Page 50 of Murder & Mayhem

Oliver’s quizzical gaze turns to me while Cain’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Don’t you usually carve an R into them and leave them in plain sight?” Oliver questions.

“Yeah, if it’s someone from Black Creek,” I explain easily. “But these guys come from money. They aren’t from here, so I can’t make them look like Reaper killings.”

“Hold up,” Cain says, making me pause mid-step just as I was about to pat down the dead body closest to me. “The gang members you kill are only some of the Reaper’s victims?”

“Yup,” I say casually, popping thepas I bend down to check the pockets of the dead guy closest to me. “It might be hard for you to believe, but I actually don’t give a shit about the no-brain gangsters of this town.”

I fish out his wallet and phone, setting them to one side before moving on to the other body at Cain’s feet. “So why do it then?”

His question surprises me, and I pause, staring up at him. “Seriously? Tonight didn’t make that obvious?”

His eyes dart around the room before coming back to me. “It’s a sexual assault thing?”

Eh, close enough, I guess.

“It’s an abusive thing.” His eyebrows lift.

“So Python…”

I spear him with a deadpan look. “He abused my friend for years and was starting to take his issues out on their daughter, too. He needed to be stopped.”

“You’re like some sort of vigilante,” Oliver remarks.

A humorless laugh escapes me. “I dunno about that. I do what I can for those who can’t pay, but there are plenty of well-to-do housewives out there sick of taking shit from their abusive husbands and willing to pay whatever it costs to get rid of them.”

Neither of them says anything, most likely processing everything I’ve said, while I empty the pockets of the other two shitstains and chuck their meager contents into the pile. Standing to my full height, I frown down at the three of them, debating what to do. They’ve been shot assassin style, so that works in my favor, but I’ve toyed with them enough to leave incriminating evidence. I usually make killings like this as clinical as possible, but I saw red when I watched those recordings and I allowed my sadistic side to run the show instead of using sense and logic.

“Okay… What now?” Cain questions.

“I’m still working that out.”

“Babe, we can take care of this,” Oliver says, stepping in to me. His chest is flush against my back, and when I tilt my head back to look up at him, he’s fixing Cain with a look, the two of them having some sort of silent conversation.

“Yeah,” Cain agrees after a moment.

“It needs to look like a gang killing, or a happy accident,” I reiterate.

Oliver chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Trouble. Our guys can absolutely make that happen. Don’t even worry about it.” He glances down at me, holding my gaze as his hand comes up to rest on my waist, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

I think it over for a second before giving him my consent. He places a kiss along my hairline before moving to the other side of the room to place a call. Cain stands and watches me the entire time he’s gone—which can’t have been more than a minute or two. I can feel his eyes roaming over my skin as though he’s trying to commit every part of me to memory.

“How did all of this start?” he eventually asks as Oliver returns, taking up his place at my back once again. His body heat bolsters me, and I finally turn my head to meet Cain’s inquisitive gaze.

“I told you my mom was murdered,” I begin, unsure whether or not he shared any of my history with Oliver. “And that I killed her murderer.” Oliver doesn’t tense behind me, but his hand does slide around to rest on my abdomen. My eyes stay focused on Cain, his own gaze unwavering. He nods, confirming he remembers our conversation, and I shrug. “That’s how it started. After she died, Luc and I ended up on the streets, in and out of homeless and women’s shelters. I saw and experienced firsthand so many cases of men taking—or trying to take—what they thought they deserved. It pissed me off. Infuriated me.” I drop my gaze, unable to look him in the eye as I confess the next bit. “I couldn’t save my mom, but Icouldsave these other women who weren’t able to stand up for themselves.”

Oliver’s other hand slides up my throat until he reaches my jaw. He turns my face toward him, his lips capturing mine. I melt into him. “You’re so incredibly strong,” he murmurs, placing another chaste kiss on my lips. “So selfless.” Kiss. “So badass.” Kiss. “A force to be fucking reckoned with.”

His phone goes off in his pocket and he pulls it out, kissing me a final time before moving away to answer it. Without him pressed up against me, I feel vulnerable, exposed, and I flick my gaze up to Cain, trying to read him through my eyelashes. He’s still watching me, and I can’t decipher the myriad of emotions on his face.

I step forward, intending to go through the wallets I pilfered—it’s not like a dead guy needs cash—when Cain’s hand reaches out, and he touches my wrist, halting me. “Oliver’s right,” he says in a quiet voice. “Most people would have turned a blind eye, but not you.”

Lifting my head from where his fingers are still pressed against my wrist, I meet his beautiful green eyes. “Most people wouldn’t take on a whole criminal organization to avenge their sister, but you are.”

He shakes his head. “That’s as much for me as it is for Evie… I-I need to do it.”

Nodding, I know exactly what he means. “Ineedto do this too. It’s a part of who I am. It’s the darkest, sickest part of me born from all the violence and depravity I’ve been exposed to. If it weren’t for the fact I found an excusable cause, I’d probably be classified as a serial killer.”

I honestly wasn’t sure how he’d react, but what I didn’t expect was for him to close the distance between us and fuse his lips to mine, stealing my breath as my lips part, granting his tongue access as he delves into my mouth.

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