I tap the bottom of the paper and set it aside. “Say I took you up on your offer, would I have to deal with you in return?” I ask. “Or your men?”
“Which would you prefer?”
“Your men,” I answer without hesitation. His eyebrows dip slightly. I’m sure a man like this isn’t used to women not throwing themselves at him. “Another thing, everything is confidential. I only deal with the bodies, not the politics of the families who run this city, or who did what and how. Do we understand one another?”
His gaze narrows, and I immediately know I’ve hit the mark.
“I’m wounded, Dr. Graves. Are you saying you don’t enjoy my company?” he asks as he stands, and I imagine he wants to say much more. “I, however, will come and collect his body personally tomorrow.”
“I would prefer not to see you ever again. No offense, Mr. Vescari.”
“Offense taken.” He steps closer, hovering just in front of me. He’s trying to intimidate me again, so I click the tip of the pen a few too many times as I stare right back at him. His eye twitches slightly from the consistent sound.
“Leave,” I tell him. “I haven’t yet agreed to your terms.”
“Oh, but you have,” he says with a deadly smile that’s anything but gentle. I hate that he knows I want the money. It’s the driving force for us all, isn’t it? And although I do it to give bodies proper burials, a girl’s gotta eat.
As he begins to walk out, he says over his shoulder, “Lock the door after I leave. You don’t know what type of predators will come knocking.” His voice carries through as he walks out.
“It’s a Sunday. I’m sure all my usual clientele are busy at church, wiping their slates clean,” I bite back, and catch the edge of his lips tilt up. Well, fuck me, he might have a sense of humor after all.
What I’m certain of is that he’s not referring to others.
Predator.
That’s him.
And he knows it.
4
SILAS
Leonore does not look the slightest bit impressed to see me waiting for her in the parking lot again.
She steps out of the car with a takeaway coffee and her handbag. My eyebrows furrow as she practically ignores me while locking her car and walking toward the building.
Beyond the private building is a less-frequented graveyard that spreads across rolling hills. It only makes me more interested in this woman who adamantly refuses to work with me and is undisturbed by what most would consider creepy.
She doesn’t say anything but leaves the door open behind her, as if silently and begrudgingly letting me in. She begins switching on the lights, and when I go to speak, she raises a hand, silencing me.
“Not until I’ve finished my coffee.” My eyebrows furrow. This fucking woman.
“Don’t you think your services are?—”
She cuts me a scathing glare, and I see it. The death in her eyes if I speak again, and much to my surprise, I try to hide the smirk because she reminds me of my sister when she hasn’t had her morning coffee either.
It’s strange to see the usually put-together mortician look somewhat …human. Though she’s still definitely put together, with her hair in a tight braid and her all-black attire.
She takes one more sip and makes an exasperated “Ah” noise before pinning me with a glare.
“I distinctly remember saying I didn’t want to see you.”
I lean against the doorframe of her office and cross my arms over my chest. “Yes, as well as other things that I chose to ignore.” I pull out an envelope and throw it down on her desk.
“Oh no, that’s done at reception.”
“This is your portion. I’ll have one of my men drop off the rest. I want that body.”
