Page 106 of Mayhem and Minnie

“I don’t know, Marlowe.” She sighs. “This law you have going leaves too much room for interpretation. That divine law? I fear it leaves too little. I wish I could have strong convictions like you, but sometimes…” She takes a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s only a matter of survival.”

I slowly turn toward her. She gives me a tremulous smile.

I stare at her, returning the smile with a devious one of my own.

Yes. It is a matter of survival. Her survival. The more time I spend in her presence, the more indispensable she becomes to me—after all, who would willingly give up her spectacular cooking?

Minnie is small, gentle, soft. She needs me to protect her; to keep her safe and happy. I’ll willingly become both the judge and the executioner if it means keeping men who mean her harm away from her. With her penchant for attracting all sorts of attention, she needs me to serve as a buffer between her and the world. And I will do it.

For her, I’ll continue killing—not that it’s a hardship.

But for her, I’ll even break my rules.

As we get inside the car, I hand her a box of cookies from the trunk.

She opens it, and the moment she spots the contents, her entire face lights up.

My chest, too, lights up.

In an odd way.

An inconceivable way.

I never thought I’d want someone of my own.

But Minnie? She’s the perfect pet. The perfect companion. Sweet, loyal, and entertaining.

My lips pull up in a satisfied smile as I watch the way she’s reacting at those cookies—as if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

And in my mind, a new definition of justice forms—her.

From now on, she’ll be my standard for justice.

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Unfortunately, the cookies don’t help my case that much. We get home, she opens the boxes, eats half the cookies, then bids me goodbye so she can go nap with a full stomach. She even had the gall to lick her lips and pat her full belly as she blithely announced her departure.

I’m left staring at the half-empty boxes. Muttering a string of curses, I grab a cookie and shove it into my mouth.

Soft, crunchy, and chocolatey. Everything I hate.

I eat another one.

It’s all her fault. Making me eat chocolate and sweets when I’ve avoided a sugar addiction my entire life.

I finish the first box and turn to the second, all the while blaming her for this.

If I didn’t need to impress her, I wouldn’t have all these cookies in front of me, beckoning me to eat them. And if I didn’t watch her mere minutes ago eating them with so much gusto, I would not be so tempted right now.

But I am.

And what’s worse is that with every taste, all I can picture is her lips as she bit into the cookie. Her luscious mouth as she chewed on them.

Fuck.

I need to stop.

Getting to my feet, I close the cookie boxes and put them away. Then I stalk up the stairs and go to her room. Planting myself in front of the door, I knock.

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