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“He’s gonna kill him while she watches, hrk,” Mayhem taunts. “You and what army, Damian? What B-grade movie did this idiot get that line from?”
“It’s a big threat,” Murder says, the gears turning loudly in his head, “for one man.”
“He’s not alone.” I pull away from Ghost, but he just pulls me back in, so I turn in his arms and press my shoulder to his side and curl in closer. “Do any of you know the Cartwright family?”
All three of their faces drop, and I cringe. That’s a resoundingyes.
“Roman fucking Cartwright, that tattooed grapefruit.” Mayhem smacks Murder this time. “You said that Chucklenuts never got initiated into that family.”
“He didn’t,” Murder says. “Boss—say the word, I’ll bring you his eyes.”
“Mmm…” Mayhem rubs his hands together. “Y’know, I don’t have a pair of green eyes on my shelf yet.”
What planet is this? Seriously. If you’d told me a week ago I’d be standing in an upscale museum with three unhinged men, talking about killing multiple people, I’d have balked laughing. On top of that, not only am I mostly unphased, but I’m the logical one in the room? And I’m falling madly in love with one of them.
Yeah. I can admit that to myself, pretty easily at that.
Maybe it’s all a weird coma dream, but it’s fine.
“Okay, okay, hang on.” I tug on Ghost’s jacket, and he rubs his hand down my back so gently I nearly melt at his feet. “Roman might not have anything to do with it. I-It was this other guy, um… Norman! It was Norman.”
Mayhem presses his lips together and huffs through his nose. Murder’s brow knits. But Ghost is the one who squeezes my hip. “Roman…”
“I’m serious,” I whisper before he can finish. “He was very nice to me. I’m good at spotting bad people, Ghost. I bet he doesn’t even know what happened. If anything, he was…”
But the homicidal glint in Ghost’s eyes startles me into complete silence, his voice dripping with venom when he asks, “When were you talking to Roman Cartwright?”
The elevator dings open, and an older woman hobbles out, effectively pausing this conversation. She looks scared for a brief flash, but when she sees Ghost hanging on to me while Murder and Mayhem watch, utter shock flashes in her eyes.
“This must be Lucy,” she says, too busy staring at Ghost like he’s grown another head to even look me over. He takes a steadying breath, doing a passable job at hiding his anger.
“Yes.” He peers back at her, giving a curt nod. “This is my Lucy.”
His Lucy,oh, that’s it. I’m done for. If my heart gets any faster I’m going to faint in his arms, and that will just be terrible because he’s clearly upset and needs me rubbing his head like I am. He doesn’t need to see me have a complete manic break, either, so I tighten my hold on his shoulder and hide my grin in his neck, biting the collar of his jacket to smother my giddy noises.
“Alright, alright, scram! Do you have any idea what time it is?” The older woman huffs, hobbling to her desk. “All of you, trying to kill me. Everyone find somewhere to sleep and don’t go off with any more damn emergencies untilat leasttwo days from now. I’m done.”
Murder gives a slight smile, while Mayhem crosses his eyes. Both of them look completely lost, staring at Ghost with the same dumbfounded look the woman had a moment ago.
“She needs help, Eustice,” Ghost says. Oh. This is lady Ghost’s phone goes straight to. She’s sweet looking, with a slight edge to her. Like a biker grandma.
“With what?”
“She was…” He shakes his head, his grip on my middle almost painful. “She could’ve been…”
This is about the tub thing, I just know it. I calm my excitement over being kissed and claimed and cuddled and turn my face up to whisper in his ear, “I’m okay, Ghost.”
His breath catches and though he jolts, his hand hooks around the back of my head, holding me right where I want to be. “No,” he says, the pain in his voice slicing my joy down at the knees. “She’s hurt.”
“She’s breathing,” Eustice says.
“I cansee she’s breathing,” he seethes.
“Eus,” Mayhem says, “she got held underwater for a beat.”
Ghost flinches so hard I whip around to make sure Mayhem didn't actually stab him. His pulse skips, a short, ragged breath wheezing out while his grip actually forces the air out of my lungs.
I recognize that pale face. The panic sinking its claws in, trying to pull him away from me.
