“Fuck you.” I’d said that more in the past three days than I ever had in my entire life.
When he gets to the door, he doesn’t turn around. The wide expanse of his back, which was no hardship at all, but his face, while chiseled from evil, was the most sinning thing to look at in this room.
Sin was for the wicked, and Jaxon fit the bill perfectly.
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll fuck you like you haven’t been fucked in ten years.”
I grabbed the white coffee mug from the tray and threw it at him, but I was too late. He had already left, and the mug shattered against the door, sending pieces that could never be put back together to the ground.
Symbolic since my heart felt the same way right about now.
Chapter Ten
Jaxon
“You need to woo her,” Ingrid said, leaning against the wall as she filed her nails.
“Eavesdropping can get you killed.” I walked down the hall, bypassing her completely.
“I couldn’t hear anything you were saying; I’m just assuming your talk didn’t go well since you’re scowling.”
“I do not scowl,” I said and then relaxed my face when I realized I was scowling. “Why did I bring you here again? Don’t you have a bingo hall to go to or something?” The hallway finally broke off into the massive kitchen and the common living area. The space was open with black floors, white cabinets, and countertops, and a gunmetal grey leather sectional sofa that could seat up to fifteen people. Since we all lived together, it was important that we had space.
“You are paying for me to go to bingo?” She lifted a silver eyebrow at me and held out her hand, then settled in the bar stool that sat near the kitchen island. “I’ll gladly go on your dime.”
“Why doesn’t our way of life bother you?” Grayson asked, taking the chair next to her.
I pulled out a beer from the refrigerator and twisted off the top. The glass was cold against my palm, but the beer was even colder as it flowed down my throat. I could feel it sinking into the pit of my stomach.
“Has your guy not pulled up anything on me yet? I thought you guys were the ‘best of the best?’”
“I’ve had other things on my plate than to do a check on an old lady.” Sebastian begrudgingly said from the couch as he flipped through the channels.
She lifted a shoulder, uncaring as she shaped her nails and held them out, humming with satisfaction. “You won’t find much anyway. I was arrest in 1980, that was about it.”
“—No way, for what?” Heaven tried to leap over the couch, but his foot caught along the back of the couch, and he fell face-first onto the floor, adding to the bruise on the side of his jaw I put there earlier. It still pissed me off that he saw Quinn’s tits. They were mine and mine alone to look at.
“Tell us,” Owen said. “Let me guess, prostitution?”
“I was never a hooker. Don’t ever insult me like that again. I am and have always been a woman of class,” she harrumphed and started filing the nails on her other hand. “That was rude. You don’t ever speak to a lady like that.”
“Lady, you are no lady, that much I believe,” Owen smirked, and she slapped the back of his head with her hand.
Then she smirked and leaned in, a playful smile on her face. “I know, right,” she giggled.
I glanced at my watch and saw ten minutes had passed by since seeing Quinn. We needed to leave soon to get her clothes. I wouldn’t have time to go next week between jobs and Brian. Once his shoulder healed, I was going to fuck that guy up all over again. Continued torture, it had been proven to work. I didn’t care if it took the entire ten years for him to confess. I’d get my life back. I’d get what was taken from me.
“No fucking way,” Owen gaped at Ingrid.
Shit. I had missed the big secret. Not much made Owen surprised, so whatever the details were, they were good. Ingrid had a bit of pink to her cheeks, and all the guys stared at her in a new light, with awe and respect. I never brought home strays. I clearly wasn’t thinking when I decided to let Ingrid invade our space. It went to show just how much Quinn had me off guard. If it had been anyone else getting married, just another job, Ingrid would never be here.
“What was that? Sorry, I missed it,” I said, huffing when another five minutes had gone by. Quinn was just being stubborn now. She probably thought she could live off joggers and big t-shirts for the rest of her life, but I had plans for her. She needed nice clothes, gowns, and purses. If she was going to be here, she would be an asset. She’d want to be that I had no doubt. Quinn only needed to hear truth, and I knew she would fall right into my arms again.
Well, I hoped.
Sebastian shook his head, but not with amusement, with disappointment. I wasn’t focused. How would I perform when we were doing a job? If I wasn’t focused, someone could die, I could die.
“She was married to a serial killer. Henry the Headless,” Heaven said, as if starry-eyed. He sighed whimsically and laid his chin in his hand. “What was he like?”
“Brutal,” she shivered.
“Henry the Headless?” I heard about him in prison. Guys loved to emphasize the story more than it needed to be, but one fact always remained true. He always took his victims' heads off and kept them. It was disturbing.
And now I wasn’t too sure if I wanted Ingrid in the house.
“I never helped him,” she said as if she could read my thoughts.
“I—”
“—No, I understand. I am guilty, but not of murder. There were times I walked in on him and—” she lost all color in her face now and swallowed, “I’m used to living on the side of crime. What you do doesn’t bother me, but if my past bothers you, I’ll leave.”
“Why were you really at the wedding?” Grayson asked.
“An old lady gets lonely. I might be a bad bitch, but I still have feelings,” she grumbled, pushing her shoulders back. “I was taking flowers to Henry’s grave and saw the wedding. I know, who takes flowers to their serial killer husband’s tombstone? There were the happy times. He never harmed me. I don’t know why, but I think he loved me the best he knew how. I still want to celebrate the man I thought he was, not the man he died as.”
“Aw, Ingrid,” Heaven embraced her in his arms, and she looked less than thrilled with the contact. She didn’t wrap her arms around him and gave the rest of us guys a glare that screamed ‘get him off me’.
It was amusing, and there weren’t many things I found amusing these days. Maybe Ingrid could stay.
Maybe.
“The little tyrant.” Another ten minutes have gone by, and I was done waiting. I chugged the rest of my beer and slammed it on the counter with so much force that it broke under my hand. Heaven jumped away from Ingrid, and she let out a relieved breath. I made the first step to stroll down the hallway, but Ingrid placed her hand on my arm from across the counter. “What?” I snipped with more attitude than necessary. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
I was a fucking mess.
“Woo, remember? Woo,” she repeated as if saying it again would make me understand what she meant.