Page 72 of Killer's Obsession
Dread shakes his head. “It’s a rental. I’ve left at least a dozen messages for the landlord, but the asshole never calls me back.”
“Place is bringing down your property value,” Killer says, leaning against the counter. “Yard’s overgrown, paint’s peeling, and that back deck looks like the wood is all rotten. Someone could get hurt walking on that thing.”
“Aside from the deck, all it needs is a little cosmetic work,” Pinky chimes in, her voice a bit quieter than usual. “Some fresh paint, new shutters, a few flowers... it could be adorable.”
“Diamond in the rough, huh?” Killer teases, offering her a tentative smile.
She doesn’t return it, just turns back to unpacking glasses. My heart aches for both of them. For Pinky, who was hurt bysomeone she trusted. For Killer, who lashed out and now has to live with the consequences of that mistake.
“What’s in the boxes?” I ask, trying to ease the tension.
“Tools I need to clean before putting them in the garage,” Dread answers, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Plus some cleaning supplies, light bulbs, and other random shit we realized we needed.”
My brows pull in “Back the bus up. You clean your tools in the kitchen?”
He points to the dishwasher. “In that.”
“What!? You can’t put your dirty, greasy tools in the dishwasher. Are you crazy?” I look over at Pinky, whose mouth is literally hanging open.
Pink shakes her head from side to side. “No way. You only put dishes in the dishwasher, Dread. Hence the name.”
Nodding, I point at her. “What she said.”
“Them chicks on TikTok put vegetables in it.”
I cover my face and groan. “No tools, Dread. Trust me.”
“Fine, geeze. I hose them off outside.”
“You really need a woman. Someone to keep you in line,” Pinky giggles.
Amen to that.
“What’s in that box?”
“Beer,” Killer says, opening the flap and pulling a six-pack out. “Because no house is a home without beer in the fridge.”
“Priorities,” I laugh, shaking my head.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of unpacking, arranging, the occasional argument about where things should go, and then rearranging to suit the victor.
By the time we’re ready to leave, the sun is starting to set, and we’re all exhausted.
“Thanks for the help,” Dread says, walking us to our vehicles. “I owe you guys.”
“Just invite us over for a barbecue once you get that backyard set up,” Killer tells him, slapping him on the back.
“Deal.”
I give Dread a quick hug. “Enjoy your first night in your new place.”
“I will,” he promises, then turns to Pinky. “You need a ride back to the clubhouse?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I drove myself. But thanks.”
We say our goodbyes, and soon, Killer and I are on our way home. I rest my head against his shoulder as he drives.
“You okay, Pet?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling through me.
