6. Sebastian
CHAPTER SIX
SEBASTIAN
When I heard Lux mention she was meeting Stevie for coffee this afternoon and River was dropping her off, I knew this would be the perfect opportunity to check out Stevie’s condo.
Which meant I was free to break into her place.
If she’s going to be my partner on my first solo project, I need more information about her to make sure she’s all in and there’s not a chance she’ll fuck up everything.
Sure, she lived with us for a short time, but what else is there to Stevie Levinson, mortuary and funeral home owner? Is she seeing someone? Why do I want to know? Also, what are her interests outside of being a mortician?
I pull my car around the back of Stevie’s condo. Only a few minutes pass before the text I’ve been expecting from River buzzes in my pocket.
River: The girls are still in the coffee shop.
A brief sigh of relief that her apartment is still empty.
Me: Great, thanks. Heading in now. Text me when they’re done.
River: Will do.
River: I can’t believe your stalker tendencies are coming out. I’m so proud of you, cousin.
Me: I am not stalking her. I have trust issues and I need to make sure I know everything about her.
River: Christian already did the background check.
Me: I don’t care.
River: Obsessive much?
Me: It’s called being cautious.
River: When I did it, you called me crazy.
Me: You did it for different reasons.
River: Are you sure about that?
Me: Fuck you.
Annoyed by his comment, I slide my phone back into my pocket, then reach over the center console to my laptop and click into TI’s security software.
In no time, I’m walking through her front door with a bouquet of white roses clutched in my hand.
I thought she could use a fresh bunch, since the last time I was here the ones she had were bent and brown and looked extremely sad.
But also leaving the bouquet is a little sign of how easily I can break into her apartment and is sure to piss her off—which is an added bonus.
No wonder River wanted Lux to stay at Thompson Manor—these women aren’t safe behind simplistic alarm systems.
I drop my backpack by the door and head straight to the sink to fill up the vase with water.
After quickly arranging the stems, I place the full bouquet in the middle of her small circular dining room table.
Then I walk back through the small modern kitchen and into the living room where I check out the set of French doors leading to a modest balcony that I didn’t get the chance to see the last time I was here.
The balcony has a few low-hanging trees in front of it, with a few potted green plants scattered throughout.
I breathe in a sweet scent, which I imagine she smells like.
It tickles my nostrils and fills my thoughts with inappropriate things.
I shake those off, too. Continuing to make my way around, I find a stack of books next to the couch.
Crouching down, I pick up a few of them.
They’re heavy in my hand—definitely not light reading.
Turning them onto the side, I tilt my head to read the titles printed on the spines.
“Grave rubbing?” I mutter. “Hawkmoths?”
A couple of unique hobbies, but who am I to judge? I murder serial killers in my free time. Well, I guess full time since I stepped away from my leadership role at TI over a year ago. I was never much of a suit guy, anyway.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to answer.
“Hi, Christian. I meant to call you last night.”
“No worries. Did you get to speak with Lux’s sister?” he asks, eager for an update.
I walk over to the bed, sliding one hand between the sheets. “Yeah, I spoke with her yesterday, and she agreed to do it.”
“I knew she would.”
His comment takes me by surprise. “You did?”
“I only briefly met her, but she handled herself well after finding out what happened with Lux,” he reminds me. “She’ll get this shit done.”
Quickly replaying his words, I stare at a piece of artwork hanging above her bed on the wall. A black-and-white painting of the same moth that looked like there was a skull on it I saw on the book cover in the living room, with its wings spread wide over the silhouette of a worn gravestone.
“Hmm,” I mutter. “You might be right.”
“As long as you can keep your dick in your pants,” Christian retorts.
I jump into her bed, lying my head on one of her soft pillows. “What makes you think I won’t? Sure, she’s hot, but she gets under my skin. And from her usual reaction to me, the feeling is mutual.”
Christian scoffs, giving me shit like he always does. “Moving on,” he says, his voice shifting to serious. “There’s potentially a group of serial killers who’ve descended upon our city to kill and leave their marks on innocent victims. We can’t fuck this up.”
“I know. I feel the same way. It’s our city and we have to protect it.”
“That’s fucking right,” Christian agrees. “Well, I’m going to get some work done. Keep me updated on anything that changes.”
Suddenly, I recall the markings Stevie found on a couple of bodies. Christian might know something about them and if they are related to the Society. “Wait. Also, I want to get your thoughts on something.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Stevie mentioned last night she’s found weird markings on a few of her clients in the last week or so. Do you know anything about that?”
“Her clients?” he asks, confused.
I shake my head. “Yeah, Stevie refers to the dead people that come to her mortuary as her clients.”
“Weird.”
“That’s what I said.” I chuckle.
“What were the markings and where?” he asks.
“An X was carved into the upper leg of the one I saw last night,” I tell him.
Christian exhales a weighted breath. “I’m not sure if it’s related, but while I was doing research, I read about the Society doing something similar in the 1970s, but they were removing tattoos or large moles from the victims and saving them as trophies from each of the killing seasons.”
“Killing season?” Swinging my legs over the side, I lift off Stevie’s bed and walk into her closet.
“FBI informants have previously mentioned that this is what they refer to when they gather for these Society events or meetings,” he replies. “I’ve also seen this in my research as well.”
“Seems like a bunch of sociopathic narcissists to me.” My fingers run along the soft fabric of her clothes.
“Absolutely,” Christian replies.
I sense my time is growing short in Stevie’s apartment, and I need to get off the phone with Christian. “I have to finish up something I’m working on. We’ll talk later tonight. We need to go over the plan for the masquerade ball at Moore Mansion—”
There’s a knock at the front door.
My shoulders straighten.
“Got to go.” My eyes fly in the direction of the sound and end the call.
Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I cautiously leave her bedroom and walk toward the front door. To my unpleasant surprise, I peer through the peephole and see a man who looks around the same age as Stevie and me, maybe a little younger.
Who the hell is this?
“Stevie?” the man on the other side of the door speaks. “I know you’re home. I need to talk to you.”
He knocks again. “Stevie? Open up. It’s Nick.”
Nick paces a few times in the hallway. Who is he? Should I answer the door and demand to know how he is? That’s something my cousin would do, but would I do that? Maybe.
“Please answer me.” He knocks again, then rests his forehead on the wooden doorframe. “I know it’s been a little while since you broke things off, but I still think about you every day.”
I roll my eyes. Okay, so they used to be a thing. If we’re going to be fake dating, we need to commit, especially because Society needs to truly believe we are a couple.
“You said you weren’t into anything serious, and I get that. But why can’t we just be together like we were, casually? I’m sorry I was getting too attached, but I care about you—”
Casually? Like casual sex with Stevie? Why do I get hit with a pang of jealousy?
I need to make sure he really gets the hint and never comes back to her place again. Jerking off my leather jacket, then pulling my shirt over my head, I swing the door open and face him shirtless.
The man’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees me.
“Hello,” I say.
He folds his arms over his chest defensively. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Sebastian.”
“I’m Nick.”
“Can I help you?”
“Is, uh, Stevie home?”
I shake my head. “She’s not.”
Nick’s jaw clenches. “Okay, well. Can you tell her I came by?”
“No.”
A chuckle escapes his mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”
“No. I won’t,” I repeat, more sternly this time. “It’s time to move on, Nick.”
“So what, you’re her new fuck buddy?” he spits.
I click my tongue. “You could say that.”
“Unbelievable.” He steps back, pushing against the wall. “Of course she’d move on this fast. She’s afraid of commitment. Just so you know.”
“I don’t care.” I smile at him. “It’s over. Move on, man. Or I can help you move on.”
His eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I blow out a breath. “I think you know what that means. Now, do not come back here again.”
“Or what?” he challenges.
“You really don’t want to mess with me,” I threaten. “I’m going to close the door, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll find a new woman to bother.”
Then I slam the door, without hearing a response.
I’m back inside Stevie’s apartment with a list of questions for her.
If she is going to do this with me, I need full access to her.
I need trust. I need to know if there’s a man in her life that she’d speak with about this, even if it is a simple random fuck.
I’m not the type of man who will accept anything less.