Seven Graves, page 16
“Dad, I didn’t drive the hearse. And no, he’s not my boyfriend. He just helped me with some stuff this morning.”
“I’ll say…” Greg mumbled.
“Alright. We’re done here.” I got up, grabbing my plate and Mom whined from the end of the table.
“Baby, we’re just curious, is all. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just excited. Relationship or not, we’d love to meet him. Will you just think about it?”
“Sure. I gotta go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
No way in hell am I about to make that leap. Never gonna happen. No matter how good that shit was downstairs today, or how much Malek learns on all the ways he can read me…fucking is about all this could ever be. He’s a murderer. A hit man with a really dangerous family. I can’t involve my folks in this. Some part of me felt heavy when I went to go clean my dishes. Even heavier when I scooped some of the food that wasn’t brought to the table into a couple of containers to take to my not-boyfriend and his sister.
I left in more of a hurry than I tried to thirty minutes ago.
CHAPTER 14
The Executioner
I haven’t been in this good a mood since—well…a long time, I guess.
I dunno what I was expecting when I pulled that stunt with Seven this morning. That’s a lie. I did have expectations, I just didn’t think they’d turn out as well as they did. Topping it off with that milkshake was the literal cherry on my morning, although I forgot all about the whipped cream part of it before I hid in the basement. Images of my cum dripping through her, ping-ponged around my thoughts and I smiled to myself, sliding my sunglasses on in the early noon sunlight.
Maybe I didn’t forget the cream after all.
We’re back to our regularly scheduled program, it seems, and I’m actually fine with that. Leads me to believe it’s safe to take this a step further after giving her a taste of what I’m capable of, aside from the shit that should have scared her off. Okay, so maybe my pursuit has more to do with that, but who cares? She wanted it. She loved it. She showed me a thing or two about how much control she’s gonna maintain in whatever this is between us, and it really only makes me want her more. I’ve patted, more than I’ve scratched an itch I’ve had since I laid eyes on Seven Grey, and I really hope that this was a step in a direction that keeps leading her back to me. Fuck, I’ve never seen a woman come like that. I’ve never seen one ride a cock with that kind of buried anger, either…but what a way to find an outlet. Holy shit. I don’t have the details on whatever blokes have jilted her over the years, but I could fucking see it in the way she takes it out on Mr. Floppy.
Now I just need to convince her to make me that outlet instead.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face, driving towards her apartment. Why does my radio always sync up with anything that has to do with her? She might not have shook me all night long, but I damn sure want her to. I heard my phone going off in the cup holder and knew it was probably Bridget, bored out of her mind and wondering how long it’s gonna be before I get there with what I told her I was bringing her from sweet little Desiree’s cafe. Only it wasn’t…
“Dec?”
“Mornin’ mate. You sound chipper. Chop up a preacher or somethin’?”
I smiled, sliding my tongue over my lip ring and tasting some leftover Seven. “Or somethin’.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Not if you wanna keep your somethin’.”
“Ah, I follow. Good on you.”
“You have no idea. What’s up?”
“Don’t wanna ruin your mood, pal…but the boss is comin’ down heavy on us to get you a message.”
My smile instantly faded. “What message?”
“Wants to see you in person. Just you. Not Bridget.”
“Where?”
“There’s a restaurant he used to take your Ma to, not far from—”
“I know where he is. Tell him I’m coming. Let him know if anybody tries anything, I’ll hide Bridget so far away from this shite-hole that he’ll never fucking see her again.”
“Crystal clear, brother. You strapped?”
“Always.”
Call ended.
I called Bridge to let her know she’ll have to wait, and she was a bit more understanding when I told her why. I almost didn’t tell her, just for the sake of sparing her the worry I know she’s gonna be dealing with, waiting to hear from me again. I saw Pops’ Jag when I pulled up to my mother’s favorite little diner. Bridget would never have any of the few happy memories I’ve got with Ma, actually being a child and ordering pancakes for dinner. I wondered if that was the reason he picked this spot. Somewhere I’d know I was safe. I walked in, happy to see he was alone and sitting by a window that gave me a view of the Nova. If anybody tries to fuck with it or toss a tracking device at it…they’ll have a hard time hiding it from me.
I slid into the booth across from him and we eyed each other in silence for a stifling minute. Somehow, he looks old today. He’s not young, by any stretch, but for some reason I think I can tell it more. Or maybe it’s just this place.
“I’m not apologizing for what I did. So, I hope you didn’t just waste my gas for it.”
His fingers tapped on the rim of his coffee mug on the table, and he narrowed his eyes a bit. “Smart. Gettin’ Decclan to cover ‘yer arse. Havin’ a middle man is also a leader move.”
“I’m not interested in leadin’ anything, Pop.”
The waitress popped over, smiling and asking if I wanted coffee and I only nodded.
“Well. Interested or not, ‘yer leadin’ this family to the slaughterhouse if Bridget doesn’t present herself. Want that on ‘yer conscience?”
I smiled and shook my head while she came back and poured me a mug. “Gonna try and talk to me about somethin’ you don’t have?”
“They can give Bridget a life, Malek. One where she’ll have some kind of place of power. She could—”
“You want Bridget to have a life like Shavonn’s? Short, terrible, and as bleak as an Irish winter?” I sipped from the mug, staring at the table when he went silent. “This didn’t have to happen. I warned you already. After the merge. That banquet shouldn’t have happened.”
“You can’t protect her forever, Malek.”
My head shot up. “I can, and I will. If that’s what it takes. Maybe fuckin’ Jonas will give her a life like Ma had with you, and maybe Bridget wouldn’t suffer a fate like my girl. But we’ll never know. We’ll both be dead men before it ever happens.”
“I hope ‘yer wrong about that. And we’ll find out. ‘Yer proposition on runnin’ the guns and the dope could pan out…if ‘yer the one makin’ the calls. All Bridget knows is the life of a rotten bairn. I’ve done my best to make sure it lasted as long as it could, but Malek…she’s not a bairn anymore. I’m sendin’ you to Belfast to distribute the contraband.”
Some part of me, the darkest part, was itching to slit my own father’s throat. Let his sorry ass bleed out right here in Ma’s place. At our favorite table. The other part, the one more like her…pitied him. I dunno how long we stared at each other in tense silence.
“The only way you’re sendin’ me anywhere is in a fucking box.” I pulled my knife out, flicking it open, and slid it across the table. “Go ahead. Prove to me that you have that conscience, Pop. I’m not leavin’ her here at their mercy. You might be makin’ everybody’s bed, but we sure as fuck don’t have to roll around in ‘em. You’re on your own.”
His hand slipped around the custom handle and his tired eyes didn’t leave mine. I made it easy. While it shook, discreetly pointing the blade at me, I covered his hand in both my own and leaned forward, bringing it closer to my neck. “There’s no leavin’ this lifestyle, Malek Byrne. It’s who we are.”
My lips turned up in the corners. “I don’t even think you believe that, Pop. Make a liar outta me. It’ll be the second time today. First time ended perfect. Let’s try my Irish luck one more time.” The knife shook and I could feel the ghost of the blade breathing certain death on my skin. But he just stared at me. “Lucky me.”
I leaned back, taking the knife from him and finishing off my coffee before leaving him sitting at the table alone. I could feel his stare like a brand on my skin, the entire way to my car. I could still feel it twenty minutes down the road. Looks like my day job’s over. What that means for me and Bridget now…I’m not so sure.
I walked in more weary than I had planned to, coming back to Seven’s place. Bridget was curled up in the coffin with—with a fucking book?
“Do my eyes deceive me, or are you reading a book without pictures in it?” She gave me the finger without even looking my way. The mere fact that our father believes she’s not still a child, baffles me.
“Have you ever read any Edgar Allan Poe?”
I looked at her—really looked at her—and I wondered how she even turned out this way. Deep down, even though she’s only ever murdered my nerves, I’ve only wanted the best for Bridget. I wanna see her happy, although that’s a more outlandish notion than believing unicorns exist. I don’t think anyone actually knows, Bridget included, what would make her happy. It’s worth dying for, though.
“Not much. I used to read more in my early teens, but…”
“But Daddy fucked up any chance you had at enjoying a normal life.”
Maybe she’s not as immature as I like to believe.
“I guess that depends on your perspective. I could have said no the first time he had me kill someone.” I leaned against the island and propped a foot on the bottom of one of the bar chairs. She finally lowered the book and looked at me sadly. I don’t fucking like it. It’s uncharted territory and it feels too deep.
“No, you couldn’t have. You know it. Even if we both die by the end of all this, Malek…I just want you to know I’m grateful. I’m grateful that you give enough of a shit to fight for me. I do love your ridiculous ass.”
Fuck, Bridge…
“You’re not gonna die. You’re never gonna be an O’Dell, either.”
She looked back down at her book and after a minute, she smiled to herself. “Tell me every terrible thing you ever did…and let me love you anyway.”
“What?” Is it bad to say that the soft side of my little sister is making me extremely uncomfortable? I think I liked it better when I had Pop holding a knife to my throat.
“It’s something he wrote. Made me think of you and Shavonn. I see it. I know what got you interested in her, Malek. She’s definitely not her. But I swear, I feel like she would love you this way. She couldn’t be more perfect for you and vice-versa if you’d picked each other out in a fucking catalog.”
“It’s an idea that thrills me, Bridget…but I wouldn’t wish that on her. Lovin’ me is a death sentence. No matter what way you look at it.”
“Then why are we here?”
Because I can’t stay away.
Because every second we’re not giving each other hell, it feels like hell to me. Because I’ve felt the sun shining on my face for the first time in seven years and—
Seven years…
Seven.
“I’m gonna go take a shower.”
“Wait, you still haven’t told me what happened with Daddy.”
I walked past her into Seven’s bedroom, and felt my chest tighten up when I locked the bathroom door behind me. I leaned back against it, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get a fucking grip while my mind spun for a bit. Seven’s always been my lucky number. It was seven years before I got the sweet taste of revenge on my tongue after losing Shavonn. Everything can’t always be the luck of the Irish. Not the way my life has ended up. The mere thought that the girl I swear I’ve already got it bad for after just a week, stumbled into my life because of fate? That’s just fucking ludicrous. Even more so, when I add the idea that she’s just as open to some kind of future with me beyond what I’m asking her to do. I’m not used to this kind of seriousness anymore. The asshole I am and the nonchalance I filter my life with all stemmed from a loss I still haven’t gotten over.
But I just can’t leave her alone.
“She didn’t pass any of this onto you?”
I heard Bridget’s muffled voice through the bedroom door as I toweled off, and it sounded like she was talking through a mouthful of food. Seven’s home. And being in this bedroom listening to the two of them after taking a scalding hot shower suddenly feels extremely domestic. Oddly, I think I might like it a bit. I opened the door and cracked a smirk at Viper, downright giddy about the fact that she’ll only glance at me like she’s trying her best to hide the fact that everything I did to that pussy this morning is playing back through her mind. She might be fooling Bridget, but she’s not fooling me. That chest is flushed.
“I mean, I’ve watched her cook my whole life, so I know her secrets. I just don’t have her talent. Not really my forte.” She made herself busy in the kitchen and Bridget sat at the bar, stuffing her face with whatever was brought home for us. Smelled good.
“I’ve never had potatoes this good.”
Because she wasn’t fortunate enough to have Ma’s.
I banished that thought while I snuck up beside Seven at the kitchen sink.
“Shower’s free,” I winked.
“Could we talk for a sec?” I got a sideways look and gripped both sides of the towel as I hung it around the back of my neck. She looks bothered by something, and I’m wondering if my luck’s finally run out because of the move I made. Sure seemed like she enjoyed herself. “Alone?”
“Yeah.”
Bridget continued to eat, chewing while she watched us follow each other back to the bedroom. I closed the door behind me and leaned back on it while Seven flopped down on the end of her bed.
“If you need us to stay somewhere else, I told you I’d put her up in—”
“It’s not that. My mom busted you trying to sneak outta the house this morning.” I bit down on my lip, unable to hide my grin. Feels like being sixteen all over again. “It’s not funny, asshole.”
“Sorry.” I tried to straighten my face, but…failed. “You grounded?”
She sat up and sighed, rolling her eyes and it just made this whole being serious thing that much harder. “Would you grow up? No. But now you’ve got everybody wanting to figure out whatever this is, and that’s the last thing I need right now, Malek.”
“I didn’t see a single soul when I snuck through that house. I swear.”
“Yeah, well. Your stalker skills aren’t as good as your butchering. She saw you going to get your stupid milkshake. Fuck you for that, by the way.”
I knew she’d be feral about that.
“I’m sorry. Happy to make it up to you, though…” I raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her legs.
“Tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass.”
I poked my lip out.
“Fine. But, if I find out that the Girthmaster finds its way back where it was a few hours ago…your mom will be the last thing you have to worry about.” I honestly thought that would get her back to the sass I’m starting to feel empty without, but…whatever happened must be a really big deal. She’s not giving me anything. I stepped over and sat next to her. “Seven, look…I might have hijacked your life, but never in any of this have I wanted you to be unhappy. I do love it when you’re pissed, that’ll probly always get me off, but…if you tell me to go, and only call you when I’m ready for this job…I’ll do it.”
“It’s not that either,” she breathed, staring at the floor. “You irritate the fuck outta me, but…I’m starting to like having you around. Don’t let that get to your already inflated head.”
“No promises there, love.”
“I’m not used to anybody thinking I’m a ten. I don’t think I’d be used to anybody even believing I’m a high three, Malek. My family knows my track record with men and my failure in the dating pool. I’m not looking for a white knight, and I don’t want them expecting one. I generally like existing down there in the basement with nobody to worry about but myself. It’s just…safer that way. For everyone.”
It’s pretty obvious to me now. She’s been hurt. And it makes me wanna gut teddy bears. And it’s not the kind of hurt like what I’ve been through, either. I actually think this is worse. I love the aspect of being able to cause insane amounts of physical pain and torment to people that deserve it, but I’ve never been the kind of lad that blows a load, seeing someone suffer in silence when they don’t. And she doesn’t deserve this shit. She deserves to be worshiped the way I got down on my knees for her this morning. She deserves that every day.
“Okay,” I whispered, nodding. “But I meant what I said about Mr. Floppy.”
“Christ…go eat.”
I nudged her with a shoulder and stood, walking to the door and tipping my head over my shoulder to look at her. “You are a ten, Seven Grey. No matter what fool can’t see it.”
I left her with that, vowing to figure out the name of every prick that wined and dined her in the past few years.
CHAPTER 15
The Mortician
It’s almost weird, having people to actually hang out with that listen to what comes out of your mouth and laugh, instead of run. To make the darkness a little more fun to be in. To spend time with someone who isn’t constantly checking their watch. Add that to the soft side of Malek that made an appearance last night, and one could almost say I was daring a toe over the line of my comfort zone.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of that this morning, while I’m prepping suites and moving caskets. There aren’t any deliveries today. Not for my line of work, anyway. Greg’s also been on better behavior after last night, which I’m positive I have Maggie to thank for however far her foot went up his ass. Everybody was asleep when I left this morning, and I’m guessing Bridget isn’t easy to bunk with. Malek was pretty peaceful looking in the coffin. Which is more than I can say for Mrs. Porter right now. This casket is all kinds of wrong for her. Don’t judge. It really is like that with us. For the Grey’s, a funeral is just as important as the way you carry yourself, so if the casket isn’t the right choice, it’s like wearing dirty sneakers with a tuxedo.
