Page 36 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Have you considered your crazy side comes out more when you’re working?”

Tabitha frowned at her cereal. “My childhood was basically a constant lesson in bloodshed, Grit. Day in, day out. How to spill it, how to stop it. How to drain every last drop and use it to send a message. How to utilize my body, my own blood, to suck in a target so I could painstakingly take their life away one drop at a time.”

He lifted an eyebrow, waiting silently for an answer to his question.

“Yes,” she admitted slowly. “The crazy is more prevalent when I have a job to do. In some respect, I need it to be able to… perform.”

“Do you get a lot of… performance anxiety?”

“No.” It was too quick, too sharp to be anything but defensive.

Setting his fork down, Grit pushed his plate away, leaning his elbows on the table. Steepling his fingers together, he regarded her with his dominant stare. “Lying earns you five spanks, Tabitha. Don’t tell me that wasn’t a lie,” he admonished before she could argue. “I know you believe in honesty down to the bone, but you are capable of bending that rule to keep yourself safe. I’m telling you it isn’t necessary with me.”

The full lower lip he’d had pressed to his not so long ago depressed under the pressure of her teeth. Her expression became sullen, her eyes unable to meet his. “It’s not performance anxiety, per se. I can gut and fillet a man in my goddamn sleep. It’s just… occasionally… I get caught up in things.”

“Things being murder?”

“Dominic was a clever man. Between his training tactics and the experimental drugs Rita pumped into us, he instilled a craving inside us. Darius and the others feel it too—an insatiable urge to do the unspeakable.” Some of that madness shone in her eyes now as they lifted to meet his. “Cut, maim, disassemble. The way a blade slides through flesh, the crack of bones when they break. He made it so every torture is a drug, every kill is the high. He turned us into addicts, Grit, and scoring a fix is our only priority.”

“Does Jasper…”

She shook her head slowly. “Not that he’s told me. He was the first of us, you see. The original generation. Rita’s skills weren’t as developed then, and Dominic’s training methods weren’t as practiced. It took a few years and a lot of bodies before they had what they considered the perfect technique.”

“So where did it all go wrong? If their system of production, training, and distribution was so damn good, how did it all come crashing down around their ears? I mean,” he said with the slightest scoff in his voice, “it must have been a multimillion-dollar enterprise.”

Beautifully soft laughter filled the room. “Now you’re fishing for information, naughty boy. If you want to know how much I’m worth, all you have to do is ask.”

“I’m not interested in what’s in your bank account, Tabitha.”

“Fishy, fishy, fish,” she hummed. “My first official hit was when I was twelve; not long after Daddy dearest raped me for the first time. Do you know what bad guys like to do to their enemies, Grit? There’s kidnap, rape, torture, a whole ugly bag of tricks to play with, but the best way to get the good guys to roll over and die is to take away what’s most precious to them. In my case, I took the life of a teenaged boy in the middle of a crowd at a mall.”

“A… Christ, Tabitha.”

“I’m a pistol; point me and shoot. No one ever looks at another child when something happens to a kid. That was what I was designed for. What I was trained to be—inconspicuous, just a nameless, faceless person.”

Grit snorted, disconcerted by the idea of her killing a teenager when she hadn’t even reached that milestone herself. “Little tiger, there’s no way in hell you’d ever be nameless or faceless. Everything about you is memorable.”

“Oh really? How many weeks did it take you to realize I was under your nose at the construction site all along, Mr. Hotshot Mercenary?”

That was gonna bite him in the ass for a long damn time. He got the feeling Jasper and Atticus were just waiting for him to go home before they started pranking him with shit. “Too many.”

“Exactly. As far as I know, Dominic hired me out for between ten and twenty thousand per hit for the first year. The more I put the lessons into practice, the better I got—and I improved rapidly. By the time I was fifteen, the price went up to a quarter million; eighteen, and it hiked again to a million plus depending on the target.” She lifted her hands. “Now? A client needs a minimum of five million in their budget to even get me to look at their target… or I do pro bono work if someone truly in need requires my services.”

“Pedophiles are your side hustle.”

“Not a hustle.” Tabitha wagged an unhappy finger at him. “Community service, reparation for the lives I stole under Dominic’s orders. I choose my own assignments now, and I take full responsibility for them. Back then, I had no control over the who or why. Dominic took the cash and pointed me at the hit.”

“But you left.”

Her insanity sparked brighter still. “Do you know what the issue is with keeping a monster like me on a leash, Grit? An intelligent, creative monster with a growing appetite for blood? It begins to resent the chain around its neck, the lack of freedom, and finally it goes for its Master’s throat.”

Admiration filled him. “You tried to kill him.”

“I bit the hand that fed me once too often. When he finally comprehended he’d raised and trained a monster he couldn’t control… he had a difficult decision to make. Do you kill the cash cow bringing in more money than you can spend, or do you risk your life on a daily basis, wondering when the last link of that chain is going to snap?”

“From what I’ve heard, Dominic was a coward until his final breath. I doubt he’d risk anything, let alone his neck, no matter how valuable you were.” Grit regarded her, tapping his fingertips together. “Which brother did he aim at you?”

“Oh, you think he only sent one?” Tabitha threw her head back and laughed. “That’s cute. My brothers are bigger, stronger, but none of them have my kernel of lunacy. Troy, Wesley, and Ashford were the unlucky three.”

---