Page 142 of Executing Malice

“Noticed that, huh? Pretty sad that you couldn’t even do that properly. And this is the man you chose,” he mutters to Leila. “A useless coward.” He clicks his tongue with disgust. “Maybe you deserve him.”

“Everett,” I grind out.

He rolls his eyes. “Next time you kill someone, little brother, make sure you’re burying the right body.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DANTE

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I stare, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Everett raises a hand to stop me. “Let me tell you a little story. That night, I came down to find you in the kitchen.” He glances at Leila. “You were making something.”

“Ramen,” I say.

“Sure. Ramen. All I did was strike up a conversation.”

“You grabbed her,” I cut him off.

I remember that night like it only happened yesterday. It’s a core memory I will have to live with for the rest of my life.

We were in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. I left her alone for five minutes to run to the washroom. I barely finished peeing when I heard Leila cry out.

“You had her against the counter, your hand under her skirt.”

“She asked me to. She’d been teasing me for weeks strolling around the house in her tiny skirts and tight tops. The night she climbed into bed with me, I knew she wanted me.”

“She tied you down and carved you open like a Thanksgiving turkey,” I correct.

Everett smirks. “Isn’t that what you two call foreplay?” He gives the cut on my arm a raised eyebrow as if that proves anything. “I knew the moment I opened my eyes to find her on top of me, her pussy hot and wet against my cock that she’s been asking me to play her game. The fork, the pencil, all the times she resisted and fought me ... she wanted me to force her. Wanted me to stretch her pretty cunt wide and show her what a real man can do.”

I’m going to kill him.

Again.

For real this time.

Going to make sure it sticks.

I’m going to make sure he never looks at Leila again because I’m going to rip his eyes out and shove them up his ass.

“You left that shit on my car,” Leila blurts.

Everett chuckles. “I thought for sure when I mentioned the pencil at the bank, you’d put the two together.”

“And the rest?” she demands, but I’m more curious when he mentioned the pencil to her. When he was at the bank. “The fabric, bird skull and underwear?”

“The fabric was from your favorite top. We were playing around on the sofa and it ripped.”

“You were holding her down and she was fighting you,” I correct, refusing to let him warp her thoughts with lies.

Everett ignores me. “You found an abandoned bird with a twisted wing. You brought it home, but it unfortunately didn’t make it.”

“Because you did something to it,” I shoot back.

“Prove it.”