Page 80 of Dirty Deadly & Mine
“Shit’s right. Haven’t you only been getting images from old kills?” Barrett takes one of the pictures and studies it.
“Yes. They are usually months old.”
The first picture is of me standing in front of Omar and the eight girls standing behind me. The second one is of me standing by as I watch the girls attack Omar, and the third is of me, face etched in pure madness as I saw off Omar’s head.
“Fuck.” Barrett’s tone draws my attention, and I notice he’s glancing at the back of one of the pictures. Then he turns it to face me.
I KNOW HOW MUCH KILLING TURNS YOU ON.
What the actual fuck!
“What’s happening?” I whisper, and Barrett shakes his head.
“They’ve changed their routine, which means things are escalating.”
I nod, coming to the same conclusion.
The pictures I’ve been getting are always from past kills. A little outdated. And the message on the back has always been the same until now.
It used to be;I know who you are.Now it’s turned into something… sexual.
Whoever has been sending me these has definitely changed routines, which just happens to coincide with finding out there’s a hit out on me.
“It has to be related. It’s too much of a coincidence,” I mutter, and Barrett nods, handing me back the picture.
“I know I thought differently before, but now I’m inclined to agree. I really should stay here with you. You need protection.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow. “Really?Ineed protection?”
“You’re not invincible, Lily. It’s a high paying hit. Professionals are most likely to take the job.”
“I’m aprofessional, Barrett. Anyone who comes after me is going to lose.”
Sighing, he runs his hand through his dark hair, looking more frazzled than I’ve seen him in… well, ever. “I’m going to reach out to some of my contacts. See who can help from afar.”
“Not family, though, right?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Not family.” He bobs his head towards my bedroom door. “Any chance you’re willing to tell your toy boy out there about this? Maybe he can give you an added layer of protection.”
“Absolutely not,” I snap, shoving the pictures back inside the envelope. “You know, the twins have no idea about what I do, or about the Marx family. I intend on keeping it that way, and telling Asher could ruin that.”
“Devon really wants to meet his nephews.”
I take a step back as if Barrett slapped me. “Absolutely not!”
“Okay, fine.” He lifts calming hands. “Let’s table that for now.”
“For good,” I grumble, and Barrett chuckles.
“I’m hoping to stay nearby until this threat is eliminated. I have some work to do in Paris, but if anything seems unusual or something happens, call me immediately. Do not fucking hesitate.”
I nod up at my cousin, and his features soften before he pulls me in for a quick hug.
If the person sending the pictures is the same person sending the texts, and also has put a professional hit out on me, I swear this will be a lot easier, because the alternative is that there are now three people out to get me in one way or another.
Barrett and I go back out into the living area where Asher is pretending to clean, and after another awkward statement from Barrett, he leaves.
Once we’re alone again, Asher’s eyes find mine, and I can’t hide the helplessness I’m feeling. I drag my gaze from his and move to the glass doors, looking out into my backyard as I wrap my arms around myself.
