“You forget, I’ve had practice, and isn’t that the Girl Scout’s motto? Be prepared?”
“Fuck you. I was a Boy Scout. We had it first.”
Shay grinned. “Not that I was ever a Girl Scout.” She resisted the urge to slap Peyton upside the head to stop his fidgeting. “I said stop moving, damn it. Do you want me to really kill you or just fake kill you? Because, you know, I’m sorely tempted by the first.”
“You know, Shay, you’re just as angry as I remember you. Maybe even angrier. I would have thought fake dying would have made you a little more chill.”
“I’m only angry because you won’t stop moving. What are you, five years old? Stay still for two seconds. I’m only trying to save your fucking life here. Sorry that it’s such an inconvenience.”
Peyton muttered something under his breath. “I still don’t get this. You’re going to save me by making it look like you shot me in the head?”
“Yes. It’s not that damned hard to understand.”
“I think I have a new nickname for you: Angry White Bitch.”
Shay snorted as she added in some texture and additional color to the growing headshot wound on the man’s forehead. “I have a nickname for you, too. Clueless.”
“I’m not that clueless. I stayed alive all this time, didn’t I? And that’s dealing with all these dangerous people and swimming around in the middle of their shit. You would not believe the information they pass back and forth.”
“You never took this shit seriously. You did it for kicks.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is, and anyway, you did survive, but it wasn’t you. It was that family of yours that kept you alive, until they didn’t want to anymore.”
Peyton jerked away from her, scowling. Shay fought her natural instinct to palm strike the man’s nose after his sudden movement. Then the makeup wouldn’t be necessary to make him look dead.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“First of all, get the hell back here, so I can finish.” Shay narrowed her eyes at him. “Second, I think the whole corrupt Congress scum thing is a convenient excuse to get you out of the way. I think your family pushed this. This isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled onto big info that was not in your purview, but this is the first time people decided they needed to kill you for it.”
“Wait, you think my family wants to get me out of the way?” The man scooted back toward Shay.
“Come on, you’re not that dumb,” She lifted her brush. The death wound needed only a few final touches.
Peyton sat, rigid as a statue as Shay finished her work. “I’m not… that’s a bit much, don’t you think, trying to get me killed?” His eyes searched her face for an answer.
Shay finished her moulage application and shook her head. “Connect the dots, Peyton. Your father was a kingmaker before his stroke. He amassed a fortune and isn’t much longer for this world. We both know your brother and sister would like to get you out of the way so they can inherit everything. That’s a lot of money. Shit, I’ve killed a lot of people for far less than that, and that money also has a lot of influence that can go with it. Power and money. Add in some sex, and that’s what makes the world go around.”
Peyton shook his head as Shay grabbed his chin and held it tight, making the final touches..
“I don’t know if I can believe they would come after me like that. No. I refuse to believe it. Why do you even think it’s them behind all of this? Gangsters can want me dead for knowing their secrets without my family being involved.”
Shay rose and nodded toward the bathroom. “I already have the fake blood all set up in the bathtub. Go in there and just rest your head in the open spot so I can get photographic proof of blowing your brains out with a nice low-caliber pistol. Glad I didn’t decide to kill you with a fake shotgun. That shit would have been a lot more annoying.”
“You’re dodging the question.” Peyton stepped toward the bathroom. “You always were good at that, Shay.”
She shrugged a single shoulder. “I can only tell you what it smells like to me and what information I found. It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. The end result is the same. There’s a serious hit out on you, and you have to leave, or you’ll end up dead for real. Even if you try to go back for your inheritance after your father finally dies, you’ll just end up buried right next to him.”
“Not saying you’re wrong, but I’m also not saying you’re right, either.”
Shay gave him a cold stare. “Whatever. Don’t really give a shit as long as you do what I say. I’m risking my life coming back here to help you out. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Friday night.”
Peyton entered the bathroom. “And it’s not like I ran off screaming now, is it?”
Shay followed him into the bathroom and waited for Peyton to lie down. “Stay still while I get a few pics.” She lifted her phone and took pictures from a few different angles. “Okay, I’m done.”
“You’re seriously going to get money off fake-killing me? Won’t that lead to you getting caught alive?” Peyton sat up in the red-splattered bathtub. He looked like a country club zombie. “That is the part I find more confusing than anything.”
“Not at all. Not my first rodeo with aliases and fake identities. This will be easy, you see, because you’ve already disappeared. No corpse works out better for these kinds of people sometimes. Less disposal worries on their part. And it will keep most of the assholes off your back for a while.”
“For a while?” Something approaching fear entered Peyton’s eyes. “I’m not fake dying to stay above ground?”
“Stand up. I’ll keep you safe
