Page 31 of The Hitman’s Final Job

He nods. “Atlas used to live in Denver, but he was here for a family event. That’s when we met.” He glances toward the café, where Atlas is talking to the person taking his order. “He used to work for HelixGen, and he told me they target small, economically vulnerable towns like Pine Ridge with promises of investment and revitalization, while in reality they want to harvest data to build demographic profiles so they can buy undervalued rural properties. Before the towns realize it, they’re owned by a big corporation. Old buildings are torn down, making way for data centers. The kind that drains the local water supply and pushes the power grid past what it was built for. Apartment complexes follow, priced for people who aren’t from here. The shops that have been in place for generations become the franchised shops you see everywhere. The town loses its soul.”

I scan Main Street. The bears in the gift shop. The baskets with flowers hanging by the front door of each business. The people going in and out of those doors greeting each other.

“How far did they get?” I ask.

“Far enough,” Kai says. “The mayor was cooperating with them, so we had to build a case and take it to a town meeting to force a vote.”

He pats Vaughn’s shoulder. “Your man here helped us out.”

Vaughn coughs. “I’m not— He’s not.”

“And you won,” I say, trying to stay on track, but not unloving Kai’s assumption.

“We sure did,” Kai says. “They left, and that was the end of it.”

“What’s the company called again?”

“HelixGen Corp,” Kai says.

The door to the café opens, and Atlas reappears, managing two paper coffee cups and a paper bag with what I’m guessing is their lunch. Kai stands up and takes the bag from Atlas.

Vaughn leans forward. “By the way, how are you both settling in after the move?”

Atlas lights up. “It’s perfectly perfect.”

“It definitely is,” Kai says, returning Atlas’s smile before turning to me. “After we met, Atlas never went back to Denver, but he was living back in his parents’ house.”

“Atlas is Teresa’s son,” Vaughn says. “From the hardware store. You met her earlier.”

“Ah, yes. She’s really lovely. Also a little intimidating.”

Atlas laughs. “Let me guess. The festival is coming, and you’re coming. You also don’t know if it’s because you want to or if interventions will be staged if you don’t.”

“Something like that,” I say. “It’s a good thing I was already planning on staying that long.”

“She’s also an amazing cook,” Kai says. “You’ll find that Pine Ridge runs on baked goods and good intentions. It’s surprisingly effective.”

“Are you saying you’re with me because of my mother’s cooking?”

Kai says, “Absolutely not,” while nodding.

Atlas bumps Kai’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s have lunch and leave the happy couple to it.”

I catch Vaughn’s expression at Atlas’s words, but the guys are too quick to leave, and then the café door opens again and David emerges, this time carrying a tray. He sets it on our table.

“Butternut squash soup,” he says, placing a bowl in front of me. “And the beet salad.” This goes in front of Vaughn. “Sourdough on the side. And here are your drinks. Shout if you need anything.”

For a few minutes, I just sit here in the sun and eat soup with Vaughn Reeves across a café table in Pine Ridge, Colorado, and try not to think about how much I want to stay for real.

The soup is, as promised, extraordinary.

We eat without rushing. I enjoy the sourdough and try the beet salad from Vaughn’s plate when he offers it across the table. The afternoon moves around us in an unhurried pace, and for a moment I manage not to think about anything pressing.

Then Vaughn finishes his salad and sets down his fork, and the stretch ends.

“Can I ask you something?” I say after finishing my drink.

“Of course.”