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"What makes you think I don't?" The smile he offered me was somehow sweet and sinister at the same time.
"Do you?" I nibbled on the corner of toast while he watched my mouth.
"Sometimes," he said lightly. "At uni I did. If I got a job with the local morgue, I might." He looked thoughtful as he sipped his coffee.
"And if you don't? What else are you going to do with a degree like that?" I remembered him shoving the knife into Eric Parcell's eyeball and suppressed a shiver. I bet they didn't teach that at university.
"I can show you if you want?" he offered. He chuckled at the suspicious look I gave him. "I wasn't suggesting I practice on you. I was just gonna show you my workroom. You might find it interesting and… Educational."
I had the distinct impression I'd find it disturbing as hell. At the same time, I was curious. Yeah, I knew what curiosity did to the cat, but I remembered his promise not to hurt me.
"Okay," I said finally. I hoped like hell I didn't regret agreeing to go.
"Do you trust me?" He cocked his head at me. He reminded me of a dog. Adorable when they lie on their back and let you rub their tummy, but if they wanted to tear you apart, they would. I'd only ever seen the tummy side of Ice. Unless you counted that night.
Now I knew the context, I was a lot less scared, but it was still disturbing as fuck.
My tongue flicked over my lips and gathered a few stray crumbs. I drew them in and swallowed them.
"I… I want to," I said slowly.
"But?" he prompted.
"But I hardly know you," I admitted. "Everything I learned yesterday really brought that home. It's one thing to care about someone and another to learn their whole life is—" I stopped to compose my thoughts. "Not what you thought it was."
"It's not everyday you learn your boyfriends are involved with organised crime." It was a statement, not a question.
"Exactly," I agreed.
"You understand why we didn't tell you straight away?" He looked anxious now. Worried I harboured resentment toward the guys for keeping something so important from me.
Did I?
"I do understand, but is there anything else I should know?" If they had any more enormous truth bombs, I wanted to know about them now. I'd had enough surprises to last for a long time. Unless they were pleasant ones, then I'd just as soon skip them.
"Yeah, that's why I want to show you my workroom." He downed the last of his coffee and hopped up off the stool. "If you can handle what you see there, then you can handle anything."
"I'm starting to think I should run away right now." But when he offered his hand, I accepted it.
"You'll be fine. I'm a better driver than Mannix. If you can survive his driving, then everything else after that should be easy."
"Those sound like famous last words if I ever heard them," I said.
He grinned. "Ares always says I should work in a funeral home, because I drive like I'm driving a hearse. Does that make you feel any better?"
"A little bit," I said. "As long as you don't expect me to ride in the back."
"The only way you'll be in the back is if I'm there too." He smiled suggestively.
I glanced back as we walked towards the garage. "Are the other guys coming too?"
"No, they left half an hour ago to go and do some stuff." He pressed the button on his fob and the garage door slowly slid open.
"Illegal stuff?" I couldn't resist asking.
He grinned. "Probably. They'll fill you in on all the details later."
"Are you sure about that?" I slipped into the passenger seat of his white, classic Corvette. Telling me about their lifestyle and giving me blow by blow descriptions were different things. Neither of them seemed inclined to share their shoe size, much less what they got up to when I wasn't around.
