“See? Everything will be fine.” I wish I felt as confident as Kane sounds.
“He got what he deserved,” Cash reminds me yet again.
“He jumped in front of my car.” I had to say it. “Just in case anybody wants to know. He followed me to work. He must’ve waited for me to leave. And when I did, he pounded on my car and shouted at me. He wanted me to… you know.” Even now, I can’t say it. Not without remembering what it was like, on my knees with his dick and balls in my face. He wasn’t the sort of guy who kept himself neat and tidy, to put it mildly.
My stomach threatens to force breakfast back up. I have to stop remembering.
“You don’t have to explain a thing to us.” Cash nods slowly when our eyes meet, and I find myself believing him.
“He might as well have put a gun in his mouth, the stupid sonofabitch.” Kane actually sounds gleeful. Can that be possible? I get the feeling neither of these men thinks it’s cool to abuse women, but still. There’s a difference between disapproving of or even hating an abusive bastard and almost giggling over their death.
“Either way, we better hope nobody thinks to look too deep into what happened to him.” Myles isn’t laughing. He doesn’t sound like he thinks this was a good thing.
I feel like I need to speak up if only to ease his mind so he won’t hate me even worse. “I don’t think he had a lot of friends. He wasn’t a nice person. I doubt they’ll have any of those stories about him where people cry over all the good things he did.”
“Still, you never know what people are capable of when somebody they know or maybe did business with drops off the radar out of nowhere.” He snaps his fingers. “They start asking questions. If this guy owed money to people, they’ll want it.”
That brings me up short. I want to tell him such a thing isn’t possible but really, how do I know? Matthew clearly wasn’t the most upstanding guy. Would I put it past somebody like him to owe money to shady characters? I mean, how could he afford to waive my fees in the first place?
Now I’m wondering, and there’s a pit in my stomach.
“I’m just saying,” Myles continues, wiping his hands on a dishtowel but always with one eye on me. “We can’t afford more enemies. We better hope this didn’t earn us any.”
He doesn’t have to continue. I get the point.
If they end up with more enemies, it’ll be my fault.
And something tells me they’ll want to be repaid for the trouble.