Chapter 8
FORREST
"Hey boss, we saved this one for you."
Leif nodded toward a man who was tied to a chair, his chin to his chest. He sported a black eye. Blood leaked from a swollen lip.
"He—" Leif started.
I snatched up a knife from the table beside him and sliced it across the man's throat.
"—stole a chocolate bar," Leif finished.
"Bullshit." I tossed the bloodied knife back on the table. "You wouldn't have him here if that was all he'd done."
He was unhinged at best, but he and Woody didn't bring people here unless they deserved it.
Leif swore under his breath and untied the man, letting him slid to the floor.
I rounded on Woody. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
He snatched up the knife and started using it to clean under his fingernails. "Didn't we have this conversation already?"
I straightened up and took a deep breath. "We're having it again."
"Did she confess?" Woody asked.
"Wait a minute now." Leif stopped in the middle of moving the chair to the side of the room. "I feel like I'm missing something here."
Without taking his eyes off me, Woody said, "Sable Kohl."
"Ah, gotcha," Leif said with a nod. After a moment he added, "What's that?"
"Not what, who," I corrected. "The woman who was forced to marry Wolfgang Taylor-Francis."
"Ah, now there's a name I know," Leif said. "Relative of yours?" He put the chair away and looked expectantly at Woody.
"He was my father," Woody said, barely moving his lips as he spoke.
"Was," Leif echoed.
Woody frowned at him. "Bro, don't you watch the news? He was murdered."
"I see," Leif said slowly. "Are we talking murdered murdered or…" He held his hands in front of him, moving them back and forth about an inch apart.
"It wasn't us," I said. "It wasn't Sable either."
"Says you," Woody said. "I don't buy it."
"That's abundantly clear," I said dryly. "I'll find out everything she knows, then you'll know she had nothing to do with it."
"You're not sure," Woody said. "If you were, you wouldn't feel the need to ask her about it."
"Sounds like he's got you there, boss," Leif said.
"Don't call me ‘boss’," I told him. "You're going to meet her on Saturday night. She's coming to the game as my guest."
"Ooh, Forrest Cross has a crush," Leif teased.
I rolled my eyes. "Fuck off."
What I felt for her was more than a crush.
"Jesus Christ," Woody whispered. "Don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love with the bitch."
Careful of the knife in his hand, I grabbed the front of his leather jacket and slammed him against the wall.
"If you ever call her that again, I'm going to fuck you up so bad you won't know what day of the week it is."
"Are you out of your mind?" He locked his eyes on mine, unflinching. "She was my stepmother."
"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "You're buying into some myth about wicked stepmothers?"
My tone was lighter now, because there was no way in the world he'd think something that stupid.
He snorted and pried my hands off the front of his jacket. "This is about what she did. Nothing more. No, there is more. You might be her next target. She wouldn't be the first black widow to move from one target to another."
I leaned in until our noses were almost touching. "How naive do you think I am?"
He still didn't flinch. "Naive enough, apparently." He gave me a vicious smile, a sloppy kiss on the cheek and then stepped sideways, away from me.
While we were having our friendly chat, Leif pulled out his phone. "Says here she's twenty-five years old."
"So?" I asked. "Age is only a number."
"Says the man twenty years older than her," Leif teased. "Sorry, but I have to agree with Woody. It seems like the perfect black widow setup to me. What else would she see in an old dog like you?"
I flipped him off. "Some women like mature men."
"She's shit out of luck with you then," Leif grinned.
I couldn't help my snort of laughter. Yes, there was an age gap, but I didn't see a problem with it, and neither did Sable.
"She might go for someone closer to her age," Leif added.
At twenty-eight, he was definitely closer. He might even be right. She might like him more than me. She might like him as much as me.
I'd seen my sons with Harlow and her other two boyfriends. I wasn't against the idea of a relationship like that, if that was what Sable wanted. If it wasn't, that was good too.
She deserved to be happy. So did I. So did Leif. So did Woody, although I might admit that grudgingly. Right now, he was good at pissing me off. When it came to Sable, he was pushing the envelope a little too far.
"You're both out of your minds," Woody said. "This woman is toxic, can't you see that? She's going to use you, suck you dry and throw you away."
Leif slid his gaze. "You say suck us dry like it's a bad thing," he said. "You know that might be what you need, to be sucked dry."
"Are you offering?" Woody said, cupping the front of his jeans.
Leif looked him up and down as if examining him carefully. "Let's put that on the maybe pile. I have some blood to clean up."
"Now I know you're fucked up." Woody dropped his hand to his side. "You'd rather clean up blood than suck cock."
"It's more about disposing of the evidence," Leif said. "Although a little bit of blood never hurt anyone, except this guy."
He poked the toe of his shoe into the corpse who lay on the floor, eyes half open, blood pooling around his throat.
"What did he do anyway?" I asked.
"He was stealing from disabled people," Leif said, poking him a little harder. "He offered to help them with daily errands and then took their money. And doing things to them without their ability to consent."
"He deserved the second smile then," I said.
The courts would have dealt with him, but he probably would have gotten off lightly and gone back to doing what he was doing. Scum like him didn't do remorse.
Neither did I.
"I think he deserved to suffer more, but apparently our judge decided to be jury and executioner today." Leif offered me a grin before grabbing the corpse by the ankles and dragging him in the direction of the incinerator.
I shrugged. "I was in a mood."
"That's obvious," Woody said. "I'd be in a mood too if I was about to fuck my whole life up."
"Answer me this," I said. "When you find out how wrong you are, are you going to admit it?"
He tossed the knife back on the table. It landed with a clatter, slid a couple of inches, then stopped.
"Nope," he said. "Even if I'm wrong, warning you is the right thing to do. Either way this goes down, I get to sleep at night."
"You're a prick," I told him.
"Yeah, no shit." He rolled his eyes. "I'm coming to the game on Saturday too. You better tell this woman to keep an eye out for me."
"Don't worry, she will be," I said. "I'll be keeping an eye on both of you."
"I should get out of here." He straightened his jacket. "Some of us have to work in the morning."
"Why does that mean you have to leave?" I asked. "You don't get out of bed before lunchtime."
He grinned. "That's right, you're the idiot who has to work in the morning. Sucks to be you."
"No it doesn't," I said.
All this talk of sucking was making my cock twitch. I could use some tight lips around it right about now. A warm mouth to fuck. A throat to swallow my cum. It had been too long since I'd been with anyone. Spending time with Sable reminded me of that.
"If you say so." He smirked and strode out the door, like the arrogant asshole he was.
If he wasn't so good at what we did here, I'd be tempted to tell him not to come back. He was good though; quick, ruthless and discreet. Exactly what we needed.
I might have lied to Sable about having a lair though. The basement of the apartment building I owned and lived in, was close to being one. What did she call me? Judgeman. The Judgeman Cave had a ring to it. Sort of. If I said it out loud, Leif and Woody would laugh their asses off.
Rightly so. The name was ridiculous, but at the same time, as adorable as Sable.
I rubbed my chin and wondered if Woody was right about her being a black widow. I didn't think so. She was either a very good actress or she was sincere.
She honestly seemed sweet and, considering what she'd gone through, naive. Raised in privilege. Sold off in marriage. She'd barely had a chance to live her own life. In a way, she reminded me of my son, Cass. World-weary in some ways, but in others, she'd barely starting to live.
"Little help here," Leif called out.
Right.
I stepped into the other room, grabbed the corpse's wrists and helped Leif to heft him onto the table beside the incinerator.
Leif sliced off his clothes and tossed them in, letting the fire claim them.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell of scorching fabric. I would have liked to donate his clothes to the homeless, but there was too great a potential they could be used as evidence. I'd send more money to the shelters instead.
"Thanks, boss." Leif stepped over to the sink and started to wash his hands.
Apparently he wasn't going to stop calling me boss. Who knows how many times I'd told him before. Which was why he did it, of course. He liked to get a rise out of me. They both did.
"Is it me, or are things getting busier lately?" Leif asked, drying his hands on paper towel.
"They are," I agreed. "Must be something in the water."
"Whatever it is, I hope it settles down soon." He tossed the paper towel into a trash can to the side of the room.
"Getting tired of ridding the world of evil?" I asked.
"Hey, even a serial killer needs a night off here and there," he said with a grin.
"I suppose so," I said. "Don't let us overwork you too much. Which reminds me…" I started telling him about Sable's apartment and the help she needed to decorate it.
Leif grinned. "If a woman needs help, I'm your guy."
I knew that look in his eyes. He'd also be keeping an eye on her.