Page 22 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

Emmy came out with security, and my stomach rolled while I waved her over and wondered if I was about to be read my rights.

I guess if that were gonna happen though, it wouldn’t be from a rent-a-cop, and it would have already come to pass while I’ve been sitting out here waiting in this damn car.

Deputy Dipshit watched her until she closed her door, and I gave her my best grin while she got buckled.

“You hit her, didn’t you…”

Oops.

“I most certainly did not. Why would you think that?”

She clicked the last buckle and crossed her arms, smirking. I tried to remain at least a little innocent-looking. “Logan’s mom was crying and talking to security, but she wouldn’t tell them what happened.”

“Yeah, well…” I turned around and slid my sunglasses on. As if that would do anything to hide the fact that my five-year-old niece just pegged me. “You don’t need to know what happened. All you need to know is that Logan …won’t be bothering you again.”

“I love you, Auntie Sev.”

Just when I was about to put this car into drive, too. I smiled up into the rear-view. “I love you more, my little pasta noodle. Let’s not say anything about security to Daddy, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

We butchered every song on the radio while I hauled ass back to Castine to drop her off.

I tried not to let my grinding suspicions of what manner of crazy shit Malek did to my apartment cut into my Emmy time, but God help me…

I was so nervous about it. By the time I managed to get in the door, it was after eight and I was half afraid he’d be waiting in the shadows like a vampire.

I had a switchblade out and ready to jab when I stepped in and flipped on the lights.

One long panoramic scouring of my house and…

nothing seemed like it was even touched.

I know better, though. He did something.

I can feel it. I checked all the things that meant most and again…

nothing. Plants look fine. He apparently wasn’t stupid enough to tear off one of my lilies as a sad effort towards a romantic gesture.

But then I went to my room…

“I know you’re lying!”

There. On my bed. The expensive toy he’d taken a selfie with…WITH HIS FUCKING NAME CARVED INTO IT.

He left a little note right next to it.

“Now you have to think of me while you’re using it. 3”

“Oh, you son of a bitch. If I get my hands on you…”

Ping.

Asshat: Welcome home :)

I let out a frustrated growl, stuffing the dildo and the note into my naughty drawer. I guess this is what I get for running my mouth and spilling my secrets to a psycho stalker. Actually…wait. I did forget to tell him one thing…

Me: I hope you’re happy with what you just cost yourself.

Checkmate, prick.

He’s gonna be pondering this all night, because what he doesn’t know? Is that I have no intention of elaborating on this. Bet that’ll put a kink in his little dimple. His Irish eyes won’t be smiling for long.

Asshat: Wym? You don’t like this gift either?

Leaving somebody on read has honestly never felt better.

Ever . I silenced my notifications and blasted my playlist while I took a long shower and daydreamed about all the ways I was gonna hurt him for this one.

The one thing Malek wants, other than me, is my help in this mob war.

If that’s still the case after tonight, then it’ll cost him .

I got my favorite oversized band t-shirt with the thumbholes cut out in the sleeves, snuggled into it and didn’t bother checking my phone again before I climbed into bed.

I couldn’t help the smile on my face, for the second night in a row.

Of all the times I worried about what would happen if somebody broke into my apartment…

this was not how I thought it’d go. I guess I’m luckier than most.

I think I might like him.

Somebody please schedule this therapy session. I’m scared I might be beyond help.

My heart was pounding and my face tingled with the utter shock and fear of my alarm going off and sounding way louder than it normally does—wait. It’s Saturday . I don’t have an alarm set and…that’s not my fucking alarm. That’s my playlist.

What the hell?

Did I roll over and accidentally turn it on? Where even is my phone? I’m so confused. My bathroom door is also shut, and I know I left that open last night.

“Heyyy…ja-ja-jaaaded. You got yo mama’s style, but yo yesterday’s child to meee…”

That’s a very off-key voice. In a very running shower. With a very Irish accent.

I’m. Going. To. Kill. Him.

I threw my covers back, running barefoot to my kitchen and grabbed the scariest looking knife I could find.

I don’t know how you were raised, but my mother warned me not to run with sharp objects.

I’ve decided I’m taking my chances this morning.

He’s about to lose something, but it’s not gonna be a finger.

“Wahhhh wahhhh baaaabyyyy booooo…I’m thinkin’ ‘bout ya whaaaa…”

I burst through the door and ripped my shower curtain back, and Malek screamed, almost on cue with the song. I pointed the blade right down at his—

Holy mother of God…

He’s tattooed everywhere, looks good enough to eat while soaking wet, puts my Girthmaster to shame…

and not only does he have the two sexiest facial piercings that exist?

He’s got the third sexiest one shining at the tip of his third leg .

He looked at the blade and then at me and cracked a smile as that appendage went from six to midnight.

I turned my head and covered my eyes. Clearly, I forgot I was dealing with a knife-happy murderer .

“What the hell are you doing in here!” I yelled over the music.

“What’s it look like? I’m taking a shower.”

I swear, it was all I could do to find a reason not to look at it again.

“You don’t have a shower in that castle? An hour away from here?” I heard him pull the curtain closed and for a second, I think I whined out loud. I hope to God the music masked it.

“I sure do, but I told you…I wrapped your first gift up in my shower curtain. It lets too much air in without it. You try standin’ bare-assed under the water with no curtain and tell me how you like it. See? If you’d just hung out with me that night…”

“Get out! ”

“Yeah, I’m so jaaaaaaded…” I ripped the curtain open again, knife still poised, and his smile was twice as big while the hot water ran off his face. Damn my womanhood for reacting like a bitch in heat. His eyes locked with mine and I swallowed. “And baby I’m afraid a you…”

I rolled my eyes, closing the curtain and tossed the knife into the bathroom sink.

What else can I do? I know damn well I’m not gonna stab him.

I could try to drag him out by his cock and lock him out of the apartment naked, but we both already know what would happen the minute I put my hands on his wet… tattooed…naked… wet…naked … “Uggghhhh!”

“Wahhhh wahhhh baaaabyyyy booooo…”

“It’s blue , idiot.”

His head popped from around the curtain. “Is not.”

“Yes. It is. You can Google it. After you get out of my house.”

That lower lip pooched out, his lip ring glinting in my bathroom light and I prayed to God he didn’t see my thighs press together.

“I’ll make a deal with you. Since you so blatantly ignored my messages last night, tell me what I cost myself, and I’ll leave.

Without my clothes, if you want another look at my Girthmaster .

” He flashed a smile that showed every one of his straight white teeth and winked at me.

I think I might lose my shit, and I can’t tell which extreme I’m leaning more towards.

“Oh, trust me, your Girthmaster doesn’t interest me at all. No matter how excited it is.”

Malek raised an eyebrow—the pierced one—and proceeded to try and make a liar outta me, taking that delicious thing in his hand and I didn’t have to look at it to know that he had a tight grip on it.

Cocky son of a—

“Your attention to detail’s always been good, pet. Your dishonesty, however…”

My dishonesty is about as good as my patience.

I turned sharply and huffed my way out of the bathroom, stomping like a scolded child that just got told I couldn’t have the shiny new toy.

Truth be told, I’m the one doing the scolding, and the shiny new toy is as good as mine if I wanted it.

And damn it, I do. And I don’t. It would feel better to gut him, though I’m having a hard time convincing myself of that.

His incessant chuckling isn’t helping. It’s raspy, and… breathy…and…

“Hope you take your coffee as black as your soul. Asshole.” He cackled then, muffled slightly by the music and the slamming of my bathroom door.

I tried my damnedest not to smile when he started slaughtering the rest of the song, no sooner than I’d walked out—and he didn’t even need the serrated knife I’d left in there to do it.

This was, by far, the longest it’s ever taken me to make a pot of coffee.

I can do this in the dark, with one arm, Armageddon throwing down, and three drops of water but…

with that imbecile in my bathtub…naked and singing one of my favorite songs?

I’m far from jaded . And I already forgot how many scoops I’ve already put in this basket.

I grabbed a blanket from under the setup my coffin sits on and covered my bare legs with it.

Malek came strolling out in nothing but a pair of jeans a moment later, toweling off his hair.

“You’ve got some decent taste in music. That playlist is a literal pot of gold.”

I palmed my warm mug in both hands and sneered at him from over the rim.

“Cute. Remind me again why you’re violating and murdering it at seven in the morning on a Saturday?

In my house?” I tried not to stare while he walked barefoot into my kitchen like he owned the place and helped himself to the coffee with the mug I set out for him.

He came back with the thing at eye level, grinning.

“Witch better have my coffee?”