CHAPTER 9
The Princess
I’ve finally got my adrenaline and nerves under control after the events I wasn’t expecting earlier.
We stashed the safety deposit bag in a locked drawer at Simon’s office, and now I’m laying across his hideous floral print couch with a hand dragging his carpet and a leg hanging over the arm.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted.
Working class sucks. Simon waddled around the edge of the couch, and I looked up at him, realizing how much creepier he looks upside down. He reached a steaming mug towards me.
“This not therapy. Drink. Go home.”
I rolled my eyes and sat up, swiveling around to take the mug. “What the hell is this? It smells like a candle.” He sipped from his own while he eased himself down in his little rocking chair and stared at me. I sniffed my mug again and took a careful sip.
“Chamomile. Good. Drink.”
“You put on one hell of a front, Mr. Miyagi. I’ll give ya that. All you need is a sweater vest and some bedroom slippers and nobody would ever suspect you’re Hannibal Lecter.”
“Who?”
“Nevermind.”
I glanced around at all his vintage crap in his living room.
Malek had once said the getaway house in Rockport where they took me and Sev was like being in a time warp.
It definitely was. This is the same. Old record player.
Box television with a brass dial on the front and two gargantuan antennas.
A radio that probably dates back to the 60’s.
My brother probably had the time of his life staying here when he wasn’t moping over Sev.
Or it was the opposite and maybe that’s why he snagged that little duplex apartment in Fort George.
I, on the other hand, am wholly uncomfortable.
Simon finished off his tea while I let the mug warm my palms.
“News vague. You safe. No one know.”
I nodded, staring down at the oriental rug. “Thank you, Simon. For everything.”
“Shamrock need to know.”
“Absolutely not. Especially not now. He’s got way more to lose, and so does Seven.” Simon’s bushy eyebrows raised.
“Miss Black have baby?” It might be the first time Simon hasn’t seemed like a creepy bloke. His face warmed with something like pride. I don’t like it. It must have shown on me. He promptly shook himself like a dog trying to rid itself of excess water. “Not matter.”
I grinned. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody you’re a secret softy.”
“Disgusting.”
“She’s not pregnant yet. That’s what we were talkin’ about when you called me earlier today.
They’re gonna try. Mal thinks it’s time.
I’m not gonna ruin that or put them at risk.
He can’t know, Simon.” He nodded once with some understanding, and I felt a little better, at least. “Thing is…if Malek did know, he’d be calling Declan to find all the answers and then act on some kind of poorly organized plan.
Mal gets shit done, but he acts first, and fucking thinks later. ”
“Tell him. Before killed.”
I want to. I do. It’ll feel good, and it’ll feel terrible all at once.
I’m not ready to see the look on his face when he finds out I’m married to a dead snake.
I’m not willing to drop that kind of news on him when I can’t even figure out how to treat a guy that I don’t even deserve.
I’m fucking fooling myself. I don’t know how to be a queen.
Sometimes I feel like one, but I’m starting to realize I only feel it because he makes me feel it.
Maybe a queen is nothing without her king.
Maybe empires rise and fall so that it can be governed by the lowest of the low that end up carrying it on their backs.
We’re all scattered to the winds now. The Byrnes are gone.
There’s nothing to rule over. There’s only rats to kill.
What becomes of us all if I’m successful and the fucking castle is empty?
“I will. One day. Not now.” I raised up and set my mug on the side table, giving Simon a mock salute.
“I’ll try to keep myself outta trouble.” I saw myself out and trudged down the daintily-lit sidewalk, wondering if Simon uses the same technique Seven does to keep his flowers this pretty.
I’m starting to really feel terrible for his neighbors… but it’s also fucking funny.
My tired smile followed me all the way to my car. I backed out of his driveway, hearing a heavy thud in the back when my tires hit the street. Nothing in my rear view. I drove a little ways, hearing it again when I braked at the stop sign at the end of the street.
There’s something in my fucking trunk.
The pit of my stomach feels like I swallowed an anvil, and my face is tingling.
Somebody tried to kill me today. If I get out of this car, it could very well be the last thing I do.
He might still be out there, whoever the fuck he is, and waiting to finish the job.
Him…or whoever he’s working with. It’d be all too easy to off me out here if they were keen on blowing my brains out in a parking lot in the middle of the day.
My palms are sure as shit warm now. Sweating, really, while I gripped the life out of my steering wheel.
My phone buzzed in my bag and I felt my throat dry out while I swiped open a text from an unknown number.
UNK: …you’re welcome. peace offering. you know what to do.
Peace offering?
“Oh, fuck…” I whispered, swallowing down bile. “Shit.”
I know who it is. And I know where I’m gonna have to go. I put the car in park and looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone peeking out their windows or watching me before I stepped around the trunk and popped it.
Yep…I’m gonna puke. He left me a fucking body.
No wonder Seven didn’t find this cute or amusing.
My brother truly is an idiot. This is not how you get your cock wet.
Now I have to go dump it. I growled under my breath, slamming the trunk closed and pinching the bridge of my nose as I stomped back around to the driver’s side and threw myself in.
I squealed tires for the second time today and drove the opposite direction of home… to Witherle goddamn Woods.
When I had the notion to have a workout regime on the list of things I wanted to try and start doing this year?
This…was not the way I meant it. My first kill that wasn’t Jonas Fuckstick O’Dell, seemed a lot more fun until I realized how much work it is, cleaning up the mess I had the time of my life making.
I guess Daddy had the right idea, hiring somebody like Seven to come in and take this off the plate.
Masked Madness at least made it easier for me and a bit less messy, wrapping whoever this is in industrial-grade plastic before he left me a gift nobody wants in my clean trunk.
What an asshat. Maybe I should try a lesbian.
I pondered that while I dragged the body through the woods, hearing it snag and scrape on everything underneath it.
I think I’d make a great lesbian, honestly.
I bet it’s so much easier already knowing what women really want.
Nobody knows their way around my snatch better than I do…
I’m sure it’s the same with other women.
They’d never get it wrong. Fuck, I’m stupid.
Truthfully, I might be open to experimenting, but I can’t say I’d ever be okay, giving up dick and switching to the carpet business.
Especially when Declan McCann looks like that, and fucks me like he’s sending a prayer to the darkest circle of the underworld.
I smiled to myself, momentarily forgetting all about what I’m currently doing…
right after I told Simon I’d try to stay outta trouble. To be fair…trouble found me, this time.
My arms and thighs are killing me, and my calf muscles gave up about thirty feet ago.
My eyes followed the beam of my flashlight and there’s the big muddy root where sweet Lydia is still enjoying her stay.
I dropped the body and bent over, palming my knees and forcing oxygen back into my lungs.
You know what would be fucking great? If Seven’s parents take that generous donation and become a franchise.
Is that the word you use for a funeral home business?
Or does that only apply to food? Either way…
it’d be really nice not to have to ever have to hike through this place again, and just sneak into a place nobody’s actually living in, and roast a couple people instead.
Fine time for my stalker to leave me to my own devices.
But he also said it was a peace offering.
He wanted me to see this one. Consider my curiosity piqued.
I knelt down, grabbing a knife out of my pocket, and flicked it open.
The plastic isn’t very transparent, and he’s wrapped way too well for my dude to be an amateur.
I’m impressed. I made a slit where I gambled was the side his head is on, and a couple layers later…
there’s damp dark hair. I gambled right, but this is obviously the back of his head.
Ripping the hole bigger, I peeled the plastic back and pulled it down, grabbing a shoulder and flipping the body over.
“Aaagggghhh! Fuck!” I stumbled back, landing flat on my ass, and caught myself on my palms while I stared right into a face—with no fucking face.
I was not…expecting that. It’s probably exactly what you’re thinking it’s like, though.
Disgusting, yes…but like a train wreck. I can’t not look at the shit.
His eyelids are gone, his pretty brown eyes bulging.
No lips left. Teeth look like they’re well taken care of.
His facial muscles are exposed, and I can see the bone of his jawline.
Judge me all you want, but this is why people watch horror movies.
Only problem is…I still have absolutely no way of knowing who this guy is… or was.