Page 5 of Trigger Happy

“Tough shit, Chastain. I’ll never get my brother back, so we’re nowhere close to even.” A wicked, predatory grin slices across Lawton’s face, and then he raises his handgun and points it right at my pounding heart.

Just like I knew he would.

3Sabrina

I lunge for his gun.

Lawton’s always been reckless, even trigger-happy, and he likes playing these games to mess with me. His hands grip my waist, yanking me off-balance right as I rip his pistol away. The handgun slips from his grasp and hits the concrete with a clatter.

“Nice try,” I say, wrestling him between grunts. “But I know you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“Wanna bet?” he growls in my face.

“You don’t have anything I want.”

I twist to break free, but he pushes me back against the sprawling floor-to-ceiling condo window and pins my wrists above my head. I could knee him in the groin, but I don’t, only to see what he does next. He presses his body flush against my chest, close enough for his warmth to seep through the chiffon of my dress. He smells like smoke, mint, and salt, and I hate myself a little for taking a second breath.

He toys with a strand of my hair. “Nice hair, by the way. It’s always fun to see what color you’ll dye it for the job. I like your natural brown, but this makes things more exciting.”

“My hair is bronde,” I clarify, seriously considering headbutting him, but that always leaves me with a brutal headache.

The doorbell chimes.

We both snap our heads to the house, then to each other. “Shit,” we say in tandem, and then spring into action.

“Tell me you jammed the cameras,” he demands, dumping bleach everywhere.

“Do I look like a virgin?” I hiss back, pulling on my balaclava.

He scowls, tugging his own ski mask over his head. “I really don’t feel like killing anyone else today, so can we not talk about the men you’ve slept with?”

Lawton only flirts to piss me off, so I toss back, “Why? Wish you were one of them?”

“Not even a little.”

“That might be the first thing we’ve ever had in common,” I say.

The bell rings again. We move as fast as possible, doing everything we can to cross-contaminate the crime scene. Then we hear a door opening.

Lawton mutters a curse. “What do we do?”

“Why do I always have to come up with a plan?” I say, though I’m already thinking through plan F. I scan the outdoor patio for a hiding spot and nod at a white-paneled shed. “Get in the pool house. I wasn’t paid to take out two people, and frankly, I’m not doing the extra work if they don’t deserve to stop breathing.”

“God forbid you have to lift a manicured finger and break a nail.” He nudges me inside the shed until I’m wedged between two doughnut floaties.

Lawton cracks the wooden door, keeping us hidden as he pulls me against his hard chest. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, even though I try not to notice. I usually do these jobs alone, never with backup. Not that I would consider Lawton backup. He’ll probably push me out with a she did it! when this stranger inevitably calls the cops.

We watch through the crack as the housekeeper strides into the kitchen, Lawton’s hot breath at the back of my neck. I’m mentally pleading for her not to come outside, but the first thing she does is fill a watering can and head to the potted lime tree on the back patio, right where blood is turning the pool pink.

“Goddammit,” Lawton mutters. “We have to—”

“I know,” I say begrudgingly.

Killing innocents is not on my to-do list, either. I might have been raised by criminals, but it’s not like I’m stabbing soccer moms with orange slices over here. The people I’m paid to take out are the scum of society, not a house cleaner wearing a Walk to End Alzheimer’s T-shirt.

I would never, but someone has to take out the trash of humanity. I have the skills, thanks to my parents, so it might as well be me.

She slides open the glass door, spots Bryce’s dead body on the patio, and drops the watering can. I pinch one eye closed and brace myself for her scream, but all I hear are honking horns over the ocean waves. She stares for a solid minute, glances around, and then digs through Bryce’s pockets. Without any hesitation, she plucks out his wallet and marches right back out the door.