Page 14 of Slaughtered Firefly
“One last question before we go, Do you often make habit to fuck objects that shouldn’t be fucked?” Detective Jones asked, his voice full of curiosity.
“That’s inappropriate detective.” Scott’s stony gaze bore into the side of my head.
“Only on Tuesdays.” I didn’t even blink as the words left my lips.
“Goodbye detectives,” Scott’s tone was final as he held the door open for them, his knuckles white.
I watched the slightest smile bleed onto the detective’s face as they turned and left.
“Mia.” Scott turned towards me, letting loose the anger tone.
“Scott.” I smiled, un-phased.
“How’s the uncle?” I quickly questioned trying to change the subject.
“Paraplegic but you knew this, why do you insist on making things hard?” He shook his head, pulling the visitor chair next to the bed rails.
“I get bored easily,” I simply looked at him. It was true to a degree but not entirely true.
“Your boredom just happened to be—” he glanced down at the crime scene photos in his folder and looked up once again, finishing, “mounting men with deer antlers and paintingBambiin guts on the walls?” He looked sickly green as one image depicting the cum shots next to the dead man.
“Along with pleasure riding a K-bar dripped in blood.” I added a bit too proudly. God, I was fucked up.
“What day is it?” I asked in redirecting the conversation.
“It’s Monday the thirtieth, you slept for three days,” His response was full of irritation.
“Darn I missed baking night” I blew out a short laugh.
“What’s so important about baking? You realize you could be arrested right?” His voice rose an octave, showing just how passionate he was about my freedom.
That silly boy was still trying to play hero after all these years; it warmed my heart, even if I couldn’t admit it.
“It’s the night the kid and nanny spend all evening baking sweets and watching cartoons.” I sighed.
I missed watching their routine; it was calming seeing them go on through life despite the cruel world around them. The girl was making successful progress in spelling and mathematics, not that her mother cared to cheer her on, but the nanny—she was the genuine hero, always encouraging and studying with her—it was a simple thing that made my day. I smiled bitterly.
“What are you even talking about?” He snapped towards me, moodier than before.
“Nothing, shouldn’t you be doing lawyer stuff anyways?” I bit out coldly.
“You think I just so happened to come here of my own accord? I wasn’t even in the country when I got the call.” His tone was bittersweet, and he wasn’t looking me in the eye.
“But you came.” I kept my mouth shut, not wishing to sour things so quickly.
I knew he wasn’t in the country; he was overseas with his newest girlfriend, Paris, last I heard, with plans to propose once they hit Spain. I wasn’t remorseful that he was here with me instead of her. I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to make her disappear. What was that saying? I kissed it, so it’s mine? I’ll always know what he’s up to, and I’ll be damned if he thinks he can go around marrying someone just so he gets laid.
He was a devoted Christian or Catholic or whatever, claiming that he wouldn’t have sex unless he was married. It was hypocritical really, considering that was far from the truth eight years ago, but then how could I blame him? It was probably the best sex of his life. Maybe that was why he was so uptight, always hard, unable to do anything about it.
“Let’s see, either come back here and deal with you and get my ass kicked in the process or deal with my family and be beaten half to death for not being here. I think you take the cake.” He gritted out. Clearly, he regretted his lot in life.
“Who called you?” I demanded, tired of the nice little chat we were having.
“The same person who always called when your people are in trouble,” He shrugged.
My people,not ‘our people.’ Scott was ashamed to admit that the mafia was ingrained in his blood. It was my people, the syndicates, aka syns, that used his service the most, but he knew there were just as many obsidians, aka blacks, in his clientele. I sighed softly, fiddling with the handcuff on my wrist. Of course, he didn’t know who pulled his strings. It was probably orders from the chain of command and some lackey charged with making the call. Obsidian never liked to get their hands dirty.
“You think they’ll take these off soon? I’m not a flight risk.” My tone bored once again as I tested the pull of the cuff’s chain.
