“Don’t play coy with me, boy. This was ‘yer job. ‘Fer a very specificreason. You keepin’ his finger as a trophy?”
“What if I am? Did I not earn it as well as he earned his grand exit?”
“You know better, Malek. If you’d just asked, I woulda told you to take hiscock, if that’s what you wanted.” I tried to pay attention, but my eyes found their way back to the beautiful little stranger doing her best not to look at me. “Are you listening to me?”
“Who’s this?” I asked, wondering if he was seeing what I was seeing at all. It certainly didn’t seem like it.
“She’s cleanin’ up ‘yer mess. Otherwise, none of ‘yer concern.” I turned toward her, moving a couple steps in her direction…but she wouldn’t even lift her head. “Malek.” I reached under her chin, and I swear…so much about her features looked like they were some paler, strangely more beautiful, mold of the angel I lost. I needed to see those eyes, and damn if she’d raise them to me.
“So, you’re the reason I’m givin’ up somethin’ I’ve waited for. Forseven years.”
Still nothing. Like she outright refuses.
“Enough, Malek. Leave ‘er alone. Give it up and make ‘yerself scarce. I’ll deal with you later.” That’s fine. Let him. I’m not leaving until she looks at me. One way or another. I lifted her chin just a bit higher. I was gentle, barely touching her, really. But clearly, she came ready for war. If there was one thing Shavonn couldn’t resist…it was my charm. This lass, though…she felt like if I dared touch any other part of her, it’d be trembling. I chuckled under my breath.
“You afraid of me, sweetheart?”
That did it. Her brows twitched and lowered, and those eyes opened up to glare at me. As blue and fierce as an angry ocean. The way I’d always remember them. I nearly choked.
“No. It’s late and I still have hours of work to do. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop touching me and let me get on with it.” That voice…maybe a bit lower and a tad raspier than hers was, but…it jolted everything in me. I couldn’t help but smile at her. My thumb took on a life of its own, remembering old habits like it was a ghost of a memory crawling under my very fucking skin…and I slid it across her plump lower lip, nearly salivating at my burning need to kiss her—
That was until she snapped her teeth, nearly taking the fucking thing clean off. A littleviper. Pop and Conor cracked, chuckling at it and I reared back, conceding a step.
“Bleedin’ Christ.Nathair Bheag…”
I’m positive she didn’t have a clue what I just said, nor did she look like she cared. I forfeit. I reached into my pocket, pulling out Braughton’s finger and waved it at her before pulling that wedding ring off—the one that should have been mine—and pocketing that instead as I turned her hand over and dropped the finger into her palm. They can have the rutting digit. They’ll have to pry this ring from myowndead fingers.
“Well? Get on with it, then.”
I shot her a smile and was doubly sure I showed a dimple this time. It was my little sapphire’s biggest weakness. One that would earn me a free pass even when she was ready to gut me like today’s fresh catch. But…she didn’t react. Not a ripple. I turned and made my way out, quickening my pace once I was out of her sight and slipping my phone out of my back pocket while simultaneously pulling that bloodstained wedding band out to look at it as I rang one of my best tech guys.
“Evenin’, boss.”
I flicked the ring like a coin, catching it in my hand as I trotted up the staircase. “Declan. I need you to identify somebody.”
“You drop a body?”
“Nah. Can you trace somebody from the Dark Web?”
“Does a wild bear shite in the woods?”I’ve never in my young life understood that fucking expression. He must have sensed my impatience.“Sorry, mate. Yeah…yeah, I can.”
I rushed to my door and locked myself in the bedroom lowering my voice. “Perfect. Hack Pop’s personal cell and get the number he used for a cleaner. Check his texts. I need everything you can get me on this lassie.”
“Oh, holy hellfire…”
“Call me when it’s done.”
And so it begins, Little Viper.
CHAPTER 3
The Mortician
I’m so past earbuds today.
My entire body feels like a wet noodle and my eyelids are heavy enough to put my fifth-grade teacher to shame, so the fact that I have Rob Zombie blasting through this basement…is just as ironic as it is inappropriate. I’m a literalLiving Dead Girl, finishing up a verydead…dead girl. I’m too exhausted to feel any type of way about it, so if you catch me daydreaming myself to sleep over this corpse within the next five minutes, I’ll thank you to mind your own bloody business. ‘Kay?
Real talk, though? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this…Malek. That’s a problem, actually. He might very well be the last thing I see before my head goes flying off my shoulders and the rest of my limbs follow suit before I’m stuffed into an oil drum and dumped in this harbor…and I’m sure it’s because I’m beyond deliriously tired, but somehow that made me slightly hot just thinking about it. I’m a little unnerved about the accuracy and utterly sadistic precision in which he carved up that last body.
