Page 43 of Kings of Sherwood

“Start talking. Tell them what you told us.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Nick gives a little cough, rearranges his shoulders like he’s trying to look tougher and bigger than he is. “I was, uh...”

“Spare us the life story,” LJ interjects. “The hit order.”

“Right.” Nick nods again. “I heard about it yesterday. It’s some kind of open contract, I guess? Nothing official.”

“But a lot of cops on it,” Will throws in.

“Sure. For the cash. And I guess they have, you know, the skillset.”

“More than some people,” LJ mutters.

“Anyway,” Rob says.

“Yeah.” Nick’s nodding is like a nervous tic. “But I figured the money’s gotta be legit. Because coming from that guy—”

Rob leans slightly forward, eyebrows up, an unspoken prompt.

“Lackland,” Nick says, swallowing hard. “John Lackland. Some...rich asshole who hates you guys,” he adds, with a touch of bravado.

The name punches the air from my lungs. My ears ring, and the room goes slightly sideways, as I’m acutely aware of four—no, five—pairs of eyes boring into me.

“Yeah,” says a voice at last—Will’s. “So there’s that.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fucking...fuck.”

Nick darts his eyes this way and that, like he’s trying to gauge whether this is bad news for him personally or not. For whatever reason, I feel the need to explain.

“He’s my...” I don’t even know what the right word is. I press a hand to my forehead. “Was my legal guardian, for a while. Technically. He tried to steal from me, so I ran away, and that’s how I ended up...here,” I finish.

“That’s the abridged version,” Rob growls. “Man’s a goddamn bastard.”

“He hurt you,” Tuck says, his voice uncharacteristically low and cold. “In a lot of ways.”

“Yeah, and now he’s trying again,” I mutter. “Fuck.” Tears are pricking at the edges of my eyes, but I look to the ceiling and scrape them away. “Goddammit.”

I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard. Of course John’s going to thrash around like a weasel until the day he dies. Of course he’s going to find a way to make other people do the dirty work and squeeze everything he can out of what he sees as an opportunity. It’s not that—I knew that,knowthat.

It’s more that, for a little while, I’d let myself forget. And I’m angry that I did.

No one speaks. Everyone letting me compose myself.

And I do.

“So this is his endgame,” I say, my voice cool and hard as ice. “Knock you all out—or at least Rob—and then get me back in hisfuckingclutches.”

Rob nods. “I’d bet folding money he doesn’t even have the reward liquid. Probably plans to pay it out of whatever he’d finagle from you.”

“Or you, more likely,” I counter. “I’m tapped out, remember? Guy already filtered all my assets back to John.”

Will frowns. “So why’d he even want you, then, Maren? I mean, pardon the blunt question. But—”

“No, it’s a good one.” I think hard. John’s certainly never felt any kind of familial affection towards me. The only reason he never let me come to outright harm was to preserve the goose that laid the golden inheritance—that, and to keep up appearances. I lift a shoulder. “Maybe he just doesn’t want the drama. If I come back safe and sound and quietly, he can get people to stop gossiping and get back into society’s good graces.” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

There’s a softthudto my left. Nick’s wavering on his feet and took a sudden step to steady himself.

He’s exhausted.

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