Page 32

Ronan

Sprawled out in my office chair, I try to put all the pieces together because there’s too many parts and not enough answers. Years ago, I told Dante I didn’t give a shit about his mystery woman, the one who consumed his every thought, the one I’ve been secretly in love with as he described her from head to toe. He gave me abstract descriptions, never giving me the color of her eyes or her hair. I knew about her snark and sass.

For years, she was just spiced coconut to me and I could live with that fantasy.

But now she’s real and it’s fucking with my work because I have questions and no answers.

I pulled two other fuckers down into the basement last night because one of them actually said Selene’s name. That’s the closest we’ve gotten to an answer but he didn’t end up talking before I shot him in the face. He started describing all of the vile things he’d do to her before and after he’d kill her and I couldn’t be bothered. The other hasn’t said a word so I left him down there, hoping that a few hours in the darkness would make him more talkative.

Some part of me knows that I’m way deeper into all of this bullshit than I’m supposed to be and that my feelings for Selene don’t make sense.

We fucked once and yet it feels like I know her. When Dante and Malik left last night to check in with her, I almost texted them for an update. But I’m not supposed to care. She isn’t mine.

I snort, shaking my head, remembering Dante’s words. He said I’d be obsessed, that Selene was never meant to be a one hit kind of a girl.

“Focus,” I push out through gritted teeth, staring at the board I constructed over the last few hours. Every man connected to this bullshit, along with Selene, the name Anabella, The Reaper, and this new killer in town are on my board. Newspaper clippings of murders and strange incidents litter the extra spaces, red string connecting what little I’ve been able to drum up.

The problem is that the longer I stare at this, the more things are starting to connect. Things that would reveal something that shouldn’t be possible.

Because that would be crazy.

The sound of the front door draws my attention and I wait for Dante and Malik to step in here, mostly because it’s the only room with a light on. Dante finds one of the armchairs, Malik moving to stand beside me, his eyes darting all across my board. “Are you obsessed with my sparrow too? She’s up here a lot.”

“She’s right here, yes,” I say, tapping the old picture I grabbed from her social profile.

Malik laughs as he steps closer to the board, his finger jabbing at crime scene photos, Anabella, and a few of the newspaper clippings. “No, you have her everywhere. Here, here, here . I really liked that one.”

My stomach drops as the pieces come together, the lines I didn’t want to draw being done for me. I twist to glare over at Dante, realizing that whatever shit I thought I was in, it’s so much worse. “Let me get this straight. Dante’s childhood sweetheart Anabella is Selene and also The Reaper? The fuck?”

Dante just grins up at me, crossing one leg over the other. He looks freshly fucked, as does Malik, both of them settled in a way that’s been missing for a while. “Don’t school me on morals, you dipshit. She’s also mine and I’ll protect her.”

“We’re not hurting my sparrow!” Malik screams, whirling on me with a crazed look that shows me just how obsessed he is with her.

“No one is hurting anyone, Malik. I’m just saying that this is way more complicated than I thought. If anyone finds out who she is…”

Dante pushes out of his seat, moving toward my board. “Why the fuck do you think I stayed on so long? It wasn’t out of some obligation or the fact that I couldn’t leave the crime world behind. Selene’s good. She’s fantastic at what she does but she’s not perfect. I make sure that Harley and the other detectives look the other way, running after trails that don’t exist.”

God, this man is in fucking love with her. And I can’t blame him. She’s a walking wet dream of sass, snark, and deadly ambition. I just feel a little left out, now knowing the plan. Her existence goes against everything I’m supposed to be doing which means I need to know what my next steps are. “Let me in on the fucking plan, because whatever she’s doing is digging her a grave. People keep showing up here wanting her dead. The last guy had her name in his mouth. Don’t worry, the fucker is dead.”

Malik hums as he sits on the corner of my desk, pulling out a small knife to twirl in his eyes. “Why do you care about my sparrow? You don’t know her.”

“But I do. Even if I only fucked her sweet cunt once, I know her because Dante talked about her all the time. I was jealous of the way she made him feel, the look on his face, the pure bliss he’d come back with after being with her. And then I had her and it was eye opening. I told Dante it’d only be the one time but I can’t stop thinking about her. If she’s anything like the stories Dante’s told me, I want her safe.”

Malik pipes up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, you can fuck her again?”

“So, I can peel back the curtain that is Selene Banks. I want to know what makes her tick, what makes her move, what truly makes her kill. Sure, she’s only putting down men who’ve abused, hurt, or killed women. But the way she kills sings a different song and I want to know the melody. The problem is that I think someone else wants to know too. They want to know Selene .”

Dante’s eyes narrow as he searches my board, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he speaks. “If I knew who could possibly want Selene dead, the guy would already have been dealt with. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea who else knows about her. Well, that guy who watches her.”

I tilt my head, confused as I study Dante. “There’s some other creep watching her? No offense, Malik.”

“None taken but he wouldn’t hurt her. He’s like me in some ways. We like watching my sparrow, but she’s mine. He can’t have her.”

I rub a hand down my face, frustrated that I don’t have more to work with. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime? Tell her to be careful, protect her? She doesn’t even know that the three of us are connected.”

Dante hums his agreement. “She’ll find out soon enough that we’re connected and as much as I’d love to keep that woman at our side, she’d make it a living hell. She’s also not stupid.”

That’s when it clicks. Dante and Malik didn’t just go over last night to rescue her from Harley and then fuck her into oblivion. They had to have told her that they knew. It’s the only reason for that smug grin Malik’s trying to hide and the fully sated expression on Dante’s face.

“You lucky bastards,” I muse, a bit jealous that Selene accepted their darkness. Granted, they had already accepted hers but it’s few and far between that men or women take us up on our depraved needs. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything I can. I’ve got another fucker in the basement if Malik’s up to the task.”

Malik jumps from his perch on my desk, making some asinine swipe through the air with his blade like he’s jousting. God, he’s so adorably weird. “Up and ready, sir!” He makes a mock salute and rushes out into the hallway, no doubt to inspect what’s down there.

Dante’s expression darkens as he pulls out his phone and stares at the message that just popped. “Guess that’s my cue to leave. They just found the mayor’s son.”

“Why the fuck would she go off and kill Philip Smission?”

Dante shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. That didn’t really come up in all of our conversations yesterday. Excuse me while I go lie my ass off like usual.”

He disappears into the hallway and makes a sharp turn toward the front door while I head for the basement. Malik’s already brandishing one of his scalpels, grinning at the way it glints in the dim light. The fucker who’s still alive is chained up to the wall, rather than strung up. I didn’t want him to die before the night ended and I could at least try to get a few words out.

Unfortunately, I’m a little too impulsive. I needed Malik’s brand of crazy for this moment. Hopefully, a little torture will get me what I need.

Malik steps forward, eyes locked on the man as he kicks his foot. The man stirs with a groan, his eyes suddenly clear as he leans back against the wall. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing but Malik has this covered. “I hear you were trying to hurt my sparrow,” he purrs, a predatory edge to his tone.

There’s no fear in this man’s eyes and it worries me. “They warned me about you. The Carver. That’s what they call you.”

Malik pauses, cocking his head to the side as he lets out a little hum. “I have a name?” He taps the scalpel against his chin, his brows furrowing in disappointment. “It’s not a very cool one.”

The man laughs, the chains around his wrists rattling with the sound. “Everyone has a name and it doesn’t always originate where you think. Ronan’s is Wolf. There’s a whole list of who everyone is. It’s why bringing me in only slows down the process but doesn’t end it. Selene will never be safe so long as that list is out there.”

“What the fuck is this list? What’s it for, and why’s it the first time I’m hearing about it?” I’ve been in this business for too fucking long to not have heard of this before.

The guy shrugs. “If I knew all that, I wouldn’t be taking jobs for a quick few bucks. We’re given a name, an amount for the job, and no other parameters. I’ve learned not to ask questions.”

“Who else is on the list?” Malik asks, dropping to his knees in front of the man. “If we have a name, are we on the list?”

The guy shrugs again, a little too nonchalant for the position he’s in. “I guess? I’ve never seen the list. I just know it exists. If you’re problematic, you get put on the list. Selene’s a problem that hasn’t been caged so, someone’s trying to rectify that. Look, I know what happens now. You do a little torture, try to drag out more information, then give up and turn me in. That’s how this goes.”

Malik’s grin fades as he twists to look over at me. “I don’t like him. I thought I was going to, but I don’t anymore.”

I think about reining him in and then realize, I don’t care. The guy has already given us more information than anyone else and it’s at least something to start with. He already said he didn’t know who was on the list or who was in charge of it so he’s not wholly useful anymore.

A howl echoes through the basement as Malik sinks his scalpel into the man’s chest, inches away from his heart. I’m not a doctor but that looks pretty damn close to a deadly stab.

As if Malik can read my mind, he sits back on his calves, admiring his work. “He’ll stay alive so long as I don’t pull that out but it will be agony.” He lets out a shuddering, appreciative breath before leaning a little closer, his whispered words echoing in this darkened space. “You might be versed in torture, but you’ve never had me playing your body. I can’t wait to hear you scream. The only thing I’m missing is my pretty sparrow watching me.”

The man gasps, his eyes widening as Malik leaves to grab another scalpel. Then Malik returns, poking around the man’s stomach before sinking that blade into his flesh as well. “I’m going to make you a pretty pin cushion and then play Russian Roulette by pulling them all out and wondering which one ends your life.”

“You can’t save someone once they’re on the list, you asshole. If you stay under the radar, then you’re just small fry but that girl is at the top of the list. Someone really wants her dead.”

Malik lets out a little cackle as he lays out an entire case of blades beside him. “That’s funny because you’re at the top of my list. Now, pick. Arm or leg?”

“What?”

“Wrong answer.”

Malik chooses the leg, the man howling in pain. “I’ll give you a choice again. Thigh or shoulder?”

“What are you-”

“Wrong answer!” Malik screams, grabbing another blade and slamming it down into the man’s dick. “I told you the rules. You have to pick one of the choices!”

Well, this is going to be delightful to watch. I shoot Dante a text about the list, to see if he knows anything and then return my attention to Malik’s pin cushion. He’s right, the guy will make a pretty pin cushion. All I hope is that Malik lets me play the Russian Roulette part.

Even if we don’t get any other information, I’ll at least have another jolt past my morning coffee.