Page 121 of To Have and to Stalk
“Guy was a gusher,” he said. “You know how it is.”
My neck prickled. My gut froze into ice. He was below Shay’s window.
Because ofme.
Maybe I’d let his bullshit fuck-boy energy fool me.
But he was the fucking Butcher.
The most dangerous man in the Mafia. A killer.
“So,” he said with a grin. “Ready to take my offer yet?” I folded my arms, quirking my head to the side, stretching my neck.
“Look,” Butcher continued. “I’m trying to be reasonable here. You’re living in-between right now. With your hobby and your girl—yeah, I know about both.” He pulled out his phone, showing me a picture of me and Shay earlier.
She was pressed against the books, her skirt flipped up?—
I snatched his phone, deleting it before slamming it into the pavement.
Butcher laughed. “Whoa,Iwould have deleted it. I’m not really into good girls. Goths with a mean streak are more my thing. How is your sister, by the way? A coroner in the family is always helpful.”
The air was suffocating.
The stars poked sharp into my skin as the black sky descended, wrapping velvety tendrils around my throat.
I was suddenly back in time, graduating from college, as a man with similar tattoos showed me photos of someone I loved.
My only choice to take their offer.
Now here I was, with another man and his tattoos, as he showed me pictures of someone I loved.
Demanded I take the deal.
I’d let myself believe in normal, and this was what happened. Shay in danger. My sister now also caught in the crosshairs.
“Listen, my man, buddy,pal, we’re on a time crunch here, okay?” He grabbed my shoulder—hand bloody, staining my shirt—as if we reallywerebuddies. “The longer the org goes without payment, the more likely my neat little coup turns into a fucking civil war.”
I shifted on my heels. Something about the first conversation had stuck in my mind.
“You don’t need me,” I said. “You can easily get the books and take out Andrew.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. I can. But then I’ll just be the next asshole holding an empty purse out to a bunch of guns. I need a cleaner. Preferably a loyal one. One who understands how to move money out of one hand and, I don’t know, into mine.”
Silence lingered in the crisp winter air between us.
If I wanted this life, if I’dchosenit, it wouldn’t be a bad deal. Instead of being a peon, I’d be in power. Second to the boss.
But I didn’t want this life.
“Not ready to join me yet?” Butcher said, then dropped my shoulder. “Whatever. Someday soon you might realize you don’t have a choice but to take my offer.”
“Is that a threat?” I growled.
“An observation,” he said. He booped me on the nose, fuckingboopedmy nose.
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t fucking boop me.”
“Don’t be a boop bitch,” he said, then left.
