Page 5

Soft touches, compassion, and shelter from harm are more their style.
I’ve kept in the shadows, postponing my payday to avoid Cerberus.
If they have their sights set on Greta Murphy and the little girl, I know to keep my distance.
I’ve been tangled up in their messes before and it left me with two holes in my chest.
I learned that lesson quickly.
Sylvie and her Cerberus escort, Dylan “Spade” Pratt, left days ago, and they haven’t been back.
The club must not be as good as everyone thinks because two potential clients were right under their noses and they walked away.
Their loss is my gain.
I watched Greta reenter the house last night after leaving the girl on the sidewalk outside the hospital.
She could’ve kept on walking, could’ve easily jumped on a bus headed out of town, or walked into the police station and told her story, opening the eyes of the town to who William Varon really is.
Maybe here is better than home.
It doesn’t matter to me.
Greta Murphy isn’t paying me. Her husband is. I follow the money. Always.
Varon returned home not long after Greta reentered the house, leaving a few short hours later. She didn’t leave with him.
I didn’t follow him this time.
My paycheck was left inside.
I waited.
And waited.
Even as the sun rises, he hasn’t returned.
His routine is off.
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve observed. I know his schedule as well as he does.
Yet, I still wait.
Getting sloppy only means trouble.
A lesson that took me a few tries to learn.
Midday sun beats down on my back, the leafless trees providing only minimal coverage.
It isn’t until afternoon that I move, ignoring the ache in my muscles for standing still for so long as I inch closer to the home.
If Greta feels like she’s better off here than back in Wyoming with her husband, it could mean trouble for me, but I’m always prepared. A kicking, screaming, crying woman isn’t new to me.
I go over the list of items concealed in my pockets. I’m all stocked up on tape, rope, and a mild sedative just in case she isn’t agreeable.
The back door doesn’t make a sound as I push it open. It not being locked doesn’t concern me. Varon is so assured of his teachings, he doesn’t have to cage his pupils. They know not to wander too far from their master.
Silence, exactly the way I like it, engulfs me as I step inside, and I take a moment to breathe it in.