“Huh?”
Theo’s voice squeaks—honest to God, squeaks—and I narrow my eyes at him. “Theodore Grady. How did you know where I live?”
“You remember when I said I had something else to tell you, and you wouldn’t like it?”
“Yes.”
“This is the thing you’re not gonna like.”
“Theodore!”
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he blurts. “Like, really, really, really close tabs.”
“How close?”
“I know your kickboxing instructor’s social security number.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“I’m sorry!”
“You don’t sound sorry!”
“That’s, well,” he sighs, rubbing a massive hand across his face. “That’s because I’m not actually sorry. It started out of necessity, to make sure you wouldn’t get me killed by talking about the Mafia to people in France, but then it sort of...spiraled.”
I scoff, sitting back on my heels and staring at him incredulously. “Spiraled?”
“Yes.”
“Into you knowing enough about my life to run a background check on my personal trainer?”
“It wasn’t technically a background check.”
“That is not the point, and you know it!”
He nods, holding his hands out to the sides as if to show he has no intention of fighting me on this. “I know.”
“Okay, so you killed my ex. That’s, that’s...fine. It’s a crime, and it was stupid, but it sounds like you maybe got away with it?”
Theo clears his throat, very quietly mumbling, “Exes.”
“What?”
“Exes,” he repeats, louder this time. “And your landlord.”
In my shock, I’d forgotten he mentioned killing Donnie, too. I don’t know how to respond other than to ask, “How many exes?”
“Just two,” he hurries to assure me as if that isn’t a fucking insane amount.
“Which two?”
“Eric, obviously, and Stellan Malbach.”
Holy shit. “He didn’t ghost me?”
Theo blinks very slowly before giving me a rueful look. “Am I allowed to make the obvious joke here?”
“No, you are not,” I growl, rolling off the bed to search for a shirt. I need to put clothing between us so I don’t get his blood on my skin when I murder him for being an overbearing, stalking psychopath! “Why did you kill Stellan?”