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Luxury’s body trembles as she presses against me. I growl, “Overton, your quarrel is with me.”
“No. You’ve ignored me long enough. Returning that payment I sent to X-Member for your assassination, well, that was your bloody last mistake.” He cocks the gun toward Luxury. “Come to me, chit,” he tells her. “Or I will pull the trigger.”
My dead eyes stare at Overton as Luxury whimpers. Before she can take a tentative step toward him, I zip around her.
The center of my body moves out of the line of fire. Striking like a cobra, I redirect Overton’s target.
A high-pitched shrill comes from Luxury. The gun clatters to the ground. As she goes for the weapon, I rear back, slamming my forehead into Overton’s nose.
Crunch.
As Overton bends, trying to stop the blood oozing from his nose, I grip his neck and lift him into the air. I stop myself as I think about Luxury, Gina’s death so fresh in her mind.
Overton falls to his knees, taking a deep gasp of air. I glance at Luxury. The gun shakes in her trembling hands. Fearful eyes refrain from drawing away.
Bloody fuck. Is she with me right now?
Once Overton’s caught his breath, I reach out a hand to help him up. Instead of accepting the display of brotherhood, the old chap digs into the pocket of his crumpled suit. I knock the knife out of his hand.
“You made your choice.” The snap of Overton’s neck echoes in the night.
Burt handled the body.
I drove Luxury and me home. While slipping off her stilettos, Luxury asks, “What did you do?”
I slam the double doors of my home, locking us in. “Do you need therapy, Little One?”
“Victor, you know exactly what I mean.” Her accusing eyes turn away from me. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lets out a measured exhale. “Shit, maybe. Still, that wasn’t the point of my question. Whywasthat guy in a rage? How did you piss him off? What didyoudo? Because clearly, I’ve to cover all the fucking basis, or you’ll slither past my question. Oh, also, how can his body just bediscarded?” Her petite frame jitters at just the mere thought.
Fucking thorough.
I bloody crafted a lovely, little wench. I stalk toward the mantle, pour myself a drink, and knock it back.
“Huh, Victor,” she cracks, “did I ask enough questions to facilitate a real chin-wagging.”
“Alright! Overton has been disposed of for financial reasons, if you will.” The golden liquid swishes into the glass, and I take no time in finishing off the next round. “It won't do for me to kill him and leave him there. Arlington has one of the lowest crime rates in the UK.”
“Screw the stats.”
“Were you not there? I offered a bloody hand after he came after us. Did you witness my attempt at letting bygones be bygones? Even after he had tried to murder you?” I cut the edge out of my tone, striving for something akin to empathy.
“What am I missing, Vic? He wasn’t just enraged.”
“The old cunt had a gun.”
“He was passionate about it, Vic. Desperate. So, financial how?”
At her unyielding gander, I say through gritted teeth, “Luxury, Overton’s emotions killed him.”
“No,youkilled him! Victor,youmurdered him.”
I step closer. “Listen to me.”
“No! I don’t want to hear it. You could have just beaten him to a bloody pulp. You didn’t have to kill him.” She gestures to herself, voice strained, fragile. “I can’t see someone else die. I . . . can’t!”
“Let me be totally and utterly clear with you, Luxury,” a fissure slices through my tone, “I would’vemurderedOverton later. I’ve given him chance after chance. But the second he had ill will toward you, Overton committed himself to death. When I looked at you,” I sigh, “I was so afraid, so consumed with fear, I decided just to relieve him of his gun. Now you take this any way you’d like. But for your sake, I had previously decided not to murder him right where he stood.”
“Sure, you did.”
