Page 109 of My Rose

There was a perk to coming to this land for family vacations that were always less about being a family and more about distancing myself from my father by playing in the woods as a young boy—I knew this land like the back of my hand. It wasn’t long before a figure matching the description we set out looking for ran by me. Keeping hidden behind a tree, I watched as he slowed and took his phone out. I did the same, sending Dean a pin showing my location.

“Where will I find you?” he said to himself, searching for something on his phone. “Not so far away, I bet.”

Thatvoice—so familiar. I narrowed my eyes as he pulled the phone from his mostly covered face, the light from his screen illuminating his body shape as he pushed his phone into his pocket.

“Well, well.” I stepped out from behind the tree, the barrel of my gun tapping along my side. “Stanley. How nice to see you again.”

He stumbled back. “Reaper, or should I say, Mr. Andrews.”

I tapped the barrel to my temple as I chuckled. “You know, knowing my name and who I am is almost as valuable as your life—funny how they both hang in the balance right now. One so dependent on the other.” His head angled to the side in clear confusion. “See, dead men can’t tell secrets, Stanley.”

I think he finally understood what I was saying and took a few steps back, reaching for something in his pocket. I raised my gun, aiming right for his head. “I wouldn’t do that.” Dean’s gun glinted in the faint moonlight, snow crunching beneath his boots. That bastard was either dressed at two a.m., or he got a phone call well before the first one I got. No way he got dressed for the snow completely in the time he did. “I recognize you.”

Stanley let out a forced laugh as he raised his hands slowly into the air. “Now, fellas. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Rage boiled beneath my skin. “You came ontomyproperty in the middle of the night dressed in black from head to toe.” I cocked my head at him. “I’ll be honest—it looks bad for you right about now, Stan.”

“Very bad.” Dean stepped closer to him until he was close enough to pat him down. Pulling a gun from the holster along Stan’s side, Dean quickly inspected it and then tossed it over to me.

I turned Stan’s gun over in my hand. “Very, very bad.” I tucked my gun under my arm as I unloaded Stan’s, letting the bullets drop slowly into the snow in front of him. “Who sent you?”

Stan’s arms started to tremble in the air. “I-I don’t know.”

Dean angled his gun toward Stan’s hand and fired. Stan cried out, pulling both hands to his chest as red dotted the snow by his shoes. “You really don’t learn lessons well, do you?” I asked. “Tell me now. Who sent you?”

“Okay, okay!” Stan cursed under his breath, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He gave up so easily. It would have been comical had he not had every intention of going up to my house. “Some woman in a suit, I don’t know. She told me if I could get a picture of the woman in your house, then she’d do something about the drug charges against me. Wipe them from the computer or something.”

Dean glanced at me, his brow dipping. “What drug charges?”

I pocketed Stan’s gun, then took mine up in my hand again. “The one that was needed to make sure he stayed away.” Load of help that was. “What did this woman look like?”

“I—I’m not sure. Blonde? Maybe?” Stan shook his head, appearing to clear it as his eyes fell to his shoes. Dean and I shared a look. “You mean that wasn’t part of what he said his client wanted to do with me?”

Dean smirked and shrugged his shoulders, pressing his gun to Stan’s back, causing him to stiffen. “I don’t give a fuck what he did to you. I’m sure you deserved it.”

I groaned in frustration. “Did she say why, Stan? What do they want with her?”

Stan raised his head just enough to meet my eyes, his movements slow so he wouldn’t set off Dean behind him. “You think I know?” He laughed weakly. “I told you what I know, kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” Dean replied. “Any last thoughts?” After a beat, Stan shook his head. “Good.”

“Wait—” Dean’s gun went off before I could finish, and Stan’s body fell to the snowy ground with a soft thud. “I had more questions.”

Dean pocketed his gun and bent down to pick up Stan by his ankles, blood pooling in the snow by his head. “Too late. He said he had nothing else to tell us.”

My eyes narrowed on Dean. “Someone sent him to find Rose.”

“Or Jasmine,” Dean muttered. “It doesn’t matter. You told me that guy lied during his time in your chair. What makes you think he was telling the truth just now?”

I walked over to join him, grabbing Stan’s wrists to lift him. It wasn’t my first time carrying a body, but that was the extent of what I was going to do tonight. Dean seemed to have the same thought as we broke through the tree line and loaded Stan into the trunk.

“You need to call your guy.”

“Yeah. Maybe next time, don’t shoot the guy before I’m done talking.”

Dean pulled his jacket off and wiped his hands of the few blood splatters on his skin. “What do you think he was going to say?”

“I don’t fucking know. But someone coming here—somewhere not many people know about to begin with—and it was a blonde—” I scrubbed my palms down my face.

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