The safe house was a shithole. Jake had seen worse—barely—but this place was really pushing it. Cracked walls, furniture that looked like it had survived a war (probably had), and a window that didn't close all the way, letting in the smell of street food and exhaust fumes from the marketplace below.

He sat on the edge of what generously could be called a bed, field-stripping a pistol he'd lifted off a dead merc three blocks back. Something to do with his hands while Sherry paced back and forth wearing a hole in the already questionable floor.

"We need to make contact," she said for the fifth time in ten minutes. "Simmons needs to know what happened with the facility—"

"Your boss needs to know a lot of things," Jake muttered, not looking up from the pistol. "Like how to pay his debts."

Sherry stopped pacing. "Jake."

"What?" He slapped the magazine back in, racked the slide. Smooth. Good. "I'm just saying, we've been at this for days. Running. Fighting. Nearly dying—" He looked up at her, eyebrow raised. "—multiple times, might I add. And I still haven't seen a single yuan for my trouble."

"You'll get your money."

"Uh-huh." Jake set the pistol down on the stained table beside him. "See, I've heard that before. Usually right before the person saying it tries to screw me over."

Sherry's jaw tightened. She had that look—the one that said she was trying real hard to be patient with him and losing the battle. "This is bigger than money, Jake. Your blood could save millions of lives—"

"Yeah, yeah, save the world, cure cancer, end world hunger." He waved a hand dismissively. "I've heard the speech. Real touching. Still doesn't pay my rent."

"You don't have rent. You're a mercenary."

"Exactly. Which means I work for money. That was the deal."

The truth was more complicated than that, and Jake knew it. He'd stuck around through more bullshit than any paycheck was worth. He'd saved Sherry's ass at least a dozen times. Could've bailed in Edonia. Could've bailed at the facility. Could've bailed yesterday when those J'avo had them pinned down in that apartment building.

But he hadn't.

Because you're an idiot, he told himself. A sentimental idiot.