Page 25

CHAPTER 25

A WELCOMING THIRD DEGREE

Julian

W hile Nadira and I stand on the front porch and wait for her friends to situate themselves, I keep an eye out for other threats. From the increased activity, I can’t fully relax. The question about how everyone knows Nadira’s whereabouts needles the back of my head. There are only a handful of people who expected her to be here today, her four friends, me, and Alastair.

I know no one bugged us because Alastair and I sweep the house daily. And I have complete trust in Alastair. Thanks to me, he lives without looking over his shoulder. After all, he’s a former target. I would have killed him, too. Except when I snuck up on him, he was sitting beside a hospital bed inside his private residence. My curiosity got the better of me because nothing in his file mentioned this scenario.

When I moved closer, the image of him holding the small hand of an eight-year-old boy hit me in the gut. From the emaciated appearance of the child, the boy had little time left. I must have made a sound because Alastair glanced back at me. No surprise showed in his face, only weary resignation. But he pleaded for me to let him live until his son’s passing.

I still don’t know what stayed my hand, but I granted his request. For weeks, I watched him care for his son. His wife had passed some years ago and although he could afford a staff to look after the child, he did everything himself.

When I inquired, he said, “Because I’m selfish and I need to remember his last days. He was my wife’s last gift to me. When I was busy fighting for her life, she overruled me. Instead, she fought to bring him into the world. And when he was born, he looked just like my Emmaline. He still does. So how can I leave him in the hands of strangers? This is my last goodbye to the wife I’ve loved my whole life and to the future I thought I could have through my son.”

His devotion resonated with me, and each day that passed I was less inclined to kill him. When his son breathed his last, I gave him a new identity and faked his death. Alastair’s response was to work for me. I questioned how a man who employed hundreds could be satisfied as an employee for an absent employer.

He peered into my eyes and said, “Although my fight is over, you’re still looking for someone, whether to discover how they died or to live without them. Until your struggle is over, I’ll be at your side as repayment for a priceless debt.”

Ever since, he’s lived up to his word. He wouldn’t betray me when he’s experienced unimaginable heartache twice before. So that leaves Nadira’s friends, but I hesitate to point the truth out to her. Not without evidence. She’s fiercely loyal and any hint of betrayal will devastate her.

Someone inside turns the radio on and the tune of a Christmas song plays loud enough for us to hear outside. Nadira rings the bell, and a light-skinned Black woman rubbing her temple opens the door. She’s the one Nadira calls Tamara. My preliminary check into her background didn’t raise any red flags, but after the last few events, I’ll be doing a deeper dive into her history; hers and the rest of Nadira’s friends.

I plaster a smile on my face and say “Happy Thanksgiving!” along with Nadira.

“You made it. Come in.” Tamara takes the dish from my hands and beckons us inside. “Come on, let’s do the introductions one time. Chelsea will be upset she missed this, but it can’t be helped.”

“Why? Where’s Chelsea?” Nadira asks, voicing the same question I have.

Another woman three shades darker than Tamara appears. From my intel, she is Moni. “She stopped by to drop off her homemade cranberry sauce and apologize. Can you believe her boss is making her work today? He only gave her a few hours to pack for a flight. She needs to find a new job because the hold they have on her schedule is worse than mine. And you know the hospital loves to play hot potato with the doctors’ time.”

While I weigh the likelihood of the missing woman’s excuse, Nadira responds, “Yeah, but I doubt she will. Not until she tires of traveling. Some places she goes, normies like us could never hope to see.”

“I know, right? The last trip she went on, she had to attend a ritzy gala. The hardship.” Tamara grins and leads us into the kitchen where Danae runs around muttering about losing track of time.

“Sis, look who’s here,” Moni says.

Danae stops and does a double-take when her eyes land on me. “You?”

I point to my chest, a question on my lips.

“You were the guy from the club that ghosted Nadira!” She folds her arms in silent demand for my reason.

“What?” Tamara asks. “I never saw the guy. Moni, didn’t you say what a shame the dude was a flake? How did you not recognize him?”

“No wonder he looked familiar,” Moni says with a shrug. “Wait, you ghosted Nadira and then came back?” She pulls Nadira away from my side. “Girl, we need an intervention?”

“I’m right here. And I never ghosted her.”

After spearing me a glance, they turn to Nadira for confirmation.

With a sheepish smile, she says, “It was a misunderstanding?”

Their doubtful frowns are evidence they don’t believe her.

“He left me at the club, yes. But we met up again, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Inseparable.”

“What he said.”

“How’d he redeem himself?” Tamara asks. “Because I don’t buy it if you were hot and heavy at the club, melting skin with the heat I heard you two were generating.”

Nadira turns an accusing frown to Moni and Danae. “Who is telling these lies about me? We danced and spoke in private. That’s it! It’s not like we were busy kissing and feeling each other up.”

“I would have kissed and groped her all night, but I wasn’t looking for a hookup.” I walk toward Nadira and pull her into my arms to stare into her eyes. “I told her she was my destiny, but she didn’t believe me. Yet when we found each other again, there was no denying fate.” I glance at the other women in the room and wink. “And of course, I cooked for her and Leaper. No one can resist my culinary skills.”

Nadira rolls her eyes, but the smile flirting at the corner of her lips is enough to get the women to back off after issuing a warning similar to the ones each gave me in their letters.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly, with a few minor issues, causing me and Nadira to switch off making excuses for our absences. While she’s away, I dominate the conversation to ensure no one questions what takes her so long.

A shadow or movement from the outdoor shrubs will catch our eye. Each time either of us investigates, a gift of a dead body with an arrow poking out of their chest or head awaits us.

I should be happy someone is protecting us, but I hate not knowing who’s leaving behind the bodies. More egregious is Nadira and I have to dispose of them. Doing other people’s cleanup is not a hobby I enjoy; Nadira being the exception. Whatever protects her keeps me happy.

After dinner, we make a big show of leaving. Now comes the actual work. All the bodies we hid will get discovered if we don’t do something more permanent. However, when we double back to where we stashed the remains, no one is there.

“What do you make of this?” I ask Nadira.

“I honestly don’t know. I’m uneasy, that’s for sure.” She looks out at the darkening sky. “Let’s go. Someone is bound to notice us creeping on their property.”

When we’re on our way home, Nadira says, “They drugged my friends.” The calm note in her voice belies the leashed violence underneath.

“I was wondering how you were taking things so well. You aren’t.”

“Everyone who had a hand in this will die.”