Page 12 of My End
I wanted to ask more. Wanted to press them. What things? Why the mystery? What the hell was so important in this house that needed three men patrolling it through the night when the guy they were supposed to be protecting wasn’t even home?
But I held back. It was only my second day. Asking twenty questions would only raise red flags, and I needed to be smarter than that.
If I played this right, they’d hand me the answers without even realizing it.
The phone on the wall rang, an old-school landline with a shrill tone that felt out of place in a mansion this polished. Adam wiped his hands and moved to answer it.
“Kitchen,” he called into the receiver.
He paused, one hand on his hip, and listened. Then he chuckled. “I was wondering where you were.” Another pause. His tone shifted to something gentler. “Just coffee?” He nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up and turned back to us.
“Tilly’s on a bender again,” he said.
Billy and Jeff nodded like he’d said it might rain later.
“She must have started her new painting after dinner,” Adam continued. “She said she only wants coffee, but if I know her, she won’t surface from her studio for at least four days.”
Jeff leaned forward, grinning. “Four? I’d say six days.”
Billy shook his head. “Nah, I’m going for eight. The last one took her ten.”
Adam nodded. “You’re probably right.”
I raised my eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Okay, yeah, I’d picked up that Tilly painted. Something about “artistic jaunts,” Adam had called them. But this? Locking herself in a studio for up to ten days straight?
Sounded excessive. Obsessive even.
Not that I could talk. I’d disappeared into the desert for two months once with nothing but a gun, a target, and a bottle of water. But still… there was something strange about how normal they all made it sound. Like Tilly vanishing into the second floor was just another Tuesday.
I cut another piece of pancake and chewed slowly.
Tilly.
I’d barely spent ten minutes around her, but she stuck in my head like a lyric I couldn’t shake.
Those green eyes. That mouth that seemed to curve up just a little before she smiled, like she was always on the edge of saying something sarcastic. Her laugh. Her presence.
And the fact that she clearly didn’t belong in a place like this.
She was too bright. Too soft.
Too real.
It didn’t make sense that someone like her was with a guy like Boone. Unless…
Maybe she wasn’t his girlfriend. Maybe she was his mistress. Or his little secret. Something to keep hidden in the guest wing while he went off and played politician.
Whatever she was, she was off-limits.
That much I knew.
I finished the last of the sausage and leaned back in my chair, savoring the feeling of a full stomach and hot food.
“You ever work private security before?” Jeff asked as he broke the silence.
I nodded. “A few gigs. In and out. Mostly regional stuff.”
