“I should’ve told you—”
“I told him it was a bad idea—”
“I specifically said I do not want to know!”
We’re all talking at the same time so for a couple seconds the inside of the little jet feels like chaos. But once we get out all our initial complaints and confessions—for me, at least—we linger in another heavy silence.
Sasha turns her back to me and walks over to the closest window. Movement catches my attention and I watch as Nick Tate leads Wendy Gale into a field of tall sunflowers until they both disappear. Sasha turns back and crosses her arms. “I cannot believe you brought me here.”
“This whole thing has gotten complicated.” I’m on the verge of begging her to cut me a break.
“Yeah. Because Merc here kidnapped Nick Tate’s girlfriend, mentally fucked her over for a few days, and then dangled her situation in front of him until he caved. This is a complete shit show and I am against all of it! But I’m not in charge, so whatever!”
Harrison turns, walks into the cockpit, and closes the little door. I would like to think it’s because he wants to give us privacy, but that’s definitely not why he just walked out.
He is blaming me.
“Fine.” I throw up my hands. “It’s all my fault. I’m a big ol’ dick. And I have now earned the blame for every bad thing that happens to us for the next ten years. I accept that. But I don’t have a choice and once you hear the story, maybe you won’t agree with me, but at least you’ll understand.”
Sasha lets out a long exhale. Then she slips into a seat and points to the other one across the table. “Sit then. Tell me everything. Jax is gonna be pissed. He still works for the FBI, Merc! We’re not supposed to know this kind of shit!”
I sit, lean back into the luxurious leather seat, and put my hands out in a mea culpa gesture. “OK. I get it. I fucked up. But does that mean you don’t want to hear my story or—”
“Of course I want to hear the fucking story!”
We both laugh. “It’s really not my fault, Sasha. You sent me on this job.”
“Job? It wasn’t a job!”
“Fuck yeah, it was. Adam Boucher wants me to unfuck Donovan Couture, Sasha. That’s one hundred percent the description of a fucking job!”
She narrows her eyes at me. “So it’s my fault?”
“Yep.”
She turns her head away and stares at the sunflower field. But I catch a small smile.
“Listen, it’s a can of fucking worms, OK? And you’re the one who gave me Wendy’s name.”
She turns back to me. “Because I didn’t think you were stupid enough to kidnap her.”
“I tracked her for a couple days and decided she’s pretty dangerous.”
“No shit, Sherlock. She’s a seasoned professional Company Zero girl assassin!”
I nod. “Yeah. She’s pretty good too.” I pull aside some of my very thick dark hair and show Sasha the gash on my skull. “She was wearing a spiked bracelet. Fucking thing needed seven stitches. And I had to do that myself. In the mirror. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stitch up the side of your head in a mirror?”
Sasha scoffs. “You’re lucky to be alive. What the hell were you thinking? And she’s his girlfriend?”
Sasha is good, but not good enough to hide the feelings that come out with that question. “I don’t know if she’s his girlfriend. But she’s something to him.”
“Something important. Obviously.” And again, she looks at the sunflower field where Nick and Wendy disappeared. She snaps out of it and looks me in the eyes. “Tell me everything.”
So I tell her. “When I left Fort Collins I stopped by that tattoo shop on my way out of town and talked to that pink-haired girl.”
“Belinda.”
“Yep. Her.”
“Why?”
“Because remember how she just appeared out of nowhere right before that Kansas shit went down?”
Sasha’s face goes dark. Not pale. Thinking about Kansas right now is making her angry, not sad. “No. I don’t really remember that. I was a little busy back then trying to outrun the FBI.”
“Well, she did appear out of nowhere. I didn’t make a big deal, of course, because it wasn’t my business. I’m not really connected to those Vaughn brothers, so what the fuck do I care, right?”
Sasha shrugs. “OK.”
“So I go in to the tattoo shop and she recognizes me. Maybe we don’t hang out or anything, but she’s seen me around at various holiday parties and whatnot. And I ask her about a girl named Wendy. And she says, ‘Creepy Wendy?’ And I say, ‘Maaaaybeee?’ And she says, ‘Last I heard she was working for Tony Dumas’s cousin-brother-in-law, Zach.’”
Sasha smiles. “Cousin-brother-in-law?”
“It actually makes sense.”
She waves a hand. “Yes. I know who Zach is.”
“So I go down to Key West where this Zach guy lives and park in front of his house. And I wasn’t there ten minutes scoping shit out when he appears, walks over to my car, and says, ‘I think I know you.’”