Shift Work (Carus #4) (31 page)

“Fuck, this gun is tiny.”

“Lady’s best friend for purse concealment.”

Stan skewered me with a glare. Pretty decent cop stare. For a moment, I thought he’d ask me if I had a permit to carry concealed guns, but if the thought crossed his mind, it quickly vacated. As it should. Friends didn’t judge friends on permit carrying, or unsanctioned assassinations.

Without a word, Stan picked up the nearby shell and tossed it in the bag. He grabbed the flashlight tucked in his belt, flicked it on, and tramped to the remains of Aahil’s skull. After a little searching, he plucked the warped 9mm bullet from the slew of brain bits and bone fragments.

Stan straightened and gazed down at the body in silence. The smell of pungent snake skin and parmesan cheese with musk oil moved stiffly in the cold air along with blood and death. Stan’s shoulders slumped, and his mouth formed a grim line. When he turned to me and started walking back, his hard gaze softened and a brief glimpse of old-Stan flashed across his face.

He dropped the bloody bullet in the disposal bag, and headed down the path. We walked to the gravel road in silence, and Stan’s bloody booties and gloves joined the evidence bag.

“Take care of this?” Stan gruffed at me.

I nodded and pulled the strings on the small garbage bag to close it. “The gun was light enough to carry here. I can take this in falcon form and distribute the gun parts and this other stuff to all the deep and fast flowing rivers within flying distance. No one will ever recover this weapon.” I’d have to stuff the lightweight outfit I wore into the bag and dispose of it as well.

Stan grunted. He turned to walk toward his car before stopping abruptly.

“Andy?” he called to me over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a true friend.” He didn’t wait for a response and clambered into his car.

He was right. I’d have to live with this execution-style murder on my conscience.

It was worth it.

Epilogue

“Then live with me and be my Love.”

~Christopher Marlowe

Tristan’s warm hands slipped over my tight muscles and started kneading. “Why are your shoulders so tight? It’s over.”

“But it’s not.”

“Loretta’s killer has been dealt with, the pharmaceutical company has been exposed, and the King’s Krank lab has been shut down.”

“Yes, but I think we can both agree the Tancher drug company raid went a little too well. Someone tipped off the Pharaoh and I want to know who and why. All those loose ends tied up nicely, too nicely. The Pharaoh must have a backup plan for his world-domination fetish.”

Tristan’s hands stilled on my shoulders. “You have a point.”

“And Ben hasn’t returned from the Elder’s with his denmates. I don’t have a good feeling about that.”

Tristan sighed. “Me neither. I like Ben. But he said their restitution might take months. You shouldn’t worry, yet.”

I pursed my lips. Telling me not to worry about Ben was like telling me not to drink coffee, but I let his comment slide and continued listing my concerns. “Something’s going on with the SRD—whether they’re complacent or incompetent remains unknown—but I need to find out if they’re holding Lucus Klug’s sister.” I sucked in a breath and kept going before Tristan could try to calm me down. “I want to know more about my birth parents, and I have a brother who might’ve survived the Purge. Plus, there’s a would-be-assassin with mountain lion wounds running around who knows where I live.”

“That will be dealt with.” Tristan’s voice turned hard and dark.

“Tristan…” I started.

His hands slipped forward to fold around me in a hug as he leaned forward. His mouth pressed against my ear through my hair.

“I’ve already got my team working on it,” he said. “And now that you’ve finally given me permission, my company will be here tomorrow installing a security system throughout your building. I know you don’t want to move from this place, so instead of trying to fight you on it, my company will continue to monitor your home twenty-four-seven like they have for the last month. It’s going to stay this way, too, until I can convince you to live with me.”

“Tristan…”

“It’s non-negotiable.”

“Tristan!”

“What?” he growled, but in a playful way. He nipped my ear.

Tristan’s phone chirped and interrupted whatever Tristan and his wicked mouth planned to do next. He sighed and pulled back to check the message.

“Work,” he groaned. “I have to go in.”

“Will you be long?”

“Hope not. I have plans for you.” Tristan leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips before swaggering to the bedroom to get his things.

My heart beat faster and my cheeks flushed with warmth. Words bubbled up my throat on their own accord. “Hey, Tristan?”

“Yeah?” He stopped and turned to me.

“I love you.” The words flowed out of my mouth, as natural as the rain on a stormy day. Why’d I choose now to say it?

Because it was right.

And true.

“I know.” Sapphire blue eyes twinkled back at me. “I love you, too.”

A word about the author…

Born and raised on the Haida Gwaii, off the West Coast of Canada, J. C. McKenzie grew up in a pristine wilderness that inspired her to dream. She writes Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance.

You can visit her website at http://jcmckenzie.ca

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