Page 38 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

“You seemed to think I was annoying earlier.”

“That was back when I thought you were a serial killer. It’s weird how traits are less cute on serial killers.”

“So weird,” I say sarcastically.

“So I guess it’ll get you… let’s see… a bullet in Arthur’s head. How’s that sound?”

“Horrific. Like, maybe we could send him to prison or something.”

“Do I look like a cop?”

“No… but…”

“Bullet in the head is my final offer.”

“Maybe we could work on that?”

“Sure. You can work on getting him into prison if he lives through the bullet in the head,” he agrees. “Now, are you ready? This shit is just beginning.”

“As long as I never have to jump out of an airplane again, I think I can do this,” I declare, determined as I take a deep breath. It’s like the weight that’d been crushing me is now less of a crush and more of a tight squeeze.

“You can do this. At least, I’m pretty sure you can,” he says with an exaggerated thumbs-up.

It makes me laugh as I rock back and rub my head. “Okay. Thank you. I feel a little more confident now. Like a tiny bit.”

“Good.” He stands up and holds a hand down to me. I don’t know why I’m so surprised by it. I guess because less than twenty-four hours ago, I was positive this man was going to end my life.

I reach out and grab his hand, which he hauls me up to my feet with.

“Wowie, you boys sure had a dramatic landing,” someone behind us says.

I jump and Tavish swings around fast, hand on his gun, but when we see that it’s just some man… albeit a sketchy-looking man holding a shovel, I relax a little.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tavish demands, clearly not relaxing at all.

“Did you come all the way from Australia or somethin’?” he asks.

“What?” Tavish seems confused.

I’m pretty sure the stranger thinks Tavish is Australian. “Uh, no. We actually really need a phone. Do you have a cell phone?”

“I sure do,” he says as he passes it off and I gratefully take it. The home screen shows a beautiful woman in a bikini with two large breasts spilling out of the tiny top. She must be some kind of model or something that he’s saved an image of.

“That’s my wife. She’s a beaut, ain’t she?”

“Uh…” I glance up at the man who looks like he’s never seen civilization or realized that he’s like twenty years older than the woman in the phone. “Very much.”

Tavish takes the phone from me. “Holy shit, look at them knockers!”

“All natural,” the man says, quite proud.

“I think there are… uh… more pressing things at hand. And that… is rather rude to speak… like that,” I toss out, but neither of the men seem to notice or care.

“Nah, how’s it rude? If someone came up and was like ‘look at the size of that man’s dick,’ I’d be just fine with it,” Tavish says.

I decide that I just don’t have enough energy to have this conversation and wave to the phone he’d taken from me.

Tavish stares at the phone for a long moment before going, “Eh, I don’t know their number.”

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