Page 8 of The Chaos She Brings

That’s the problem with Carina, she doesn’t understand that I like to know what I’m doing and when. From the beginning she started messing up my plans. Nate would call me out of the blue, asking me to clean up her scenes. And boy did they need cleaning.

At least when it was just the two of us, Nate and me, I would know what was happening. We would track down a monster together, work out a time to off them. Easy. Clean. No surprises.

I hate surprises.

I like to have a plan for what I’m doing—a step by step guide, almost, to make it easier.

“So,” Tess begins as I drive us back to my house, her voice all sunshine and daisies. “Do you do anything other than clean up other people’s homicides?”

Her tone grates on me, not because of what she’s asking but because of the way she says it. Like this is all a joke. Likethere’s not a body in my boot right now and her life hasn’t just imploded. She’s either in shock or completely insane. I’m not sure which.

I can’t believe Carina convinced me to let her stay with me. I don’t let anyone into my home. Nate is the only other person who’s been there.

I grind my jaw as I answer. “Yep.”

“Really? What, like a hobby? Or is it just your day job?”

My knuckles turn white as I grip the wheel. She’s like a dog who won’t stop barking, her words spilling out one after the other like she can’t help herself.

“Both,” I mutter, barely sparing her a glance.

She gives a soft laugh, and the sound goes straight through me. She’s too pretty for her own good. The kind of looks that should be illegal—long, dark auburn hair, wide greens eyes with flecks of gold shimmering inside, and a smile that she offers far too easily.

A perfect hourglass figure was the first thing I noticed about her. Well, maybe it was the blood covering her, but her figure was number two.

Now she’s clean(ish) and she’s got these denim dungarees on that highlight her heart-shaped ass, and a tight green top underneath.

Seeing her in nothing but that towel had my imagination running wild, my mouth watering. It took all my self-control to cover my eyes.

Despite her looks, something about her just gets under my skin. She won’t stop talking, and it’s fucking infuriating.

I prefer my women to be quieter, more reserved. I’m not a fan of talking.

“So, you’re, like, a professional... clean-up guy?” she asks, still chatting like this is just another boring conversation. “Do you have a business card? ‘Kai: Your Friendly Neighbourhood Cleanup Crew’?”

I snort despite myself. “Something like that.”

“I mean, really, though,” she continues on, “it’s gotta be pretty... boring, right? Just cleaning up after other people’s messes all the time?”

“Depends,” I say, looking at her fromthe corner of my eye. “Sometimes it’s interesting.”

“Guess it beats my job. Now that is boring. Except for all the eye candy, that makes it worth it.”

“What do you do?” I grit out, only mildly intrigued. Something about her words has unexpected jealousy spiking in my chest.

“Receptionist at a gym. I know, I know. I should be doing something useful with my life. But I’m still figuring things out and—”

I stop listening.

I slow the car, backing it into the driveway, then hop out so quickly you’d think it was on fire.

“So, what do we do with the… you know what.” She motions to the boot where her boyfriend's body is currently stashed. It’s not ideal, not disposing of it immediately, but it’s too risky to do in the day.

“Nothing yet. We’ll deal with it tonight.”

“Right. Okay. Makes sense.”

She keeps talking, and I keep biting my tongue, every word making me more tense. She doesn’t stop until we’re inside my house, scanning the space like she’s cataloguing every corner.