Shay bounced to her feet, hurrying over to the downed man and jerking his arm up before bending it back and dropping down hard on her knee. The cracking humerus echoed in the room as the gang member howled in pain.
A gang member stumbled to his feet, swaying and unsteady. His hand dropped behind his back, but Shay had her gun out and pointed before he could even touch his weapon.
“Don’t.” Her expression was cold. “Like I said, I don’t need trouble from the cops, but if you’re aching to fucking die, there’s a lot of people in this neighborhood who won’t cry if I blew your fucking brains out right here. Take your friends and never come back here.” Shay cocked the gun ready to go either way.
“This is me holding back. If I hear that you’re even sniffing in this direction, I’m gonna show up in the middle of the night at your crib, and I’m gonna cut your balls off and stuff them down your throat before I put a bullet in your brain. Understand, asshole?”
The man put his hands in front of him. “I get it. I get it. We’re out.” He hurried over to help one of his groaning friends, who was cradling his broken arm, rise to his feet and limp out the back door, terror on their faces.
Shay let out a breath and looked back at the dining room. No sign of Peyton. “Maybe a little over the top there.”
The owner rushed over and shook her hand as she holstered her gun. “Thank you. Thank you. Those ganado have been leaning on me for protection money for months. They keep increasing the price. I thought I was going to go out of business. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”
Shay flexed her hands and straightened her jacket. “Some pizza, maybe?”
“You can have all the pizza you want for life. This place is your home away from home, as far as I’m concerned. What do you want? Margherita pizza?”
“Thin-crust pepperoni and sausage to start.”
The owner looked around the kitchen, anxiously wringing his hands. “Just let me, uh, mop up some of the blood, and I’ll get that going.”
Shay smiled. “Take your time.” With a wave, she headed back out front, pushing the swinging door.
Peyton sat at a table, checking his phone. “Should I be calling the police? Uh, or the coroner? Heard the commotion but I’ve learned to wait for your reappearance.”
“I was making some new friends. Eat all you want. It’s on the house.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Shay whistled to herself as she relaxed in a chair in the cubicle living room, skimming through a tomb raiding forum. Rumors about the two missing treasure hunters from Alpha Explorers was filling up a lot of the forums in recent days. The rest of the Alpha company was attempting to quash the stories, claiming that the men had quit because they couldn’t handle the lifestyle.
“If by the lifestyle, you mean still breathing, that’s technically true.”
“You say something?” Peyton shuffled into the living room and fell backward into one of the lounge chairs Shay had recently purchased. The warehouse was looking more like a home than an office. Chalk one up for Peyton.
He was in a dark mood and doing his best to stay calm.
Shay looked up from her phone. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad’s no longer in his coma.”
Shay sat forward. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“No. He’s moved from coma to dead.”
“I see… Sorry to hear it, Peyton. I know… you wanted to clear things up with him before the end.”
Peyton shook his head. “I wanted the chance to clear the air, say a few things…”
Shay looked away, unsure what to say. Comforting people wasn’t in her wheelhouse.
“I need to go,” Peyton said.
“Sure. I can take you out somewhere. To a pizza place or a movie or something to get your mind off things.”
Peyton shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. I need to go back to Connecticut to his funeral.”
“Not going to happen…” Shay took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “That’s not a good idea. That’s too much danger just to get a little closure.”
“It’s not about closure. It’s more about my mother. She needs me.”
“I’m gonna say this once, so listen up. You can’t go to that funeral. You’re dead. If anything, you showing up is just gonna make things worse for your mom. Tell me your explanation for letting her think you’re dead.”
Peyton stood and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can at least watch from a distance.”
“No, you can’t. It’s too risky.” Shay shook her head. “Let me give you a little advice from an ex-killer. If I wasn’t sure someone was dead, there are three good places to catch them sneaking around.” She held up one finger. “At the birth of their kid.” She held up a second finger. “At their kid’s wedding.” She held up a third finger. “And at funerals.”
“That’s just theory.”
“Bullshit. I’ve found and killed marks at more than one funeral.”
“Those marks weren’t already supposed to be dead.”
Shay stood, locking gazes with Peyton. “You can’t go. You will die if you go, and I didn’t go through all the trouble of saving your life so you can throw it away in some pointless sentimental gesture that won’t accomplish a fucking thing.”
“How would you know it won’t accomplish anything?”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Because your father’s dead. You can sound off at him just as easily here. Hovering around his funeral does nothing for your mother and if your brother gets wind of things… Even if you don’t get popped there, he’ll know to start hunting you again, and then it’s only a matter of time.”
“My choice.”
“What? To fucking die?”
“It’s my life.”
Shay groaned. “Don’t be a fucking idiot for once.”
“Giving a shit about your family isn’t
