Page 26 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

Two bodies…way more than two hours. So much blood.

I almost didn’t have enough actual cleaning supplies for the job.

Malek would have loved this scene. Probly would have come all over himself.

I’d smile, but I forgot how bad it stinks, dissolving human remains in chemicals.

I’ve got my gas mask on for the fumes, but…

woof. Mom and Dad took advantage of the empty schedule this weekend, so thankfully, I’ve got the place to myself.

Greg and Maggie wouldn’t likely be here either way.

They typically spend whatever days Maggie’s not locked up in the hospital, doing shit with the girls.

I often think about my sister-in-law when I’m doing my own work.

She cuts people open to save lives, I cut them open after they’re gone, but the idea is pretty similar.

She’s one of the best heart surgeons in greater Maine but bless her…

she never has time to sleep, eat, or wash the sweat off.

I hope they did something fun while I chose to stir a steel sink full of bad guy soup .

Gross, Seven. Be your own friend. Jesus.

Friends. What a charming notion. Apparently, there’s one waiting for me back at the house, and I have to be honest…

I’m intrigued. Something must have happened when he left earlier today—with my fucking dildo—and I’m very curious as to what that might be, but I’m not gonna fish for answers that might land me in whatever hot water the idiot’s found himself in.

I should be worried that he’s gonna pull another stupid thing in my apartment, but at this juncture?

Are any of my secrets safe? He already carved his name into the most personal item he could find…

but if he eats the rest of that chicken salad, I might actually kill the bastard.

It was well after midnight when I was finally on my way back home. I redialed the number he last called me from, cracking the window to let some cool air in.

“It’s 1:38…do you know where your kids are?”

I smiled. “You’re showing your age.”

I heard him yawn and couldn’t help but do the same. “Still got your maid outfit on? Leave some blood on it for me?”

“Grow up.”

Malek snickered and I heard shuffling on the phone. “Hey, did you know…it can take as little as eighty pounds of pressure to tip over an upright headstone?”

“That right?”

“Yeah! And the average modern-day headstone is typically made from granite, so it can actually withstand a wee bit more if it’s…erected…properly.”

I snorted. “Fascinating. You shopping for yours? I know a guy.”

“You’re no fun, Viper.”

I clicked my tongue. “Okay, I’ll bite. What am I to do with this useless information, exactly?”

“I was trying to figure out how easy I should go when I bend you over in the cemetery and do all these things in this…very enlightening literature.”

Oh…my God.

I did my best to hide the whimper, thinking about what I know is in that book. “How cute. You’re studying? Having a hard time coming up with something on your own?”

He scoffed. “Oh, I never have a hard time coming. You’ll find out soon. It’s a real good thing you specialize in cleaning bodily fluids and jerking organs.”

“Just remember you said that when I rip your heart out, Romeo.”

“Not the organ I was thinking of…”

I grinned but suddenly needed the window rolled down a bit more. “Tell me you’re not talking shit in front of your sister. You really are disgusting. In every possible way.”

“Oh, you have no idea. And I’m not. She fell asleep in your coffin. I can explain.”

“No, no…explain first, where you’re reading all this literature if she’s asleep in my favorite spot.” There was a pause. “Malek.”

“I—I’m in the kitchen.”

“Get out of my fucking bed. Right now. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”

“So bossy. Makin’ my organ har—”

Call ended.

This idiot. I shook my head, laughing to myself.

Jury’s still out on whether or not I’ll forgive him yet for this manic intrusion into my life but…

it’s sucked a little less the past few days.

It’s like some weird highlight now that I find myself looking forward to, and feel kinda sad if he’s not popping up everywhere I’m at.

And it’s only been a week of this torture.

What’s even more weird is that I was low-key worried about how strange his sister would think I was when he brought her in there, but clearly…

she’s comfortable enough to curl up in my darkness and sleep.

Is this actually happening? Have I been granted real friends?

I can’t even describe the naive way that I just let the thought consume me that I might actually have a little deranged murderer in me too…killing loneliness with a couple of like-minded people that a week ago, I was convinced didn’t exist.

Something smelled good in the hallway as I trudged down it, fumbling for my keys when I finally made it to my building.

I felt my mouth watering but didn’t really think twice about it.

My neighbor two doors down has been around since God was a boy, and she’s always cooking something…

but this late at night? I almost forgot this wasn’t me, coming home from a typical workday after leaving the funeral home.

I unlocked my door and Malek was standing at my stove.

I already knew he would look just as delicious as whatever he was stirring in that pot, just by the way he looked from behind .

Black slacks, tight in all the right areas, and a pinstripe button-up.

Untied boots. His sleeves rolled up to the elbow with every tattoo on display.

But all that is second to a man that knows how to cook.

And one that’s doing it at two in the morning after I’ve had a long ass night.

I’m doing the shittiest job of hating this dude.

“If you’re feeding me because you ate what was left over from lunch, yours will be the next body in the basement of that funeral home.”

I dropped my bag and keys on the island, and he turned around, that damned shirt unbuttoned, and blood tainting the kitchen light that was doing its best to shine off the ring I realized I recognized around his neck.

It’s the one he pulled off of that finger the night I met him.

This must have had something to do with whoever it was I bagged up that night, and whoever he said he’s taking out for trying to come after Bridget.

I tried not to let on that I’d noticed it.

“As flattered as I am, pet…I planned this as soon as you told me you were doing a job for somebody other than me. Bridget picked out the actual meal. Hope you like stew.”

I slumped into one of my bar chairs and put my head down on the marble. “If you only knew how bad this choice was for tonight and how much I don’t fucking care. It smells good.”

He searched every cabinet for a bowl, and made one, setting it down in front of me and sliding a spoon to sit next to it. “Did you barbecue somebody, love?”

I raised my head and scooted my bowl closer. “Nope. Made a stew of my own in the basement sinks. Nasty business. But it works like a charm and there’s no heavy lifting. Cleanup afterwards is usually pretty easy because of the chemicals. Just takes too fucking long.”

Malek’s smile seemed tired, but he leaned over the other side of the island and propped his chin on his hands. “No way. You gave ‘em an acid bath?”

I shoveled the stew into my mouth. It was actually spectacular. “Of sorts. Gets the job done. They just go right down the damn drain. Well…you know…after a while.”

He looked besotted. “What an amazing creature.”

Our eyes locked for way too long, and I found myself getting caught up in them before averting them over to where Bridget was sleeping in the coffin.

She’s young. He wasn’t kidding. Beautiful by the looks of it and favors him just a little.

She sleeps with the same peace he does, though I’m betting she’s just as insane.

“Is she okay?”

He nodded, straightening and stretching his arms. “Yeah. She’s used to the madness. Just not the attention. Don’t get me wrong, Bridget’s a fucking harlot…just not within…well…”

“Within the mob .”

“Yes.”

I smiled down at my bowl, scooping out a bit more and raising the spoon to my mouth. “Slingin’ it on her own terms. I like her already.”

“Was that a lean towards my lack of respect for personal space?”

I snorted and glanced up to see him pouting. “Something like that.”

Malek smirked and turned to the stove, turning it off and putting the lid over the pot.

“Ya know…contrary to what you might think I do know how to take a hint. This will keep for a few days. That’s usually enough to get sick of eatin’ it.

” I stared as he turned back around, leaning back against the stove top.

“Ring me if you need me for anything. I’ll see you tomorrow and figure out a place to take Bridge.

I really appreciate this more than you know, Seven. ”

“You’re not staying?”

Wrong thing to ask. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You sayin’ you want me to?”

Yes. No. Fuck…

The only other place I could put him is my own bed.

With me . He’d be absolutely giddy, but I honestly couldn’t even tell you how I’d feel.

This feels way too soon. Although, one night stands usually happen the night you meet someone, so…

is a week really too soon to buckle? He keeps up with this kinda shit, and I might be testing that theory.

“What did I say about flattering yourself?”

Damn that stupid dimple and that lip ring. I want it in my mouth . He’s gotta get outta here before I resort to something stupid. I’m too smart for this shit. I know better. He’s a mobster that unalives people for a living, stalks women and obviously has a problem with the word ‘no’.

“Sleep tight, love.”