Page 59 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

When we reach the lower floor, he heads over and picks up the sheet Waylon left on the table while he’s over in the cupboards scavenging for a snack.

“Oh yeah, I hate the formula layout for this, but you have to start it like this,” he says, grabbing a chair and a pencil as Waylon comes over. Ellis starts jotting some stuff down on a scrap piece of paper as he goes over how to handle the equation.

“Does this mean I don’t get to abduct anyone?” Leland asks.

Ellis’s head snaps around to look at him, concern on his face. “Who were you abducting?”

“No one,” Leland says as he pats the head of his giant Doberman who I’m positive contemplates eating me every time it sees me. It’s big enough that I feel confident it could get me down.

My eyes flick off the dog and back to Ellis as he pretends like nothing in the world is bothering him while he smiles at Waylon and helps him tackle the bullshit that’s on the paper. And I find it rather hard to look away.

SEVENTEEN

ELLIS

When I wake up, my entire body hurts. I’m stiff. My face feels swollen, and I decide that sleep is the better option and close my eyes again. I’ve already been here a full day—now two nights—but I still feel exhausted.

Both nights, it’d taken me hours to fall asleep. I was so far beyond exhausted each night that I thought the moment I hit the pillow, I’d be out, but instead, I lay there in a state of uncertainty. So many questions ran through my head while Tavish slept on the air mattress tucked between the wall and the bed. The air mattress is a twin, so it probably isn’t the most comfortable, but I felt oddly comforted having him in the room.

Although how soundly he slept made me wonder if he’d even wake if someone came busting in through the window with guns blazing.

At least once I fell asleep, I was out for good, having slept until nearly noon the day before. Then while the others were busy looking up stuff, I felt like I had little purpose beyond petting dogs and wandering around the house. At one point, I did go to the store to grab us some clothes and supplies, butCassel made me move quickly, not wanting me out and about for too long.

But hopefully today I’ll be of more use.

There’s a knock on the door that forces me to fully wake up. “Sorry to wake you guys, but we have some stuff to go over before we need to get moving,” Jackson calls before I hear him walking off.

Tavish groans from where he’s lying on the air mattress, probably feeling as stiff, or worse, as I am. I mean… I guess he did get stabbed in the shoulder. Even so, my stomach hurts when I sit up, and I wince.

“You alright?” he asks as he glances over at the early morning light leaking through the window.

“Oh, fine. I didn’t get stabbed or anything like you did.”

“They beat you up pretty good,” he says. “That shit lasts.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“Lift up your shirt.”

I wave him off. I’m alive, so anything else doesn’t matter. “It’s fine. Definitely better than yesterday.”

“I didn’t think about your ribs when I checked you over when we arrived the other day. You sure nothing’s broken? I’ve only known you, what? Two and a half days now, and I could fully see you politely sitting there in misery because you wouldn’t want to inconvenience someone.”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

Tavish reaches out and when I don’t stop him, he pushes up my shirt, revealing my bruised stomach and chest from Miller whaling on me.

He looks concerned as he eyes it. “Maybe we should take you to get checked out.”

“No, I’m fine. You know if I do, they’ll swoop in and drag me off to my mom and sister… and… I want to know if my dad’sdead. I need to know, okay? It’s something that’s haunted me for twelve years.”

“Okay,” he says.

The moment I open the door, Jackson is on the scene with some bags. “I ran out and got you guys some clothes. Hopefully they fit. Leland said he could creep into your room and measure you while you slept, but I thought maybe that’d be a bit too much.”

“I… thought we got clothes yesterday?” I ask.

“We needed something more… formal,” Jackson explains.

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