Page 103 of Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC 7)

The bartender jerked his chin in consent, and I walked toward the bathroom, sadly a whole lot more sober than I really wanted to be.

I wasn’t drunk drunk, but I definitely wasn’t sober.

I was a happy medium.

Or, a sad one.

Because I still remembered every single one of my reasons for drinking.

After taking a wrong turn, I ended up in an alley, and decided that would work just as well as any other place to piss.

After relieving myself behind the dumpster, I turned and was struck straight in the chest.

“Surrender,” Travis hissed, his arm pushing harder, sinking the blade in just a little bit deeper.

I barely contained the foul curse that threatened to leave my lips.

I would not surrender. I’d know that face anywhere. I’d been studying it like my life depended on it. “Best I can do is… fuck. You.”

Travis pressed harder on the blade, and I had to fight the urge to black out.

In between the whiskey and the pain that was now coursing through my body, I wasn’t running on all cylinders.

Who knew a hunting knife in the chest would hurt so bad?

At least he hadn’t twisted it yet.

I would have.

“I’ve been waiting so many years to do this,” Travis mumbled. “So many years, lying in wait for y’all to make a mistake. And look where it got you. First she came here all on her own, and I thought, how could this get any better? But then you showed up looking for her. Took her home and then brought her back. I mean… it was kismet.”

Kismet?

Travis didn’t seem like the type to understand what ‘kismet’ meant.

“New word of the day or something for you, Travis?” I asked.

“You know my name.” He smiled.

“I do,” I confirmed, panting in a breath. “I know everything about you, and so do my brothers, who are also looking for you.”

He shrugged, jostling the blade in my chest. “Just because they have all the information, doesn’t mean they can find me.”

“No,” I agreed. “But it means that it won’t be easy for you to move on. You’ll have to work on it. And unless you had a contingency plan in place, you’ll really have to work hard on it.”

“I do.” He shrugged. “I’ve had one since the day that you killed Amon.”

“I didn’t kill Amon,” I semi-lied.

Because really, I didn’t.

Dory did.

Not that I would ever tell anyone that.

“You did,” he confirmed. “Or your wife did. I know it. You know it. She knows it. Now all I have to do…”

I twisted, pulled the knife out of my chest that I knew I shouldn’t pull out—damn, I knew how the Crocodile Hunter died, goddammit—and turned.

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