“Shoot them,” he says in his all-business tone.
I check my barrel to make sure I’ve got a round in there, then lift the gun, sight the first dot and move my finger to the trigger. I pop off ten rounds, and with each release the pinprick of light blinks to signal I hit it.
I stand back and lower my weapon. Smiling.
God, I love shooting.
Bobby says nothing, simply moves the target slightly and then the pinpricks of light are farther away. “Twenty yards. Go,” he says.
I pop those off in rapid fire, then disengage the mag and hold it out to him. He gives me a smile this time, then hands over another loaded mag and moves the lasers again. “Let’s just get to the good shit, shall we? Fifty yards.”
I slip the new mag in, load the chamber, and disengage the safety. I fire all twenty rounds this time, starting over from the end after I hit the last dot. I pop the mag out and wait.
“You missed.”
“Only twice.” I shrug. “I’m not gonna apologize for missing two shots out of forty. I’m standing in f**k-me boots and it’s dark. Be reasonable.”
I catch his smile in the dim starlight.
“OK, I did my part, now you tell me who you really are. Let’s start with your name. I know it’s not Bobby Mansi. No one is stupid enough to come to town with an agenda to kill someone and use their real name. So spill.”
He hands me another loaded mag and I take that as a sign of trust. “Let’s see how much you’ve figured out first, then I’ll see if you need to know anymore.”
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“Adapt, Veronica,” he says dryly.
I shake my head and walk over to the car, leaning against the hood. The engine is warm and that feels good in the cold night air. My legs are bare, so I slide up and take a seat. “I think you’re Tony. I think you’re Ashleigh’s husband. You’re not dead, obviously, and you want your baby and girlfriend back. You’re here to kill Ford.”
He laughs. Like, a real that’s-fucking-funny laugh.
“And I gotta say,” I continue, “I’m not sure I can kill Ford. He’s weird. But I’m not gonna kill Ford. Or watch your back while you kill Ford. I might even like Ford. He’s growing on me. I love Kate. And he loves Kate. So I’m gonna have to decline. If you try to kill Ford, I’m on Team Ford.”
When I look up at him he’s smiling at me. “You done?” he asks, his eyebrows raised in amusement.
I shrug. “I’m done.”
“That’s some imagination you have, Veronica.”
“What’s your name?”“Bobby.”
“What’s your other name? The name your friends call you?”
He tilts his head at me as he thinks and then shrugs. “You can call me Tet if you want. My associates call me Tet.”
“Tetrahedral? Tetra?”
“No. Tetro, like tetrodotoxin.”
Okay. “That poison-puffer fish stuff they eat for fun in Asia?” I have to turn my head so I can giggle privately. Because, come on. It’s a little dramatic, right? I compose myself and turn back. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch, Tetro?”
He puts a palm out, asking for my gun. I hand it back to him and he reloads. The look on his face when he lifts his eyes from the weapon reminds me of a predator and I’m instantly sorry I gave the gun back.
“I’m number six. In between poison mushrooms and mercury.”
I have no idea what that means so I just drop it because I’m not in the mood to get weird with a guy who has a deadly poison for a nickname in the pitch-black middle of nowhere and is holding my gun.
He hands me a scope, moves the lasers to another area downrange, then raises my weapon and turns back to me. “Ninety yards. That’s max limit for this gun. Watch carefully.”
I raise the scope to my eye, adjust it a little, find the targets, and then he fires, one after the other. And with each shot the laser blinks.
He lowers the weapon, hands it back to me, and then walks over to the trunk and grabs a green canvas sack. “Here,” he says, holding the sack out to me. I take it and my arm almost drops to the ground because it’s so heavy. I lean down and open the drawstring to peek inside. It’s far too dark, so I reach in and feel around.
Boxes of ammo. And magazines for the FN Five-SeveN.
OK. He’s got my attention.
I look up at him and from this perspective, he looks every inch a killer. What the f**k was I thinking? My heart starts to beat wildly at the prospect of what he might expect me to do and it’s like he can read my reaction on my face. Because he leans down, grabs my shoulder, and pulls me close.
“Bomb,” he says in a very serious voice. Oh God, we both have dramatic mobster nicknames. “I’ve got a few more details for you, are you ready?” He urges me to stand.
I try to push back but he holds me firmly. “No, I think—”
“I’m a soldier.”
Oh shit, here it comes. I’m gonna get everything I asked for and then some hardass is gonna stalk me and kill me because I know things I shouldn’t. Dammit.
“But not the legitimate kind.” One arm wraps around my shoulder and then I’m turned so I’m facing him. A hand slides into the curve of my waist and rests on my hip, just a little bit underneath my jacket.
I almost forget to breathe.
“Usually I work alone. We all work alone. But I need a partner for this one. I’ve got two girls involved.”