Chapter 16
Ash-pen
I’ve switched from wine to vodka.
I down another shot, clutching the katana in my right hand. I don’t want to put it down. Aspen bought it at an auction as a joke. Put it to my throat. Threatened to kill me with it when I was thirteen. My hand flexes on the hilt as I put my glass down and then pour myself another.
Emma Jean has retreated to her guest room to pack her things.
How could Scarlett possibly believe I would fuck another woman?
My heart only goes doki-doki for one person.
My one precious thing. One thing for Ash.
My fingers twitch on the shot glass before I toss it back.
Of course she’s suspicious, you moron. You’re the one that shoved the idea down her throat.
“What should we do with the chief?” I ask and Bohnes offers me a quizzical look in response. He stares at me like he’s planning my murder most days, but I don’t care. He won’t hurt me because Scarlett would hate him for it. That’s his worst fear. I’m perfectly safe.
“You’re asking me what to do? You won the race, Mr. Kelly.
And then you bent over and spread your cheeks for Scarlett.
Not a terrible idea, all things considered.
” Bohnes is flippant, but not entirely unpleasant.
A little playful even. He likes my plan so far.
He really likes the idea of me dying at the end of it.
He turns to Alexei, lifting a dark brow.
“What do you want to do with the bastard? I’d love to mail his corpse to the mob as an apology, but should we torture him first? ”
“We should send him to the family while he’s still alive.
” Alexei swirls the liquid in his glass, his eyes on me.
“But they’ll understand if we have our own fun with him.
Once they see the recording of Bolin pulling the trigger on my poor papa, they’ll thank us for warming him up.
” Alexei closes his eyes and turns his head away. “Oh, Papa…”
So strange, to see a man mourn his father like he truly loved him. I can scarcely imagine it. What would that be like, to have loving parents? What a strange man Alexei Grove is. My hand tightens around the hilt of the sword as Widow finally, mercilessly stops his incessant pacing.
He pauses beside the bar, studying me with the curious yellow eyes of some feral forest animal.
I pause with the shot glass halfway to my lips.
I shouldn’t drink so much when we’re in such a tentative, in-between state.
My father and Chet Senior are at an important political rally, leaving the torching of Scarlett’s neighborhood in their sons’ capable hands.
They won’t be home until Monday. If, for whatever reason, they decide to return early, it doesn’t matter.
I’m going to kill them both and set Scarlett free.
When Aspen wanted something, he made it happen, no matter what. Didn’t matter if he had to slander or steal or rape or murder to get it. Always, he was able to reach the pinnacle of want and desire. I’m doing the same thing now. Or…I was.
I got on my knees for her, and I loved it because it made her so ridiculously happy to see me do it.
Scarlett has to be safe and happy. She has to be.
I literally won’t live a single day on this earth without her.
It’s easier if I throw myself at her problems with all that I have, take care of her the way Bohnes has been doing.
He buries bodies and murders assassins, so he’s got her back. But what can he do about the mob?
I’m the one they want dead. My father. My family. I’ll destroy us from the inside out, satisfy the mob, and save the woman I love. Err. Was. I was going to do those things. Fuck, Ash, what are you doing?
Giving Scarlett whatever the fuck she wants apparently.
I take the shot while Widow is still staring at me.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” he admits, annoyed.
I pour another shot and slide it over to him, but he won’t take it.
His bruised and bloodied knuckles flex at his sides, agitated and distrusting.
I can fix that. I will show him that Scarlett is an exceptional human being, so adept at reading others that she could tell a pair of identical twins apart when even their own father couldn’t do the same.
“Then you underestimate my devotion to Scarlett,” I reply, taking the shot as easily and quickly as the first. I’ll have the whole bottle tonight.
It’ll help me get past the reality of shooting my soulmate’s sister.
It had to be done. There was no way out of that.
I just wanted to save Scarlett from the horror of having to do it herself.
But I didn’t enjoy it, not the way I did with Cody. My lips twist into a scowl at the memory of him. If only I’d had time to make him suffer more before he died. That is my only regret regarding Chet Junior.
“Stapling the wedding invitation to Cody’s chest, that was a nice touch,” I remark to nobody in particular, checking my watch for the time.
My father’s publicist and Widow’s aunt, Trish Edelman, will be here soon.
She’ll be joined by Denis Rattray, popping in for breakfast to discuss how we’ll spin Lemon’s death for our own purposes. Just simple PR work.
I can’t bring my shaking hand to my mouth for another shot. I set the glass down. All I can see now is Lemon’s bloody face. All I can taste is the copper on her lips. Her rotten corpse, melting into Jonas’ bed.
“Wedding invitation?” Widow breathes, violence riding all six syllables. “What wedding invitation?” He turns to look at Bohnes and Alexei, but the conversation is interrupted before it even starts.
My phone buzzes with a notification. Trish and Denis have just arrived. Right on time, as always.
It’s been a long night. Fuck, it’s been a long life. But at least I got to have Scarlett, sitting on my lap and staring into my eyes with her knife at my throat. Reading my emotions. Understanding my eyes. Knowing my heart.
Doki-doki. Doki-doki. I offer up a dramatic sigh, clutching at the front of my shirt as the other three men in the room with me turn to stare.
“I’m such a lucky bastard,” I whisper, moving away from the bar with my sword in hand.
I stick my feet into a pair of slippers and pause when Scarlett reenters the room, tearstains on her cheeks.
My heart cracks and my fingers squeeze the hilt of the sword.
The conversation with her grandma must not have gone well.
I could fix that, too, by dying. Then Patricia wouldn’t need to be angry at Scarlett anymore. Me dying solves everything, the perfect cure for the poison in my love’s veins. We can’t seem to help ourselves though, me and Scarlett. She’s as obsessed with me as I am with her.
“Oh, my love,” Bohnes breathes, but Scarlett just shakes her head, raven hair falling around her face.
“Let’s not talk about my grandma, okay?” she says, her own voice ragged and fractured. She notices me standing there with the sword and raises a brow. “What are you doing?”
“Telling us about the wedding invitation that was stapled to Chet Junior’s chest, apparently.
” Widow leans up against the side of the bar, the muscles in his arms tense as he folds them over his broad chest. Scarlett gives him an odd look before turning to Bohnes.
Her eyes narrow. She flicks them to Alexei.
But there’s no time for this.
“I have a standing appointment,” I explain, and then I sweep past the four of them and into the hallway.
They follow, having their own conversation behind me as I move casually down the stairs and over to the front door.
Just in time for the bell to ring.
There’s nobody around to answer it because I’ve either sent the staff away or killed them, depending on their crimes. Yua Ito, our housekeeper and my former nanny, I gave her everything that Ash Kelly had in his accounts and sent her on her way.
“Ash, what the fuck are you doing?” Scarlett demands, and God, but the sound of my name on her lips makes me want to come.
I want to curl up in a bed with her and twine our naked bodies together.
Not necessarily for sex, but there’s that, too.
Mostly, I wish I could cook her breakfast and cuddle with her.
Stroke her hair back. Kiss her beautiful mouth. “Who the hell is at the door?”
I don’t answer her because I’m afraid she’ll command me to stop. Better to beg for forgiveness than permission.
I throw the front door open with an oily smile on my face. Aspen’s smile. It’s like wearing the lips of a corpse, torn off his face and sewn onto mine. I can practically smell the rot.
“Trish. Denis. Come in, please.” I step back and welcome them in with a sweep of the sword.
Trish gives me an odd look, but her practiced plastic surgery smile is locked in place.
Not only is she my father’s publicist, she’s also a professional fixer.
The perfect woman to cover up a tiny little sexual assault incident here and there.
To scrub Chet Jr.‘s extensive rap sheet. To make sure Jonas’ propensity for snuff films doesn’t cost him the gubernatorial election.
Wonderful woman, really. Bloody brilliant.
“A sword?” Denis says with a laugh, fixing his tie as he follows Trish into the foyer.
He’s my father’s deputy mayor. Also, he is a weasel and a snake.
He’s the one who tracked Lucy Bree Hall down at Chet Senior’s request. The one who arranged for Lemon to have an abortion when she ended up pregnant.
Could’ve been Cody’s child. Could’ve been Aspen’s.
Not that it mattered, in the end. Loose ends should always be tied up.
Wonderful man, really. Bloody brilliant.
Bloody.
“Omae wa mou shindeiru,” I grumble under my breath. Who cares if they hear me speaking Japanese? They won’t be around long enough for it to matter. You are already dead.