Page 42 of Blood & Kisses

“Pig?” I’m taken aback. “He’s de…” I stop myself, dangerously close to stating the pig is dead. Still, I was thinking of Gavin, the ex-cop who wormed his slimy way into my family’s life, becoming a business partner with my brother and his sister in a relationship with my brother. But I quickly realized Z was talking about Gabe, the detective. “No, he’s nice.”

She shoots me a mischievous look. “I’m sure he is…just call me Gabe and his son. That should be a fun way to remove those cobwebs between your legs. Anyway, what’s been going on with Blake? I haven’t seen much of him lately. I figured he must have some big jobs on.”

“I assure you the cobwebs have most certainly been swept away,” I clarify, thinking about the numerous times I’ve had sex with Blake and Cormac in various places. “He comes over for dinner sometimes. Did you know Blake is childhood friends with Cormac, the detective’s son?”

“Small world,” she grunts, placing a cigarette between her lips without lighting it because it’s a fire hazard with the back loaded in flammable liquids. But going by the smell in the cab, she’s probably smoked on the way over with the window down, blowing smoke out.

“Yeah, I know.” I suspect that’s not a coincidence, but I have no evidence of the contrary, so it could be a weird synchronicity.

We fall silent as Z drives along the road that curves around the lake, but I bet she’s thinking about why Blake, the thief, would hang out in the detective’s house. She doesn’t say it aloud, and I can’t tell her anymore to protect my bestie.

“This is kinda early for a killing session,” I say as I gaze out at the lake as the sun drops below the horizon and stains the lake orange and pink.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I got the text. I remember another time before you moved back to Torres when we were summoned in the early evening. Lorette couldn’t make it because she started a new job, so I had to clean it up myself. So, I was pleased you moved back here so I could blackmail you to work with me,” she snorts at her joke.

“Pfft, blackmail? Nah. I needed the money,” I chuckle, even though driving nearer to the location makes me anxious.

It’s imperative that we never squeal about these clean-up sessions, as it’s far too risky for us. One day, we’ll meet Smiler head-on. Maybe we have already and haven’t noticed, but there’s a distinct vibe that we’re being watched while we’re at the house in the basement. And that’s nothing to be alarmed about since we’re being paid to do a job, and Smiler’s lackeys wait in the black SUV for us to show, then check our work before Z is paid. But it goes a little deeper than that for me. The single rose stem left in the kitchen, and they could trace us and track Z’s van, follow me to my apartment, and I would not know it was them because I hadn’t seen them in the flesh before.

“Contract killer money is sweeter,” her attempt at satire, “and goes further. A ten dollar of dirty money is like a hundred dollars of normal money.”

“If only my landlord agreed,” I say, enjoying the lighthearted conversation before we get to the heavy part – the blood and guts or whatever else has been gutted out of the poor man or men that were butchered.

We fall silent again as Z turns into the suburb of the rundown house where many of the murders take place as my apprehension grows. We’re probably being followed right now, although there’s no sign of the shiny, black SUV anywhere.

When Z turns down the street of decrepit houses, close to falling down, lines in evergreen trees and overgrown gardens spewing out from most properties, the light is dim, and the temperature has dropped.

Z exhales in a gush as if to offload the weight of the moment, “Right, you know the routine.”

Yep. First, we cover our bodies in PPE gear to avoid blood splatter, then carry the cleaning products inside. But something is missing, and it’s really bothering me.

“Z, the black SUV is normally here,” I point out, and she swivels her head around to the place on the road where the vehicle often parks.

“Maybe they got held up,” she tries to find a reason to justify their absence, but I can tell it bothers her too.

“The SUV is always here,” I murmur under my breath as Z opens the back of the van and finds the packets of PPE gear.

“Maybe they had someone else to kill,” she cracks a joke, but I can’t find it in myself to laugh.

We had already placed ourselves in great danger by doing this job, and I viewed the men in the SUV as our watchers and protectors. Even though I’ve never met them, being out here alone makes us extremely vulnerable.

“Maybe,” I reply, not wanting to turn this into a big deal, even though my instincts are screaming at me not to go into the house until the SUV arrives. “But to make sure, we should stay out here until Smiler’s men are here.”

She squirms, obviously conflicted, and hands me a fresh PPE packet to open. “I don’t know, Rae. They’re not people you want to piss off.”

“I know, but…” I have no argument apart from gut instincts to justify why I don’t want to go in there.

“Look, if it doesn’t feel right, you stay here,” she decides, ripping the PPE packet and unraveling the plastic gear.

“No, it’s fine,” I feel guilty about abandoning her and starting to rip open the packet. “I’ll come with you.”

Something catches Z’s eye past my shoulder, down the road. “Finally, they’re here,” she points, and I sigh in relief, which seems silly considering that they’re contract killers or whatever. “Are we good now?”

“Yes,” I smile, climbing into the PPE and following Z up the drive to the front of the house made of chipping paint and bora-filled wood. Usually, I avoid looking at the black SUV directly, but on this strange evening, I glance back, and that feeling of dread refuses to fade.

The SUV doesn’t park in its usual place; instead, it keeps on the same side of the road as us. Something about the SUV model seems different than normal. If I mention it to Z, she’ll think I’m being paranoid, so I remain quiet as she unlocks the house door.

22

---