Page 126 of Gangsters and Guns


Font Size:  

Incredible smells assault my nose—baked turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. A memory rises, lost in the depths of my mind, of my mom and dad making this exact same meal when I was a child. I helped my mom mash the potatoes, while Mitchel aided Dad with the turkey. It’s wild how just a single smell can evoke an entire memory.

Hmm. I guess I have had turkey before.

Alistair’s smile turns into a knowing smirk. “Well, you said you had never really had a Thanksgiving, and we realized we wanted to do one, a proper one, so we figured we would, hence the cooking, Maddox threatening to kill us, and Rogan counting every single pecan to the precise—”

One flying pecan smacks into Alistair’s head. “Fifty,” Rogan says, making Alistair laugh as he winks at me.

“There’s a dress ready for you in the wardrobe.” He spanks my hip. “Go get your sexy self dressed while we handle the cooking.”

As he urges me to go, I peek around him to the others. Rogan is letting Mischief lick what looks like mashed potatoes off his finger. Maddox is also in a frilly apron, one he’s almost bursting free from, and he looks very angry about it as he stirs a sauce.

“H-How?” I stutter, and Alistair follows my gaze.

“We told him you bought it,” he whispers. “Don’t tell him otherwise. He might kill us and never wear it again.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Now get dressed!”

Shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, I shuffle back into the bedroom, staring down at my coffee. What in the ever-loving fuck did I wake up to? And why does a wide smile crawl across my tired face as I hear them laugh in the other room?

Is this what having a real family feels like?

After downing the coffee, I quickly slip on the dress they laid out. It’s a stretchy cotton kind, like a long, comfy T-shirt, and has a turkey on the front dancing between the words, ‘Gobble till you Wobble.’ It’s definitely not the sexy kind I was expecting, yet it makes me laugh. When I go back to show them, they whistle like I’m the hottest thing they have ever seen as I do a twirl.

Mischief also has on a turkey sweater, and I take a picture with him which, of course, the guys end up leaping into. I can’t help but laugh as I look back at them—Maddox’s grumpy face in his pink apron, Rogan’s grin, Alistair’s tongue sticking out as I smile down at Mischief. In the next one, I notice something and zoom in. Maddox’s face has shifted. He’s looking down at me, and there’s a slight smile on his lips. It makes me melt, even as I’m dragged into the kitchen and my phone is taken away and I’m forced to help cook.

The TV plays the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade low in the background as we work together. Alistair’s mainly in charge, reading from a cookbook as he gives us orders. Rogan and I sneak tastes every now and again, and even Maddox helps me sneak a bite of food, glaring at Alistair when he turns to catch us.

The food is incredible, and the scents of stuffing and turkey make my cold apartment feel warm and cozy. The parade ends and the dog show begins. We snack on shrimp while the turkey rests, and we each pick out which dog we want to win. By the time the dog show is over and the Standard Poodle wins—Alistair’s choice, and boy does he gloat—the guys get busy plating food and bringing it all to the table. We definitely overdid it, but I’m so happy. It’s my first real Thanksgiving since I was a kid, and it’s with them. They did this for me, yet I can see their happiness too. Rogan is relaxed and grinning, not even thinking of work, Alistair is sneaking Mischief bites of food, and Maddox is glaring at me, telling me to eat more.

It’s perfect, and I feel like my heart might explode. No one has ever done something so thoughtful for me before. I had the worst night of my life, and then they go and give me the best day. I don’t deserve them.

But I’m going to keep them.

Just then, the dog show finishes and switches to the news. A local report comes on, and the words catch my attention. I turn, my face paling, as I stare at the reporter.

“The body of a local motel manager was found recently and suspects were apprehended but have since been released. Police have now confirmed it was a homicide and are currently seeking any witnesses to catch the actual killer—”

My breathing stops, my ears ring, and my body numbs in fear. I feel like I’m about to pass out as they show footage from when the body was first found, it’s the front of the motel with police milling around and tape surrounding it. The report shifts to a clip of paramedics wheeling out a body covered in a bag. The motel…the motel where I killed a man. I knew they found the body, but I had thought it had been closed, solved, and now it’s all coming back…

The footage fades to his picture, and I almost faint, my stomach churning as it threatens to expel the Thanksgiving meal within it.

“Kitten?” Alistair asks, and when I turn back to them, they’re all staring at me worriedly. I’m betting that wasn’t the first time they said my name. They glance at the TV, then back at me.

“Pet, what’s going on?” Maddox demands.

I push my chair back frantically and stumble to my feet, and as if in sync, they all stand. I stagger back, trying to think of a lie, needing to flee, needing to get away. Terror races through me, but they don’t let me run. They circle me, corner me. My eyes dart between their serious, concerned ones.

“Rory, talk to us,” Rogan implores. “What’s wrong?” He looks at the TV. “Did you know him?

“I—” I squeak, and it cuts off as I wring my hands. What the hell am I supposed to say? I need to get out of here. If they’ve found the body, there might be evidence. Stupid, Rory, real stupid with my prints now in the system and Bronson on my ass.

I need to run.

“Rory,” Maddox snaps, and I know I’m in trouble. I swallow, searching for a way out, but they don’t give me one. The secrets fester inside of me until something has to give.

“I killed him!” I blurt. The words hang in the air, and my shoulders slump. I feel my body nearly giving out from the force of holding all this in for so long, but once I start, I can’t stop. Their blank, confused expression make me ramble. “The motel manager, I killed him. Stabbed him in the neck with a knife I stole from him. H-He tried to rape me. Attacked me. I had no choice. I—”

“Hellcat,” Rogan murmurs, stopping me. I swallow hard and stare at the floor as tears finally fall. A moment later, arms wrap around me, and I’m pulled into a solid chest as I tremble. “Shh, it’s okay, we’ve got you.”

“But-But they’re going to find out and I’ll—” I sob.

“No one will find out,” Alistair states calmly.

“They’re right. We’ll sort this out, trust us,” Maddox adds. I lift my head, peeking at them through my wet lashes.

It’s like a weight has been lifted, and for the second time this week, the Dixen brothers are going to cover up a murder I committed.

Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like