Chapter 1 #2
“It’s Dr. Graves, and if you will excuse me, you need to leave. I’m locking up for the night.”
His brows rise at the correction. He’s not used to people correcting him. I cover the rest of the body and then pick up the clipboard at the end of the table to mark off some paperwork.
He stands at the edge of the table, a tic running through his jaw. “You know I’m going to avenge this man’s death,” he says in a voice that tells me the revenge will be bloody.
“That’s not my concern,” I say.
The man lying between us on my slab meant something to him. It’s not only the tattoo that tells me he was family. It’s the stillness in Silas’s body as he looks down at him. In the tightening of his handsome facial features. The fists curling at his side.
And suddenly I’m five years old again, watching my father standing over my mother’s coffin, his face drawn and his eyes tear stained…
“It was fast,” I say, my voice cutting into the frigid air. “He wouldn’t have known what hit him.”
I don’t know why I’m offering him an attempt at comfort. I never offer it. The men I work for don’t pay me for comfort. They pay me to clean up a situation and keep my mouth shut. And they pay me really well. They sure as fuck don’t walk into my workplace as if they own it.
I have never worked for the Vescari family. And I never will.
But his enemies come to me. That’s why he’s here. He knew this was where this man would be brought. To me. The one person the underworld trusts to ensure their narrative is the only one that makes it into official documents.
It’s dangerous work. But I meant what I said. It’s because I do this that they get buried and not dumped into a shallow grave where they’ll never be found.
And truth be told, I really like money.
I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised by a parent who was constantly chasing it.
Silas turns, and his dark eyes lock on me again.
“If you cover up one of my men’s deaths again, without my authority, you won’t like the outcome.”
Unblinking, I stare at him. He’s probably delivered similar threats to many other people before. And I imagine they nodded their heads and assured him it would never happen again while praying he didn’t shoot them on the spot.
But I am not easily unnerved. His threat does not scare me. It pisses me off. And it’s been my experience not to piss people off when you want them to do something for you. I’m very much an ask nicely person. Anything less and I tend to get stabby.
“This is business, Mr. Vescari. It’s not personal,” I say, trying to regain my last fucking nerve.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Graves. It’s very fucking personal,” he growls.
The tension in my lower stomach snaps, and I turn on him. “Where do you get off coming into my place of business and telling me what I can and cannot do?” I glare at him, grinding my jaw so I’m not as tempted to bring that fucking scalpel to his throat. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He steps closer. Too close. The overhead lights deepen the shadows on his high cheekbones as he looks down on me, and my hand slides across to the scalpel, enjoying its cool touch. If he notices, he acts indifferent as he towers over me.
“Your worst fucking nightmare if you ever do anything like this again.”
The menace in his voice makes me pause. But slowly, the smile tugs at my lips. And it’s something he doesn’t take too kindly to.
“You find what I say amusing?” he asks.
If looks could kill, I’d be lying in a bloody pool on the morgue floor.
But I’ve looked the real devil in the face, and he doesn’t have impressive cheekbones and a sexy pair of full lips like this guy.
“If you’re here to intimidate me, it’s not going to work, Mr. Vescari. I dissect bodies for a living. For the most part, they’re dead, but sometimes if someone really pisses me off, I’m happy to do so while their blood is still pumping hot,” I say, making a point to toy with the scalpel.
Icy tension ripples between us as he stares down at me. “Is that a fact?”
I hate admitting it. But up close, this guy is something else. Narissa, my ride or die, would call him hot AF.
The kind of hot AF who knows how to put his name on your lips when his head is buried between your thighs.
A heated warmth spreads between my legs as his gaze promises damnation.
Jesus, I need to get laid.
“It’s time for you to leave. I need to get some sleep before I start back tomorrow.” I flip the scalpel in my hand with ease.
His jaw tics, and he seems unfazed by my swift movement with the blade. That, or he doesn’t think of me as a threat, which is okay by me. Being underestimated at times can be a woman’s power.
“Someone from my office will be in touch regarding picking up your friend. Word of advice, be friendly if you actually want to bury him,” I say with an insincere smile, the threat hanging in the air.
I grab the end of the table, place my scalpel on it, and get him settled in the cooler, fully aware of the psychopath watching every step I make.
I can’t help but feel a stab of empathy for him.
He’s lost someone he cared about, and that hurts.
Some would say it hurts so much you can feel your heart break.
My advice to him would be to stop caring.
Or at least tighten the circle of those who are worth the heartbreak.
I turn my back on him and reach for my coat hanging on the rack next to the door, praying I don’t have to use my knee and a can of pepper spray on this asshole as a form of encouragement. But when I turn back around, he hasn’t moved.
“This could end badly for you,” he warns.
Our eyes connect and lock. And I will die before I look away. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a plausible probability. You swim with sharks, you’re eventually going to get bitten.”
“Nice analogy.”
“Not an analogy either. Just friendly advice.”
“We’re not friends.”
“No, we’re not.”
He stalks out of the room, but I don’t move until I hear the door close behind him.
Letting out a deep puff of breath, I walk to the light switch and flick it off. He’s gone, but it still feels like he’s watching me.
Tread carefully, Leonore.
I should pay heed to the voice in my head.
I’ve made him mad because I can’t keep my smart-ass mouth in check.
And making Silas Vescari mad can be fatal.