The Mercenary and the Mortician (The Silent Hollow #1)

6. Cal Walker

T he kid shocked the shit out of me and strolled right into a fucking funeral home.

The fuck?

“Why do you think he’s going in there?” Naomi wondered out loud, and I threw the car in park. Leaning over her slightly, I slid my Ray-Bans down my nose and eyed the large building through the passenger window.

“Jesus. This place is creepy as fuck,” I muttered.

This funeral home wasn’t like the ones I was used to seeing. This was clearly privately owned and was built into a massive Victorian-style house. The exterior was painted a deep phthalo green, and the large bay windows were trimmed in black. Steep gabled roofs gave the whole building serious ‘haunted mansion’ vibes, and I cocked my head to the side in awe.

I fucking loved it.

What a dope fucking building. Whatever asshole found this place and thought, ‘Hey, let’s cram it full of dead bodies,’ was a fucking genius.

“I’m going in,” I announced, and my sister burst out laughing before she realized I was being serious.

“What do you mean you’re going in? You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. Look at you!”

I glanced down at my Benny Benassi T-shirt and faded black hoodie before glancing back up at her.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you supposed to wear all black to funerals? I’ll fit right in.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she chided, though she was grinning.

“Whatever, it’ll be fine. It’s open to the public, right? I’ll just pretend I’m shopping for Cassandra’s urn for when she inevitably dies from that giant stick she has shoved up her-”

“Okay, GO! Jesus, Cal.” Naomi chuckled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Get out of here before I tell Cass you’re talking shit about her behind her back again.”

I grinned and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Be right back, little gnome. Lock the doors, and don’t talk to strangers.”

“You’re—”

“Ridiculous, I know,” I finished her sentence for her as I got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me.

I pulled my hood up, shoved my hands in my pockets, and strode past the wrought iron fence and up to the outrageous double doors that led into the entrance of the building.

The windows were frosted glass, and my hands closed around brass handles. There was a sign that read ‘Fairview Funeral Services’ in tasteful gold lettering. I felt my lip curl up at the sight of it.

I was obsessed with this place. It was so fucking creepy. A Halloween-themed rave in a house like this would be fucking sick.

I busted through the front doors to find myself standing in a grand entrance hall with high ceilings, wooden floors, and a large chandelier. The walls were decorated with rich, dark wood paneling and antique wallpaper.

There was a wooden staircase with an ornate banister leading to the upper floors. The main hall had plush, vintage furniture, including dark leather chairs and a large wooden desk.

Tasteful floral arrangements and framed portraits were placed throughout. The reception area featured a guest book on a polished wooden table, and I wandered over to it, soaking in my creepy ass surroundings.

“Badass...” I breathed, turning in a slow circle as I walked. I was so taken with this morbid place that I had nearly forgotten I was supposed to be looking for the kid.

“He’s going to be busy for the next few hours. Go wait for him in the living room.”

My head snapped up to the aggressive voice that floated down the hallway. I narrowed my eyes at the attractive man who had an ironclad grip on the boy I had followed into this creepy house.

The man had chestnut hair tied back in a bun. He was wearing expensive gym shorts and a dri-fit top. I usually made a point not to drool over potential marks, but this dude was hot as fuck . If he was the one hurting this little boy, which I somewhat suspected from the way he was manhandling him, I would need to make sure I had the element of surprise. He was clearly ripped… and not in a showy way… in a functional way.

I was still bigger than him. If I were to guess, I would clock this guy in at six-two, and I was six-four the last time I checked. There was no doubt in my mind I could kick his ass in a fight, but why waste energy when you can just pounce on ‘em from behind?

I moved to follow the two of them through the mahogany swinging door the man was currently shoving the kid through, but man-bun turned around and slammed his hand into my chest at the last second.

He turned dark, angry eyes on me, giving me a judgemental up and down before curling his lip in distaste. I realized with a start that I wasn’t dealing with a he but an insanely jacked she.

Down boy. I scolded my semi-hard dick as the realization washed over me. Wrong gender… and from the looks of her, she ain’t interested in what we have to offer anyway…

“Only authorized personnel are allowed past this point,” she snapped, and I raised an eyebrow at her, eyeing her over the rims of my Ray-Bans, which were still perched on the tip of my nose.

“That kid is personnel?” I asked. The woman frowned.

“What? No… he’s?—”

“Is he your kid?” I asked bluntly. Sometimes, just getting straight to the point gave me all the information I needed.

Muscles looked shocked for a moment, and then her angry scowl returned.

“No, he’s my brother’s… you know what? This is none of your business. Who are you? What are you doing here? We don’t have any services today.”

I shrugged. “I’m shopping for an urn,” I explained, and Muscles narrowed her eyes at me.

“Well, you’ll have to come back tomorrow. My brother’s busy, and I don’t deal with shit like that.”

So the kid must live here then if this chick’s brother was the kid’s dad and he ran the place.

I held up both hands in surrender, giving this assholish chick a grin she didn’t deserve.

“Sound’s good, man. I’ll swing by again tomorrow.” I smirked, and she crossed her arms over her firm chest, watching me with that same hostile look.

She was standing directly in front of the door the kid had gone through, and she obviously wasn’t going to budge until I was safely out of the building.

I turned and made my way back out the way I had come. Usually, I preferred to have a conversation with the child to make sure I had the right target, but that asshole had been pretty clear who the kid’s father was.

Resolving to come back after dark to do some more recon, I slid back into the driver’s seat of my Bentley. I needed a little more evidence that this chick’s brother was for sure the one hurting this kid, but that shouldn’t be too hard to get. I would bring Naomi home and pack my car with my murder shit, then be back here lickety-split.

Maybe if I killed that asshole and the house went on the market, I could buy it and throw that Halloween rave I had been fantasizing about… though I assumed the angry muscle lady would likely have something to say about that. I supposed I could always just kill her too…

Hmm. Something to think about.