“We?”
“Uh-huh.”
Well great. And here I thought he was about to offer me an out.
Was it strange to think I was strolling down the boardwalk and into the marina with a psychopath mobster who makes his living slashing people like Jack the Ripper in broad daylight? Yes. But what’s even stranger to me about it is that after spending twenty minutes shoved into the same booth and having a milkshake…I feel oddly comfortable. Somehow, we’ve made it from really weird introductions I never wanted, to talking about music and dark humor, and I’m not having the worst time. I have really…got to see about that therapy. Which reminds me…
We stood at the end of a dock, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. I looked over at the man that sat here and threatened me, my booty call, and made an attempt to scare me into thinking he’d off my family. “Why’d you bring me out here, Malek. What is it that you need from me? This feels a lot like a date, and I’m sorry, but…I haven’t changed my mind about you.”
Lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out over the bay. The sun caught his auburn hair, making it seem twice as red and his eyes twice as green. “I’m not just high on the totem pole, Seven. My boss is my dad. I do what I do and I’m the way I am because I’ve never had a choice, okay?”
I couldn’t close my mouth.
“You’re the fuckingheirto the Irish mob?!”
He nodded but didn’t look at me. “The bodies you came to get? The finger belonged to one of four brothers in a rival family my father wants to try and merge with. Thing is, my family isn’t as fortunate in the sibling department. I have a sister, and he’s trying to marry her off to one of the three brothers that are left.”
“What’s any of this got to do with me? I’m not killing anybody. You can’t ask me to do that.”
He turned his head to look at me. “I’m not. I noticed you kept the money. I won’t ask you to give it back. Keep it. And I’ll trash all evidence that you were ever involved with us. I’m gonna kill them all. I need you to clean for me.”
I crossed my arms. “And if I don’t?”
“I’m not gonna hurt you,Nathair Bheag.”We stared at each other for a beat, and I swallowed. “If you don’t help me…or if I don’t do this? Bridget will end up dead. Or we both will if I can’t figure out how to get her out of it. I know you don’t care much for me, and I can’t say I blame ya for it. But Bridget’s just a kid. I have to do this.”
He’s unpacking a lot. And he never actually told me what would happen if I say no. “Well, after the little shit you pulled at the manor, I decided to go off the grid. I don’t ask questions, Malek. It’s better if I don’t know. I do these jobs and whatever stories are attached to them get buried with the bodies. I know way too much because ofyou. Forgive me if I don’t feel good about this. As bad as I wanna tell you that you didn’t rattle me…you did. I took my ad off the Dark Web.”
Malek hung his head. “I know you did.”
“What happens if I don’t do this job?”
He bent over, picking a penny up off the dock and smiling down at it. It’s on heads. I forget which one is supposed to be lucky. If his damn dimple has anything to say about it, then I guess it answers my question. He flicked it into the air and in my direction. I caught it in my hands.
“Just think about it. Somethin’ tells me you’ll say yes.” He winked and left me standing at the end of the dock while he started walking away, hands back in his pockets. Damn, he wears a pair of jeans well.
“Malek.” He stopped and turned his chin over his shoulder. “What does it mean? That shit you always call me?” Cue, the dimple.
“Nathair Bheag?It means Little Viper.”
My coffin is my happy place.
You heard me right.
Most people have a cute little book nook in their apartment or a home library, or…just a place they like to go and exist? Mine is the custom-made coffin with the detachable lid. It’s not a casket. And Iwillbe buried in it one day, or I’m comingback as a poltergeist. It’s matte black with relief carvings, and a really fluffy, deep green interior with a matching pillow. I also have throw pillows in here that I like to snuggle up with when I read, and yes…it’s made for me to just get in here and chill. I can comfortably sit cross-legged or stretch my legs out and lean against the mound of pillows since I’ve strategically placed it against the wall in my living room area. The lid is mounted for decor. Gives it a really wicked vibe.
That’s where I’m currently at, trying not to stew over everything Malek said today and distract myself with smut I wish I’d read before I called Kit over here. I could’ve pulled something buzzy and glorious out of my naughty drawer and taken care of myself in less than a minute. Probly woulda been the best sleep too. I feel robbed.
My thoughts must have summoned the orgasm gods. Ifelt, before Iheardmy phone buzzing in my lap.
Asshat: Thinking about it?
Okay, so my mind didn’t immediately go to his obvious question. Don’t judge me.
Me: About separating your nuts from your body and using them as stress balls? Absolutely.
I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone to the side, reaching for my little bag of chocolate almonds and returning to where the FMC was getting thoroughly railed, bent over a headstone in a cemetery. This is my kinda story. Why did I wait so long? My phone pinged again, and I ignored it. Twice.
