Page 27 of Remy

He looks like he wants to kiss me. As if we’re back at that bar with his hand teasing my thighs instead of in a funeral home with a criminal conviction hovering between us.

“I assumed you were a businessman.” My fingers brush the side of the vase, spiking my adrenaline.

“I am… of sorts.” His attention raises to my eyes. “But the stakes in my line of business are life and death. It’s what I signed up for.”

“I didn’t sign up for it.” I lean back, edging closer to the vase.

“I know and for that, I apologize. Nobody wanted you to get involved.”

Memories of this morning return to punish me. How the retort was still warm. How I fired Hugo despite him vowing he hadn’t touched the cremator.

“You were here last night.” I wrap a hand around the neck of the vase, my palm slippery from sweat.

He inclines his head. “I was.”

Two murders in two nights?

My limbs shake. “How long has this been going on?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

He’s right. It doesn’t. One murder is more than enough.

So with all my strength, I swing the vase and aim for his temple.

7

REMY

I wake, my brain slowly coming online while my eyes remain shut.

I’ve got a headache, my skull already throbbing—no doubt from another night with one too many drinks—but at least I’m warm.

Goddamn fucking toasty actually.

I shift, trying to settle farther into the comfortable heat, but the solid surface beneath me becomes evident, the rigidity grinding into my hip.

I snap upright. My head collides with another solid surface. The pain in my brain skyrockets as I flop back down.

“What the—” My words vanish as I take in my surroundings, slowly rising onto my elbows.

I’m in a compact brick enclosure. The glow of tiny flames poke out from the bottom of the walls of my hellish cave. The only opening is a square of space near my feet.

Reality sinks in. The snapshots of Javier’s murder. The funeral home. The alluring Olivia Pelosi.

Fuck.

I’m in her motherfucking cremator.

“Ollie.” I attempt to keep my voice neutral and fail, her name coming out as a lethal warning. “Although I appreciate the ambiance, I’d like to check out of this unscheduled Airbnb.”

She comes into view, hunched over at the opening near my feet, her pale face peering back at me. “I don’t think I can let you do that.”

She doesn’t think?

At least the hesitation works in my favor.

“Well, turning me to ash isn’t a good plan either. What would that achieve apart from a murder charge?”

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