Page 9 of Treasured by Them (Rose and Dagger #3)
Edmund
T roy, already alert after the scream, tenses even further.
“I’ll call the police.” Gary reaches for his pocket.
“No.” I hold up a hand and give him a long look. “Not yet.”
He gulps, nods. “Right.”
No doubt, the police will have to be called.
This isn’t like Jon’s death, where Troy and I were the only ones to see the body.
Even if we could keep Gary from contacting authorities, poor Kara isn’t going to recover.
She doesn’t seem like the type to keep a secret like this.
The bartender looks furiously protective on her behalf, so he probably wouldn’t keep quiet, either.
Maybe they could be bought, but it’s a loose end.
The Layton family hates loose ends.
“Stay put,” Troy says to Gary.
I follow Troy out through the kitchen to the alley behind the restaurant.
“The hell?” Troy stops short.
I come around from behind to stand next to him. “Holy shit.”
It’s the sort of tableau to give someone nightmares.
The space is lit by black candles so light flickers over the exposed brick of the buildings’ exteriors, and the green metal side of the dumpster.
A man’s body lies spread-eagle in the center of the alley.
Strange symbols are etched in a dark liquid—probably blood—around the corpse.
Other than his throat being slit, he looks like he could be sleeping in his black athletic wear—running pants and microfleece sweatshirt. He’s clutching something in his hand.
“What’s he holding?” I ask.
Troy takes a couple of steps forward. “Rosary in one hand. And…looks like a pentagram or something on a chain, in the other.”
What looks like pale rocks are scattered around his head. I squat down to get a better look. Teeth.
Our cop friend warned us about a serial killer. “Ritualistic looking shit” was what Grinnote had said last time we talked to him.
The candles, the bloody symbols, the rosary and pentagram, the teeth—this is “ritualistic” as fuck.
“This has to be the work of that serial killer Grinnote told us about.” I stand up and face Troy.
He nods, expression solemn, but alert. “There aren’t any cameras back here.”
“No.” We did it on purpose, so if the Finch was used for anything shady, there wouldn’t be evidence. Now our lack of security will come back to bite us.
We return to the kitchen and tell Gary to call the cops.
Troy impresses upon Gary, Kara, and the bartender that our presence here tonight doesn’t need to be mentioned when talking to the police officers.
Sure, a view of traffic cams will reveal that we were here, but hopefully by the time police view them, they’ll realize Troy and I couldn’t have been involved.
My father will be annoyed—any police attention to our places of business is a hindrance, not a help. There’s nothing to be done about it, however.
I text our new driver, a guy named Chuck who’s been with the family for a decade. If he was nervous about taking over for Jon, he didn’t show it.
When we leave the restaurant, Chuck is waiting for us. Troy makes me get into the car first, his gaze intent on our surroundings.
“We need a secure way home,” I say to Chuck.
“Got it.”
Chuck knows the routes with the fewest traffic cams.
Troy catches my eye. “We aren’t stopping at Rendsell first?”
“The news can be shared over text.” I stare at the road in front of us. “I want to get home to Danica.”
“Good.” His shoulders relax. “Me, too. I’m worried about her. With the counselor’s remains, and the new murders. I don’t like how close this was to us—it puts her in danger.”
“It was practically on our front lawn. Everyone knows Finch and Fox is ours.” A simmering rage, shot with fear, bubbles in my gut.
“Extra protection for Dani.” Troy isn’t asking—he’s telling.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
* * *
Danica
Last night, I was asleep in Edmund’s bed when Troy and Edmund came home. I can’t explain why I didn’t get into my own bed—it just felt better to be in his.
They’re sleeping on either side of me when I wake up. I smile to myself. The other day, I woke up to Troy giving me head, and Edmund sucking on my nipples.
How can I wake them up?
Troy is sleeping on his side, facing me. Edmund is on his back. Carefully, I ease the sheet down. Edmund is in boxer briefs. Troy’s in a pair of athletic shorts.
I touch both of them, sliding my hands over the ridges of their six-packs and down to their waistbands.
It’ll be easier to give Edmund head, because he’s lying on his back.
I ease down Edmund’s briefs and position myself to take him in my mouth, and grip Troy’s already-hardening length through his shorts.
“Little girl,” Troy rasps in a deep, sleepy voice.
“Just relax, Daddy. I want to play.”
“Only if I can play with you, too.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Please do.”
When I lean over to take Edmund between my lips, I feel Troy’s fingers caressing my bare thighs and traveling up toward my pussy.
This is the absolute best way to start the day.
Soon, Edmund’s awake, his hand wrapped in my hair as he urges me down his length. My underwear is yanked to the side and Troy’s fingers are buried in my pussy. I keep a tight grip on Troy’s cock, jacking him beneath his shorts.
My orgasm is intense, gripping me in pleasure. The guys come soon after—Edmund over my tongue and Troy on my hand. Their masculine groans fill the room.
When they push me onto my back so they can make me come a second time, I don’t argue.
Despite our morning of orgasms, the guys seem extra tense as we fix coffee and eat breakfast.
“Anything big happening for you two today?” I ask carefully. I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, so if I don’t ask now, I’ll spend the day not knowing.
“Probably a trip to Mirarosa.” Edmund shrugs as he sips his coffee. “First, we have a meeting with my father to discuss?—”
Someone buzzes the penthouse, and Troy pushes the button to let them up.
“We’re expecting someone?” I ask.
The guys exchange a look, but before they can answer me, the elevator doors slide open. A black-haired guy strides inside. He looks vaguely familiar—I think he might’ve been at our engagement party.
He gives me an easy smile and says, “Hey,” before shaking Edmund’s and Troy’s hands. “How’s it going, man?”
“Good enough, I guess.” Edmund turns to me with a smile fixed in place. He’s not nearly as at ease as he’s trying to project. “Danica, this is Caleb Morraine. He’s a friend of mine. Caleb, this is Danica Montrose.”
“Nice to meet you.” Caleb shakes my hand. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go?” I look at Edmund and Troy. “I have work, and I don’t know you, so…”
Caleb raises his eyebrows. “Uh, sorry man, did I put my foot in it?”
“Yeah.” Edmund clears his throat. “Danica, we’ve arranged for Caleb to be your bodyguard for a little while.”
“My—no. You guys have got to be kidding.” I shake my head. “No.”
“It’s nonnegotiable.” Edmund’s green eyes are hard, his jaw tight.
“It’s my life, not yours.”
“I’m responsible for your safety—you’re my fiancée and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I resist the urge to childishly stomp my foot. “I could stub my toe in the next sixty seconds. Are you going to remove all the furniture from your penthouse, Oh Prince of Overprotection?”
Caleb snorts.
Edmund’s eyes narrow. “That’s not a fair comparison, and you know it.”
I turn to Troy. “Well? You do see this is overbearing and paranoid, right?”
“I’m the one who suggested it.” Troy doesn’t even have the grace to look ashamed.
“Ugh!” I can’t help it—I do stomp my foot. “I hate you both!”
Edmund’s lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. Fuck him. Fuck Troy. And fuck poor Caleb who looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.
I glance at my phone. If I hadn’t already skipped out on work for Isabelle over the past couple of weeks, I would skip today. I’d rather not get paid than have some near-stranger shadowing my every move.
“Whatever. Caleb, I guess we can go. But Edmund? Troy? I’m not done talking to you about this. You two are absolute assholes, arranging this without talking to me.”
Edmund smirks. “It was kinda hard to have a conversation when you were?—”
I hold up a hand. “Shut. Up.”
“Be careful with how you talk to me, princess.”
I force myself to ignore the sexy, dark tone of his voice and the way his green eyes narrow at me. “I don’t care how I talk to you when you’re an overbearing asshole jizz-stain?—”
Troy coughs in warning. I clamp my mouth closed, holding in the rest of the ire I want to unleash on them both. Now isn’t the time.
“I’m leaving.” I grab my bag and jab the elevator button.
“Fine,” Edmund calls as the doors open and Caleb and I step inside. “Be mad. Just be alive and mad.”
I flip him off over my shoulder.