Chapter 7 #3
Suddenly, Hayden appears beside me wearing a totally perplexed expression. He shoots me an inquisitive look before turning his gaze back to the man bleeding out on the ground.
“Huh,” Hayden says in obvious disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“You owe me fifty dollars,” Jacob teases while dropping to the ground. He presses a gloved finger to the man’s bloody neck, then looks up at me with a grin so similar to Parker’s that I feel a little thrown. Twins. “I knew you had it in you.”
I can still feel the warmth of Parker’s hand as it rested briefly on my arm to steady me. My heart pounds in my chest, but not from anxiety, from the thrill of finally doing something without thinking about it fifty million ways to Sunday.
Jacob stands and nods toward the laptop Hayden is clutching to his chest. “Do you need to delete camera footage of us being here?”
Hayden rolls his eyes deeply. “I disabled the cameras. Why do you think there aren’t any cops here yet?”
Jacob’s eye twitches in the corner but he remains silent.
I return my gaze to Parker to find him already watching me, that same calm, understanding smile on his lips from the last time he watched me kill a man.
A sense of knowing washes over me. Deep understanding that maybe, in some way, I was always supposed to end up right here.
It’s such an intense feeling I feel a little dizzy with the knowledge.
I must sway on my feet because Parker takes a hesitant step closer, like he’ll grab me if he must, but he prefers not to in order to protect my space.
“I’m going to get a complex about not being allowed to kill anyone,” Reid whines, breaking whatever spell Parker and I are under.
I clear my throat and look away, toward Reid at the back of the room. “I think it’s the right call to not let you kill anyone.”
Dante looks absolutely thrilled, but Reid’s fury is quick and violent.
Just as he’s about to say something, Dante covers his mouth with a big hand and tugs my brother back against his chest. Whatever Dante dips down to whisper in Reid’s ear settles him, but his eyes stay squinted and his chest heaves a little.
“Let’s go,” Hayden orders, and like that, everyone moves.
The emergency lights in the warehouse flicker on in front of us, then turn off as we exit the building still under the cover of night.
We all walk fast back to the car. Once we’re all in the safety of the vehicle, the silence is a little overwhelming.
Parker fiddles with the stereo and puts on the same singer as earlier, which seems to appease everyone in the back seat.
When we get back to their house, everyone hops out of the car in a hurry, except for Hayden.
He leans forward on the console, careful not to touch me, and eyes me with the same look someone might give a zombie. Finally, he sighs from deep in his chest and nods in approval at Parker.
“Welcome to the team, Red.”
“Oh…” I don’t know what to say.
Hayden turns to fix Parker with a softer—but similar—look. “You’re still liable for him until Robin gives the go-ahead to make him official. Just like Dante was liable for Reid. Hopefully this one doesn’t get kidnapped and almost blow our cover.”
Hayden hops out of the car before Parker can even form a reply.
“Is he always like that?”
Parker’s eyebrows furrow. “An asshole?”
“No. Bossy?”
“Well,” Parker says slowly as he starts the drive back home, “he is the boss.”
“I thought Jacob was the boss?”
Parker’s howl of laughter is so genuine and raw that I can’t help but grin.
Maybe it’s worth saying something wrong if it makes him laugh like that.
I get the feeling Parker doesn’t laugh as much as he could or should.
He’s got the sort of face made for smiling, especially when those dimples pop in his cheeks.
Devastating—that’s what Parker has the ability to be to me.
“Jacob is definitely not the boss, but he wishes he was, so maybe that’s why he treats Hayden the way he does.”
“How does he treat Hayden?”
Parker looks thoughtful for a moment. “Like he’s waiting for Hayden to fail.”
Interesting. We spend the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence.
The weight of the night finally hits me, and so does the exhaustion that comes with it.
I killed a man tonight. A second man in the span of a week is dead at my hands.
And I can’t explain why it gives me no anxiety.
Maybe I am broken, but not in the way I always expected.
But god do I need a shower. I want to scrub my skin raw, climb into bed, and sleep for an eternity in my nice, clean bed.
We undress quickly in the garage, until we’re left in just boxer briefs, but I pointedly aim my curious gaze away from Parker to avoid getting caught staring at him with drool dripping down my chin.
I carefully peel the clothing off me, folding it.
I’m sure it’ll need dry cleaning at some specialty murderer dry cleaner.
Parker’s quiet and subdued, but still the comforting presence my humming nerves seem to need. I stare down at our shoes side by side, the custom-made murder shoes.
“You custom ordered murder shoes for me,” I whisper, feeling out of body after the events of the evening.
Parker chuckles darkly. “I guess I did.”
I turn my head to gaze up at him. “Do you want to kiss me?”
A bittersweet smile lifts Parker’s lips. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“You’re straight,” I point out, heart pounding in my chest.
“Maybe not as much as I thought because it’s never hurt me so badly before at the idea of going my entire life not touching someone.”
Oh god. That’s simultaneously the sweetest and saddest thing anyone has ever said to me.
“I want to kiss you too,” I admit, a rock stuck in my throat.
Parker’s eyes darken in the heavy night that surrounds us.
I’ve never felt this level of attraction for someone before.
Half of it is Parker’s looks, how beautiful he is, how attractive I find him, but the other half is because of how careful he is with me.
He’s not careful out of fear, but careful out of respect for me, which makes all the difference in the world.
“Not tonight though.”
Parker grins. “Of course.”
“But maybe you can sleep in my bed with me?”
“That sounds great, Mace.”
“And keep calling me that. I really like it.” I can feel the flush working its way across my cheeks and down my neck. Parker’s eyes only seem to darken more at my admission.
“You better take your shower before I do something neither of us is ready for. I’ll meet you in your room.”
The clear order in his tone has my feet moving before my brain can catch up.
He follows me up the stairs, but we go to our separate rooms. I stand still in the bathroom for a moment, reorienting myself to my new reality.
I turn the water up as high as I can take it until the room is filled with steam and my skin is dewy from the humidity.
Gritting my teeth, I stand under the scalding hot stream of water for a few seconds to acclimate myself to my new reality.
Finally I shake myself free. It takes me fifteen minutes to scrub my body pink with my antibacterial bodywash.
Once I’ve dried off, done my evening absolutions, and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, I open the bathroom door to find Parker lounging on my bed.
My body goes cold and hot at the same time, emotions warring inside me.
I feel like Parker belongs there, but he also terrifies me.
What if I can’t give him everything he needs and he casts me aside?
I am loved and worthy of love, I remind myself, surely making my therapist proud if she knew.
I slowly join Parker on the bed, lying on my side to face him.
We’re two closed parentheses, our hands between us, not touching, but almost. And if I had courage, and if I wasn’t so afraid of everything, I’d close the scant space between us to touch my pinkie finger to his own.
But I don’t. Instead, we lie there staring at each other in the muted darkness of my bedroom.
Parker slowly lifts his hand from between us to dance it over my face in the mimicry of a touch. If I close my eyes, I can imagine the pressure, soft and kind, like he’s gentling a wary, unbroken horse.
“I want to touch you one day, like this,” Parker murmurs, voice full of desire. “Your skin against mine will be the closest I’ll ever get to God.”
“Parker…”
“Sorry, I just…” Parker makes this confused, worried sort of face that I find way more handsome than I should. “I wonder what you taste like.”
“Probably toothpaste. I brush my teeth, like, five times a day.”
“Mint, but behind that, I bet you taste sweet. Like a Shirley Temple.”
I close my eyes tight and dip my head to avoid his gaze. Parker rests his hand back between us, seemingly catching on to my sudden shyness. He’s too much. He’s going to kill me before I even get the chance to try kissing him.
“Is me on the bed too much for you?” Parker asks.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Good,” Parker says gruffly. “We should try to sleep.”
I get under the covers with a contented sigh and snuggle into the familiar comfort of my bed. Parker’s gentle breathing lulls me to sleep without a worry for the murder I committed earlier this evening.