“You killed one of your own men today for getting handsy with one of my employees,” he states.
I casually shrug. “You would’ve gone after him anyway. Consider it a peace offering.”
“So you’ll stop killing my men?” he asks rhetorically.
“Oh no, I promised you I’d kill one a day until your father returns. I’m a man of my word,” I say as I turn to leave, feelingfar from resolved. I don’t like it when I don’t have immediate results.
Before I open the door, he says over my shoulder, “I heard Grim was in tonight and that she was about to shoot your man before you took the gun and did it yourself.” Which is partly why I came myself, to see what her relationship with the Neros was like. It’s possible they have her favor. The truth is, I’ve become curious for personal reasons as well.
I look over my shoulder. “You’re aware her best friend works here,” I say matter-of-factly. Because Elias is smart.
“I’m aware of who walks through these doors. Grim is unbiased and off-limits for personal gain to the families. You might ruffle more than Nero attention.”
I glance over my shoulder, curious about my little raven, who is viewed so preciously by the other families. She’s been building that trust for six years, and I imagine most have tried to gain her favor multiple times.
The only reason I told him about my uncle’s body, jeopardizing her safety, is because I needed to see his reaction. To know if he knew about it. Because I know for certain someone in his family does.
And since they’re the ones behind the issue, I doubt they’re going to whisper it among any other family.
“I don’t care about whose eyes are on me. Besides…” I think back to the start of my conversation with Leonore tonight. “Our meeting here was just a coincidence.”
13
LEONORE
One of the perks of my job is that I can assess whether an injury is going to be fatal, and thankfully, Nessa’s is not.
“Thanks, Soph,” I say to her. She nods and looks back to the club.
“Do you know him?” She throws a thumb over her shoulder. “I mean, do you think we will still have a job? I kind of need the money desperately.” I can feel Nessa watching me and waiting for an answer to Soph’s question.
“I do not know him, but he is a client of mine,” I tell her and pull back. “We should go, before they all come out. I can drop you off at home, but then I have to go back to work.”
“To clean up the mess?” Nessa asks. I don’t deny or confirm in front of Soph. The fewer people who know about my job, the better.
Soph seems to miss it, however, as she says at the same time, “I can take you to mine until Leo finishes work. What time do you have the sitter until?” Soph asks Nessa.
Nessa grows uncomfortable, most likely because she doesn’t want to put anyone out or have a fuss made over her. “I cancome to your work,” Nessa says to me, and I try to soften my expression.
“No, you know I work in silence. And my workplace is boring. Most importantly, you hate it there.” Nessa looks at me, and I instantly feel bad. She’s shaken, and I understand that. But going to a morgue seems to put only me in good spirits. “I’ll come collect you when I’m done. Go and rest.” She nods slowly but lets Soph lead her to her car. I stay where I am until they drive off. Once I can no longer see their headlights, I turn to go to my car and freeze. There he is. Leaning against my car, as if he has a right to. Arms crossed and watching me with those fucking intense blue eyes that look almost black in the dark.
“Yes?” I say, walking over to him. His eyes drag me up and down.
“Do you own a different color in your wardrobe?” he asks me.
“Yes, now move.”
“You always wear black jeans, why?” I huff out a breath of annoyance.
“They’re comfortable,” I tell him, and open the back door to throw my purse in. When I close it, he has moved and now stands directly behind me. “Why do you wear only black?” I throw at him.
“Because I look good in it.” His mouth twitches at his words as he stares down at me. He does look good in it, asshole. “Graves.”
“Hmm,” I answer, still looking at him. Neither one of us is avoiding eye contact.
“Who taught you to shoot?”
My stomach sinks. There it is. The actual question. My frosty wall is immediately up because I can’t let anyone get too close to the truth. However, I remind myself that it’s not that uncommon for people to know how to handle a gun. And sometimes answering honestly is the best way to throw off a scent.
