“Yes, yes. He would have made noise.” Mark's eyes roll back, and I get frustrated that he’s fading on me.Fuck, not yet.
“I would ask then, why it took twelve hours for anyone to check on him, but I’m sick of hearing your voice. So, let me cut to the chase. To perform a blood eagle, one must sever a person’s ribs from their spine. Then peel the bones and skin back to pull the lungs out of the body. Get it, blood eagle? The lungs look like bloody wings—quite clever really.”
I hold out my palm, and Finn places a scalpel in it. My entire body buzzes with vengeance. The air hums like a living thing. I make my way to Schneider’s side, slicing his shirt open to reveal his back. My brothers are standing with me like we’re Hades and the three shadowy heads of Cerberus.
He whimpers. “Oh, god. Please Lord, help me.”
“I hope you’re praying to the same God that left my father to hemorrhage alone for twelve long hours, because that son of a bitchneverpicks up.”2
Lochlan is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he saunters past me on the couch. Lucky bastard was able to snag a few hours of shut-eye. I was too wired, too high on justice to even consider sleep. “I’m going outside for a smoke.”
“Did you pour bleach down the drain?” I ask without looking up from my phone.
“Yes, I’m not an idiot.”
“Good. I’ll be out in a minute.” It’s unlikely my apartment will ever be searched in connection to the disappearance of Mark Schneider. After all, it's incredibly hard to build a case with no body, and my cleanup crew is the best in the business. Still, unnecessary risks are the exact reason Schneider ended up in that water tank after ten successful years of hiding.
We stripped on the roof and gave the cleaners our dirty clothes, changing into fresh ones after showering with surgical-grade iodine. That alone should be more than enough to destroy any evidence, but bleach down the shower drain will take it from 99.9 percent to 100 percent. And that .1 percent can be the difference between freedom or slowly deteriorating into a shell of the man you once were in a six by nine cement box.
I will burn the world to ashes before I allow myself or any of my brothers to succumb to my father’s fate. I promised him as much.
I finish up my message to Roman, my head of security, and head downstairs to meet Lochlan. A cigarette won’t replace a night of sleep, but it’s a good start.
I only get one puff before commotion across the street breaks my peace.
“Ah, shit!” I turn from Lochlan and see a white woman across the street flailing around as she jumps from her chair. Brown liquid stains her pale-pink crop top. My eyes travel down the spill. Her jeans are a pinch too tight, making the sexiest part of her stomach spill out. I try to shake the image of me taking a bite out of that soft flesh and look up at her face.
The biggest, brightest, red, heart-shaped sunglasses I’ve ever seen are staring back at me. I don’t need to see her eyes to know hers are locked on mine. I can feel it. A bolt of electricity zips down my spine as I watch her like a deer in headlights. I puff on my cig and, as the sharp smoke fills my lungs, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if the scent of her was filling my lungs instead.
Light-brown hair is piled on top of her head, loose strands and curls sticking out everywhere. It’s a mess. But when the sun hits it, it glows a beautiful red. The anxiety rolls off her in waves. I can feel it as surely as I feel the wind carrying my smoke away.
I wish I were closer so I could see what shade of pink she must be turning.
A barista comes out to help clean up the mess and she scurries away like a little mouse, clearly embarrassed by her clumsy actions.
Though she shouldn’t be. Watching her has been the most fun I’ve had in days.
“You’re up early.” Lochlan yawns and runs a hand through his disheveled bed head as he shuffles to the kitchen. I already have a pot of coffee brewed. I’m on my second cup and the sun is only just painting the sky. “And rearranged the furniture?”
I dragged a vintage armchair over to the window that has a view down to June Bug Café. It’s hardly rearranging.
“She still here?” He nods as he takes a seat on the tan-leather couch. “If you’re gonna use my place as your own personal rest stop brothel, you stay with the girl until she leaves. This isn’t a daycare.”
“I have a drop this morning.” As if that excuses it.
“I’m well aware of the drop. I fucking assigned it.” He sighs into his coffee mug, knowing he fucked up. He’s the youngest of us brothers and has been stuck with me as the only parental figure in his life the last ten years. That’s given him a lot of leeway when it comes to fucking around and being sloppy, but he’s nineteen now and needs to start acting like it.
He rises and stands behind me, looking down at the coffee shop patio dotted with only a few early risers. “Don’t tell me…” I hear the amused smirk spreading on his face without turning around.
“Watch it,” I warn.
“You really are as crazy as they say.” He laughs as he saunters away, and if I didn’t want to take my eyes off the street below, I would get up and sock him.
“Make sure the Vault is locked—I don’t want sleeping beauty getting curious and stumbling into places she shouldn’t.” I trust Francesca enough to let her fuck my brother. She’s my lieutenant's niece and she knows this world we live in. But she’s a hungry rank-climber. And hungry people are desperate people. “Don’t be late to the meet.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Fuck, this kink in my neck.