Page 174 of Pretty Poisoned

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it. And you know what I'd really like?" I ask.

"What's that?"

"A straitjacket for two," I tell him. "It sounds cozy."

"I knew you'd like that."

I sigh. "Maybe in the sequel, it doesn't kill them. They get away with murder and take a nice, long vacation. Spend every day on the beach, swimming and sleeping and fucking and bleeding and…screaming but never fighting except for when they're fucking and they never get caught—not even by Death—for a very, very long time."

"I guess we'll find out," he says.

There's a small knock on the door before Declan steps inside. "You guys about ready?" he asks. "We're six miles from our drop-off point."

"Yeah, we're ready," Luca says.

"Good." Declan doubles back and adds, "You can't take the guitar."

"I fucking know that," Luca says.

Luca begins pulling the guitar strap over his head, sucking a breath through his teeth.

"Stop," I tell him. "Let me help you."

After pulling it over his head, I set it aside and pick up the sling. I help him into it, easing his arm back into the cradle and fastening the waist strap.

"You're so good to me," he says.

"Well, I love you. How does it feel?"

"It's not too bad," he says. "I'm just glad you're staying."

"Did you really think I'd leave you?"

"No," he says, kissing me. "I didn't doubt you for a second. Till death do us part, baby. Let's take that vacation."

TWENTY-EIGHT

Idon't know how long we've been walking.

To be fair, none of us do. We were let off on a scenic byway at a lookout point and have been hiking down the side of a mountain through dense forest for what feels like hours. Declan has a flashlight in the front and Rhett in the back, and the rest of us are in the middle—tired, cold, and blindly following our leader.

And I have to trust Declan knows what he's doing with just a flashlight and a satellite phone.

It's been uneventful for the most part, weaving our way down a slope that, while not the steepest, is still treacherous in darkness.

And Luca's tired. Or in pain. Or a combination of both.

"Declan?" I call softly from just behind him. "How much longer is it? I think Luca needs to sit down."

"I'm fine, Teagan," he says. "I don't want to sit down."

Declan halts, turning and looking his brother over with the flashlight. He's unsteady on his feet, all the color drained from his face. "It isn't much further," he says. He throws Luca's goodarm over his shoulder and wraps his own around his waist. "Take the flashlight, Teagan. Walk next to me."

I take it and move to his side.

"We're less than a mile away now," he says. "He'll be okay."

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