Page 41 of Savage Hearts
He chuckles. “You won’t be. I got permission to take you out for that joyride.”
“From Declan?”
“Aye.” His grin is so big, it’s nearly blinding. “If anyone knows firsthand how a Keller woman can pester a man to death when she wants something, it’s him.”
Abandoning the plate of wings, I mutter, “Yeah, I bet he does,” and jump up to gather my things.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling out through the big iron gates, and I’m in full interrogation mode. Apparently, freedom makes me chatty.
“So how long have you worked for Declan?”
“A long time.”
“Is it a hard job?”
“Depends on what you mean by hard.”
“Do you have to kill people?”
He sends me a sideways look that meansOf course.
“Oh. Wow.”
I think for a moment about what a bummer it must be to have that in your job description, then let it go because there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m not one to dwell on things that can’t be fixed.
“Is a mobster what you wanted to be when you were growing up? And don’t give me some oblique answer. I want specifics this time.”
I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Oblique?”
“It means indirect.”
“I know what it means, lass. I’m just amused by your choice of words sometimes.”
Offended, I say snippily, “So I’m a word geek. Sue me.”
“Aw, don’t be sore. What’s your favorite word?”
That stumps me. I mull it over for a while as we drive, passing more gigantic estates set back behind locked gates and tall hedges. Bermuda seems to be entirely populated by paranoid rich people.
“Serendipity.”
“Serendipity?”
“Yeah, because of the way it sounds, and also because I like its meaning.”
Spider nods. “Happy accident.”
And here I thought he was just another pretty face.
“Yes, exactly. I also like the word ‘mellifluous’ because when you use it in a sentence, people think you’re super smart. And it’s pretty. Mel-li-flu-ous. It sounds like you’re chanting a spell. That’s what I wanted to be when I was growing up, by the way. A witch. God, it would be so badass to be able to put curses on people, don’t you think? And fly. Except I wouldn’t want to fly around on a broom. A broomstick stuck up your cooch would be crazy uncomfortable.”
Spider has his fist over his mouth. He’s trying to stifle his laughter.
“Hey! I’m being open and honest here! You could at least have the manners to keep a straight face.”
“Witches are supposed to ride their brooms sidesaddle, lass, not with the bloody thing clamped between their thighs.”
