Page 40 of Seven Graves

The Executioner

I question my stealth and my numbered days where it concerns not getting caught doing obvious shit I’m not supposed to.

We did manage to get the hearse back in the garage at the funeral home, but I’m almost positive I saw movement in one of the upper windows in the back.

The sun was just coming up when we got back to Seven’s apartment and Bridget was curled up in the coffin with that same book, snoring.

I let Sev shower first, and didn’t try to sneak in there with her, although that was a fucking effort.

I could easily go three more rounds with her, but I know we’re both in need of some serious sleep.

I was kind enough to forego her Bluetooth speaker and see what other gold she had hidden on that playlist. When I got out, she was passed out cold on the far side of her bed…

a pillow and a spot next to her with the covers already pulled back.

My nose is sore but doesn’t seem like it’s broken.

However, I’m a little apprehensive about assuming this invitation is legit, lest I get a fat lip to go with my nose.

I spotted the diamonds sitting on her nightstand.

The filthy clothes we wore in an open rubbish bag next to the bathroom door.

We just cleaned a body for a cannibal, buried it in an old lady’s grave, and fucked each other in the back of funeral buggy.

Screw it, I’m sliding in. The sheets were soft, and my eyes crossed a little when I laid back, covering my lower half.

She stirred a bit, but didn’t say anything. I tensed up.

I haven’t slept in a bed with a woman in almost a decade…

Bridget definitely doesn’t count. She’s not fucking human, anyway.

I swallowed, staring at the ceiling, and suddenly found it incredibly hard to breathe when a pale, tattooed arm reached across me and the smell of coconut shampoo drifted up to my throbbing nose from where her head rested in the crook of my shoulder.

Part of me wonders if she even realizes what she’s doing.

But the other part is thinking about the look on her face when she told me what that tattoo really means…

how long it’s probably been for her since she’s had this either.

We’re both just lost, damaged little fuckers.

A fucked-up version of Adam and Eve, eating both halves of a poisoned apple.

How we got here doesn’t matter. Where we go after this…

My arm coiled around her, and I closed my eyes, resting my chin on the top of her head.

I don’t remember the last time I got to hold my girl…

I don’t remember the smell of her hair, or the feel of her skin.

Can’t remember what our last words were to each other.

I feel like that should bother me, but right now?

Right now, it doesn’t.

Dim sunlight peeked through black curtains, and I felt like a fucking vampire as my eyes peeled open and I searched around for my phone that was relentlessly ringing.

Somewhere . I’m in the middle of the bed, stretched out and I don’t think I’ve slept this good in my entire life…

but I’m alone. And aside from the sound of that god forsaken phone, it’s really quiet.

I sat up, wiping the haze from my eyes and looked over at the empty bathroom.

The bedroom door is open too. There’s no sign of life in there.

The trash bag is missing. I dragged a hand through my hair, ignoring the phone and getting up to slither into the living room.

Bridget’s air mattress is tucked into the far corner of the room. The coffin is tidied up, blankets folded. There’s a pot of coffee on in the kitchen, and a mug left out…and a note.

Day off. You snore. Bridget’s withering.

Going to get cake pops and twat waxes.

Coffee’s fresh. Don’t die.

-S-

P.S… nice shiner. :)

“Huh?” I whispered under my breath, stalking to the bathroom when the phone started firing off again.

I flipped the light on and leaned into the mirror.

“Well, fuck.” She got me better than I thought.

There’s a nice shade of purple starting at the bridge of my nose and inching underneath my right eye.

I grinned, poking at it. What a magnificent little minx.

My cock threatened to wake itself, but that phone .

I stomped back into the bedroom, finally spotting it on her dresser and I answered without even looking.

“YES?!”

“Whoa. Bottom of the mornin’ then, mate?”

“Dec…sorry, I’m—hey.” I raked my hair back, turning and heading back for the coffee pot.

“Sorry if I ruined the mornin’ rub. Told me to call if I had eyes on one of the piggies.” I poured a cup, smirking. I’ve admittedly been a little absent on my wolfly duties.

“You know I’m grateful, but don’t get yourself caught up, Declan. Pop’s onto you.”

“She’s makin’ you soft, brother. I can look after myself. You better be keepin’ ‘yer back guarded, Malek. This is thick.”

I sipped, lowering the mug. “Tell me.”

“Kendall and Jonas are on their way to a very interesting-lookin’ warehouse about twenty minutes away from their compound. I checked the last known owners of said warehouse, and ‘yer not gonna like what I found.”

“Spit it, Dec.”

“Ace McKinley.” My grip on the mug tightened hard enough to crack it.

“They’re goin’ after our supplier? Does fuckin’ Finn know about any of this?”

“Dunno, mate. I’m guessin’ not. But if your plan is still to huff and puff and blow the house down, you got two of the three swine right out in the open.”

“Ping me that location. I’m goin’.”

“Malek, you know better than to go alone, mate. If McKinley is there, he’s not alone, either. You’ll be outnumbered, and I know you won’t carry a pistol. Don’t be daft.”

“Just send it, Dec.”

“Aye.”

Call ended.

They’re going after the guns. At this point, I don’t really care what we lose.

But I’ll be damned if I let them think they’ll get a leg up in this war.

Finley has close ties with Ace. It’s the reason this whole idea even came to fruition.

If I don’t go blow the whistle on this, then any hardware running outta this country runs not only the risk of getting us pegged, but it also pushes the idea that the O’Dell’s are climbing the ladder.

I’m wondering if Pop knew any of this, and if that was one of the reasons he didn’t mention when he thought he’d ship me off to Ireland to oversee this shite.

For what it’s worth, I’m glad Seven got Bridget out of here today.

I dressed and made her bed, leaving Viper a little gift on it before heading out and testing my luck on how fast I could get to this little meeting. About thirty miles out, I decided it was time to see how Finn was faring while trying to wear my rutting shoes.

“H-hello?”

“So, if it fits, you sits. That about right, Finn?”

“Malek?”

“How’s it feel to be the guard dog, Finley? Leash is a little short, yeah?” I bit down on my lip ring, turning it back and forth between my teeth while I envisioned him stewing on the other end of this line, wondering what the fuck to say to me.

“I wouldn’t have to be. Ya think it’s fair to leave me the scraps like a dog, mate?”

“I’d say you’re doin’ a fine job of beggin’ for ‘em. Who’s cock is in your mouth this week, brother? Sounds to me like you’ve bit off more than you can chew.”

“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about, Malek? And where have you been?”

I shook my head, gripping the wheel and grinding my teeth. “Why haven’t you asked about Bridget? And tell me you didn’t know about Ace McKinley makin’ dirty deals with our friendly rat pack that Pop’s tryin’ to marry her into.”

“What?”

“You heard me. O’Dell’s are movin’ in on our guns. The dope will be next. Is this news to you?”

He sighed into the phone. “Ace wouldn’t do that. He’s loyal. It’s not like he needs the money.”

“No? Maybe it’s not about the money, Finn. Maybe it’s about the power . And if he wouldn’t do that, then tell me why I’m about to go bust up a little meet-cute at his warehouse with Jonas and Kendall fucking O’Dell.”

“There’s no way. And if you’re right, Malek…that’s the last place you need to be, brother. They’ll kill you quicker than—”

“No, they won’t. If you wanna play my role, then meet me at the location I’m about to send you and own it like a right hand should. But to be clear…you’ll never be me, Finley. And I wouldn’t wish it on you.”

“Mal—”

Call ended.

I counted at least five cars around this shithole.

I parked the Nova in the woods about a five-minute hike from the warehouse and snuck into the back where several wooden crates of various model pew-pew’s are waiting to be shipped out to our buyers.

Thing is…this shipment should have already been gone.

It was documented and invoiced over a week ago.

These fucking snakes…

At least it’s making a good cover for me to play spy while they hash out whatever in the middle of the space.

I can see Jonas in yet another tailored gray suit…

and Kendall—Ha…Kendall’s little hand is still wrapped in bandages.

I’d give anything to douse it in gasoline and strike a match.

Only problem with this warehouse is that it’s built out of cheap metal and sets every sound bouncing off of every wall in it.

I can’t make out a clear word or tell who’s sayin’ what.

Never been much of a lip reader, except when it comes to a pair below the waist. Wink .

I crouched down, following another row of crates, and made sure my shadow wasn’t visible under the dim fluorescent lights flickering over me.

I’m trying to keep quiet, but they’ve got the place blanketed in old, moldy hay.

It’s forcing me to move only when somebody’s talking loud enough to mask the sound.

“If Nolan was smart, he’d kill the old bastard and stop frontin’ trades that we all know is a smokescreen. I’m not interested in paneling a pishin’ contest, Jonas.”