Page 55 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

LEILA

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The sun paints a gold trim across the horizon by the time we head back into town. It glints along the treetops, follows us through streets slick with early morning dew.

Halloween is over, but Jefferson hasn’t had a chance to pack it up. Pumpkins still line the shops. Cobwebs shimmer in the windows. All so pretty. So normal. No one would ever guess we have a dead body bundled up in trash bags and Bungie cords in my trunk.

I yawn as exhaustion settles in my bones. Each one aches. A persistent thrum reminding me of the night neither of us will ever forget.

My head turns to Dante. One bloody hand on the wheel. The other closed possessively around my thigh.

We’re both a mess. Even before Everett’s appearance. Now, we just have actual human blood opposed to ... well, I guess we had already been using real blood.

But I’m relieved no one’s awake to see us rolling back into town looking like the final couple in a horror movie. If Everett’s body gets found, I don’t need people putting two and two together.

“Dante?”

His fingers flex around my knee.

“Yeah, baby?”

“If we get caught, I’m going to take the blame.”

His white eyes stay in the road. “We’re not getting caught, and you’re not doing that.”

“I was the one who—”

“Prove it.” He darts me a quick glance as if daring me.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not letting you go down for this.”

“Look, don’t think about that now. We’re going to go home, clean up and act like nothing’s wrong. Tonight, when it gets dark, I’ll take care of—”

“What do you mean, you? I’m coming with you.”

“Leila—”

I ignore his resigned sigh. “Don’t Leila me. You think I can just sit around and wait for you to get home? I’m coming.” I put my hand over top of his. “We’re doing this together.”

He, thankfully, doesn’t push, but turns his hand over for me to thread my fingers through his.

“I love you, little demon. ”

Happy that I won the argument, I settle my head against his shoulder and close my eyes.

Deep down, I know I should be freaking out. My hands still hold residual prickles of strain from gripping the flashlight, from hammering it down on Everett’s skull. My ears are ringing with the crunch and snap of bones, the squish of brain matter. But I feel nothing.

Not happiness.

Not fear.

Not stress or panic.

There is a wall barricading all the normal things a normal person would feel, and that scares me more.

What if I’m a psychopath?

What if there’s something wrong with me? It’s the only explanation why my biggest concern is taking a shower and getting into clean clothes.

He was a bad person, the voice in my head points out, and isn’t wrong.

Everett had been an awful person. Not just as an adult, but as a kid. I get that he grew up in a shit household, but so did Dante.

Plus, what could I have done differently? He was going to kill Dante. I did what I had to. I don’t regret it .

We arrive at the house and Dante cuts the engine. Neither of us speak as we leave the car with our crime in the driveway and head towards the porch.

The candles have gone out in the pumpkins. In the harsh light of day, they appear sad and wilted, but Dante spots the empty candy bowl and beams.

That smile makes what we did worth it. Seeing him so delighted by something so simple is all the assurance I need to know I did the right thing.

“Come on, stinky,” I tease, capturing his hand and tugging him up the stairs.

But no sooner have we reached the door when a familiar cruiser turns in behind my car.

My stomach flips with a prickling of panic as my brain scrambles to stay calm.

They have nothing unless you give it to them.

I don’t know where that advice came from, but I cling to it as Reed kicks open his door and unfolds from his seat.

“Jesus, thank God.” He slams his door shut and stalks towards us. “I’ve been calling and coming by all night.” He pauses to look us over. “Where did you go dressed like that? What are you? Zombies?”

I squeeze Dante’s fingers to keep him silent .

“Cheerleader and masked killer,” I answer with a grin I don’t feel. “We went to a costume party in Mayfield after the festival.”

My brother rolls his eyes. “I should have known. You’re so weird with that crap.” He eyeballs Dante. “Where’s your mask?”

My stomach drops.

We forgot his mask. It’s somewhere in the woods near what’s left of Everett’s skull. And the knife with our blood smeared all over it.

“Lost it,” Dante answers simply.

Oh God, what if it has his DNA? What if they find it and trace it back to Dante? We need to go back. We need to find it.

“That sucks.” Reed faces me. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

Trembling, I gesture awkwardly at my uniform. “No pockets.”

I notice with faint humor that he refuses to look past my face. His blue eyes stay fixed on mine like they hold all of life’s answers.

“I ran a background check on that ... why are we standing outside?”

Dante and I exchange glances, but we turn and head inside .

This is probably better, I think. Having him away from the car.

“That guy from the bank,” he carries on while we head into the kitchen.

“Severely bad news. His name is Everett Bhatt. A low life from Manitoba with a rap sheet longer than the Mississippi River. Everything from trafficking, extortion, rape, assault, racketeering. It’s a long list. He’s wanted in the US and Canada for murder.

He’s also wanted by several other gangs.

It’s just a mess. But I came to tell you to call me if you see him again.

He’s dangerous and he might hurt you.” He ruffles a hand through his hair.

“Freaks me out to think what he might have done if you hadn’t called me. ”

“What?” Dante cuts in, eyes on me. “What happened?”

I touch his arm lightly. “I’ll tell you later.” I turn to Reed. “But you have him, right?”

His gaze drops to our feet. “He was released by Brewer. Guy had some big connections. Got himself out. Now, he’s in the wind. Came to see if he might have said something to you that might help us get him.”

I ignore Dante’s eyes boring into me, demanding answers I can’t give when Reed is also watching me.

“Nothing. He was just being a creep, asking me out.”

Reed sighs. “Okay, well, don’t go anywhere alone. Lock your doors. I’ll get you that ring camera you asked for—”

“I got it,” Dante interrupts. “No one’s going to get near her.”

Reed fixes his attention on the other man. The two stare at each other with a building perfume of testosterone that nearly chokes me.

“I’ve been meaning to get back to you after our last conversation. What’s your name?” He fishes out his pen and pad from his front pocket. “Where are you coming from? What’s you’re date of birth?”

“Seriously, Reed? I want to take a shower.”

Neither are paying me any attention.

To my surprise, Dante gives him everything without batting an eye. Even confesses to a parking ticket that has Reed’s lip twisting down.

“Have something against following the rules?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a parking ticket.”

“That’s how it starts.” He turns back to Dante. “Where are you staying if I have more questions?”

“Here.” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “He’s staying with me. You can find him here.”

Reed slaps his book shut and glowers at me. “That’s a bad idea. You don’t know him.”

I could tell him the truth. Tell him Dante is from my past and I do know him, but that would only encourage Reed to dig into the story.

He’d want to know how I wound up in Jefferson.

How Dante found me. He’d know Dante lied about his last name, because I definitely noticed it wasn’t the same as Everett’s.

That would then connect Dante to Everett and cause a whole other train of problems.

“Am I a stupid person, Reed?” I ask instead. “Am I reckless and untrustworthy? Do you think I’m so dumb I would just blindly make decisions that are questionable?”

Reed seems taken aback by my annoyance. He blinks several times, mouth opening and closing.

“That’s not...”

I push on. “What’s more, how about you give me a little credit. I’m a grown ass woman fully capable of making decisions. If anything, I’m insulted that you’re standing in my home, treating me like a child.”

I could have smacked him for the way he gapes at me. All his earlier righteousness has vanished into uncertainty.

“That’s not ... it’s my job to look after you,” he murmurs. “Some guy rolls into town on a bike, pisses everyone off, has no home and shacks up with you is concerning. Mom and Dad would agree.”

“Then I would tell them it’s not their — or your — business who I shack up with.” I soften my tone. “I love you, and I appreciate you looking out for me, but Dante is my person. ”

Icy blue eyes sweep from me to Dante and stick. “I’m only a phone call away.”

I expect some witty comeback, but Dante inclines his head. “I appreciate that. It puts my mind at ease that Leila has someone to look after her if I’m not here.”

Reed says nothing, but his muscles relax a fraction. The knot in his jaw loosens. He takes a breath and nods.

“Does this mean you no longer need a victim to watch horror with you?”

My mouth quirks. “Don’t pretend you’re upset by that.”

Reed snorts. “Nope. Not going to miss that.” He moves like he’s coming in to give me a hug but stops himself. “Go take a shower. You look disgusting.”

With that, he lets himself out.

I watch him stalk with wide strides to his cruiser and I’m about to let out a breath when he stops at the back of my car.

The air hums. Solidifies as if he’s going in slow motion.

I watch him touch the trunk. My heart drops into my stomach.

The world tilts. Every nerve in my body sharpens to a scream, but inside, I can’t move.

My nails dig into my thighs, cutting half-moons into flesh.

His fingers drum against the paint once, a thoughtful patter, as if weighing whether or not to open it.

Had he smelled something? Was there a puddle of congealed blood dripping through the trunk floor ?