Page 17 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

I missed lunch and decided that I’ll probably at least start prepping Mr. Danforth before I leave for the night, but…

I just need a breather. I stepped out into the fresh air, happy to see that it was a gorgeous, mild sunny day, since it’s so absolutely opposite of my mood.

Desiree doesn’t have chicken salad today, but she does have potato soup.

Say less. That’s where I’m headed. I strolled down the front steps of the funeral home and down the driveway, taking the time to admire the roses on my way past and hoping I don’t smell like a jug of formaldehyde.

It’s a short walk across the street to the cafe, but I’m dragging it out.

I need this to be a grounding moment right now and remind myself that no matter how much I feel like I don’t…

I’m the one with the control over my life, and this will work itself out. It has to, right?

I ordered my special coffee milkshake and the soup.

Des only makes this for me, and I love her for it.

It’s literally nothing but a couple scoops of vanilla bean ice cream, coffee instead of milk, a shit ton of whipped cream and some chocolate curls just because she loves me.

I doom scrolled for a few minutes in my little booth tucked into the far corner of the place and was relishing in my quiet until I felt the seat bounce and a warm shoulder press up against mine. I choked on my milkshake.

“Haigh, mo aingeal beag báis.”

Malek’s devilish little grin was about to get backhanded right off his gorgeous face. I raised my hand to do just that, and he caught my wrist. Damn it, why didn’t she give me silverware?

“I’ll fucking scream, I swear it.”

He smiled wider and cocked his head, easing his grip.

“You could . But that would be kind of awkward.” We both looked around at the busy cafe.

Not a single soul was paying any attention to me.

Probably because they’re used to seeing me at this table and know I generally keep to myself.

Fine time for them to be normal. “If I let go, can you behave? I’m into it, but…

I don’t typically do this kinda thing in public.

That’s just inappropriate.” He winked the eye that had the clover tattoo under it… and the sexy barbell over it.

Fuck, why did he have to be hot?

“What do you want , Malek?” He let go of my wrist and I jerked it to my lap, trying to remember that I need to remain seething and not get caught up in those fiercely green fucking eyes.

“Oh, I’ve gotta list. But for now, I swear, I only came to talk.”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you that I haven’t already said. Or texted. If you didn’t come here to slaughter my family or to tell me you’re backing off, then I suggest you leave. For both our sakes.”

He nodded at my milkshake. “I had three of those yesterday.”

“Was that before, or after you ruined my night?”

He was about to say something, and Desiree appeared next to the table, positively beaming when she saw Malek. He smiled right back, that stupid dimple making its debut, and I honestly felt like I didn’t exist as I gawked at them.

“You’re back! Should I come back with another strawberry shake?”

“That’d be lovely. Thank you.” Des wagged her eyebrows at me, sliding my bowl of soup over my way, and practically bounced back over to the counter to make his stupid milkshake. “Potato? You sure you weren’t thinkin’ about me, lass?”

“It’s good and hot.” Poor choice of words. “Say one more ridiculous thing and it’ll be in your lap.” Yeah, I’m striking out left and right. He needs to go.

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Have lunch with me and let’s take a little walk. Needs to be away from listenin’ ears, if you catch my meaning.”

I stirred my soup, scooping out a gaping mouthful and gently blowing on it. “I’m intrigued.”

“Really?”

“No.” I stuck the spoon in my mouth, taking my time pulling it out and hoping it drove him insane. I shouldn’t be the only uncomfortable one at this table.

“Come on, pet. Don’t be like that. I’d never hurt you, I swear.”

“But you’d delete someone, try to set me up, blackmail me and stalk my every move? Seems legit.”

His tattooed fingers drummed on the table, and I looked down at the chess piece. “I’m sorry, okay? For what it’s worth, I came back to make it up to you. What can I do to make you comfortable…other than disappear?”

I took another bite of my lunch. “You could answer some questions for me. That’d be a good start.

You seem to know plenty about me without my fucking consent.

” Des popped back up to the table, setting his milkshake down and—dude…

he has more whipped cream than me? What the fuck kind of backstabbery is this?

“Thanks, love.” She dipped out and he tugged his straw towards that mouth, his lip ring teetering around it… after he made a show of flicking his tongue over it. This bastard. “That’s fair. Whadd’ya wanna know?”

“Are you in a mob?” His turn to choke on his milkshake.

“Um…I thought that was pretty obvious, but…yes.”

I shoveled another spoonful into my mouth, flipping the spoon over and dragging it down my bottom lip.

He watched me like a predator. Hungry. Perplexed.

I kinda like it. “What about your tattoo? Your buddy in the chair the other night had a pawn. Yours is a knight. Is that some kinda representation of rank?”

“It is.” His eyes stayed glued to my mouth.

“So…? I’m assuming you’re pretty high on the totem pole, then?”

Now he seemed uncomfortable. He took a couple long sips from his straw and swiped a fingertip through his whipped cream, eyeing me while he sucked it off his finger…slowly. He’s playing the game now, and I can’t even figure out which one of us is winning. “I am.”

I pulled a knee up, hoping to create some kind of barrier between us, because if I’m being honest?

I wanna tear his ass apart, limb from limb…

in two completely different ways. I can’t explain it, and I can’t help it.

And it’s pissing me off. “Okay. So, what’d you do with the um…

gift…since I didn’t take it with me when I left? ”

He swallowed down what was in his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck. Also tattooed. Actually, I don’t think I see much on him that isn’t tattooed. This isn’t helping at all. “I um…let him get closely acquainted with my shower curtain. Then with the side yard.”

“Your backyard? Seriously?”

He huffed and lowered his head. “I did it wrong, didn’t I?”

“An amateur in every sense of the word.”

He turned his body towards me and worked on his milkshake while I finished off my soup. “So, what would you have done?”

“Not sure. Usually depends on my schedule. The curtain was a nice touch, though.”

“Isn’t that what you use?” I shot my face towards him.

“You don’t miss a damn thing, do you?” He just grinned and shook his head.

“What’d ya do with the other four?”

I looked around and bit down on my lip, lowering my voice. “I um…made them into fertilizer and gave our roses some ‘oomph’ …” His mouth dropped open in a smile and his eyes got wide while he lowered his milkshake.

“No shit? That’s kinda hot.”

“Not as hot as they got, I assure you. I tried to tell you. My clients are safe. You’re the one making shit difficult.”

“I feel slightly bad about that. Finish up and I’ll tell you how we’re gonna fix it.”

“We?”

“Uh-huh.”

Well great. And here I thought he was about to offer me an out.

Was it strange to think I was strolling down the boardwalk and into the marina with a psychopath mobster who makes his living slashing people like Jack the Ripper in broad daylight?

Yes. But what’s even stranger to me about it is that after spending twenty minutes shoved into the same booth and having a milkshake…

I feel oddly comfortable. Somehow, we’ve made it from really weird introductions I never wanted, to talking about music and dark humor, and I’m not having the worst time.

I have really…got to see about that therapy. Which reminds me…

We stood at the end of a dock, watching the sun sink lower in the sky.

I looked over at the man that sat here and threatened me, my booty call, and made an attempt to scare me into thinking he’d off my family.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Malek. What is it that you need from me?

This feels a lot like a date, and I’m sorry, but… I haven’t changed my mind about you.”

Lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out over the bay. The sun caught his auburn hair, making it seem twice as red and his eyes twice as green. “I’m not just high on the totem pole, Seven. My boss is my dad. I do what I do and I’m the way I am because I’ve never had a choice, okay?”

I couldn’t close my mouth.

“You’re the fucking heir to the Irish mob?!”

He nodded but didn’t look at me. “The bodies you came to get? The finger belonged to one of four brothers in a rival family my father wants to try and merge with. Thing is, my family isn’t as fortunate in the sibling department.

I have a sister, and he’s trying to marry her off to one of the three brothers that are left. ”

“What’s any of this got to do with me? I’m not killing anybody. You can’t ask me to do that.”

He turned his head to look at me. “I’m not. I noticed you kept the money. I won’t ask you to give it back. Keep it. And I’ll trash all evidence that you were ever involved with us. I’m gonna kill them all. I need you to clean for me.”

I crossed my arms. “And if I don’t?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Nathair Bheag.” We stared at each other for a beat, and I swallowed.

“If you don’t help me…or if I don’t do this?

Bridget will end up dead. Or we both will if I can’t figure out how to get her out of it.

I know you don’t care much for me, and I can’t say I blame ya for it.

But Bridget’s just a kid. I have to do this. ”