Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,28

and the drawers. They’re my size, so they’ll be big on you, but I assume you don’t want to keep wearing the suit 24/7.”

“Well.” August sniffed as he followed Ricardo out of the kitchen. “I suppose this one will need to go to the dry cleaners at some point.”

Again, Ricardo had a snide comment on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. If tonight had shaken him up, it had probably done the same to August, and the guy was probably trying to think about things that were normal. Things like, say, taking his expensive suit to the dry cleaners. Ricardo just quietly assumed that August wouldn’t actually take off and do something that stupidly conspicuous. If he did, then Ricardo would say something (or shoot him), but right now, he was too exhausted for another verbal sparring match.

At the end of the hallway was a bathroom, and on either side, bedroom doors. Ricardo gestured to the left. “This one’s all yours.”

August pushed open the door and switched on the light. Ricardo watched him taking in the small room and simple furnishings, and he gritted his teeth as he waited for a comment about how plain everything was. So far, August hadn’t had much commentary about the house, which was a modest ranch style at the end of a quiet cul de sac in an equally quiet suburb. It probably wasn’t much bigger than his tool shed back at Chez Funhouse, and was nowhere near fancy enough for someone with his tastes, but so far, he’d kept his mouth shut about it. Everything except its lack of visible fortification, anyway.

After a moment, August nodded and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Okay. So, um.” He looked at Ricardo. “I guess we crash for the night, then tomorrow, we try to figure out what the fuck is going on?”

Ricardo nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have any other ideas. Probably because I need to sleep.”

“Me too.” August shrugged off the jacket, and Ricardo did not let himself stare that the way the waistcoat clung to his slim torso.

“Anyway. Um.” Ricardo cleared his throat. “Bathroom’s right here.” He motioned toward it. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Good night.”

They exchanged looks, and Ricardo headed for his own bedroom.

“Hey, uh, Ricardo?”

Ricardo turned, a little surprised August hadn’t called him Ricky again. “Hmm?”

August’s expression was surprisingly subdued and serious. “Thanks for, um, coming for me. I probably could have handled those assholes on my own, but it’s… It’s always better when someone has your back.”

“Yeah. Don’t mention it.” Ricardo shifted his weight. “Anyway. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right.” August nodded sharply. “See you in the morning.”

Ricardo went into his bedroom and shut the door.

After he’d gotten ready for bed, he settled in, but he didn’t go to sleep quite yet. He was utterly wrung out and exhausted. Had it really only been this afternoon that he’d been driving that exterminator van up Lance Baldwin’s driveway? He’d had some long days, but Jesus.

Now it was fuck-thirty in the middle of the night, and he was at his safehouse with August Morrison. They both had targets on their backs and no idea who wanted them dead or why.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed a hand over his scruffy face.

Somehow, he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last long day he had for a while.

Or the longest.

Sleep came in the form of a kaleidoscope of nightmares that somehow pulled in Baldwin’s mansion, August’s house, the storage facility, and some of the places Ricardo had gone while he’d still been on active duty. By the time he woke up for real, his mind was exhausted, but at least his body felt more or less rested. Probably the best he could hope for right now.

He dragged himself out of bed, took a shower, and pulled on some clean clothes. The other bedroom door was still closed, and he hadn’t heard anyone moving around—he was too paranoid not to notice even the slightest movement—so August must’ve still been asleep. Fine. Ricardo needed coffee before he dealt with him.

Joke was on him, though—the coffeepot in this house liked to take its time, and it had just finished producing enough for a single cup when the door at the end of the hall opened. Damn. Apparently he’d be dealing with August while he ingested the first caffeine of the day.

Please, please, let him be one of those guys who’s totally quiet until after he’s had coffee. Please…

When his roommate of sorts shuffled