Page 72 of Overkill

I didn’t think that would rub off on me.

Ellen walked away, completely uninterested in us.

“That’s right,” Greg said as he stiffened, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest as if he could protect me from her glares. He’d waste a lot of time and energy if he wanted to do that… “Is there a problem?”

“Nope. No problem.” She was speaking to him, but she looked at me. I was pretty sure she’d be spitting in my food.

“I wanted you to get to know my friends.” He whispered into my ear, and I couldn’t help but smile again. “They’re nosy as fuck, so I just wanted us to be official.”

I wanted that, too.

“Those people across the way are looking at you real hard. Looks personal. There some town gossip I should know about? Did you reject some of those guys or something?” He nodded towards the jukebox.

I looked and sighed.

Ian Gray and Jon-Williams Gray, and their little friend Roy, were huddled together with toothpicks in their mouths as they did their best impression of The Fonz. Too cool for school.

It meant the daddy Gray, Turner, was probably somewhere around here, too. I wasn’t worried they’d talk to me; they never acknowledged me even before there was a weird inheritance and questionable death looming over our heads. They wouldn’t be seen associating with me in public.

It would tarnish their shining reputation.

“They’re my stepcousins, I guess. My stepfather’s nephews and cousins once or twice removed. I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” His chest rumbled on my shoulder, and the purr of it went through me, soothing me as I melted further into him. “I’m sure Uncle Turner isn’t far away.”

The door opened, and Greg sat up straighter.

In came a leather-clad woman in tight jeans with muscular thighs and straight, midnight-black hair falling down to her breast. Trinity Guerro. I’d known her for a while—since she moved in, actually.

Behind her was her black-haired husband, sporting almond-shaped eyes on a severe face. Griff, maybe? Then a blonde woman with a sweet, heart-shaped face and red lips entered in stilettos and red leather pants. The Ukrainian, Daria.

The eyes that shot daggers at me turned into open-mouthed gawps at the cosmopolitan outsiders whose showstopping entrance felt like a fresh breeze after a sweltering summer.

“Hello, handsome.” Daria was the first to speak, greeting Greg before turning to me. “We have not officially met, I don’t think. I’m Daria Savchenko.” She held out her hand, and I shook it. “And you’re the reason his truck is currently on cinderblocks in the barn, no?”

I blushed, feeling my cheeks heat.

That had been a frightening day. It almost felt unreal.

She scooted into the circular booth until she was on Greg’s other side.

“Hey asshole,” Trinity said, sliding into the seats until she was by Daria. Her husband followed.

“I’m Kai.” The man held his hand out to me, and Greg stiffened. “We haven’t been formally introduced, so here we are. Formal.”

“You haven’t?” Trinity said. “My trailer was on her property back when I was in the camper van.”

“Right.” Kai nodded like he remembered, but I had a feeling he had no idea. “I forgot about that. Didn’t connect the two things in my head.”

“Yeah, people tend to get intertwined a lot in Mourningkill.”

He was the reason I had lost out on rent money. Sure, it was just a plot of dirt that had been mowed on the other side of what would have been an old run for the horses we did not have, but Trinity had been a great tenant, and the money had helped a lot.

“This is Melody,” Greg said, looking right at me. “She’s the woman I’m gonna marry.”

The table froze. Everyone went silent. The entire room seemed to quiet down, too. Like every person was leaning in to hear what I would say.

I blinked. His friends stared at me so hard my cheeks turned beet red.