Page 21 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

“The people I’ve —” I snap my mouth closed since I know better than to give her any more ammunition to use against me.

She already hates me and knows I’m a killer.

“You know what, it’s none of your fucking business what I do or why.

Now, are you going to find something for me to wrap this son of a bitch up in or should I just throw him over my shoulder and haul him out of here? ”

“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath before she turns away, heading back into her bedroom.

A few minutes later, the dead guy is wrapped tight in multiple layers of bedding so none of his blood will leak through before we get him out of the building.

Or at least that’s my hope. I’ve just finished making a burrito out of him with Kirsten silently watching me when there’s a knock on the apartment door.

She gasps and looks toward the living room.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably just my cousins,” I say to calm her down. I don’t like seeing wide-eyed fear on the usually fearless woman’s face.

“I can’t believe I’m letting Creed and Andre Ferraro into my house, two more defendants —”

“They’re no longer defendants since you dismissed the charges. If anyone sees the three of us here tonight, they’ll just assume you’re a dirty slut who likes to fill every hole at the same time,” I assure her.

Groaning, she shoves my shoulder, pushing me into the hallway wall, and heads for the door as I hurry after her.

“Wait a fucking second,” I hiss at her in a whisper. “We don’t know for sure it’s my people. What if it’s someone else who wants you dead working with the detective?” I grab her shoulders and pull her away from the peephole, then take a look myself.

“It’s your people, just dressed like they’re out for a run.”

“I told them to come in a disguise rather than their usual suits. God, you really have so much to learn about getting away with murder.”

“Asshole,” she calls me while I unlock all the locks on the door and open it.

“You gonna tell me what this is about now that you dragged me out of bed and off my wife’s perfect…” Dre trails off when he follows Creed into the apartment and spots Kirsten. “You have got to be shitting me. What the hell is this?”

“Someone came after her tonight, and Tristan asked us to come help him clean up the mess,” Creed explains.

“Why couldn’t you handle it yourself?” Dre asks me. “I don’t want to be any part of this…woman’s scheme. We barely got out of the last charges she threw at us.”

“Well, tough shit. Tristan’s got a soft spot for her. Or a hard spot,” Creed remarks with his brow raised at me. “So, apparently, we have to help him. Wouldn’t you want our help if Stella killed someone?”

“My wife didn’t need anyone’s help covering up a murder. And Stella’s my wife. This…woman is nothing to me.” Every time Dre pauses, I know he wants to call Kirsten a bitch or cunt but thinks better of it.

“Just help me get the body out, and you can go,” I snap.

“Not until we get the security camera feed down,” Creed adds.

“I’m not touching a dead man if there’s going to be evidence of it.

But I did bring the big SUV, so there’s plenty of room for him in the cargo hold.

” Rubbing his chin with his leather gloves already on, he asks, “Any chance the building has a giant trash chute?”

“No. We’re not sending him down a trash chute!” I tell him, shitting on his new favorite means of body removal thanks to his wife, Zara.

“You…you’ve done that before?” Kirsten asks Creed before shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I… appreciate your help tonight, even though I know I don’t deserve it.”

“Hell no, you don’t,” Dre grumbles.

“I thought your wife made you less of an asshole,” I tell him.

“I am less of an asshole because of my wife, just not when I’m woken up in the middle of the night to help the enemy.”

“Kirsten’s not the enemy,” I remind him. “She was just doing her job when she charged us. It was nothing personal.”

“She campaigned on locking up all the mobsters in the city!” Creed exclaims.

“Yes, well, she dropped the charges, didn’t she?”

“Only after you got photos of her naked or whatever.”

“You told them?” Kirsten exclaims.

“Damn. She is pissed,” Dre remarks with a smirk. “Whatever you did to blackmail her must have been hardcore.”

“I didn’t show them the videos,” I assure her.

“You were supposed to delete the videos and leave me alone!” she huffs.

“Did you delete the videos?” I ask, and she lowers her eyes while losing some of the anger in them.

“Well, at least it doesn’t appear to be one-sided,” Creed mutters before turning to Kirsten. “Where’s the security office for the building?

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Great. Well, Dre and I will go find it and take out the equipment while you two…glare at each other longingly,” he says before he turns to leave with Dre.

“This night just gets better and better.” Kirsten’s eyes are still on the door even after they’re gone.

“Hey, it could be worse,” I tell her. “At least your balls aren’t still throbbing from getting kneed.”

The corner of her lips lift in a grin at the reminder.

“And if I had still been following you, then maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

“Right, you would’ve somehow known that the random man coming into the building was intending to visit and kill me?” Kirsten asks with an arched blonde eyebrow.

“Maybe. At least I could’ve been here sooner,” I remark, and she can’t argue with that.