Page 25 of Tattletale

I gawk at her. “When did you become the dude in this relationship?”

She scowls. “Anyway. What’s June twenty-seventh?”

“My mom’s birthday…and I was kind of hoping it could be our wedding date if you’re willing to wait a couple of months. Obviously, Mom can’t come, but I thought it’d be a nice tribute to her. She would’ve loved to see me get married.”

“Oh, Lance.” Cricket drops her sassy smirk and leaves all her playful jokes behind. She cuddles against my chest and drapes the covers over us. “How is she doing?”

“Good…I guess. Vesper doesn’t tell me much, just that she’s healthy and she’s taking all her meds. I think she’s made some friends in the facility, so that’s good.”

“You should go see her.”

“She wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Perfect reason why you should go.” Cricket holds up her hand, caressing my cheek. “Not just for her, but for you too. You deserve to see your mom.”

“Vesper says—”

“Ohfuckwhat Vesper says,” Cricket grumbles. She twists around, facing me with wide, animated eyes. “If my mother was alive, not Vesper, not Linc, not the entire force of PALADIN could keep me from seeing her. You have to stop drinking the Kool-Aid so hard, my love. Vesper is your boss, not your keeper. What gives her the right to tell you what you can and can’t do?”

“My love?” My lips curl into half a smile.

She laughs. “Slipped right out.”

“I like it.I really like it.But as for my mother…Vesper’s right in this. Seeing me might jostle her mind for the worst. She’s at peace because she’s forgotten. It’s best to leave the past in the past.”

Or it’s the mantra I tell myself. I miss my mother. She’s all I have of my old life. The life I never talk about.

To us, my father was an angry, drunk abuser. To the world, he was a decorated cop. Looking back, that’s probably where my distaste for law enforcement came from.

For years, my older brother, Colt, and I would hide while he pounded my mother to a pulp. We were kids…we couldn’t do anything about it. We were barely able to survive the abuse he dolled upon us. So many broken bones that my mother explained away to the disinterested Medicaid workers in the ER. They should’ve known better. They should’ve asked more questions.

“Anyway, what do you think? About the date?” I ask, shaking off the painful memories.

Cricket nods. “A wedding date for your mother. I like that. Let’s do it. On June twenty-seventh, you’ll be Mr. Fiona O’Leary.” She kisses my cheek.

“Not a fucking chance,” I mutter under my breath.

“But anyway, you head home. I’ll find my way back tomorrow,” Cricket says. “I have some business to handle tonight.”

“Business? Vesper gave you another target?”

She falls silent for a beat. “No, but this is one of those ‘ask less questions’ situations, Lancelot.” She turns away and tries to get out of bed.

What the fuck? She just full-named me.I grab her wrist and pull her back into bed. Guiding her knee over my lap, I pull her closer so she’s straddling my upper thighs. “Less questions, huh? Well, in that case… Who? Why? What target?” I cock my head to the side.

“You know, sometimes you’re not cute, just annoying.”

“I disagree. I’m actually delightful twenty-four seven.” I kiss the tip of her nose, but then my expression flattens. “In all seriousness, I told you I love you. I asked you to marry me. From now on… I want to know when you’re in danger—”

“Lance, I don’t need to be babysat—”

“Not foryou, Cricket. For me. You shouldn’t marry a guy who doesn’t dread the idea of losing you.”

She sighs, placing her hands on my cheeks. “Whoareyou? What happened to my playboy best friend? Hm? When did you turn into my knight in shining armor?”

I smile. “Well, I told you, a Romani assassin drugged me with a purple love potion last night.”

Cricket squints at me like I’ve lost my mind, then says, “Good. When do you need to get dosed again?”

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