Page 40 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“Maybe you can show me more on the ride.” Guilt stabs me. I should have learned this stuff over the past few weeks.
Zeke gives me a hopeful look, stands, and steps toward me. That sense of panic I felt in the barn returns as he slides his hand into his pocket like he’s hunting for something... something he wants to show me. But before he can, I lose the battle with my fear and run out.
* * *
I spend the three-hour drive to the city attached to my earphones and a podcast. It was a tough choice between Nigella Lawson on baking or Martha Stewart. These shows are a guilty passion despite having no place in my life. It probably stemmed from my childhood when my baked goods brought joy... especially to the scowling gunslinger at the wheel beside me.
He wants to talk about us, I know it. It’s in the very air we breathe. But I can’t. I’m worried I won’t like his reasons. Or I’m worried I will, but after Raven’s warning, I could be setting myself up for more heartache and betrayal.
So I will just get this job done and then get out.
A Sinner knows how to flip weaknesses into strengths.My old teacher’s voice is loud in my mind. The nun knew so much about seduction and assassinating that I’d always wondered if she used to be a Sinner.One must adapt in a pinch,she would say.Use what the Good Lord has given you and twist it to your advantage.
I’d much rather break into the target’s house, tie him up, and waterboard him until he gives us the necessary information. Infiltrating a poker game seems like a waste of time. The others are already in Italy, making the pilgrimage to each Holy Nail site.
I get that this Rick Moranis guy wore Constantine’s helmet in Raven’s vision, but this trip could still be for nothing.
“Leila.” Zeke’s voice is loud enough to break through my podcast.
The app on my cell phone suddenly becomes fascinating. I swipe through multiple episodes until I hear my name again, and Zeke tugs my earphones out. Reality rushes in.
Country music on the radio. The roar of the engine. The softclick clickas something on the road hits a tire. Zeke’s breathing beside me. His smell.
“Leila,” he says, voice soft. “Can we talk?”
Shit.
I take a deep breath and count the woodland trees as they pass. The sun has set, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. We dawdled too much at the abbey, packing more weapons and speaking with Raven. It was worth it. But now we’ll arrive around midnight in the city.
“I reached out to old contacts,” he says, “and I’m good to meet them when we arrive. So it’s best to find a motel where I can drop you off while I run the errands before the game.”
I exhale with relief. He’s not going to push for a deep and meaningful conversation.
He pauses. “It’s weird that Raven knew all this. Right?”
“She’s usually right. You get used to it.” That reminds me. “She told me to tell you a few things—tell the truth when you’re negotiating with old friends, and that gods don’t worry about the rats they step on while protecting the innocent.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll probably know when the time comes.”
I lift the earphones to my ears.
“Wait.” His gaze hardens on the road. A tendon ticks in his scruff-covered jaw. “What sort of things did you do as a Sinner?”
“Pardon?”
“Tell me about your life with the Sisterhood.”
I blink, shocked. I expected the big questions but not this. Somehow, it irritates me. And then I’m irritated that I’m irritated. He made my guard drop for a split second, and I’m not prepared. My emotions are all over the place.
“Tell me why you have contacts with dodgy arms dealers,” I shoot back. Then because my brain can’t stop my mouth, I finally let out the real question I’m afraid to ask. “Tell me why you left me.”
In the time it takes him to open and shut his mouth, that fear is clawing back into my brain, taking charge of my words. A cruel laugh slips out of me, and I shake my head, using the bitterness in my voice to create distance between us. “You want to know about my life but don’t even have the balls to tell me why you ruined it.”
“Is that what you think I did?” The words hiss from his lips. He darts a cold look at me, and I almost gasp at the animosity vibrating off him. His presence was already stifling in this car, but now it’s suffocating. “You think Iruinedyour life?”
“You faked your death! You knew I would blame myself, but you did it anyway. Do you know what kind of complex a young girl gets when she thinks she’s a bad luck charm? That she’s evil? I spent years here sweating the guilt out of my system—decades reconditioning myself into believing I have control over my choices.”
