Page 55 of A Love Most Fatal

“Who?”

“Ness,” he says, and I can’t help but think the use of the nickname is calculated. A subtle brag. VeryI-have-an-intimacy-with-her-that-you-do-not.

“It might be easier if I did have something on her.” I snap the lid onto the fruit bowl and slip past him to put it in the fridge. “Just the wrong place, wrong time. One ill-advised date that ended in a shooting. I’m sure you get it.”

“What I don’t get is why she has a soft spot for you. Maybe it’s her maternal instinct urging her to take care of somethinghelpless and pathetic.” Cillian doesn’t pretend to say this flippantly, he is all eye contact and broad shoulders pulled back into perfect posture.

What the hell is this guy’s deal?

“Are you this charming with everyone, or just with me?” I ask, but he ignores the question and leans closer to me.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Hm,” I agree. “And just what do you think I can accomplish? As you pointed out earlier, I’m only a math teacher.”

“A math teacher interviewing mobsters.” He laughs. “Rich that anyone would believe you’re aconsigliere.”

I grab a cup and pour some of the orange mango juice from the counter while I try to come up with a response to the bullshit this dude is going on about. I’ve never been one for macho posturing, but I’m starting to think I should practice comebacks for moments like this one.

Cillian puts a punishing hand on my shoulder. There must be a pressure point directly beneath his thumb because my shoulder involuntarily drops in response.

“Don’t search too hard,” Cillian says, and offers the most disgustingly handsome smile I’ve ever seen. His row of bottom teeth are perfect, and commercial-white. What a dick. “She’ll come to her senses soon.”

Speaking of the she-devil, Vanessa walks in through the back door, her sandals slapping against the tile floor.

Cillian takes the glass of juice from my hand and brings it to Vanessa.

“Thanks,” she says, and takes a long sip. “Just what I wanted.”

Cillian smiles and winks at me over her head.

I hate that fucking guy.

20

NATE

Because fighting isn’t enough,they want me to be good with guns. Vanessa swung by my room after morning training to tell me to get dressed to go out. Leo then drove us to a private, indoor shooting range where they unloaded five boxes of different guns on a table and handed me a pair of ear plugs and glasses.

“You don’t get these in the real world,” Vanessa says. “But hopefully in the real world you won’t be shooting inside a concrete building.”

Leo laughs in a way that tells me this scenario is more common than I would like to believe.

“Do you have a gun?” Leo asks and I don’t mean to wince, but I do. I think my face has been in an uncomfortable grimace since we walked in the door.

Mary takes a bite out of an apple from where she perches on the counter. “Have you ever held a gun?”

“Yes.’’ That’s a lie. I’ve held many laser guns, but I don’t think that’s what they mean.

“You’re a teacher, shouldn’t you have one?” Leo asks.

“Nowthat’sa hot button topic,” Vanessa mutters, and before anyone can follow that thread, she holds a pistol out to me. It’sblack and smaller than I thought it would be. As to not look entirely horrified, I take the gun from her, my fingers ghosting across the back of her hand as I do.

It’s heavier than I thought it would be. I don’t even hover a finger over the trigger.

Vanessa holds up what I recognize from video games as a magazine and a box of bullets.

She jerks her head towards one of the bays and I follow her there holding the gun at my side. Is it illegal to walk with a gun out in front of you? Or is it more just common safety, like how you hand scissors to your neighbor in class? Wait, are there laws about gun safety that I need to know before shooting a gun?

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