Page 89 of Tabitha

It lands at the bottom of the shaft with a thud. Banks never once looks away from me. I scowl and lift an unimpressive brow. “If you push me, I swear that I’ll take you with me.”

He huffs in exasperation and waves a hand at the gaping hole. “Just look.”

I mimic his pose, crouch, and peer over the ledge…and right into a massive grave at the bottom of the pit. Hundreds of white, dingy bones lay scattered across the ground, most still complete skeletons, which means they’re years old.

I dismiss them as unimportant, more concerned with nearly a dozen new corpses splattered across the stones. I easily recognize Trevor and Steve amongst the dead, and I don’t doubt Bruce will be joining them soon. I’d bet my favorite knife that Private First Class Toris McNeil is one of the corpses, but the bodies are too broken and decayed to identify.

It’s good enough for me.

As far as I’m concerned, the parameters of my job have been met.

Only the fun part remains—murder and mayhem.

Adrenaline bleeds through my veins, and I barely hold back the urge to slaughter them all. The only thing that holds me back is River.

For the first time in my life, getting River back takes precedence. The job that has been my whole life is only a distant memory. I twist on my heel and tilt my head toward Banks. “Is your murder pit supposed to scare me?”

He scans my face and rubs a hand across his jaw. “You’re unflappable. I like that quality in my men, but it’s a pain in the ass otherwise. I was going to promise to keep you safe, but—”

I snort and roll my eyes at his platitudes. “Like I would believe you after I watched you kill your own men.”

His eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead, and he sputters, losing a little of his composure. “To keep you safe.”

“Oh, please!” I push to my feet, and he mimics my movements. “You only did that because you think I know where your gold is located. It has nothing to do with my safety.”

I press my back against the wall, giving a pointed look at his murder pit. “My guess is you thought they might have the answers as well, but when their usefulness ended, so did their lives.”

“Acceptable casualties.” He shrugs, completely unrepentant. “We were supposed to get in, retrieve our gold, and leave. No one was supposed to get hurt. Your grandfather was a stubborn old man and refused to cooperate. Things got out of hand.”

“You mean you killed him.” My tone is flat, since I’m still not sure how I feel about losing a grandfather I knew nothing about.

“An accident, I assure you.” He doesn’t seem pleased, then interest sharpens his eyes as he surveys me. “Any moreaccidentscan be prevented if you tell us where the gold is hidden.”

“I have no use for the gold.” I brush aside his query. “I came here for one reason, and one reason only.”

“Why do I have a feeling it wasn’t for your grandfather?” he murmurs, his shoulders tensing. “If you didn’t come for the old man and you don’t care about the gold, why did you really come?”

I wait for him to go for his gun, almost wishing he would. I don’t have the itch to kill people. Taking a life is not a compulsion for me. I don’t struggle with the irresistible urge to shed blood. Eliminating the bad guys is merely a job, one that I’m good at. I don’t flinch at killing. I don’t care one way or another about the morality of taking a life. I let the Belladonnas worry about that.

I used to think that Banks and I were similar, but now I know we’re nothing alike.

Banks kills indiscriminately to get what he wants, not caring about who gets hurt.

I’m surprised to discover I actually have lines that I won’t cross, but that’s only thanks to people who have kept me from falling off the deep end, kept me from losing myself to the darkness.

People who I will do anything to protect.

When I don’t answer immediately, he gives an appreciative hum and steps toward me. “Let’s make a deal…work with me. You know this area. You know these people. If anyone can find the gold, it’s you. I’ll even give you a share. You just have to prove your loyalty first.”

My muscles tighten at the calculating gleam in his eyes, and it’s all I can do not to shove him into his own murder pit.

I’m beginning to suspect that the infamous gold everyone so desperately wants to get their hands on is cursed.

I nearly scoff at the idea of working with him. “Loyalty to you?”

I must not have done a very good job of hiding my disdain, because Banks narrows his eyes dangerously. He speaks through gritted teeth, clearly offended I didn’t immediately agree. “Loyalty to the cause, of course.”

“Of course,” I murmur, stepping away from the edge of the pit. No sense in tempting fate. “And how would I prove my loyalty?”

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