“Happy to help,” I deadpan.
“If it makes you feel more trusting in our sudden cooperation, we didn’t just decide to loop you in yesterday.” Dom slides his hands into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. “We’ve been talking about it since January. But you didn’t exactly have your phone number written on that grenade you threatened us with.”
I look around at their faces. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t aiming for some sort of team-up. I just didn’t want to deal with you guys trying to kill me every time I went out on a job.”
Dom laughs. “Well, saving my life kinda put you on the fast track to friendship. And these dummies do whatever I say, so—”
Nero jabs a punch at Dom’s side, cutting him off.
“How about we figure out how to kill this French prick first? Then we can make friendship bracelets around the campfire after.” King turns back to the computer.
I pull a different cell phone out of my pocket, faraday bag and all, and set it on the desk. “This belonged to the guy in that nice body bag. I’ve been a little too busy to crack it.”
CHAPTER 96
Cassie
I’m transferring the chocolate chip cookies from the cooling rack to the fancy wooden platter Payton set on the island when I hear the men’s voices.
They’ve been off making plans for the past hour, and I needed something to do to help me feel less tense. Plus, making cookies for a pregnant lady has got to earn me some friendship points.
The women are all so nice, asking me how I met Hans, wondering how long we’ve been dating.
It felt a little silly to admit that the closest thing to a date we’ve been on was dinner at my parents’. But they all thought that was sweet. So then I told them about bringing him food for the past year in hopes that he’d talk to me. Which led to them asking what sort of food I like to make, which led to my blog, which led to me offering to make something.
I slide the last cookie onto the pile and have to admit they look pretty good.
Since I didn’t want to try something new for a crowd, I went with a recipe I have memorized—and that Payton thankfully had ingredients for—my mom’s classic chocolate chip cookies. They’re pretty standard, except she always flattens the balls of dough on the pan, using her thumb to depress a circle in the middle, and then fills that with more chocolate chips.
If you like chocolate, they’re pretty great.
And only a few of them look a little too done, so I put those at the bottom of the pile.
I set the empty pan in the giant sink and take a second to just appreciate the kitchen. Everything is top of the line. Practically begging me to use it. They even have one of those fancy espresso machines that Payton used to make us a bunch of delicious decaf lattes.
I’m still standing on the far side of the island, opposite the stools where we sat before, when King enters the kitchen first.
“Smells good.” He rubs his stomach.
I wring my hands together in front of my stomach.
Even though I know things didn’t always turn out great, baking for Hans helped boost my confidence a lot.
But now I know he ate everything because of his infatuation with me. I could have given him a container of gravel and he probably would have eaten it.
I twist my fingers tighter together.
Maybe baking was a mistake. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Hans’s new friends.
The object of my own infatuation is the last to step into the room, and his eyes are already locked on mine.
And just like that, the tension building inside me lessens.
It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of my cookies, Hans will always love me.
Something warm wraps around my heart.
Hans will always love me.
The last of my tension vanishes, replacing itself with something so light I feel like I could start floating.
It should hardly be a revelation. Hans loving me. He’s proven it so many times already in the limited interactions we’ve had.
And I love him too.
This big, crazy, domineering stalker of mine, he’s just that. Mine.
He’s still ten feet from the other side of the island, but he’s coming to me.
He’ll always come to me.
“Cassie made them,” Payton says in a cheery voice as Nero reaches for one of the cookies.
And that’s when Hans’s expression changes. And he throws one of his knives.
CHAPTER 97
Dom
A knife flies past me.
Reflex has me jumping back and drawing my gun.
“Hans!” Cassie shouts.
And Toto starts barking his ass off.
Payton scoops up her dog, causing him to quiet, as Cassie hurries around the island to her deranged boyfriend, who has another throwing knife in his hand.
The first knife, the one that flew in front of my face, is buried in some sort of cutting board in the center of the island. The tip of the blade stuck in the wooden surface with the handle sticking up between Nero’s outstretched hand and the stack of cookies.
Hans’s jaw is clenched tight, and Cassie steps directly in front of him, putting both her hands on his chest. “Baby, we’re guests here. I made these for everyone.”
I move my gaze over to King and mouth the word Baby.
He just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
“But you made them.” Hans’s voice is a growl, and I start to second-guess myself as I slide my gun back into its holster.
He might not be a bad guy, but this dude has probably killed more than any two of us combined. And he seems just as fucking unhinged as Nero. Maybe more. Which is saying something.
Nero reaches forward, and Hans twitches, like he’s ready to throw the second blade. But this time, I doubt he’ll be aiming for an inanimate object.
Little Cassie, in her band shirt and ponytail, reaches up and grips Hans by the face with both hands.
He slowly lowers his eyes to hers, and only because I’m so fucking curious, and listening so fucking hard, do I hear her whisper. “That’s one.”
I roll my lips into my mouth and bite down on them to keep from busting out laughing. She just fucking scolded the ghost man for throwing a fit over some cookies.
Goddamn, it’s gonna be fun having them around.
Wood creaks, and we all look over to see that Nero just pulled the knife out of the board.
“Be careful,” his wife warns him as he presses his thumb pad to the tip of the blade.
“Throwing blades, huh?” Nero asks, then balances the knife on the edge of his palm, testing the weight. “These are nice.”
Hans slowly slides the knife he was prepared to throw back into the holder at his waist. “I know. They’re custom.”
Nero tosses the blade into the air and catches it.
“Be careful!” Payton hisses again. And rightfully so. I don’t think any of us are qualified to fuck around with throwing knives.