Page 3 of Graves

“Yes,” Dominic says. “The Graves brothers.”

Understanding passes across his face as he tries to run. Dominic overpowers him immediately and slams him back against the bed.

“P-please. It wasn’t personal. I needed the money. A cop came by a few months ago, said if I could ever pass over useful information that I’d be taken care of. I have a sick mom, I was desperate!”

What the fuck?

Dominic and I share a look. That’s not fucking good. Why the hell are cops snooping around our front? We are nothing but an upstanding business to the naked eye. It’s been a useful mechanic shop to launder our money through over the years and we’ve never so much as sneezed out of line there. So what the hell is going on?

“What was the cop’s name?” Dominic asks.

“Sanderson. U-uh…James. Jimmy, I think. Yeah, Jimmy Sanderson.”

I nod at that, tucking away that name for later.

“Thank you. That’s very helpful,” Dominic says.

Arnold exhales in relief, and I can’t hold in my laughter at the fucking idiot. I step up beside my brother, forcing him to release the sad sack of shit on the bed, my gloved hand gripping his neck tightly as I pull out the syringe from my pocket, biting off the cap before spitting it into Dominic’s waiting hand.

Arnold begins to thrash under my hold, but it’s almost too easy to keep the man down. I sink the needle right into his heart, his eyes going wide as I allow my smirk to bleed through in my voice.

“Night, night.”

I push the extremely high levels of potassium in, forcing it directly into his heart and causing his entire body to tighten almost immediately. A little bit of potassium for the average person is no big deal. A good amount of potassium for the average person can be deadly. A lot of potassium directly injected into the heart of someone with a pre-existing heart condition is immediately lethal and just the kind of clean killwe need today.

It will present as a heart attack, and by the time they beat down the door, declare him dead, and get a tox screen, the potassium will be out of his system.

Dominic hands me the syringe cap back, and I place it on the needle before sliding it back into my pocket as we make our way out of the house. My brother glances at his watch as we get to his car.

“With seventeen seconds to spare before the police are notified of the outage.”

“Yippee, what do I win?”

“Your freedom,” he says dryly as he slips into the driver’s seat while I sit in the passenger’s seat. We are gone in seconds, and once we are a few blocks down the road, Dominic does something on his phone, assumingly turning the street cameras back on. I wish I had power at the touch of my fingertips like that.

He weaves in and out of the streets of Seattle with ease as he takes a left toward my warehouse in town. I could have gotten an apartment or a house if I wanted, but this place has a loft upstairs, a place for me to park my car inside, and a hidden room where I have all my toys.

Dominic parks the car outside the door, keeping the car locked as he takes off his mask. Looking at a carbon copy of yourself should be strange, that is if I hadn’t lived with it for the last thirty-one years. We have the same black hair, the same six foot five build, the same sharp chin, and the same dimples when we smile. The only difference is that I have blue eyes,while Dominic has brown.

In identical twins, the odds of having different eye colors are 0.1 percent. Probably the same chance that that set of twins would grow up to be full-fledged mercenaries. Or the same chance that we would turn out semi-normal given our background. Though I think my proclivity for bloodlust and his for overpowering control shot those chances in the face.

“Where were you?” Dominic asks.

I don’t pretend to act stupid because he’s too smart for that, but I’ll also never tell him about my angel. She’s too precious for my brother to lay eyes on. She’s too precious for me to have laid eyes on her, but it’s too late for that.

He clearly understands I won’t be giving him any information, which only confuses him more. His brows furrow as he turns his head to the side.

“What is going on with you? Ever since that night in the alley, you’ve been…off.”

“Worry about who this cop is and why he is looking into a businessyouguaranteed would be the perfect front, brother.”

His eyes narrow on me.

“It is perfect. There is no way he was telling the truth. Cops don’t just show up to places and try to bribe the manager to give them intel. For all a cop would know, he would be the owner of the place. He was lying.”

I nod. “Well, I trust you to handle it then.”

“Always do,” he mutters.

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