Page 33 of Web of Lies
“What?”
“We're the rescue party.”
He presses two fingertips above one of his eyebrows and stares at me. “We aren't getting paid to rescue anybody.”
“Riiiight,” I draw the word out again. “But are we actually going to get paid? What was the agreement for that?”
“I'm supposed to contact him in a day or two to discuss a timeline. He'll pay us at the drop off.”
Uh-huh. “Riiiiiight.” Wyatt’s eye may or may not twitch a little when I drag out the word again. “Well, I'm not so sure the job we were hired to do is the job that needs to be done.” I drop that little chunk of opinion into the air and leave him on the porch to stew over it.
There's a game on when I turn on the TV, it might be a replay. Doesn't matter. I just want it on for the noise. I don't care about football. Larken is still snuggled up in her little cocoon, sleeping away. It's no wonder. She didn't sleep at all last night. That's why I put her in the damn chest. I needed to sleep but Wyatt needed it more than I did and I didn't want to wake him up. Leaving her tied to that chair while both of us slept wasn't an option. I thought about attaching her to me somehow, but that also sounded fucking horrible so I didn't do that, either. The only logical option was the chest.
It was clean. There were no bugs. No cobwebs. It even smelled good, like cedar. I don't know why she was so worked up. It wasn't like it was a tight fit. She was fine. She just didn't like it. I did see her knuckles, though. They were a little messy, but nothing huge. If we were actually going to do the job we were hired to do, she'd still be locked in there. The fact that she's not is hilariously alarming.
Wyatt comes in quietly and sits next to me on the couch. He leans back and laces his fingers together over his chest and watches Larken breathe for a minute before he sighs and looks at me. “I don't like the husband.”
I haven't met him and I don't like him. “Riiiiiight.” Wyatt’s eye is definitely twitching, which means I’ll just have to keep adding extra i’s to the word.
“I don't know enough about her to know whether I like her or not.”
I suck on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. He'll eventually get there. “Riiiiiight.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Saying right like that.”
I laugh at him and laugh even harder at the deep breath he has to take before continuing. “I want the money.”
I twist until I'm facing him fully. My jaw hasn't exactly dropped, but that isn't at all what I expected him to say next.
He huffs and rests his head against the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling. “You can't tell me you don't want the money.”
I do want the money. I might even need it. But even I have a code of morals. Limits to my wrongdoing. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised or disappointed that the money is what he's most concerned about, especially after the little chat we just had on the porch. “So... what? You want to put her back into the chest?” What's the point of making sure the damn sandwich didn't make her sick if you're just going to do the job? This guy is something else.
He sighs dramatically.
I sigh even more dramatically. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Then I do it again.
“Stop it.”
“You stop it. You need to decide what you're doing before it's not a choice anymore.”
“Both of you stop it,” Larken grumbles from her cocoon. “And don't put me back in that chest. I'm perfectly fine in this chair.”
Wyatt sighs again and I laugh.
“Shh!” Larken hisses, and I laugh even harder until she cracks open one eye to glare at me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, swallowing the laughter still threatening to spew out of me. All humor leaves my body when the corner of her mouth lifts into the tiniest smile.
Yeah, no. Wyatt can still work this job and chase that money. I'm not giving her back.
Chapter Twelve
Wyatt
