Page 28 of Pretty Threats

“Time at the ledge?” C asks.

“Ten to fifteen seconds,” War says.

Trick’s hand is resting on his leg. If he slides it to his waist, I’m done.

“Account for the gun,” Trick says while looking at me.

Sweat trickles down my back. I’ve been questioned by principals, school counselors, lawyers, a serial rapist, and the police. I never once started to sweat. Not when I was deciding to kill someone and not when a kid died in a fiery crash while drag racing against me.

These guys are a different breed of interrogator, though. They’re killers, and as the story unfolds, there’s a good chance they’ll kill me for not executing the op the way I was trained to.

I’m not ready to die tonight, but there is no way around it if C gives the order. The three of them against me in close quarters? Not a prayer in heaven.

When Trick says “account for the gun”, he means second by second. These guys do everything with precision. Fuck-ups are not allowed. And the way things were supposed to be executed did not include sending texts to a college girl in the middle of the op. I don’t know how many times they stressed to us that a mission is not over until every bit of the disposal is complete.

I crack the knuckle of my right trigger finger and answer the question. “When we exited the truck, I dropped the gun in a paint tray that Jamie had waiting. He poured bleach over it, so it was totally submerged. I didn’t see him take it out and remove the silencer because I was getting undressed. When I looked over, I saw him shoving the small wire bristle brush into the gun’s barrel. War had the lighter fluid. My hands were clean and free, so I checked my phone.”

“Why answer a text then?” C says.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I had an idle second, so I fired it off.”

“With a typo.” C’s scowl deepens. “One that brought a girl to the house.”

“Yeah.”

“Keep going.” C’s jaw muscles stand out as his jaw clenches. “Did Jamie intercept her and send her away?”

I’m silent for a moment because I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to lay the blame on anyone else. “I didn’t see what happened before we got back to shore, so I’m just speculating. She must have come around the far side of the house, not from the street next to the back lot. I think by the time he spotted her she was at the barrel, filming the fire. My white suit was still visible and had smeared blood on it. I don’t know if she saw the blood or knew what it was.”

“You don’t? Why else would she be filming the burn?” C says incredulously.

“She’s a film student. She films literally anything that catches her eye.”

C’s jaw looks as though it’s made of iron as he glances over at Trick.

“That tracks,” Trick says. “I know which girl she is. The Callahan stepsister. You’ve seen her, C. Petite. Medium brown hair. Name’s Raine with an e on the end.”

C shakes his head. She’s not been on his radar. Of course, Trick has been to more Callahan events where he would’ve seen Raine.

“She does film random things.” Trick nods. “One reception, I saw her filming a bird feeder. I walked by because I was curious. She was tracking a leaf’s progress as it floated around the edge.”

“Hmm.” C looks back at me. “For our Crue, a witness—even to evidence disposal—constitutes a major error. For some other organizations, bystanders wander into op zones from fucking anywhere and spot things happening, including stuff they can later report. That doesn’t happen to us. We’re better than that.”

I nod.

C shakes his head in disgust. “So, she gets on the property, then what?”

“He catches her filming and detains her. That’s when we got back to shore. By this time, it’s close to dawn and we’re outside in nothing but shorts, freezing our balls off, so we went inside the house. Her, too.”

“She came in voluntarily or by force?” C asks.

“I picked her up and walked inside with her,” I say.

“Break it down for me from there with details.” C cracks his knuckles “And don’t make me ask another fucking question. We want the whole picture from start to finish. The facts.”

The sweat on my back has dried. I’m calm now. Whatever’s going to happen will happen.

There’s not a bit of uncertainty in my voice when I speak. It’s dead steady and distant as I lay it out for them, including that we were divided about what to do with her. The only thing I leave out is my having a sexual encounter with her after we woke up. When I finish, I look at War. “If I missed anything, tell them.”

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