Page 5 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

“Ninety-four. But that’s how she lures them in. She’s all ‘Look at me, I’m so decrepit’ and thenbammurders them.”

“I could see it,” Leland says with a nod. “She’s definitely got murderer vibes. She offered me some cookies the other day and of course I took them, and they tasted really fucking good, but I was like ‘Damn, these cookies are so fine, I’d follow her into a creepy basement for some more.’”

“Yep, that’s how she gets them,” Cassel agrees, sounding quite determined about this ludicrous theory. “That or there’s drugs in them. I’m not quite sure, but they’re very addicting.”

“So is she a murderer or a drug dealer?” the Scottish man asks.

“Why can’t she be both?” Leland asks. “Jackson, I’m feeling rather jealous that Tavish got to abduct someone, and all I got to do today was tell a woman that her husband isn’t cheating onher and was, instead, picking out a puppy for their anniversary. What’s hilarious is I recommended he go to your vet office.” He aims that part at me. “I told them how nice you all were, especially you! You’re always the sweetest when I go in there.”

I’m still really fucking nice!

“What if I recommended she go there and he decided to kill her? Tavish, for once, you’re doing solid work, even if I still don’t love you,” Leland says. “But next time you abduct someone, hit me up. I have a song for this occasion that I’ve been dying to try out. My last song was so majestic, Jackson cried.”

“A bug literally flew into my eye.”

“Do you think he was crying as he envisioned being stuck with you for the rest of his life?” the Scottish man, who I suppose is named Tavish, asks.

“AW, how cute! Like he was so excited about the idea that it brought a tear to his eye? Babe, that’s the sweetest. And it makes me feel weird inside.”

“Uh-huh… definitely what happened,” Jackson mutters.

I start rubbing my face hard against the floor of the trunk but with the plastic lining it, I can’t get the tape to catch on anything to rub it off. Then I decide that I’m just going to throw myself out of the trunk and rub it off on the road if I have to.

“He’s like one of those fish trying to flop out,” Leland says, and instead of helping me inany way,he sets a hand on my face and crams me back in before the trunk slams shut.

No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. I’m not going to die like this… right?

Fuck.

I’m going to die like this.

THREE

ELLIS

I’m jostled all the fuck around as the car heads off on its merry way. The only one who doesn’t seem to be merry in all of this isme.

No one seemed to care about my thrashing, and now Tavish is singing from the front seat of the car. I can’t help but wonder if his godawful screeching is one of those torture tactics they’d talked about.

It’s hard enough with my hands and legs bound, though I still try to feel the whole trunk over for an escape pull, but it’s either been removed or I’m really fucking bad at this… which could be a thing. I can’t say I have much experience getting abducted.

Now he doesn’t seem to even know the fucking lyrics as he starts tossing in words that sound semi similar but are so far off that it’s not even funny.

This is all one big joke, right? Like someone from my family hired one of those people who abduct you and take you to a birthday party. And even though it’s not my birthday and I feel like my family is at least mostly normal… it could be a thing. Like everyone knows it’s a really fucking horrible idea, but my familydecided to do it anyway because I forgot to bring a side dish to the last family get-together.

I didn’t even fucking forget! I just didn’t want to make something… so is this karma?

Although… I have to assume most places wouldn’t stay in business long if they were slamming their clients’ heads into the side of metal dumpsters.

I’m being delusional.

He’s not really going to kill me, right?

The car stops and the trunk pops open as I look up in hope of a reasonable person being there, but nope, still the same guy as before. But I at least now know his name, so when I go to the police, I have all of their goddamn names…

Though doesn’t that mean he doesn’t plan on letting me live?

“Damn, look at this. You get the royal treatment,” he says. I question what part of any of this could be confused as “royal treatment” as I’m dragged out and come face to face with a jet.

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