Forty Thieves by Thomas Perry Page B

making the rifle look huge. She released the magazine from the rifle, then pulled the bolt up and back to keep the chamber open. She verified that the chamber was empty, as she had known it was, but she checked because that was what a pro did. It didn’t matter how many kills you had if the last one was you. This had been a long night, and she didn’t want to leave anything to chance when she was tired.
    She set the rifle on the work table with the bolt still back so Ed would see it that way when he was ready to clean it. The Hoyts were an old-fashioned couple in most ways. They had both grown up in parts of the country where men and women generally kept their places. There was no more mystery to it than knowing whether you were looking at a cow or a bull.
    Nicole could strip, clean, and oil a weapon better than Ed could, with her smaller, nimbler, uncalloused fingers, but the man cleaned the guns. She shopped and cooked, and God knew she did most of the housecleaning. Ed did theoutdoor stuff, took care of the cars, and lifted anything that weighed more than forty pounds.
    She heard him come into the mud room from the garage, and she went to join him. “Did you call to say what happened?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “He’s fine with it.”
    She watched as he stepped out of his running shoes, let his jeans and shorts drop, and pulled one leg out and shook the other leg out of them. As he pulled the long-sleeved T-shirt up over his head and the shirt came off and joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, she pretended she hadn’t been looking. She stepped forward. “Give me those clothes, and I’ll wash everything right now.”
    Ed bent to snatch up the clothes from the floor and held them out in a bunch with his left hand so she had to step close to take them. As she reached for them he spun her around and gave her a sharp smack on the ass with his free hand before she could get away.
    “Jesus, Ed!”
    “Couldn’t resist,” he said. “I’m only human.”
    “Barely.” She stepped into the laundry room, tossed his clothes into the washing machine, turned it on to fill it while she added detergent, and then stripped off her own clothes and tossed them in too. There probably wasn’t anything much on his, but there would be traces of powder and heavy metals on hers, because she had fired the rifle.
    Nicole padded through the house bare, not concerned about anybody seeing her. They had neighbor-proofed the house before they moved in. There were blackout curtains on all the windows.
    When Nicole reached the master bedroom she could hear the shower already running. She glanced in and watchedEd for a second. She had read in a women’s magazine a few days ago that the type most American women preferred was a tall man without much body fat who drove a black pickup truck. In other words, American women lusted after Ed Hoyt. She had laughed, and thought about telling him, but after a few seconds the impulse faded. He was hers, and she hadn’t wanted to add to his temptations.
    She might have considered getting him to put a tattoo on him that said her name, but their profession made that a stupid idea, and Nicole was not stupid. People like them could not afford to have unnecessary identifying marks on their bodies. There were other ways to make sure he stayed.
    She walked up to the glass door of the shower, opened it, and said, “Got room in there for me?”
    He pulled her into the shower and let her get wet, and then held her in his arms and kissed her. After a few minutes she felt warm and clean. Then she wriggled herself free of his arms, sank to her knees, and did one of the things that made her pretty sure he wasn’t going to go looking for women who liked him more than she did.
    After that, Ed took her to the bedroom and made all of the choices and decisions for a while. His attention made her feel very desirable. Ed Hoyt was not a romantic, but he had an intensity of interest and focus that left a woman feeling