Page 4 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

“Hey, Cassel, how about you throw the Scottish Shithead down a flight of stairs again? That’s always a good way to end the day,” the strange one says.

The new guy laughs heartily at the idea of tossing a person down the stairs… I’m starting to lose hope.

“Ah, good times. One of my favorite times. Best part of my youth, honestly,” the man apparently called Cassel says. At least I’m gaining some names so when I go to the police—if I live through this—I can tell them who was responsible.

“Wasn’t that like a month ago?”

What the fuck is wrong with all of these people? Maybe the new guy didn’t get the hint that I need help.

I thrash some more, kicking for all I’m worth.

“Did you guys seriously abduct someone and not call me? You know I love abducting people,” Cassel says.

What the fuck? He’s into it too? Is this just like some cult of people who love kidnapping others?

“I suggested that when he’s done with him, I buy a huge chunk of land and we’ll let the guy in the trunk go and hunt him down,” the strange one says.

“Oh damn…”

Finally! Finally someone sees how fucked up this is.

“That sounds delightful!”

How? NO! I thought for sure he was going to see an issue with this, butnope, he’s almost giddy as he goes, “I’m in. How about the person who wins gets all of Leland’s money?”

Now there’s a Leland? Which one is he?

“Then what do I get if you win? Ooh! How about I get a picture of Jackson posing naked on top of The Fence.”

What the fuck is “The Fence”? And why would he be naked? Is it a sex thing?

I decide that I’m done. There is no longeranypart of me that wants to be saved by any of these people. Maybe if I stop throwing a ruckus, they’ll forget I even exist, and then when some other normal person walks by, I’ll start up again.

“Why’d your trunk go eerily quiet?” Cassel asks.

“Did you kill him before we even got to hunt him down?” the guy I’m guessing is Leland says. “Oh no, did you leave him in there with like a pair of your socks or something and the musty smell you exude killed him? That’s so sad.”

“My scent is like musk that makes men tremble in anticipation,” the Scottish man says.

“That just…” Cassel starts, but even he can’t find words to finish this. Is he finally realizing how fucked up this all is?

The Leland guy makes an odd noise. “It’s sad, is what it is. I think your trunk mate is dead. I would probably rather keel over than sit alone in a car with you as well.”

Suddenly I hear someone in front of the trunk a moment before it opens, revealing four men staring in at me. Shocked, I realize I recognize two of them.

“Hey! That’s the vet tech at the place we take Cayenne and Sarge!” Leland says as he stares in at me.

I almost choke on my relief. He knows who I am, he’ll know that I shouldn’t be part of this fucked-up… cult or whatever it is. He knows how much I coo to his dogs. He knows that Sarge hates everyone else in the office besides me, so I’m the vet tech who’s always tasked with holding him when he comes in. Last time he even gave me the smallest lick on my hand after I’d given him a treat. I finally won that damn dog’s approval. That should count for something, right?

“Huh,” the guy I now realize is Jackson comments.

“Right? Who knew he was a murdering, sadistic asshole?” Leland says. “But he still looks alive to me, so good job not murdering him yet, shithead.”

I stare at him in disbelief. A… sadistic murderer? Me? In what universe didany of themcome to that conclusion? I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket! In high school, I got awarningbecause I didn’t realize a teacher was talking—not even a detention—andcried about it. How the hell could they think I’m a murderer? Is that what this is? They’ve mistaken me for someone else, and I just have to tell them they have the wrong guy, right? Maybe they’re like some vigilantes or something, and it’s all one huge mistake, and then they’ll untie me, and we’ll laugh about it as I run off and tell the police that they’re out of control.

“This is why I tell Jeremy to never trust anyone,” the one called Cassel says. “I swear my next-door neighbor has bodies in the basement.”

“Isn’t she like ninety?” Jackson asks.

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