“Sometimes it’s better to blend in.” I state the obvious.
King leans against the side of my truck and sighs. “You know he’s not gonna let this go until you show him everything.”
“I assumed as much.” I look down at Cassandra.
She grips the side of the truck, opposite where King is, before letting go of my belt. “Go show off your toys.”
It’s ridiculous for her to hold on to the truck, like she might float away if she isn’t touching me or something I own, but it makes me feel better. And I’m once again struck by how well she knows me.
Dom is watching us closer than I care for, but I move past him and stop beside Nero. “Promise you’ll leave everything where you find it?”
Nero rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna steal your shit.”
Dom scoffs from my other side, and I assume there’s some sort of joke I’m missing.
With no real reason not to, I press my thumb to the first lock, then the next, and the next, until all the compartments are open. Handguns, long guns, ammo, knives, gloves, climbing gear, rations, fake government employee uniforms—all on display.
The last little door I flip open is above the gas tank, and it’s full of C-4.
I lift my hands. “Now before you get your panties in a twist, this is for self-destruct. If I wanted to blow you guys up, I wouldn’t do it by driving myself, and my girl, onto your property.”
King leans over the side of the truck to look closer. “How often do you find yourself needing to blow up your own shit?”
Cassandra snickers.
“You’d be surprised,” I reply.
Dom reaches into one of the side compartments and pulls out the thick black material.
He shakes it out and lifts his gaze to look at me. “Really?”
I lift my shoulder even as Nero reaches to take it from Dom.
“See?” Nero pulls the zipper down a few inches, then slides it back up. “I told you he had nice body bags.”
“Yeah, I fucking heard you the first four times.” Dom snorts. “And I’ll say to Hans what I said to you.” He turns to face me. “A man who travels with his own body bags is either very meticulous or very insane.”
I shrug again. He’s not wrong on either account.
The front door of the house opens, and a woman I recognize as Nero’s wife sticks her head out. “Pizza is at the gate.” She calls across to us, then lifts her hand in a little wave to Cassandra. “Hi!”
Cassandra lifts the hand not on the truck and waves back. “Hello.”
“Come on in.” Payton opens the door wider.
Cassandra looks back at me.
I should let her go. I’m sure it’s safe for her to be with Payton, but I’m not letting her walk into Nero’s house alone.
I grip the tailgate and start to lift it closed. “We done?”
Nero tucks the body bag under his arm. “I’ve seen enough.”
King straightens. “Not sure how a truck full of hidden explosives and all this other shit makes you feel more trustworthy, but it kinda does.”
“It’s settled, then.” Dom slaps a hand on my back. “Let’s go eat pizza.”
On cue, one of the gate guards comes up the driveway in a golf cart–looking vehicle with a stack of pizza boxes on the seat next to him.
I circle around to Cassandra, and she takes my hand, squeezing my fingers.
Then we walk up the steps to Nero’s house.
CHAPTER 94
Cassie
Stepping through the massive front door, I’m thrown into a world I didn’t expect.
A world of color.
The space is giant and formal, but there’s bright artwork lining the walls of the two-story entryway, along with side tables full of large rose bouquets.
Nero struck me as a black-on-black type of man, but this is not that. Not at all.
Hans’s fingers flex around mine, and I reach across to grip his forearm with my free hand.
I know a part of Hans doubts his plan to trust these men, but they actually seem really nice. And I’m looking forward to meeting their wives.
When King enters the house behind us, stack of fragrant pizza boxes in hand, my stomach growls.
Hans jerks his gaze down to me, having heard my stomach rumble, and I can sense his immediate distress. From his look alone, I can tell he hates the fact that I’m hungry.
“Worked up an appetite on the way over,” I whisper for only him to hear as I lean into his side.
His nostrils flare, and—as I’d hoped—his mind is sufficiently distracted from my growling stomach.