Page 81 of His to Burn
There were at least two more downstairs. A couple more upstairs, too.
They were here the whole time.
Under the fucking beds.
Beds I’d forgotten to check under because I was too fucking stupid to live.
God, I’d fucked up.
“You fucked up, cowboy.”
I took in the man.
Five-ten, stocky with the flat eyes of a killer that his good ole boy mask didn’t hide.
“You were under the beds,” I said.
“If you knew that, woulda made sense to check, huh?”
I knew that, but I’d been so distracted and so eager to get out, I overlooked it. I hadn’t even heard them coming out, which should have been impossible. But the fucking dead were walking so what did impossible mean anymore?
Still, I didn’t need this asshole rubbing my nose in it, even though it was the least I deserved.
But I could still fix this.
“This place is yours. We’ll be on our way,” I said, slowly angling close to Asia.
“Don’t you think we have some things to discuss first?” the man said.
“Let’s go downstairs and discuss them,” I said, the plan clicking into place.
First step was to get them in the open.
Give myself more space to work.
I started walking, careful to keep Asia within arm’s reach. Thankfully, she followed, and the two men trailed after her.
The descent down those eleven steps felt interminable.
The men didn’t brandish their weapons yet, but I knew that was only a matter of time.
“Where you folks come from?” the older man who was downstairs asked.
He looked at Asia, who said nothing at first.
“No need to be nervous, sweetheart. We’re just trying to make it like everyone else,” he said.
I recognized her expression.
Outwardly serene, but I knew her well enough by now to see her fear.
And it wasn’t misplaced.
Or maybe it was.
I didn’t know.
And I didn’t intend to find out.
