Page 66 of Absinthe Minded

The thug shoved Mr. Guzman to his knees in the soggy earth, turned, and handed me his gun. “I’ll be in the car.”

I’d held firearms before, but the weight of this one sent a chill down my spine.

“Please.” Artie’s stare bore into me.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my father’s guy had gone and squatted beside the accountant. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need some assurances.”

The man’s swollen eyes widened. “Thank you. Yes. Anything.”

“You have to disappear. Today. Don’t go home. You have to run and never return.”

He nodded, but I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “My dogs…”

“I’ll make sure they’re taken care of until you’ve found a place.” Making a mental note to call Leo about the poodles, I pulled out my wallet and handed him a few hundred bucks along with my personal card. “Call me from anewnumber when you’re safely outside the city. I’ll get you enough money to start over, but you have to stay gone. Got it?”

Artie stared at the black embossed card with my name and cell phone number. “Yeah…yes…thank you.”

“Wait here until you’re sure we’ve gone.”

He nodded again.

“Screw this up and we’re both dead.” I fired two shots into the water before walking back to the car.

* * *

“Thanks again.If this doesn’t convince her to hire a nanny, I don’t know what will.” I hugged Hildie for the third time. Not because I loved and appreciated her, which I did, but because I desperately needed to return to some sense of normalcy.

I’d taken a huge risk letting Guzman go, and I prayed I wouldn’t live to regret it.

“Mmm hmmm.” Hildie patted my cheek. Her gaze fell to the blood on my shirt, but she glanced away without comment.

Smart woman.I didn’t know what to say. She’d scrubbed every inch of the house, somehow removed the long-dead Christmas tree, and made supper in the time it’d taken me to oversee my first would-be murder.

“I left contact information on the counter for a woman I know who’s looking for a nanny position. She’s a good, God-fearing soul and will care for the children like they’re her own.”

“I’ll give her a call.” I folded my arms and rocked on the balls of my feet, a habit I thought I’d lost once I’d hit puberty. Spending time with Hildie made me feel like I was eight years old again. Only this time, I felt like an eight year old who’d almost done the unspeakable.

I waited until she pulled away, waved, and walked back into the house—and into what smelled like a sewer.

Ella tensed and turned red from the top of her head to her tiny toes.

I groaned. “You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?”

The baby’s mouth hung open a solid five seconds before she worked up the wail, but when she did, I shot into action.

I grabbed a diaper and the wipes and settled the infant on the changing table I’d pulled out of the attic.

A car door shut outside, but the dog didn’t bark. It had to be Maggie.

I stripped out of the ruined shirt and shoved it under the bed.

The front door closed. “Gabe?”

“I’m changing Ella.”

Maggie came down the hall but stopped before she came in the room. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, give me a sec. You don’t want to come in here. She’s toxic.” I glanced over my shoulder and stilled.

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