Chapter 9
LEONORE
“And what if I choose not to remove my hand?” I dare. He takes a step closer, not even caring that my hand is on a gun. How he knew that is beyond me.
“The last person who pointed a gun at me is dead,” he informs me.
“Do you plan to kill me, Mr. Vescari?” I ask, sickly sweet.
“Because if you do, here would be the perfect place to do so.” I wink, and when I do, he opens the side counter, which leads him back to where I am.
He takes a few steps so he’s standing next to me, then his calloused hand reaches under the counter to where mine is and covers it.
He smells of citrus and wood, light, controlled, and intentional.
The scent of a man who probably never had to raise his voice because they fear him just for his presence alone.
When the heat of his hand wraps around mine, I pull my hand away, and his stays under.
He pulls my gun out, his dark eyes trained on me.
“No plans on killing you yet, Miss Graves,” he says to me, then slides the gun back into its place. “But if you could kindly inform me of why you didn’t show, that would be great.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation of what I do on my personal time, Mr. Vescari. That is not in our business arrangement.” He seems to think about my words, then nods as if in agreement.
“However, I’m going to need you to be more specific as to what you saw the night Pietro Vescari’s body came in.”
“I told you—”
“I have no other leads,” he growls out, and I freeze for a moment, not out of fear, but because it’s the same as the night he first walked in. That clipped control of his is slipping. Whoever that man was, he’s important. Guilt floods me because I feel partly responsible for all of this.
I know better than to show any kindness. But I say at the very least, “I don’t either.” And it shames me to admit.
“Then you will help me. We’ll work together on this.”
My head whips in his direction. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. I have fewer resources than you.”
He doesn’t hesitate to agree with the fact, but says, “I have two beliefs. One is that whoever dropped the body off here wanted me to know it was here, implicating you in the meantime, and I need to find out why. Or two, whoever murdered him was careless, and the body should’ve never crossed your tables in the first place. I need to know who.”
“But by now the body could be…” Gone.
He doesn’t let me finish that sentence. “I’m aware of the implications, Miss Graves. But I need to bring my family closure.”
It’s the honesty in his tone that has me looking at him twice.
Don’t do it, Leonore. The devil is working on the minuscule amount of guilt I have. But it is also my job. One that I’d like to keep uninterrupted for as long as I can.
I cross my arms over my chest, sizing him up once again. “If I help you, you’ll leave me alone after we find out who did this. Business as usual. No personal visits or demands. And I’m not helping you during working hours.”
“Of course,” he says as if I’ve pointed out the obvious. Most likely because he’s getting his fucking way. I don’t compromise. Ever. But it also benefits me to know who involved themselves.
Silas isn’t the only one with enemies.
He holds his hand out to me. “So we’re agreeable.”
I reluctantly place my palm in his calloused hand that is surprisingly warm for a ruthless killer. His gaze does not dip from mine as he further inquires. “Cian…” he says and looks toward the door where he left, “seemed very friendly with you.”
“And?” I pull my hand out of his, wanting to wipe it immediately. I feel like I’ve just made a deal with the devil who just as quickly shifts his interest to my personal life, which I’ve made abundantly clear is off-limits.
“Would you like me to handle that situation as a sign of good faith?” His words take me aback. What does he even mean by “handle that situation?”
“I can handle Cian,” I reply.
“If you say so, but the offer stands.” I think he expects me to say thank you. But I don’t. I never asked him to come in here and interrupt me.
“Is that all, or do you need help with anything else?” I ask dryly.
His lips tug at the side at my words, and he nods.
“Three bodies are coming your way. I want their cause of death not to relate back to me.”
Most likely a message of sorts, but I know better than to ask questions.
“Done.”
“Good, good…” he says, still not moving. I can’t get away from him. He is blocking my path to the doorway behind him, which leads to my office and morgue.
“You didn’t need to come here to tell me that,” I tell him.
“No, I guess I did not…” he muses. And still doesn’t move.
“You can leave now so that I can work.”
His dark eyes are trained on me, and I wonder what type of person he is without the ruthless reputation and when he’s not running a crime syndicate. Immediately, I remove that thought. I shouldn’t want to know anything about him beyond our business together, and he needs to stop showing up here.
Finally, he moves so I can step past him, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“Lock the door on your way out.” Then I hear the sounds of cars, and I know it’s bodies being delivered, most likely the bodies he is referring to.
Brushing past him and his intoxicating smell, I push open the swinging door and walk through, not looking back.
The fluorescent lights hum above me as I start to work.
My gloves snap against my skin as I focus on the first body in front of me.
Tori walks the people who delivered them out, and as I step up to the body, my jaw clenches, a cold chill running over me.
Carved in his chest is the word soon. I imagine the other two bodies have a similar cryptic message.
Silas will turn over every rock to find out who killed his friend, and it’s only now that I consider I probably made the right choice by agreeing to his terms. Because, despite his elegant gentlemanliness, Silas has something dark and dangerous inside him.
A side that I best not find myself on. I can handle myself, but I prefer not to draw unnecessary attention.
I sense cold, methodical movements watching me. This is my world, and the one place I am never supposed to be watched. I told him to leave, I know I did. Yet somehow … the air shifts. He doesn’t give a sound away, just pressure that embodies the devil he is.
I straighten slowly, the scalpel pausing above the body mid-movement. When I glance toward the observation window, he’s there, leaning in the doorway as if he owns it. Like he owns everything.
My pulse quickens as he meets my eyes and smirks. Utterly unbothered by the corpse between us or by the rules I set.
“I said leave,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady.
His gaze flicks to my hands, then back to my face.
He moves closer, and my hand tightens on the scalpel with each and every step he takes, until his body is next to mine.
He leans down, his breath tickling my ear as I try not to move, but I can’t help it.
Without a second thought my hand is moving, and it lifts to the side of his throat, the scalpel so close to cutting in.
A smirk pulls on his lips as he says, “You’re very hard to ignore when you’re like this.
” His words echo through the room, then he pulls back, and I close my eyes for what feels like a second.
His footsteps echo before suddenly, he is gone, the door clicking shut behind him, right before Tori slips into the room, obviously having no idea of the threat that was so close by.
“You want your music on?” Tori asks casually. My fingers twitch as I hold the scalpel in my hand.
“Yes.” I glance back at the doorway he left through and say, “Lock the front door before you start counting the cash.”
“Okay.”