Page 28 of A Labor of Hate
Then again, it wasn’t like I was exactly fashion-forward.This could be the newest style I didn’t know about.And even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t realistic to assumeeverygay man was as fashion-conscious as the men in my dancing companies had been.
“I’m sorry if we’ve invited ourselves into your home,” Colt began, somehow oozing charm without being obvious about it.“My wife can be a little overzealous about making friends sometimes.The last thing we want is to make you uncomfortable.I’m sure we can meet up for lunch or coffee some other time.”
I smiled politely, my hand cramping from squeezing his so hard when he’d called me overzealous.Definitely wasn’t the worst I’ve been called, but considering he was only ever zealous about his color coding and ironed shirts, it still rubbed me wrong.
As we walked past the couple, Vivienne glared at Charles, smacking him lightly on the arm.His lips tightened into a thin line before splitting into an excessively friendly smile.“Lunch sounds great, actually.How about next Saturday?”
I brightened at the offer, not having to feign any of my excitement.“Next Saturday sounds great!”I fished a pen and a scrap of paper from my purse.“Let me give you my number and we can coordinate later.”
Vivienne accepted the paper and waved cheerily as we left.
It wasn’t until we were past the goon squad and back in the car that I finally took a normal breath.Colt dropped my hand like a hot potato.At least both of us were on the same page about the appeal of that particular pastime.Even if the way he’d dropped it like it had begun spewing contagions and plagues of death hurt my pride a bit.Not that I should’ve expected anything different, since I would’ve done the same thing, but still.
If my hunch was correct, I couldn’t exactly blame him.
I fastened my seat belt, feigning nonchalance as Colt eased into the driver’s seat.“So… Charles is kind of cute, don’t you think?”
He recoiled so hard he missed the seat belt buckle entirely.“What?”
I shrugged, scrutinizing his face for his usual tells, subtle though they were.“You know, if he was just some guy instead of a horrible criminal.He’s cute, right?”
Instead of looking left or clenching his jaw like he usually did when I annoyed him, he regarded me with a mix of concern and disgust.Which was pretty much business as usual.
“But heisa criminal,” he argued, clearly affronted.“And probably a decade older than you.”
I doubled down.Why I had to know the answer to something that was so entirely none of my business, I didn’t know.But I did.I had to know.“But if hewasn’t?”
He shook his head, checking the mirrors and putting the car into gear.“That’syour type, really?”
I hid my snort with an unconvincing cough.“Uh, no.Not mine.But I could, you know, see if he was someoneelse’stype, that’s all.I wouldn’t judge someone for…being into him.”
“Oookay.”He side-eyed me before returning his attention to the parking lot.
As we pulled out, a black SUV further down the row of cars followed.One of Gauthier’s goons, just like Colt had predicted.
The reminder of how we’d officially made it onto Gauthier’s radar settled into the heavy silence in the car.Subtly grilling Colt was getting me nowhere, anyway, so it would have to wait.For now, we were still on display.
And we would be until further notice.
CHAPTERTEN
SURE ENOUGH,THE black SUV tailed us all the way home, and not very discreetly.Then again, it was a lot harder to be discreet when the car you were tailing was the only one going exactly the speed limit.But if Gauthier had felt threatened enough to send his one professional goon after us, the guy probably would’ve found a way to not make it so glaringly obvious.
As far as I could guess, we had until next Saturday to pass Gauthier’s inspections if we were to ever meet up with them for lunch.In the meantime, his beefcakes would be pulling up everything they could find about us, following us to our respective jobs, watching from the street.All the stalkerish things that, if they had a badge, would look disturbingly similar to what Colt and I did for our real jobs.
All we had to do was play our part without making any mistakes whatsoever.And if we blew our cover and Gauthier somehow found out who we really were, our chances of living would drop to zero.
No pressure, right?
It was this knowledge that kept me in that accursed belly inside the comfort of our temporary home, even after I’d bumped half a dozen things with it.Chairs, the counter, the fridge door, you name it.By the time I bumped a dish towel off the counter and onto the floor, I huffed in frustration.And by “huffed,” I mean it was more like a low pitched scream a manic buffalo might make.
Same thing, basically.
I ground my teeth together, glaring at the offending towel with all the contempt I could muster.All those jokes about pregnant women trying to pick stuff up off the ground?Yeah, those were actually founded in truth.It wasn’t impossible to do, but it sure wasn’t dignified or comfortable.Picture squatting while reaching around a beach ball, except the beach ball is attached to you and making your stomach and only your stomach sweaty.Even with the tank top I put on between my skin and the stomach to keep it from squelching—another fun kink I’d had to work out over the past few days—the sweat couldn’t be tamed.Not in this Michigan humidity.
Kind of like my hair, honestly.
“What was that unholy noise?”Colt looked up from the kitchen table where he sat with a pocket-sized notebook open in front of him.“Did the demon possessing you try to break free?”
