Page 22 of The Handyman

Songs encapsulated so much. There was a song for everything and anything, and therehadto be one for this moment tucked away somewhere in my head.

“?Tell somethin’, girl. Are you happy in this modern world. . .?”That’s from a movie. I feel like my life’s turning into a B-rated horror comedy.Pausing as I tried to remember the rest of the words, I licked my lips heavily. Closing my eyes, I couldn’t blink and open my mouth at the same time.

Reece tightened his arm around me, rubbing up and down my thigh and ass with a little hum of encouragement.

“?Or do you need more? Is there somethin’ else you’re searchin’ for??”

16

Reece

Bopping my head to the beat flowing through the speakers of my apartment, I flipped over my egg perfectly even as my mind wandered to last night. Obviously, I’d miscalculated.

That smarmy dick Brandon didn’t have it in him to hire a hitman to kill Riley. The fact that he shit himself at the faintest glint of a gun meant he really was all talk and no bite. Which meant someone else had done it.

WhichmeantI was fucked.

“Damn,” muttering to myself, I frowned under furrowed brows as the smell of bacon and butter filled the kitchen. There was nothing I could do about it now, but wait and see what happened. Whoever issued the request to the Network hadn’t done so on any other sites, or Jerry just hadn’t found it— which was pretty impossible. The dark web was mighty, but Jerry was mightier.

Not that it helped me figure out who did it, of course.

My phone trilled on the counter, and I left my pan briefly to snatch it without bothering to look at the caller ID. “Hello.”

“Reece? I need help.” Malda soundedsupernervous— galactic level nervous— really,reallynervous, and I grunted lowly. “What’s this day— Valentines? What am I supposed to do that’s doesn’t involve food?” she asked.

Oh.Wonderful. Isn’t Valentine’s Day in less than a week?As much as I appreciated my boss getting one up on Aleksander Makovich, he didn’thaveto give Malda my fucking phone number. Clearing my throat roughly, I reached deep into my brain as I turned back to the stove. It’d been a while, but Malda’s English was getting better, and her Russian even started sounded a little. . . rough.I’m sure the only reason she’s using it is because she doesn’t want that guy Whatshisname to hear her.

Malda was a superwoman— or a prototype cyborg— but. . . I really didn’t want to be associated with her. She was just a reminder that I’d gotten fucked in the ass by Ophelia and her failures.

“Yeah— um, why not just spend the day together and watch movies? Doesn’t Whatshisname work with computers? Maybe give him a massage or something. To be honest, it’s a stupid holiday that almost exclusively revolves around food, Malda.”My own Russian was rusty. I’d barely used it during Aleksander’s diplomatic visit, and I already wasn’t that great at it. Carlyle needed Illya to be present at all the meetings, though, so I drew the short straw and got the grand title of ‘Tourist Guide’. “I thought you hated American holidays?”

“I ask his sister and brothers,” Malda replied. “And I am going to ask him to marry me.”

I stiffened at the rough whisper, but Malda sounded entirely serious even as the instinct to laugh hysterically tightened my chest.

She went on, “I need to do something first, then we go to his family after.”

“Oh. Uh— okay. Listen, I’m not sure if I’m the person you should be asking, Malda. The only good thing that comes out of Valentine’s Day is 75% off chocolate the day after. The last Valentine’s day I celebrated, I gave a card made of macaroni to my mom that I made in school.” I could feel her confusion over the phone with her long pause and I sighed. “Didn’t you learn your lesson at Thanksgiving that holidays suck ass?”

“I already asked everyone, but they aren’t right. So?”

Rolling my eyes, I transferred my egg to a plate with a nice piece of toast on it as I thought on her predicament. I fuckinghatedValentine’s Day, especially because I never necessarily had a girlfriend for it. Like fuck I would go out of my way for one of my partners— they didn’t mean that much to me. I gave her my answer, “I mean, I really don’t know what to tell you. If you want to propose to your boyfriend, you should just do it without all the fancy bullshit, Malda. You’re a smart girl, so I’m sure you can think of some way to make it special.”What the fuck.I slapped some bacon and ketchup onto my sandwich and turned off the stove to sigh roughly. “I don’t know your relationship— I don’t even know the dude’s name. I honestly am not going to give you any better advice than what his siblings would’ve.”

“Ach…fine. Thank you, Reece.” Grumbling into my ear, Malda hung up on me.

I frowned as I set my phone on the counter. If I never saw her again, it’d be too damn early. I was traumatized by that month of meetings.

But all those thoughts wiped from my mind when soft hands crept up my shoulder blades, and I exhaled a heavy sigh. Twisting to focus on someone much prettier, a small smile stretched my lips as Riley pressed her lips to my bare shoulder. Her big, brown eyes flickered to meet mine, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to kiss her cheek.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I just left it plain.” Transferring the egg still in the pan onto another plate, I reached to scratch my stubble.I really need to shave. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. I didn’t know you speak Russian, Reece.”

Shrugging lightly, I suppressed a shiver of disgust as I passed her the sandwich. Taking my own, we walked to the table, and I couldn’t help but admire her ass peeking out of the bottom of my t-shirt.

“I was wondering…. Um, about last night at the grocery store.” Riley spoke up cautiously.

I slid into a chair to clench and release my jaw in preparation. How much could I get away with not saying? How much did she want to know?Most importantly, what could I say that wouldn’t come back to haunt me?“I guess. . . the easiest way to explain it is— I work for the Mob.”