Page 36 of Insidious Heart
Nope, I will not.
But once I realized my chances of banging my girl again were put on hold, I started cleaning up the mess.
Thankfully—and weirdly enough—Stevie keeps a box of tall kitchen trash bags under her bathroom sink, and I used those to start handling what couldn’t be salvaged.
The jewelry box, a few other trinkets, her bedding. All of that, along with my jacket and hoodie went right into trash bags. Then I broke down her chair and ottoman and bagged them up too. The garbage will need to go back with me to be disposed of properly but I have to find the right time to do that, so for now it’s sitting in a pile in Stevie’s closet.
From there, I started really cleaning.
Hopefully her house will be empty tomorrow at some point, because I got real sloppy tonight.
Everything that could be saved but needs myspecial touchthat comes in the form of the tools I have at my place was put into a separate bag and set aside by the window so I remember to take it when I leave. I straightened out the furniture the best I could, made sure to scour every accessible inch of the room for anything out of place, and when I was satisfied, I checked on my girl.
Stevie is still fast asleep, which is for the best because what I have to do next isn’t pretty.
And it’s exactly why I’m standing in the middle of her room, totally naked, hands on my hips staring down at Joker the Jackass.
I have to get him out of here somehow. I definitely can’t leave his nasty corpse for Stevie to wake up to. The carpet is already going to be a nightmare to figure out, but again, I need the house to be empty before I can really scrub the room the way I do with the rest of my kill scenes.
I don’t want to cause any problems for Stevie.
With a sigh, I bend over and grab Joker’s ankles, then start whistling as I drag him into the bathroom.
I’ll get all of the big shit out of the way tonight, then I’ll kiss my little dove goodbye and wait impatiently as fuck until I can see her again, since the next time I’ll be here this house has to be a ghost town so I can work.
Only after that will I reiterate to Stevie that she’s mine now, and when I do, I can safely say I won’t need to kill anyone in order to justify having sex with her.
They’re both wants,needsreally, and they’re separate, but it’ll be explosive when they combine. I want to kill, need to do it, but I want Stevie more; and just thinking about that makes me want to bury myself inside her all over again right this second.
But she’s resting, and I have work to do.
The body isn’t going to dispose of itself, after all.
CHAPTEREIGHT
STEVIE
“Gotta make a stop.”
I jump as Cal’s voice fills the cab of his truck but I try to hide it as I nod. “Sure.”
He pulls into the hardware store parking lot, but doesn’t turn off the truck or get out. Cal just sits there, white-knuckling the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.
Sometimes, in rare moments like these, I truly do believe Cal isn’t everything I think he is.
A cold blooded killer still? Yes. Calvin Moreland was convicted of second degree murder for beating Rochelle’s ex-husband to death with his bare hands. Don’t ask me how that qualifies as second degree, or how he only served two years of his sentence, but that’s what happened and I know it to be fact.
The reason he killed her ex? Because that guy tried to kill Rochelle first.
He was another club member, another horrible man with no moral compass, and when the then twenty-eight-year-old Cal saw him choke Rochelle until she turned blue, he lost his shit.
Cal killed that man in a blind rage but I can’t really hold it against him. Not when the reason for it was justified in my opinion.
And yeah, he’s killed more men since then, lots of them, but I stay out of that.
Sometimes, though, when it’s just me and Cal in a situation like this, I can’t help but think maybe he isn’t like Beau. Sometimes I feel like Cal is just as much a victim of circumstance as I am, and even a hardened criminal—a killer—like him is trapped in a lifestyle he never asked for either.
“I can—”
