip still gave me shit about it. He was such an asshole. It could have happened to anyone.

Scythe stayed back, sticking to the shadows and out of sight of the doors and windows. While I walked up to the door, channeling my inner pizza delivery guy. I hit the doorbell with the corner of the box.

The door opened, and I recognized the target instantly. Paul Jeddersen. Forty-two. Well known on the streets for abducting and raping women, even though the police could never get him for more than a misdemeanor. The guy was slick, clean, never leaving behind enough evidence to convict.

My skin crawled just at the sight of his clean-cut, suburban dad getup. It was the look that had fooled all his victims into trusting him.

I held the box toward him. “Someone call for a pizza?”

He shook his head. “No. Wrong address.”

I pretended to peer down at my phone. “Paul Jeddersen. 1258 Olympic Drive?”

“That’s me, but I didn’t order the pizza.”

He went to close the door, but I shoved the box at him again, preventing him from shutting me out.

“Is there anyone else here who might have ordered it?”

Irritation crept into the man’s expression. “No. There isn’t. That’s definitely not mine. I don’t even like pizza, I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh damn, you are? That sucks so much. Cheese is the best. Like, it’s actually my favorite thing in the world. But it gives you the farts, huh? Or the squirts?”

Behind me, Scythe chuckled softly.

Paul shook his head. “What?”

“Not eating dairy is a crime, Paul. One you just admitted you are guilty of.”

The man spluttered, clearly flustered. “Like I told you, that pizza isn’t mine. Leave now or I’m calling the police.”

I dropped the box, and the game, wedging my foot in the door. “Well, that’s rude.” I glanced over my shoulder at Scythe. “Isn’t that rude?”

“Very unhospitable.”

“Agreed. Aren’t you going to invite us in, Paul?”

Paul’s fear flickered in his eyes. “Who are you?”

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