Page 34 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

DANTE

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Who does that?

Who just walks into another person’s house without knocking?

It’s so rude. This small town hospitality bullshit isn’t going to work once Leila and I get our own place.

The door stays locked and we’re going to have cameras everywhere.

I am not risking my family’s safety over a false sense of security.

This is proof.

I stay reclined on the bed. My hope is that Leila will get rid of the non-brother and we’ll resume where we left off, but the non-brother seems to be having issues that may take a while.

“What the hell is this?” he’s snapping, in a tone I am not appreciating him using on Leila.

“Why are you here?” Leila is demanding back, rightfully.

“It’s ten o’clock! You were supposed to be at work. I came to check on you.”

My gaze pivots to the clock on the nightstand and I grimace.

Shit .

“What are you talking about?” Leila snaps, understandably given she doesn’t have a watch on.

I throw my legs over the edge of the mattress and push to my feet. I move to the dresser and pull out clothes for her. She’s going to realize she’s late and she’ll panic. At least her clothes will be ready for her to pull on.

“It’s after ten, Leila. You’d know that if you weren’t ... whose are these?”

“None of your business. Hand them over.”

I pause, wondering what they’re talking about.

“Do you have someone here?” non-brother asks.

“That is definitely none of your business,” Leila barks, voice high pitched.

I would be amused if this didn’t serve a new set of problems. The last thing I need is for non-brother to barge into the bedroom and find me butt-ass naked in Leila’s bedroom, rifling through her panty drawer, but him following up his righteous indignation by asking where I’m staying.

Can’t exactly tell him his non-sister’s attic.

“It is my business after what happened to Jasper Sutton last night.”

Uh oh...

“What happened to Jasper?” Leila asks with remarkable calm.

“He was attacked in his bedroom by a masked psychopath wielding a crowbar.”

It was a bat .

Idiots.

And I take some resentment to being called a psychopath. I am nearly almost always in control of my anger. So, I slipped up once. It’s harsh to slap a label over a single accident.

Besides, he started it.

“Oh no, that’s awful. Is he okay?” Leila asks sounding genuinely concerned, which I’m trying to understand.

Concern is a normal human emotion upon hearing someone you know is injured. But she shouldn’t care. Why does she care? Does she like him? Maybe I should kill him.

No. calm down, Dante.

Maybe the non-brother is right. Maybe I am a psychopath.

I shrug and resume pulling out socks and a pair of faded jeans.

“He’s not. He’s in Mayfield getting put back together. The piece of shit broke his arm and his nose. He has bruises all over his body and might need a cane to walk.”

I roll my eyes.

What a drama queen. I did not hit his leg that hard. No more than a couple of times. What a little bitch.

“So, I need to know who you have in your—”

“Obviously not someone capable of that,” Leila cuts him off. “Now, can you please leave so I can get ready for work?”

“This is serious, Leila. First Felicity and now Jasper? It’s clearly targeted.”

“By whom? Me? What happened with Felicity was an accident. She walked into the door. Why would I go after Jasper? I’m not going for the sibling collection.”

The situation between Felicity and Leila isn’t a new one. It’s almost a mirror event of when she was fifteen and I was waiting outside her school doors for her. One of the girls Leila had problems with decided to piss Leila off by slinking over to me and putting her hands on my chest.

I pushed her away and warned her not to do that, but Leila had already seen it. Her green eyes were lit flames on a scary calm face that terrified even me.

The girl lost her two front teeth and was knocked out cold for several hours. The news roared through the school like wildfire. No one came near me again, which was fine by me, but it also taught the girls picking on Leila for being a foster kid not to fuck with her.

It was a win for everyone, so her territorial behavior with Felicity doesn’t surprise me in the least.

Leila has always been as possessive and crazy as I am.

It’s how we fit.

“I’m not saying you did it, but the ... person you’re with—”

“Was with me the entire night,” Leila cuts in sharply. “I can give you detailed accounts of everything we did.”

“God, gross, no. I just need to talk to him.”

“No. Knock it off, Reed, or I’m telling Mom you’re being a jerk.”

“I’m doing my job!” non-brother snaps. “Breaking and entering in Jefferson is bad enough, but assault?”

“Then you should be out there, trying to find the person responsible. It wasn’t him. Do you think I would lie to you?”

Non-brother is silent for several minutes, but Leila must have won because I hear a frustrated huff.

“Now, can you please leave so I can get dressed and go to work before I lose my job?”

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, but I don’t miss the clap of the front door shutting. There’s several seconds of silence before the thunder of feet. Leila bursts into the room, frazzled, eyes wide with dread.

“I’m late!”

Without missing a beat, I shove the clothes into her hands.

“Bathroom,” I tell her. “I’ll grab the rest of your stuff.”

She seems to process and accept in the same breath before spinning on her heels and bolting from the room. I hear the bathroom door close and the water run.

While she gets ready, I move through the house.

I stuff the ladder back up into the crawl space.

I empty the rest of the eggs into the trash and leave the dishes for me to do later in the sink.

I return the living room back to its usual tidiness, clearing away her makeshift sleepover and folding up the blankets.

By the time Leila returns dressed and less panicked, I have her lunch made and I’m dressed with my helmet in hand.

“People will talk if we’re seen together,” she says when I tell her I’d get her to work on my bike. “Reed will hear and know it was you who hit Jasper and why I broke Felicity’s nose.”

I get her statement, but I don’t like it.

“You owe me a ride,” I tell her, hooking her middle with one arm and dragging her into my chest. “After work, I want you on my bike.”

My Leila smirks. “You’re very demanding.”

I let my features slip into a grin. “You like it.”

She doesn’t respond but lets me kiss her before we part ways.

She’s at work with a whole lineup of people crammed inside the bank when I roll up to my usual space.

I park and cut the engine. My attention drifts over the faces, some calm and understanding, but others annoyed and hostile as they wait their turn.

They don’t seem to like that the bank was opened late and whatever excuse Leila gave them isn’t cutting it.

I’m not worried about her losing her job. I know she’ll be upset and stressed. I know telling her I’d take care of her isn’t going to make her feel better, but I will even if I have to sign my entire bank account over in her name to prove it .

A conversation for another time.

I’m more concerned by the pinched lines around her mouth, the tightness in her smile as she’s cornered by those assholes giving her a hard time.

Not on my watch.

Freeing my head from the helmet, I toss my leg over the bike and stand on the sidewalk. My gaze never leaves the wall of glass overlooking Leila and the small mob trapped on the other side.

I know they won’t hurt her physically, but twenty against one isn’t a picnic either.

Leaving my helmet on my seat, I set off at a jog across the street.

Cars slow and let me pass without a speckle of anger in sight.

A few people I pass on the other side meet my eye and smile and even say good morning.

It’s a vastly different experience from the city where people tend to avoid making eye contact.

But I’m caught off guard and find myself responding with a brief nod.

At the bakery, a few people glance up and give me the faintest appraisal before returning to their conversation and coffees.

I skipped my usual breakfast at the diner, too anxious to see Leila to bother.

A weak part of me half expected her to run the minute she was out of my sight.

That the entire morning had been a trick to get me to lower my guard .

It’s a ridiculous thought process. She could have easily had her non-brother catch me in her bedroom. I was completely vulnerable and easy to capture.

Plus, I’m not stupid. I dug through her medical charts since her arrival to Jefferson. I looked over the articles from the town newspaper. I know she’s not lying about her amnesia and still...

I’m nervous.

What if she gets her memories and realizes why she left? What if she remembers what happened and tells me to leave her alone? She’s currently riding a whirlpool of adrenaline and emotions, but there’s still a chance she’s going to ask me to tell her everything, and she’ll realize I’m a monster.

One thing at a time, I tell myself, stuffing down the brewing anxiety knotting in my gut.

For the moment, she wants me. She wants me around. I can build on that. I’ll show her that I’m not my DNA. I can break her in slowly. It’ll be fine.

The woman on the other side of the counter meets my gaze with a curious little cock in her head. I recognize her as Maisie, the owner of the bakery, or at least the only person who seems to work here.

“Good morning,” she chirps, offering me a bright smile. “Grab you some coffee? ”

I order two of their apple cider and cinnamon drinks and two lemon Danishes. I like that she doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she’s never seen me before. She simply prepares my order and sets them on the counter with a sweet, have a nice day.