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“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. “You’ll be OK on your own tonight? You don't want me to come over?”
“I’d like that, but I promised June I’d come back and sit with her. She's unsettled in the hospital, and they want to hold her overnight. I just need to feed Sebastian first,” Sylvie explained.
“Sebastian?” Gator asked, puzzled.
“Her cat. He tripped her... that's why she fell on the porch and hit her head.”
Gator fought back a laugh. “Oh. Well, you feed her pussy tonight, and I’ll feed yours tomorrow.”
Sylvie giggled. “I can’t wait.”
* * *
Baptiste and Gatorsettled into a booth at Cops Corner, their eyes flicking toward the entrance every time the door creaked open. But each time, it wasn’t Bruno who walked in.
As the night wore on and Baptiste’s speech grew increasingly slurred from the drinks he kept ordering, Gator decided it was time to call it a night. They’d tried texting Bruno, but he hadn’t responded.
“I’m heading home,” Gator told Baptiste.
“Voyage sûr,” Baptiste mumbled, his words barely intelligible. Gator knew Elodie would get Baptiste home safely, just as his friend had wished for him.
Gator offered a weary smile and a nod before walking up to the bar and saying goodbye to Elodie. She was such a lovely girl; Gator hoped Baptiste’s drinking wouldn’t eventually drive a wedge between the couple. He made a mental note to talk to Baptiste about his alcohol consumption. He’d seen too many people reach the tipping point where one more drink was never enough.
Once outside in the fresh air, Gator considered calling Sylvie but decided against it, figuring she’d be at the hospital and too exhausted to talk. The ride back home was just what he needed to clear his head, the wind whipping past him as he accelerated down the road.
On a whim, Gator detoured to pass by Sylvie’s house, just to make sure everything was in order. Finding the place quiet and undisturbed, he continued on his way home, the weight of the day slowly lifting from his shoulders.
The next morning he received a text from her:
Heading home. You busy?
Not for you
I need a shower
I need one too
I’ll be there in about 20
I’ll be there in 21
Can’t wait
Gator pulled on his jeans and t-shirt…picked up his Jokers kutte and raced out the door.
He was anticipating a long hot shower with Sylvie and some even hotter sex. What he didn’t anticipate was what he saw when he arrived at her place.
13
Gator had been caughtup in traffic and roadworks. In his frustration he’d darted down a side road only to find that congested too. He could barely wait to jump into that shower…but he’d have to bide his time today. Finally, as he rounded the corner into Sylvie’s street and approached the house, something caught his attention, sending a shiver down his spine. Marvin’s bike was parked outside Sylvie’s place. His heart raced, and his hands tightened on the handlebars as he worried about Sylvie’s safety.
Without wasting a second, he pulled his bike up and leaped off it in a hurry, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he rushed towards the house. The front door was already open, which only added to his concern. His thoughts raced as he imagined the worst-case scenario, images of Sylvie being hurt flashing through his mind.
The creaking of the floorboards beneath him echoed through the eerily quiet house as Gator entered. But what he saw next was unexpected and shocking.
In the kitchen, Sylvie stood with a bloody baseball bat in her hand, and Marvin’s lifeless body lay on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the stale smell of fear filled the air, making Gator’s stomach churn at the sight. But he didn’t let it show. Instead, he focused on Sylvie, who looked like she was in a state of shock, her eyes wide and unseeing.
“Sylv,” Gator said softly, trying to comfort her. “Are you OK?”
