Page 161 of Piece Us Together

Ash hops off his vehicle as we filter out of our small plane, tossing his cigarette to the ground and twisting his boot over it. He picks it up right after, slipping it into his front pocket. His lips quirk. “Litterin' is bad.”

“I thought you quit,” Keats says in response, raising a daring eyebrow.

“If my boy asks, I did.” He tsks. “But there’s just somethin' about a cigarette when you’re 'bout to fuck some shit up, ya know? It’s my pre-game ritual or whatever.” He steps past them and grabs my shoulder. “Been a good week?”

I’m glad for the darkness around us because I’m pretty sure I blush. “Yeah. Yes. Very good.”

He grins, all white teeth and proud dom-vibes. “I’m fuckin' glad, man. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” I agree as he pulls me into an overzealous hug. I mess up his hair to save some face. Sometimes you just have to resort to childish measures. “This is Travis. I don’t think you’ve met him yet?”

“I haven’t.” He offers his hand to Travis, who takes it while giving me a suspicious look. They agree it’s nice to meet each other. “I hear you’re good under pressure.”

“I can hold my own,” Travis says with a smirk. “Keats said you want point?”

With the topic brought to the mission, the mood of our group changes. Ash is already heading to the driver’s side of the vehicle as he says, “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“We’ll put Maison in that tree you marked with the long-range rifle,” Keats says, hopping into the passenger side as Travis and I take the back seat. “Travis is best at talking, but he’s good with tactical, too.”

“Out of practice, though. I’d use Keats as your second if I were you. Unless you changed your mind on infiltration? I can talk my way inside, I bet. I could give it a damn good shot, at the very least.”

“No offense to either of you, but Maison isn’t sittin' in a fuckin' tree.” He laughs, sounding almost incredulous. He hasn’t starteddriving yet. Instead, he turns to look at me like I’ve gone insane. “You’re my second. Why the fuck wouldn’t you be?”

I can practically feel Travis’s confusion as I shrug. “I can be. That’s fine.”

“Maison is a little…out of practice,” Travis says carefully, probably trying not to offend me. “More than me. I think he’d be—”

“Out of practice? Jesus. Talk about high standards. What’s it been for you, a few months?” He shakes his head, starting to drive like this is too ridiculous for him to even give his full attention any longer. “Not includin' the recent work you’ve done bringin' your op to a close. That’s why you’ve gone black, I figure.”

Travis looks at me, brow furrowed. “Months?”

Ash continues, ignoring him. “I might be mostly out of the game these days, but I know for a fact you were involved in that mess in Miami this past May.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, prickling at the thought that I wasn’t covert enough.

“You mean, if I didn’t recognize your signature?”

“I told him,” Keats admits. “Let it slip when he called to ask if you could be a part of this. He was worried you were out of the game. I said you’d been on hiatus, doing something for your long game op. Said you’d probably be happy to be back in the thick of it. That you hadn’t gotten your hands very dirty since Miami.”

When Travis speaks this time, it’s loud and hard. No one ignores him. “Are you telling me that you’ve been doing ops all this time?”

I can’t look at him. “Yes.”

“But—how?”

“There were a lot of loose ends the op left. I cleaned them up.” I shrug. “And when I had the time, I followed stray leads. A place here or there that wouldn’t cause too much attention if takenout. Some mid-range traffickers. A small auction or two. I helped a few guys fulfill rescue contracts, sort of like this one. That’s how I met Ash, actually.”

“Fun fact, Maison helped me save my best friend’s husband—not his husband at the time, of course. He was in the same traffickin' ring that my own husband came out of.”

I kick the back of his seat. “You didn’t fucking tell methat. You got hitched?”

“I was goin' to invite you, but Keats said you were still dark!”

“Okay, fair.” I snort a laugh. “Plus, you know, the wholewe’ve had sexthing might have been a bit awkward, I suppose.”

Travis sputters.

Keats turns to look at him, annoyance flashing in his expression. “Did you really think he just sat on his ass for the last decade? He has more dirt on his hands than both of us combined, most likely.”

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