Page 104 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

“Good thing I almost have it completed, then,” Cassel says as I realize he’s just been over there single-handedly demolishing the puzzles while we’re single-handedly demolishing my capability of living to old age.

I drop the fake weapon and hurry over to Cassel. “We’re going to die.”

He gives me a look of surprise. “Oh, hey, you’re okay. I guess we could have filled you in on what was going on. I think we keep forgetting that you’re not a thrill seeker like the rest of us,” Cassel says as he dumps some puzzle items into my hands. “I promise you’re not going to die. It’s going to be okay!”

I’m convinced he’s wrong. “We’re definitely going to die.”

Cassel grabs my shoulders. “I promise that we won’t put you in a situation that we’re not confident we have the upper hand in.”

I don’t feel overly reassured as I trail around after Cassel since he’s the farthest person from Betty, aka the woman who’s going to get me killed.

Tavish heads over and pats my shoulder. “This birthday is just getting more and more exciting. And Ellis, I love the face you’re making in the picture. It’s hilarious. You really pulled out your acting pants for it.”

“Tavish,” Cassel hisses.

“Huh?”

“I… don’t think he was acting,” Cassel whispers, like he thinks I might not be able to hear.

Tavish hesitates. “Wait… are you worried?”

I gawk at him, really unsure how he could have missed that memo. “Of course I’m fucking worried,” I hiss. “This is the guy who beat the shit out of me. I thought I might die. I thought he was going to beat me to death.”

Tavish squeezes my arm. “But now you can beat the shit out of him, and he’s just going to stand there and take it because he doesn’t want his mom hurt. It’s fine. I promise.”

How can they all just act so casual about all of this?

“It’s not fine!” I say.

Tavish seems uncertain about what to do. “But it is? We have complete control over this. There’s really nothing to worry about.”

He just doesn’t get it! How the fuck can he not get it? I guess to someone like him, the threat over this seems so low, but to me…

“I need to use the bathroom. Betty, where’s the bathroom?” I ask.

“Right out that way,” she says. “Would you like me to take you?”

“No, I have it,” I reply as I dump the puzzle pieces in Tavish’s hands before I hurry out the way we came. I rush into the bathroom, but before I shut the door, Tavish slips in.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and that was really stupid of me,” he says, looking genuinely upset that he’s made me worry.

I want to tell him it’s okay, but I feel like I don’t even know how to gain control of the situation.

“Am I the weird one?” I ask. “You guys all… all of you are like, ‘Yeah, this is fine! This is fun!’ but you’re egging on a man who will want to kill us over this.”

Tavish holds his arms out. “I… don’t know how to do this comforting thing, so you’re going to have to help me out.”

I hesitate before stepping up into him and tucking my head against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me. I take a deep breath before saying, “Fucking hell. This is such a reckless idea. How can you guys not see how reckless it is?”

Tavish seems uncertain of what to say. “I guess… I didn’t realize how reckless it is because… in my eyes, it really doesn’t seem that reckless. You have to understand that all of us have been doing this shit for our entire lives or for a good portion of it. But I think we also struggle to understand that you haven’t been. I can guarantee you this—Miller will not risk the life of his mother who he clearly cares about. Right now, we have two people: Eugene and that other guy who know very little. But from the beginning, Miller was Arthur’s right-hand man. A man like that will have a better idea of what’s going on than anyone. We could go in guns blazing, but realistically, this will be the safest option.

“Miller will be instructed to bring no weapons in. He won’t risk the life of his family member. Getting answers will be significantly easier and result in a whole lot less fighting.”

His arms feel tight around me, and there’s something reassuring about the hold of them that makes me feel like things might actually be okay.

“I think you’re using your muscles and handsome face to trick my brain. Being hugged is just releasing serotonins that are fooling me into feeling like ‘You know what? Tavish is totally right. All of this will one hundred percent be fine.’”

“Then why don’t you hug me every time you feel like something’s wrong?”

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