Chapter 1 #2
Among other things, Kevin and Griffin had extracted and disposed of two catering-sized chest freezers, a wide range of household and agricultural chemicals, a sack of rope and old wooden pulleys, five huge bags of rock salt, and a fuckton of cat litter from where it had been buried beneath my own towering piles of crap.
It had all seemed innocuous enough, if a bit on the unusual side.
None of us had given it a second thought.
Why would we? It was inconvenient stuff that had once belonged to Deirdre Sharpe, the sweet little ninety-four-year-old lady who was well liked in the community and had died peacefully in her sleep one sunny afternoon, sitting in her armchair in front of the television, which was playing an episode of The Great British Bake Off at full volume.
Of course, after the loft discovery, Deirdre Sharpe was upgraded from sweet little old lady to psychopathic nutjob and prime suspect in the Dollhouse Murders, and the stuff no longer seemed quite so innocuous.
I took a right at the junction onto the quiet, tree-lined road where I lived.
My house was at the far end, but even from the top of the road I could see Kevin’s ridiculous neon-blue Land Cruiser parked in my drive, all tricked out with its bull bar, snorkel, and the rugged, heavy-duty wheels that could handle an expedition across the Sahara as easily as a quick trip to the supermarket.
Slowing my car to a crawl, I eased it in beside Kevin’s monster, keeping a wary eye on the sliver of space between my wing mirror and his paintwork. I grabbed my phone and my jacket from the passenger seat and climbed out.
Maybe once I’d unleashed Kevin on the garage, I’d see what he thought about widening the drive.
Letting myself in through the front door, I hung up my jacket and called out, “I’m home! Anyone here?”
There was no answer. They must still be out in the garden.
I went through to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water from the tap. As I stood at the sink and drank it, I checked my phone. Pippa had sent an irate message asking if she could fire Dawn.
Apparently, Dawn had managed to work for all of ten minutes before taking a break to make herself a large black Americano with three shots of espresso, necking it, then promptly running outside to vomit into the bin in the alley behind the shop.
Now she was taking some personal time in my tiny office.
I sighed. Dawn was a pain in the arse, but I was the one responsible for hiring her. If anyone had to fire her, it would be me.
Although knowing Dawn, she’d ghost me before I got around to it.
I texted this to Pippa, dropped my phone on the kitchen counter, and headed out the back.
Kevin and Phil were indeed still in the garden.
The blanket was spread out in the middle of the lawn, Kevin was spread out in the middle of the blanket, and Phil was spread out all over Kevin.
If that had been Jasper beneath Phil, the only visible part of Jasper would be his long legs. This was Kevin, though, and while Kevin was always up for a snuggle with Phil, he wasn’t about to let Phil call the shots. Phil had been firmly arranged with his head on Kevin’s chest.
They were both sleeping. I crossed the lawn and stood gazing down at them. My two favourite guys.
Kevin was lightly flushed, either from the sun or from the heat generated by the shaggy beast on top of him, and his short lashes cast shadows onto his pink cheeks. Phil snored. I smiled dopily at them, and realised a little too late that Kevin had slitted his eyes open and was watching me.
“Nice nap?” I said.
“Yeah.” He reached out, took hold of my ankle, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come down here.”
Kneeling on the blanket, I pushed and shoved at a resistant Phil until he slithered off Kevin with a moan of complaint. I took his place, slinging a leg over Kevin’s hips and straddling him.
“Mhm.” Kevin bumped his hips up, lifting me a couple of inches and tipping me forwards.
I braced my hands on his chest and leaned in for a quick kiss.
“Where are you going?” Kevin caught me as I went to sit up. “I’m not done with you.” He drew me in for a longer, deeper kiss.
I laughed into his mouth. “Kevin,” I said. “Let me go.”
“Never.” He tilted his head and did something with his tongue that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and made me weak in the knees.
I planted my hands on the sun-warmed wool blanket either side of his head, bit lightly at his lip, and lifted away.
He stared up at me.
“Kevin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m ready.”
“Yeah?” He skimmed a hand down my front and tweaked my dick.
I smacked him away. “Not that.”
He grinned, and tweaked my dick again. “You sure?”
“We can do that later. But…yes, I’m sure.” I took a deep breath. “You can start renovating the garage.”
The real reason I’d put it off and stood firm against his wheedling for so long had never had anything to do with the fact that it once belonged to a psychopath.
It was because the garage was the repository of my past, and I had complicated feelings about it.
Kevin’s relaxed stillness sharpened and came into focus. His body between my thighs went tight—poised and ready for action. “Charlie,” he said, his voice rough and his brown eyes fixed on mine. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Don’t mess with me.”
I sat up. “I mean it. Personally, I’d be happy to leave it to fester until the end of time.
” He made a disapproving sound. I smiled.
“But I know you want to have a go at it, and I want to make you happy, so…” I got to my feet and held out a hand to pull him up.
He took it and held it, but he stood under his own power.
“This,” he said, “is going to be epic.”
God, I hoped not.