Page 9 of Touch Her and Die
“No. It will be over some other dead bodies, I’m sure.”
I took another step towards her. “Will you come back?”
Now I was fucking begging. What had she done to me?
“No. Maybe? Well, I’m sure you’ll find me.”
The doors opened, and she backed in.
“Oh and, Parks. There’re a few gifts for you in the fridge. Bye now. Love you.”
Just as I lunged for the doors they closed, and I punched the fucking thing. This was my house and somehow, she had more control over it than I did.
What the fuck did she mean there were gifts for me? I knew she hadn’t exactly brought me a cake. I wasn’t dumb.
I started to race back to my pants. I needed to track her fucking phone. I slid on the tile before grabbing it and I stopped.
I looked for my cell and texted one of my men.
The phone rang, and I answered.
“What do you mean follow her and stay hidden? That woman’s gonna know.”
I nearly broke the fucking thing as I tried to control my temper.
“Just fucking do what you can. You work for me. Not my family. Just know where she goes.”
The line went dead, and I leaned against the wall for a second. I realized the blob on the floor that I’d tripped over was a bag.
Fuck.
I walked to the kitchen and nearly slipped on something wet.
As I opened the fridge, I couldn’t decide what the hell I needed to do. I was caught between laughing and blind rage. Should I scream or hunt her down?
My knuckle cracked as I gripped the fridge door and yanked it open.
Three severed heads smiled back at me. And the worst part? She’d actually put lipstick on them, so they were literally smiling, joker style.
FIVE
halle
“How does one mend a broken heart?”I asked the bartender.I twisted a shot glass between my fingers. Midday drinking should scream desperate.
The bar was extra seedy, and it hadn’t even hit the peak time for the place. I looked around the bar and smiled to myself. Shouldn’t be too hard to find someone to shack up with.
The dress I’d walked out on Parks in didn’t leave much to the imagination. I’d stopped at my place and grabbed some shit kicker boots I’d left behind and a leather jacket. I wasn’t sure if I should have been happy that this whole thing had made our other problem go away. Or maybe I assumed it had. No need to find my body if no one was looking for a killer anymore. Sounded like Parks was the scapegoat.
Still, I didn’t have the capacity for pity right now. Parks had pissed me off. Or maybe, it was that I was pissed off at the whole world right now.
“You know, he did try to save me,” I said to no one.
The bartender eyed me and refilled my glass.
“I don’t think you mend the broken, I think we just medicate,” the bartender said and grabbed a shot for himself. “Bottoms up. It’s on the house sweetie. You look like hell.”
He knew me by looks only. Never asked questions. Never judged me when I went home with a guy who never came back.I, however, knew his name, because that was my business.
