Seven Graves, page 12
“What the hell makes you think I’d wanna go out with you? You’re the worst wingman ever.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wanna know where I’m going, or not? Stop bitchin’ and pack a bag. You’re way too overdressed. I’m not goin’ anywhere with you lookin’ like that.” Truthfully…she’s underdressed. Not enough fabric on her tits, her legs, or her back. It’s setting my brotherly alarms off, and I know I’m gonna need to get it together, because the first time either of those midget-dick fucks starts eyeing her like a piece of meat…
“Fine.”
I turned on my heel and started down the hallway, leaving her behind.
“Later, brat.”
Most people have an outfit for everything. I’d like to say that I’m different, but for times like these, I definitely have a specific getup that sets the tone that I’m not to be fucked with. I call it my lucky shirt. It’s pinstripe, black, and fits in all the right places. I always feel like a badass in it, and tonight…I’m accessorizing. My face is getting sore from the smile I can’t seem to kill off. I also need to write down whatever shampoo Seven uses. I might smell like Malibu Ken, but my hair never looked this damn good.
Braughton’s gold ring still has dried blood caked to it, and it’s dangling from a silver chain around my neck. I left the top few buttons open to make sure these little bitches see it. I want them to know what’s coming for ‘em if they think either one of them is about to park their diseased cocks into my little sister. Shavonn was bad enough. This’ll never happen.
I’ll never wear dress shoes. The DNA I’ve acquired on these boots is a brand I fucking earned, and I’ll keep repairing the soles in them until they bury me in these things. It also bothers Pop more than when he has to look at my bare feet. I think that’s a thing. Either way…the O’Dell’s won’t be the only ones I make sweat tonight. I checked the mirror for the last time, satisfied with what I saw, and went to meet Bridget who was waiting at the bottom of the stairwell. Neither of us said a word as I offered my elbow and we walked to the massive dining room a couple hallways down.
Pop was seated, always impeccably dressed, at the head of the long table. Nolan sat in the first chair to his left, all three of Braughton’s brothers next to him. Jonas, the second oldest, is tall and thin with a straight nose, blue eyes that drop knickers, and pale unblemished skin that has neither a tattoo nor a scar to be seen. All three of them are dark blonde and apparently have the same barber. Zane was next to him. A bit shorter, and broader in the shoulders. He looks like he works out. He’s the one with the shittiest attitude, and likely the one that I’ll end up killing first when things finally fire up between all of us. The last fucker is Kendall. Silent as the grave I’ll be putting him in, but that doesn’t make him the smart one. He’s a natural-born killer, like me. Where I love the edge of a blade, he practically blows a load at the sight of a gun. I hear he’s a collector.
How cute.
What wasn’t cute, and meant as an obvious warning, was who was in my chair at Pop’s right. Finn. The empty seat next to him is for Bridget, and they all conveniently left no others open at the table that easily sits twenty.
Nice touch, old man.
Bridget’s manicured fingers tightened on my arm. She’s noticed it too. I patted her hand, putting on my best smile and walked her to her chair, pulling it for her without a word and holding my father’s unamused glare when I decided to stand like a soldier behind my sister. Let Finn keep his little throne. It just shows his lack of honor and proves every point of why Bridget will never waste her time on him. I care about Finn, and he’s book smart…but a complete fucking pushover. I’m not about to let anybody believe that about me.
“Better late than never, Malek. New jewelry?” Jonas rested a couple fingers over his mouth, staring at me like he’d love to hack me apart. I smiled broadly, turning my lip ring.
“Nah…same one. I just added a spike. Think it gives me a little more character, ya know?” He didn’t seem to like my assumption that he wasn’t talking about the obvious. “Sorry, mate. You wouldn’t know, would you. Apologies.”
“Don’t start, Malek,” Pop groaned, adjusting his seat. I kept my smile and focused on Jonas, wondering if he was the one Nolan was trying to set up. It definitely seems like it. I have a feeling this little dinner is gonna run short. Might not even get to the first course. “This table is meant ‘fer family. We’re all gathered around it to put the chaos behind and come together as a unit. We’re stronger together.” He was addressing the table, but I knew Bridget felt the same weight I did as I stood close behind her, focused intently on the three mutts that paid her absolutely no mind. Everything Braughton stuttered while I painstakingly gutted him started to make a bit more sense. Not a single one seems interested in her. We’re all being pushed. Doesn’t mean I’m letting them off for it.
Nolan cleared his throat. He looks more weathered than my father’s been starting to look here lately. “There’s already been enough blood, boys. Taxes have been paid on either side. It’s time to bury the hatchet.”
I’ll bury one. Right in his fucking skull.
They took turns making ridiculous speeches not a single one of us was interested in. I could feel Finn’s eyes on me, but I blatantly ignored him. Food was brought in, our finest whiskey, some champagne and other shit. Truth is, I wouldn’t have eaten even if I’d had a seat at the table tonight. I’ve got enough to focus on. I knew it was only a matter of time, though before one of them made it a point to call me out. Told you they weren’t smart.
Zane chewed with his mouth open, and I could almost hear the bile crawling up Bridget’s throat while she pretended not to notice it. He smiled at me. “Not hungry, mate?”
“Had a big lunch,” I smirked, crossing my arms. Big indeed. And I still haven’t replied to any of her messages. I wondered what my Little Viper was up to, and which one of the other toys she had to resort to using while the Girthmaster was upstairs in my room.
“We could put ‘yer plate on the floor. Aren’t ya used to that? Pappy didn’t lay the blanket out ‘fer ya?” How original.
“Sadly, no. I had to wrap your brother in it a few nights ago. Got a bit messy.”
Oh, that struck a nerve.
Forks clanged on plates, I heard a couple of chokes around the table, and Zane’s chair knocked back when he leapt out of his seat. I grinned.
“Sit down, Zane. We spill blood in this house, you damn us all,” Nolan crooned. “Callum, I’ll thank ‘ye to tighten the leash on ‘yer guard dog. It’s not doin’ anybody any favors.”
“No, it’s not. Malek…enough.”
“Would it be too cliche to say he started it?” I chuckled.
Jonas straightened his jacket and leaned forward. “Why don’t we just get to the real reason we’re all here, yeah?” For the first time all evening, his attention landed on Bridget, who stopped eating. “Family ties aren’t secure until you secure ‘em. The decision’s bein’ made tonight.”
“Which one?” I asked, cocking my head. “Where I’m buryin’ your tiny cocks if you don’t point them in another direction?”
“It’s not up to you, Malek. If you wanted anything different, you’d be more obliged to take that tattoo on your hand more seriously.” My father looked at me with utter disappointment. I felt my crazy starting to boil up.
“She’s not a piece of furniture,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“No.” Kendall’s deep rasp of a voice was as good as a whisper next to Zane, who still hadn’t sat back down. Jonas smirked like he knew what was coming and I tried in all ways to keep my temper under control. Kendall leaned in closer to Bridget, placing a hand on the table to try and intimidate her. “She’s worse. Don’t bother choosin’ me, dearest. I don’t mingle with half-breed rubbish.”
My hand, hidden by the back of Bridget’s chair, shot straight to my pocket. “Say that shit again, Tiny Tim. I fuckin’ dare you.”
“Kendall. Not another word.” Nice of Nolan to try, but this might be the only one of Braughton’s brothers that’s predictable, even if he doesn’t realize it. He’s too much like me. The challenge is a high, and we feed off of it like a drug.
“You and your little bitch don’t deserve to head an Irish table, Malek. You should be rottin’ in a grave like your filthy American mother—” His screaming cut him off when I all but leapt over Bridget, stabbing through his trigger hand and nailing it to the table. Every person was out of their seats, chaos ensuing, and I grabbed Bridget by the arm, after I spit in Kendall’s face. Pop called out for us several times as I rushed her out of the dining room and down the hall.
“What the hell did you just do, Malek?!” she huffed, trying to keep up with my pace. “They can kill us for this!”
“No, they can’t. They can’t spill blood in our house. Nobody said anything about us.” We rounded the corner, heading down another hallway towards the foyer. “Where’s your bag?”
“I put it in your car. I just assumed—”
“Good.”
We hauled ass through the front entrance and down the steps, and Bridget stopped to come out of her heels, carrying them across the gravel while I unlocked the Nova. Once she was in, I peeled out, spraying every one of their expensive rides with rock.
So many shattered windows.
I laughed hysterically while Bridget gaped at me from the passenger seat.
“Oh, my God…Malek, we’re dead.”
“Not yet.”
My tires squealed on the asphalt as soon as we were out of the gate.
About twenty minutes into the drive, I realized where I was blindly heading, and I glanced over to where Bridget was nervously pissing around on her phone.
“Gimme that,” I said, holding out my hand. She gave me a very irritated look but handed it over. I rolled my window down, tossing it out.
“Malek! What the fuck!”
“Did you not say that Pop has Finley looking into me? You think that’s not the first thing he’s gonna do to you, with what just blew up in there?” I snatched my own phone from the center console and bit back my curses while I tossed that one too. I’ve backed up all my shit, but I do like that phone. And it’s fairly new.
“Where are you taking me? What the hell are we doing?”
I reached into my glove box, pulling out the burner I stash in there, and rang my little daydream.
“This is Seven Grey.”
Fuck, I didn’t think about the fact that I’ve never used this number on her. I only saved hers. “I’d like to inquire about a cleanup.”
“Excuse me?”
I grinned, one hand gripping the wheel a little harder. I think her fear turns me on just as much as her sass. “I saw an ad for a cleaning service. Does this service include a French maid costume with one of those lacy aprons? Or a feather duster?”
“I think you have the wrong number, pervert.”
Bridget was staring at me with the most confused look on her face.
“First time you’ve called me out on that…probly the hundredth time you’ve thought it, yeah?”
“You insufferable ass. You better be on your way to bring me back that dildo.”
“I’m sorry—what?!” Bridget yelped from beside me.
I ignored her, biting back my smile. “I’m doing you one better, pet. I’ve got what you really wanted. And a friend you can tell all your secrets to.”
“Doubtful. And who? What’s going on?”
“Still on for the play date?”
“I’m—I wasn’t expecting it to be this soon. I’m kinda caught up with something.”
My grin fell and I glanced in my rear-view, suddenly irate that I hadn’t checked Seven’s GPS before tossing that phone out the fucking window. “Tell me this isn’t a job.”
“What if it is? I don’t need your permission.”
“I thought you said you were gettin’ off the grid.”
“I am off the grid, dipshit. That doesn’t mean people didn’t see the ad before it was taken down.”
My steering wheel is catching a different kind of frustration now. “I could have paid you more if it wasn’t enough, Sev.”
“It’s not about the money. Repeat client that I’m in good standing with. And don’t call me that. It’s too personal.”
I huffed through my nose, sounding very much like my sister. “Am I in good enough standing to tell you I need you?” She got quiet on the other end of the phone. “Viper?”
“Are you in trouble, Malek?”
“Maybe just a little. Is it okay to take Bridget to your place?”
“Wow. We’ve barely known each other a week and we’re already here? Sure this isn’t just another ploy to come break into my house and wear out your welcome?”
“In the short time you’ve known me, have I needed to come up with a ploy?”
“You make a valid point. You obviously know how to get in. Go. I should finish up in about two hours or so.”
“Do we have any chicken salad left?”
“Jesus…”
She hung up on me. Maybe that was a little too far.
Mischievous face.
I dropped the phone into the cup holder and sped up, heading to her apartment.
“I’m proud of my patience, waiting on this explanation.” Damn, for a second, I forgot Bridget was even in the car. “You have a fucking girlfriend?”
The thought of that only made me smile harder. “For the love of God, Bridget…don’t say that around her. She already wants to chop my nuts off and keep them in a jar.”
“Can’t imagine why. And whadd’ya mean play date? You planned all this?”
“Can we save the twenty questions for later, please?” I reached back, grabbing her bag and shoved it into her lap. “Slide back there and change. We’ll be there in about half an hour.”
Bridget decided to stay in the back seat, stretching out across it, mind you it was probably very uncomfortable. I looked in the mirror and her eyes were open, staring aimlessly at the back of my seat.
“Were you really gonna pick one of those bastards tonight, Bridge?” Her mouth tightened, then relaxed and she sighed hard.
“I wasn’t given much of a choice. I’d decided on Jonas, though…in case that was your next question.”
Fucking Jonas? God, she wouldn’t have lasted two seconds before getting bored.
“Dare I ask why? I kinda figured picking one was a harsh enough sentence to serve.”
She smiled then. Subtle…but there. “Honestly? I thought he’d be the most fun to watch while he’s bleeding out. He’s too fucking clean.” We both chuckled, but it died out quickly. When I glanced back at her, she was smiling softly.
“It gives me the ick when you look at me like that. What is it?”
“I haven’t seen you smile like you just did on the phone in years, Mal. This must be big. Whatever it is…or isn’t, haha.”
“You’ll see when you meet her. And don’t—don’t um…point out the obvious when she walks through the door. I need you to keep your thoughts to yourself.” Bridget sat up, intrigued.
“Are you really not gonna give me any more than that? You suck.”
“Just trust me. You’ll understand.”
CHAPTER 11
The Mortician
Two bodies…way more than two hours. So much blood. I almost didn’t have enough actual cleaning supplies for the job. Malek would have loved this scene. Probly would have come all over himself. I’d smile, but I forgot how bad it stinks, dissolving human remains in chemicals. I’ve got my gas mask on for the fumes, but…woof. Mom and Dad took advantage of the empty schedule this weekend, so thankfully, I’ve got the place to myself. Greg and Maggie wouldn’t likely be here either way. They typically spend whatever days Maggie’s not locked up in the hospital, doing shit with the girls.
I often think about my sister-in-law when I’m doing my own work. She cuts people open to save lives, I cut them open after they’re gone, but the idea is pretty similar. She’s one of the best heart surgeons in greater Maine but bless her…she never has time to sleep, eat, or wash the sweat off. I hope they did something fun while I chose to stir a steel sink full of bad guy soup.
Gross, Seven. Be your own friend. Jesus.
Friends. What a charming notion. Apparently, there’s one waiting for me back at the house, and I have to be honest…I’m intrigued. Something must have happened when he left earlier today—with my fucking dildo—and I’m very curious as to what that might be, but I’m not gonna fish for answers that might land me in whatever hot water the idiot’s found himself in. I should be worried that he’s gonna pull another stupid thing in my apartment, but at this juncture? Are any of my secrets safe? He already carved his name into the most personal item he could find…but if he eats the rest of that chicken salad, I might actually kill the bastard.
It was well after midnight when I was finally on my way back home. I redialed the number he last called me from, cracking the window to let some cool air in.
“It’s 1:38…do you know where your kids are?”
I smiled. “You’re showing your age.”
I heard him yawn and couldn’t help but do the same. “Still got your maid outfit on? Leave some blood on it for me?”
“Grow up.”
Malek snickered and I heard shuffling on the phone. “Hey, did you know…it can take as little as eighty pounds of pressure to tip over an upright headstone?”
“That right?”
“Yeah! And the average modern-day headstone is typically made from granite, so it can actually withstand a wee bit more if it’s…erected…properly.”
I snorted. “Fascinating. You shopping for yours? I know a guy.”
“You’re no fun, Viper.”
I clicked my tongue. “Okay, I’ll bite. What am I to do with this useless information, exactly?”
“I was trying to figure out how easy I should go when I bend you over in the cemetery and do all these things in this…very enlightening literature.”
Oh…my God.
I did my best to hide the whimper, thinking about what I know is in that book. “How cute. You’re studying? Having a hard time coming up with something on your own?”
