Hollis looks between the two men. “You want to go in halves?” Nash holds his hands up in mock surrender.
“I know what we do is dangerous,” he says. “But guaranteed death, I'm out.”
Fox reenters the house, a cold beer dangling between his fingers by the neck of the bottle.
“Just giving the guys an opportunity to take a job, five times the pay, probably ten times the danger,” Angel says to the new man.
Hollis looks a little disappointed and possibly even jealous that Angel doesn't just automatically assign the job to him.
“We can go in halves,” Hollis says, offering the same deal he offered to Nash.
“I work alone,” Fox grunts. It's not a no, but it's also not a yes.
“I guess it's yours, Hollis,” Angel says. “I'll email you the details.”
“This is all fun and everything but I've got shit to do,” I say before escorting Raya out of the house into my truck. I want her on my cock again but getting her to safety is the first order of business.
“I'm hungry,” she whispers as we pull into the night.
She doesn't open her mouth to talk about what happened or what I said, how I treated her. I think she got it all out, said her piece, and is done with it.
We're traveling for nearly an hour before we make it across the border back into Texas. I’ve never felt serenity, the way I do when she's near. I'm the biggest fucking idiot for doing what I did but at the same time I feel like things worked out exactly how they were always supposed to.
It's a huge realization, considering I’ve never considered fate contributing to anything in my life.
“There,” Raya says, her finger pointing across the street. “They have the best chicken nuggets.”
I pull up to the drive-thru and place our order. My fingers sifting through Raya’s hair as we wait for our turn at the window. The cashier and I make a trade, me handing over cash as he hands me the bag of food. Raya grumbles as I accept my change.
“What's wrong?” I ask as we start to pull away.
“They forgot the dipping sauce,” she complains and I despise the look of disappointment on her face.
I hit the brakes on the truck, jerking us to a stop. She rolls her eyes when she looks up at my face.
“You have that look,” she says, amusement in her tone.
“And what look is that?” I ask fighting a smile.
“The look that says you're about to murder someone.”
I shrug. It seems she can read my emotions very well.
“No,” she snaps, pointing her finger at me like I'm a puppy getting caught peeing on the carpet. “You can't kill everyone because they're a minor annoyance to me.”
I pull my foot from the brake and move it over to the gas pedal. She's wrong though. Anyone in this world who causes her even the smallest amount of distress runs the risk of having it be the last mistake they'll ever make.
THE END