Page 50 of The Hitman’s Final Job

“Lab this afternoon. Nothing until then.”

He wiggles his brows. “Do you want to go mess around in the veggie patch?”

I cough and Silas laughs. “The vegetables, Vaughn. I meant the vegetables.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Do you, though?”

“Yes,” I say.

He’s still laughing as he walks toward the back door. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you mess around with me if you’re a good boy … and if you stop looking at my ass the way you did the other day.”

I open my mouth, then close it.

I have nothing.

I have absolutely nothing.

“Come on,” he says. “The veggies need us.”

I follow him outside because I’m starting to think I’d follow this man anywhere, which is a dangerous thought to have.

SIXTEEN

SILAS

I’ve been in Pine Ridge for two weeks. The wooden bear I bought in Peak Treasures sits on the windowsill of Vaughn’s guest room right next to the candle, which I haven’t burned because it smells divine as it is.

There’s soil permanently under my fingernails, and I’m invested in the growth of my own hopefully prize-winning veggie dick.

I’m sitting on the edge of the guest room bed with my phone on loudspeaker, listening to Zuza while enjoying the view of the orchard through the window and trying to remember I’m here for a reason that has nothing to do with my conflicted feelings about Vaughn.

“Draven is getting impatient,” she says.

“I know. I’m feeling it too.”

“The extension runs out in four days. And you have nothing from the house?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I’ve been through everything I can access without making it obvious. The only place I haven’t searched is the lab because it’s secure. There are cameras everywhere.”

“I can work on those. Just tell me when you want to go there.”

I sigh. “I know, but it’s not easy getting out unseen in the middle of the night. His room is right across mine. Sometimes he works late⁠—”

“Silas, it sounds like you’re making excuses. If he was a real target, you’d have found a way.”

“That’s the thing, Zee. There’s nothing to indicate he is a target. Nothing has happened since he came back from Warsaw.”

“Honey, he is being targeted by someone. You. You were hired to kill him.”

“I’m aware.” My voice is icy, a tone I never use with Zuza.

“The client won’t wait forever,” she snaps. “Maybe we should come clean to Draven.”

“No.”

“Silas—”