Honestly Lance is kind of tired of it. Yes, he’s a mercenary and yes he’s killed his share of men in the battlefield but this is getting out of control. He looks at the man laying on his expensive rug, blood sipping out of his wounds and into the silky fibbers.
He takes a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have listened to Izzy, he should have stayed away. He reaches for his cell and presses speed dial and of course all he gets is her voicemail.
"It’s me." He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen."