Page 111 of Adam
“I didn’t ask for money. I asked you to guess who I am.”
“I don’t … I don’t know you.”
A long and lazy exhale escapes my lips, almost to the point of disappointment. He’s no fun at all. I stand up, making him shrug to the sound of my chair scraping the ground, and pace closer to him.
“We can fix that,” I murmur, clamping a hand on his shoulder, intensifying his tremors. “See, for once, I actuallylikedmy life. I had a name that made people tremble at the sound of it.”
I tilt my head and smile broadly, already playing the many ways I want to undo him in my head. “Then my boss—oh, my fucker, delusional, asshole boss—drops the bomb. He gives methejob.” I let my fingers drum once against his shoulder. “The one everyone else wanted but didn’t have the stomach for. And he gave it to me because I enjoy this. Because I don’t need to fake sympathy. I know what I am. I make this an artform.”
“Lucky you,” Wes mocks, rolling his eyes again.
“Then things went sideways, and everything got fucked up,” I hiss, voice rising.
“That’s whereIcome in,” Wes says, flicking the cigarette to the ground as he steps forward. He draws his gun and levels it at Leo. “Do I have to wait for the closing credits?”
I grab the gun and lock eyes with him. “It ends when I say it does,” I say, not moving anything but my lips.
Wes hears the seriousness in my voice, and surprisingly, he doesn’t push it. He lowers his gun and steps back.
“Now … where were we?” I ask. “Ah, right. Leo, my life actually turned out better than I expected. Sick, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t answer.
The fuck—is he dead?
He draws a shaky breath, and just like that, I feel relief.
Still mine to dismantle.
“Surprisingly, I was pretty calm in my new routine, way calmer than I figured I’d be. Threaten a few assholes, break a fewnoses, make sure no one touches the only person I give a damn about. That’s it. No grand mission or inner struggle.” I click my tongue. “It’s clean work. Predictable, even. I show up, make an example out of someone, and things stay quiet. If they don’t … well, I make them.”
“What do I have to do with this?” he mutters.
“That’s when things became interesting. See, Leo, that’s whereyoushowed up.”
“I-I don’t understand … Look, I have money?—”
I pull the fabric from his face in a swift motion. “I told you already. I don’t want your money, sweetheart.”
His pupils dilate, trying to recall where he knows me from. “You?”
I nod. “Me.”
“Calvano sent you to kill me?”
“Don’t give that coward the spotlight. I invited myself.”
“What do you want?” he snaps, voice rising, suddenly brave.
Shame.
Shame on him for thinking I’m something less than whatever he imagined.
Let’s fix that.
Wes rubs the bridge of his nose, irritation rolling off him. “I’m still waiting here.”
That’s my boy.
