Chapter 46
“IT HAD TO BE YOU” BY FRANK SINATRA
Bernard Albert wasn’t just a member of the mob. He was one of the cops we had on the inside. If it wasn’t obvious, I hated cops, but that didn’t mean I wanted to kill him.
Sadly for him, we all must do what needs to be done.
I could smell the stench of his cologne before I knew which one was him. He had short hair, a broad nose, and looked like his mother punched him at birth.
So it wasn’t like I messed up his face too badly pretending he was Sebastian.
I stared down at Bernard and watched the blood under his head puddle just before the tips of my combat boots.
What was left of his patchy, blond hair was stained.
A bullet hole through the front of his face sliced through all important brain matter until spinal fluid began to ooze out, confirming my kill.
My mouth felt dry. I’d earned another star, and it wasn’t any easier than the last. His blood looked a little darker, his face a little more expressive. At least I could feel a moment of joy in my chest, pretending it was Sebastian on the other end of my gun.
“Bernard Albert.” I kneeled beside him and stared into his coarse blue eyes, as I had seen Dominik do before during training. “May your soul burn for eternity.”
I picked up the shell casings and double checked I hadn’t stepped in anything before walking back down the alleyway. Someone would find him later in a pile besides a few full trash cans. By then, I’d be long gone, out of the area with nothing to tie me to the man besides the mob’s influence.
I rolled the silencer off my gun and started putting my things away in my bookbag the moment I returned to my bike four blocks over.
At the bottom of the bag, I felt my phone buzzing impatiently.
I had left it in case there were any trackers attached to my phone, leading anyone to believe I was interested in the bookstore where I was due to pick up a book, rather than killing some ‘random’ cop.
“Fuck. Give me a second,” I muttered, wiping down my hands and tossing the wet wipes into a bin nearby. My phone vibrated again as I took it out of the bag and searched for the eager fuck waiting for me to answer.
My heart dropped into my stomach when four new messages and a miss call popped up on my screen.
Mustang
Hey, are you busy? Can you call?
Mustang
If you’re at Erica’s house, can you stop over and look around the house with me? I’m alone and think I hear something.
Mustang
I think I hear someone, so I’m hiding in the room under the stairs.
Mustang
I’m sorry. This is so silly. I’ll be fine.
I threw my backpack over my shoulders and jumped onto my bike. Forget my bookstore alibi—I needed to get to Coven faster than forty-five minutes. One, because it would make a great alibi, and two, because Quinntessa felt safe enough to call me when she was scared.
McQuinn
I’m on my way. Grab a sharp knife and hide.
Mustang
All I has is plasticcccc :(
I groaned, revving my engine and shooting off down the road past the private school. Quinntessa was just ignorantly unaware of danger at this point.
Staying in the shadows, I made my way through the back gate and rounded the old carriage house until I spotted Quinntessa waiting by her back door.
“You didn’t have to come,” she whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. “It’s late, and I know you’re busy. I’m really sorry for being so stupid.”
I ignored her and stepped up onto the old rotten porch to stand in front of her. She looked up at me with watery eyes. I didn’t waste a second stepping forward and hugging her.
“Stop. You asked me to,” I whispered, breathing in her scent as she clutched my leather jacket. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Sal. You call, and I’m here, okay?”
Quinntessa should not have to fear her own home. If it meant I needed to sit here until she fell asleep, then I’d be here all night until she begged me to leave.
It was the least I could do after planning her murder.
“What did you hear?” I whispered, stepping toward the back door.
“Something upstairs.” She stayed close to me as we entered the house. “Talking? I don’t know. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear, I hear talking sometimes when I’m home alone. My dad doesn’t believe me.”
“Okay. Just . . .” I glanced around and frowned. It wouldn’t be the mob. All the lights were on in the house besides the front living room. Anyone could see Quinntessa was home by driving past the house. “I’ll go first.”
Quinntessa nodded and grabbed my hand. I turned and looked down at it, looking back up to see regret in her eyes. Before she could pull away, I squeezed her fingers and tugged her along.
“Hello!” I shouted up the stairs. “Who’s there?”
“I don’t think he’s going to answer if he’s robbing me,” Quinntessa whispered.
“How sexist of you to assume all robbers are men,” I teased her with a smile over my shoulder.
We continued up the stairs together. Our hands intertwined, and Quinntessa hid her face in my back whenever I stopped to listen.
She wasn’t crazy. I heard something upstairs too. It sounded like someone’s voice.
The closer we got to her bedroom, the more I relaxed. Not only did it sound like a voice, but it sounded like singing. Once we were up the stairs on the small, square landing, I pushed the door open and released a sigh of relief for her.
“Your records, beautiful.” I turned and caressed her jaw, forcing her to look at her record player. “You left the music on low.”
Quinntessa heavily exhaled. She blushed with embarrassment and jogged across the room in her adorable Tow Mater Crocs to turn the music off.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” she apologized, picking up the needle and resetting her baby pink record player. “You probably had plans tonight, and I totally wasted your time. You should block me.”
“You didn’t waste my time,” I reassured her, watching the record spin. “Were you listening to the records I brought you earlier?”
Quinntessa returned the needle to the record and glanced over her shoulder. She turned the music up and chewed on her lip.
“Maybe a little.”
“Maybe a little.” I smirked, crossing the room to stand beside her. “I told you, I have great taste in music.”
“Don’t get cocky, lover girl,” Quinntessa retorted, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re lucky I didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“And you’re lucky.” I leaned a little closer to her, turning at the last minute to move the needle closer to where I wished. I paused, my head near her ear. “I’m always looking out for you.”
“You’ve never beat the stalker allegations, Quincy.” She leaned back against her dresser and raised a brow. “Sometimes, I wonder if you’re watching me at night. You give me vampire stalker vibes.”
“Like you watch me through your window?” I asked.
Her eyes rolled, looking away from me. I grinned at the win and turned the dial to hear Etta James’ At Last more clearly.
“Where’s your daddy, Honeybee?”
“Work.” She sighed. “He’s on nights.”
“And days?” I pushed. “He’s never here when you need him. Is that man good for anything? It’s not safe in this house for you alone.”
Quinntessa didn’t answer me. She crossed her arms and shook her head, unimpressed with my jab.
“Well, he’s not here to interrupt this time, now is he?” I asked, holding my hand out.
Her eyes widened with surprise. She looked down at my hand, then back up. She searched my face to better understand where I was going with this before shaking her head.
“I told you, I’m not much of a dancer,” she lied to me.
“Shut up.” I laughed.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the middle of her carpet. She bit back a smile and looked around her room, avoiding my eyes.
“Quincy . . .” Quinntessa uncertainly bit her lip.
“Shh.” I touched her face then took her hips into my hands. It wouldn’t hurt if I held her for a moment. “Just dance, okay? Then I’ll leave.”
“But I don’t want you to leave,” Quinntessa mumbled, her eyes losing a sprinkle of light.
I leaned my cheek against hers and took her hand in mine. Our fingers laced together, and we swayed back and forth to the music. My cheek nuzzled against hers. Her body filled my empty, frozen soul with every ounce of fire that was taken from me as a child. She burned me alive and it was bliss.
Heaven comes in the form of freckles and Tow Mater Crocs.
My lips brushed her ear. She shivered at my touch, making me smile.
“Then I won’t,” I promised her in a quiet whisper.
Quinntessa wrapped her arms around my neck and hid her face. I felt her sigh, exhaling all the air in her lungs and relax into my arms.
This was what I needed after shooting down Bernard, everything I wanted to end the night. No, it wasn’t a kiss, or me ravishing her in bed, but this was special. No one could share this with her but me. I wanted this.
It was wonderful.