Page 27 of Seven Graves

He didn’t linger. And I didn’t look back as he passed by me, snicking the door closed as he left.

I waited a few minutes and finished my dinner.

Even took some extra time putting the leftovers in the fridge just so he wouldn’t see what he expected and catch me staring after him from the window.

I avoided that area altogether actually.

My shower was quick, but thorough, and when I climbed into bed, some part of me felt bad about wherever he ended up sleeping.

But I was too tired for it to last long.

So, there’s this tick that I have.

It doesn’t matter how hard I’m sleeping, how many people are around, or what kind of rapture is going on within my general proximity. If there’s coffee brewing…I’m there. My eyes opened and I breathed in deep, stretching the sleep out of my muscles and yawning loud enough to wake the dead.

Someone’s making coffee.

I’ll be honest, my mind immediately went to a green-eyed, ginger-headed asshole and while the thought excited me, it also irritated me enough to spring up from the bed and pad into my living room to rain down a shit load of expletives.

But thanks to yet another unexpected early rising, I wasn’t really awake enough to dodge the corner of the custom stand that holds my coffin up…

and jammed my fucking toe on it. I rained expletives, that’s for sure, just not for the preferred reasons.

“Gaaahhhh, fuckshitmotherfuckerfucking ow, ow, ow, owwwww!”

A spoon clanged off the counter, hitting the floor and I danced around, holding my throbbing foot, looking up to see Bridget—who I completely forgot was here—gawking at me from the coffee maker in the kitchen.

We stared in stunned silence for a second…

maybe a little longer for her, bless her soul, and then she finally covered her mouth with her hand and started snickering behind it.

“Jesus, are you okay? I’m sorry for laughing.”

I snorted and palmed my knees bending over in humiliation. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I completely forgot you were in here.” I straightened up, limping over to her and stretching a hand out. “I’m Seven. Bridget, right?”

“Yes,” she giggled, shaking my hand. “Sorry, I saw this, and it said Black Death , so I just assumed…” She held up the bag of coffee and glanced around at my gothy apartment…and then at my coffin. “I assumed this is probly how you take yours.”

“You assumed correctly,” I laughed. “I already prefer your company to your brother’s.”

“Eh, he’s not so bad. Not bad at all compared to some of the other men I’ve met in my young life. You just kind of get used to his stupid ass, and then it’s just weird not having him around.”

Well…she nailed that.

“I’d say that checks out.” I slipped around the bar and sat down at it.

“Did he um…I’m assuming he’s told you how we met?

” Bridget must have been already looking for mugs.

She brought two down and set them next to the coffee maker, turning around to face me.

She kept looking at me though, like I was some kind of otherworldly creature.

Not like people usually do, but something… I dunno…like longing ?

“He did. For the record, Malek is a crazy son of a bitch, but I did make a generous list of all the ways he’s topped it off this time. I apologize on his behalf. I swear there’s some story about him being dropped as a baby that’s been curiously stashed in file thirteen.”

I laughed, nodding and resting my arms on the island. “Well, at first…I thought about pretending he was just a body and then throwing him in the crematorium alive, but…he’s nothing if not entertaining.”

“Far too nice way of putting it,” she grinned.

“But I will say…Mal’s tough as nails on the outside.

On the inside, though? Some parts of him might as well be a Twinkie.

It’s been a long time since any of us saw those.

And between me and you? He hasn’t taken any interest in a lass for about as long. ”

Interesting.

For all the effort he’s put into scraping every one of my last nerves and tracking my every move, it almost seems hard to believe.

But this is his sister, and it’s painfully obvious how much she loves her big brother.

I felt some manner of warmth bloom over my dead insides.

It also made me feel oddly protective of her.

“I take it the rest of his unorthodox behavior is genuine?”

She chuckled while she pulled her hair up into a messy bun.

It’s almost unfair how effortlessly pretty she is.

“Oh, absolutely. He’s a class A nutcase.

But you only need to be worried if you’re on my dad’s shitlist. Or Malek’s.

He holds a grudge like a crow. If he cares about you, though?

Nobody will ever fuck with you. Not as long as he breathes. ”

“Fair enough. What about you? I know you’re his sister, but where do you fit into all this?

” I can tell she was trying to hide it. Especially when she picked that moment to turn around and start pouring our coffee, but I saw right through it.

That was a long-standing pain that flashed in her jade eyes.

“I don’t kill people, if that’s what you mean.

All I’m really good for is spending Daddy’s money and fucking my way through life.

Kind of blunt, I know…but it’s just the reality.

Can’t get far by sugarcoating everything.

” I feel even more protective of her now.

And sad. This poor girl is so young and has absolutely no self-worth. It actually pisses me off.

“That’s not who you are, though. Who is Bridget ? What are your likes and dislikes? Favorite color? What junk food can you not live without?” When she set my coffee in front of me, the smile that she had on was genuine and heartfelt.

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

We sipped from the mugs, and—damn, she makes a good pot of coffee. “I’m all ears, pal. Let’s hear it. Do your worst.”

“Well? I love trash TV. I hate rude people. Oddly enough, I love red.”

I nodded. “Color of passion, sex and blood. I like it. Continue.”

“Junk food…hmm. Don’t judge me, but I really like those pointy chips that you stick on the end of your fingers?”

I almost spit out my coffee. “Bugles?!”

“Yes!”

I leapt up from my chair, practically running to my pantry, and grabbed a bag of them, turning to see her mouth in a wide-open smile. “You still put them on your fingers, don’t you?”

“I fucking do . Without an ounce of shame,” she cackled.

“That’s very Wicked Witch of the West of you, Bridget.”

“I accept that. Crack her open.”

We decided that her choice in dinner for last night was genius.

Our shared junk food addiction paired better with the leftover stew than should be allowed.

We were in the coffin, eating and laughing like fools, and if it weren’t for the text that buzzed my phone a little after lunch, I would have forgotten all about Malek.

Asshat: So, what’s the verdict? Are you burying us both in a shallow grave?

I turned the phone towards Bridget, and she waved a hand full of Bugles for me to hand it to her, smiling. It took her damn near forever to try and type with the shit on her fingertips and we both couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get it together.

Me: Are you still jacking off in a box of tissues?

The dots started bouncing almost immediately.

“Oh, God…please tell me you didn’t catch this particular thing recently…”

Bridget’s mouth puckered, and she fought back a good laugh. I could see the answer all over her face. God help me. “I mean…I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“Aaaggghh!”

Food flew out of her mouth when she burst out laughing, and I lost my composure, following suit. Malek must have forgone a response and came in my front door a moment later. He took one look at us with corn chips on each one of our fingers and lowered his brows in confusion and disbelief.

“What in the name of Christmas am I witnessing? And I know that was you, you little shite.” He pointed his phone at Bridget, and she shrugged, both of us still cackling like hens.

“A box of tissues?” I heaved, leaning over my lap. “Can’t you just use the shower, or a tube sock like a normal guy?”

He closed the door and went straight for the coffee. “That an invitation, Nathair Bheag? ”

“No. And I still don’t understand why you call me that.”

Bridget ate one of the Bugles off her finger. “I’m perplexed, actually. Do tell.”

He leaned a hip against the counter, bracing it with one hand and smiled as he eyed me past the mug he raised to his mouth. Asshole even makes that look good. “I thought it was obvious. You nearly bit my finger off the night we met.”

He did say that. Shit. That’s what started all this?

I thought it had been some Irish curse words that night.

His father and henchman were laughing under their breath about it, but now it makes more sense.

If I’d been able to keep my ‘Cleaning Lady’ persona intact that night, he might not even be here right now.

Now, I can’t figure out if I’m mad or glad that I did it.

“Hot,” Bridget said, chewing off another fingertip. “Kinda screwed yourself with that one, friend. He likes a biter. He likes anything that hurts, actually. Fuckin’ freak show .”

Malek lowered his mug and glared at her. “Would you shut ‘yer hole? Don’t give away all my kinks…Christ.”

I swallowed, hoping that I didn’t give myself away to either one of them when I averted my eyes. That’s yet another thing we have in common. When’s that therapy again?

“Where’d you go last night?” Bridget asked. His face slacked and he looked about ten shades of weary. “Malek? Talk.”

“I slept in the Nova. Talked to Declan last night and he was able to pull data from both our phones. He also tapped into the security feeds in the house. Between that and the messages they tried sending after we ditched the hardware…we’ve been given two weeks.”

I watched Bridget’s already pale complexion grow lighter. “To live?! Daddy would never—”

“To bring you to Nolan’s for your wedding. To Jonas. If I don’t give you up, Jonas is using his right to retaliate.”

“He doesn’t even want me, Mal.”

I don’t know shit about mob life, the rules, or delegation. What I do know, is that whatever Malek’s thinking right now? I’m in. There’s no way I’m gonna let this girl get handed over to a bunch of senile, power-hungry men that call themselves kings.

“He wants something . Pop won’t budge. He’s getting smart. Whatever it is he’s agreed to with Nolan, must be worth it for Jonas to care that much about this marriage. Unless he’s only doing it to come at me for offing his brother and fucking up Kendall’s good hand.”

“No. You know why. Nolan sold his own kid to Daddy for you to toy with. You know what this is really about, Malek. It’s the one thing that hurts you the most. Now it’s me .”

I’d only known him a week, but the look that flashed in his eyes I’d definitely seen only one other time.

Murderous. Manic. A demon wearing the skin of a human being.

“ Enough . Don’t go there.” And just like that—the look disappears.

Bridget went cold and silent. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not happening.”

I finally decided I was done being the third wheel in this conversation.

My opinion might not be welcome, but it’s my house we’re all sitting in.

“No, it’s not. You can stay here. I have an air mattress I can dig out for you.

You’re safe here, Bridget. My parents have a place in Rockport.

If things get crazy, we can use it as a safehouse.

It’s just a vacation home and we rarely use it.

They’re up there this weekend, so they won’t be going back anytime soon. ”

“You’d do that?” Malek asked.

I nodded. “I’m doing that.”