Page 59 of Tattletale

Linc slams his foot on the gas. I fly backward into my seat which such force, it steals my breath. Rolling my eyes, I grab my seat belt and fasten it across my waist.

I’ve been waiting in the car for at least half an hour. When we arrived at what can only be described as the haunted mansion on the hill, Linc told me to sit tight. He dragged an immobile Colt out of the car and slung him over his shoulder easily, as if he had the strength of two men, double his size.

The adrenaline from the past few hours has finally calmed, and I feel restless. I can’t sit in this damn car a moment longer. I open the passenger door, and the first thing I hear is unmistakable gunshots. The nervous flood of energy returns, and I hate that I immediately worry about Colt.

But the gunshots aren’t coming from the house that Linc walked into. They are coming from what looks like a large steel barn about 200 meters behind me.

The gunshots fire off again, and I realize it’s the same exact pattern. Three rapid shots, a brief pause. One more shot. A longer pause, then one more shot.

This whole sequence happens two more times before I finally hear the unmistakable roar of frustration.A woman’s roar.

It must be cold out because I can see my breath against the night air. But for some reason, I can’t feel it, even in short sleeves. My heavy combat boots grind loudly into the dirt trail leading to the barn. I have zero stealth at the moment, and it dawns on me that walking toward gunfire is probably a bad idea. But when I hear the same shot pattern again, I can’t help my curiosity.

There’s a padlock on the barn, but it’s unlocked, just dangling over the two handles. I free the lock and toss it on the ground before peeling the barn doors open.

Far across the barn, a small blonde, dressed head to toe in black, wearing combat boots that look similar to my own, looks at me with her eyes wide. She raises the pistol in her hand and takes a few steps forward with the gun pointed at my head. “Who the fuck are you?” she calls out in a thick, Irish accent.

There’s a gun in my face, but for some reason, I feel pretty relaxed. Or hypnotized, more accurately. Holy shit. I’m seventeen with raging hormones, and honestly, a cool breeze at the right moment can turn me on, but I’m not exaggerating when I say this is the most excruciatingly beautiful human being I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The closer she gets, the more paralyzed I get. She’s literally so stunning, it hurts. I might end up with a bullet in my brain, but if she’s the last sight I see… Well, there are worse ways to go.

“Talk,” she snaps, when she’s about five feet away from me.

I force out the words as quickly as I can. “Linc brought me in.” I hold my hands in the air. “I’m not armed. I was waiting in the car for him to come get me, and I heard gunshots.”

She squints one eye. “Linc left you alone in the car, unsupervised?”

I nod in reply, eyes fixed on the strange way she’s clutching the grip of her Glock.

“Then you must be no harm. Linc doesn’t take risks like that.” She lowers her gun. “Unrelated, are you on a suicide mission?” She cocks her head to the side, her long ponytail swishing behind her.

I have to look down to see her big, green eyes. I must be almost a foot taller than she is. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“So you normally just burst into a live fire room?” She points to the target boards with steel backings in various places around the barn. “That’s a good way to die. PALADIN doesn’t have a lot of safety rules, butdon’t be an idiotis definitely one of the ones we try to abide by.”

“PALADIN?” I ask.

“I thought you said Linc brought you in?”

I exhale. “He was after my brother for information. I was an accidental tagalong, I suppose.”

“Did he catch him?” she asks.

I give her a clipped smile before glancing over my shoulder at the main house in the distance behind me. “Yep. He’s probably ripping his toes off one by one as we speak.”

The blonde nods with a serious face. “Interesting. It’s been a while since Linc used that tactic. It’s awfully messy.”

The blood drains from my face. “I was kidding. You don’t think he’s—”

She interrupts me with a loud chuckle. “So am I. Sorry, spend too much time around here, and your humor will grow dark.”

“Noted.”

Using her gun, she points over my shoulder. “Close that, please. It’s fucking freezing. I can’t hit my targets as it is. The cold doesn’t help. Slows me down.”

I do as she asks, sliding the doors together until I hear them click and latch. When I turn back around to face her, I say, “It could be ninety degrees in here and you’ll never hit a target with that weird eagle clutch you have on your grip.”

She drops her jaw. “Really? Insulting the woman who has a loaded gun and is pretty frustrated at the moment?”

---