Page 19 of Kristoff

I dig my fingers into her arm. “Why am I just hearing about this now, you idiot?”

Her eyes pop open. “I-I don’t know.” She shakes her head, taking a step back, trying to pull herself free. “I heard from Sydney,” she rushes to explain. “But I hadn’t seen you all day.”

No, of course not. I’ve been on a useless errand, when I should have been here, to hear the news myself.

I should be organizing a search of the area to show Faust my dedication. If he has that many people involved, the woman must be important. If I’m the one to bring her back, there’s sure to be recognition and some sort of reward for the monumental effort. And they should be mine.

“Bah!” I shove her away. If anything’s happening in this town, those Schuniors are in the middle of it. I know it! Turning on a heel, I head for the bar, intent on doing a thorough search. How many times have I had to do this? I should throw them both in a cell and take over the bar. Maybe I should strip the walls. If I find their money, I can get out of this sty sooner.

Oh! If I find the teacher there, I can arrest them for kidnapping, turn her in for the money, then come back and tear through the walls. Once I’m done, I’ll take Celia and head back to Georgetown. Surely I can wrap things up and be on a plane at this time tomorrow.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kristoff

Late Thursday, and I’m manning the kitchen. This is the least I can do considering he and Celia have been taking the brunt of the work since yesterday. Meanwhile, I’ve been spending my time in bed with Brianna.

I may have spent most of last night buried inside her tight little body, but I could easily go back and do it all over again right now.

Harlan comes through the door and goes straight to the small refrigerator sitting in the corner.

“Celia’s still out?” he asks, putting a bottle opener to the cap.

“Yeah. I told her to go ahead and take the rest of the day.” She deserves some time off.

Harlan pulls a strip of fajita from the glass container to do a taste test.

“Perfect as always, big brother,” he says, with a grin. “You nearly missed your calling.” He takes a second piece from the container.

I chuckle quietly, knowing he’s a fool for fajitas, Mexican rice, and charro beans.

“Though I do like this more laid-back version of you.” He snorts. “If I’d known getting you to relax was this easy, I would’ve gotten you laid a long time ago.”

And we have anotherHarlan said too muchmoment. “Thanks.” My sarcasm flies right by him, so I give him a disgusted glare as I run a knife through the skirt steak, cutting the strip down to bite-sized pieces. Thankfully, we still have time before customers arrive for dinner. Still, anyone can walk in at any point.

“All bullshit aside,” Harlan says, “I’m surprised you’ve been so understanding of the situation.”

“What do you mean?” I grab some ripe tomatoes, onions, and peppers to fix some pico de gallo.

Harlan steps back, swinging the door open to check the bar area and make sure we’re still alone. “You spent the last couple years being paranoid as fuck. Now we’re housing someone who’s on the run. Any other time, I would’ve expected you to kick anyone out on their ass.”

He’s not wrong. My biggest concern since the world learned we were dead is keeping a low profile. We’ve been careful to avoid every possibility of trouble along the way. In the beginning, this included paying to avoid even a hint of anything questionable about us.

“Don’t think the potential risk hasn’t crossed my mind.” And yet I still haven’t been able to put together a plan. “I figure she’s in the same situation we’re in, so kicking her out feels like I’d be shooting us in the foot.” After so many years, I’m a believer in karma, and she’s a mighty bitch.

“I get you, bro.” He takes a drink of beer. “So, how did you come across our guest?”

I nearly slice off my fingertips at his words. I set aside the knife and onion. “She came in when you took out the trash the other night.”

He stops, the drink halfway to his mouth.

“I don’t have to remind you we have wild animals in the area.”

Harlan closes his eyes. “Shit.” He keeps mouthing the word as he sets the bottle on the table.

“It could have also easily been someone trying to rob us, or worse.”

He bows his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

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