Page 13 of X's and O's
But scared.
I didn’t like that.
I cleared my throat and plucked a white tissue fromthe box on the shelf, waving it around where she could see it. “White flag! I promise, we aren’t going to hurt you. Can you stop throwing things at me so I can come out and talk?”
“Stay back!” Her blue eyes scanned the kitchen, clearly searching for something to protect herself with, but there was nothing left.
I dared to take a step out, holding up both hands, now empty of my knife, of course.
Because it was still stabbed into Paul’s gut. I needed to make sure I got that back before we left. It was my favorite. He’d probably mucked it up with his lactose-intolerant entrails.
Annoying.
“I’m X.” I pointed at Scythe. “That’s Scythe. Or Vincent, depending on the day.” I peered at him. “You still Scythe right now? I can never tell, and I don’t want to introduce you wrong. You two really need name badges.”
“Still Scythe,” he practically drawled, settling in on a couch and crossing one ankle over his knee, like it was completely normal to just be hanging out in a living room with a dead guy on the floor. He looked over at the woman and added, “Split personality.”
Like that explained everything she needed to know about him.
Her gaze darted back and forth between us. But she said nothing, her body tense.
“And your name is…?” I prompted.
A tremble moved through her. “Why do you want to know?”
That was easy. I grinned. “So I know what name to write on our marriage certificate.”
She took a step to the side, seeming more scared than ever.
Huh. Not the reaction I was expecting. And also a bit insulting. Still, it wouldn’t deter me. “Just your first name then? Pretty please?”
I desperately wanted to know it, and I didn’t even really know why. It would be something pretty. Like Isabel. Or Aimee.
Her voice shook. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone what I saw here. I don’t want to die.”
“We’re not going to kill you.” Scythe gestured to the murder that had already happened. “We’ve already had our fill tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit. I really need to get home. The kids need baths. I’ve already probably missed dinner.”
He stood just as the front door opened and Grayson slipped inside. He pointed at Scythe. “Sit.”
Scythe sat with a scowl and a roll of his dark eyes. “The fun police is here. Oh, goody.”
Grayson took one glimpse of the blood on the floor, the woman in the kitchen, and groaned. “Seriously, guys?”
Scythe threw me in the deep end. “Was all him. I’m nothing but an innocent bystander.” He shrugged. “At least this time.”
“Traitor,” I muttered.
Scythe sniggered.
Gray turned to me, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation.
I flipped my scowl into a grin. “You look nice! All dressed up. Sharp!”
He wasn’t having any of my charm. “And you look like you broke our number one rule.”
Ugh. So many rules to keep track of! He really was the fun po-po. I held up a hand. “Hold up. Let’s not get carried away. Rule number one. Only kill from pre-approved targets on the Murder Squad list.” I pointed at my kill. “Paul Jeddersen. Rapist and murderer. Number twenty-seven on the list. Goneskies.”
Grayson didn’t pat me on the back, nor did he shower me in the glowing praise I deserved for such fine work. “Fine. What’s rule two then?”
