“More like a union rep,” I say. “Though, the tip about the Feds is a good one.”
I assume it came from the Hallows, but it doesn’t rile me. No one, and I mean no one, likes it when the Feds show up.
“Why are you going after all these contracts?” Ben asks.
She pauses to take a drink. “I want the money.”
Disbelief mars Ben’s face as he leans forward. “We can match your salary, Isolde. We could double it.”
She goes back to her food, eating like she hasn’t in hours. Which, now that I think about it, she’s only been picking at the last few meals she’s had.
“What do you even do with all of your money?” Ben asks.
Abe comes out of the kitchen and rolls his eyes when he sets a platter of sushi in front of me.
“I’m serious, Isolde,” Ben says with a touch of brotherly exasperation.
“Isn’t it rude to talk about money?” Isolde says.
“When you said you wanted to talk, I assumed you came because you wanted a distraction.”
She does. It’s why I caught her trying to unalive that man last night. But Isolde’s come in here with a laser focus. The lawyer in Ben is rightly suspicious.
Isolde grabs a California roll.
“I need the money.”
“For what?”
Isolde chews her sushi. With her hair down and fresh-faced, she looks more like a college student than a woman with a years-long career as a triggerman. Ben is clearly frustrated, but all Isolde does is smile.
CHAPTER 20
Isolde
Isuccessfully renegotiate my contracts back. Which means I’m actively seeking better pay to end someone’s life.
“That’s so fucked up,”Sammie’s ghost tells me. She’s got her feet dangling over the arm of a chair.“But a girl’s gotta grow her nest egg somehow.”
Tristan is in the kitchen, occasionally walking back and forth to his room. After lunch we went to a bookstore, loading up on new reading material. Then we stopped at a bakery. He bought me sugar, which means he really does like me.
The sun is starting to set, and he’s made no move to fuck me like he promised.
Every time he shows up in my periphery, my heart beats with anticipation. Then he’ll walk away into the kitchen or to answer a phone call.
I wilt like a flower, though I’m aware he’s doing it on purpose. His smirk gives it away.
“What are you going to tell Ren?”
I jump, the book in my hand falling into my chest. I’m wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa, trying to read instead offocusing on the depressing fact that Tristan hasn’t fucked me yet.
“Huh?” I try to understand the question.
“Ren?” Tristan asks, sitting down in the brown leather chair that’s become his. He picks up the book he left on the coffee table. “When she gets back. Are you going to talk to her?”
Ren pissed me off when she cut off my contracts. I never asked her to hide out when her ex-boyfriends were found. Instead, I hired her some backup.
“I know she’s worried,” I admit. “But this is business.”