Page 113 of Killer Confections
A cruel smirk spreads on her thin features. “I hope she calls the cops on you and yourotin a cell for the rest of your life.”
“Speak to my wife again and I’ll skewer you in my front yard for all to see,” I say ominously. My face must give away just how I feel about her paper-thin threats, because she takes a cautious step back before I grab the door handle. “If I see you leave this property, I’m tossing your corpse into the same compost bin your husband decomposed in.” With that, I slam the door shut and turn to Loxley. “Well, that went better than expected.”
She gives me a wilted look, rubbing a hand over my bicep as I wrap an arm around her and direct her onto the path that leads to our house.
“I didn’t even get her name,” she chuckles, resting her head against me.
“Crystal.”
Short Stack purses her lips. “I expected Cruella…”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Is that the woman with all the dogs?”
“No,” she giggles. “She wants the dogs for fur coats.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “When she can go to a fucking Burlington and buy one?”
She shrugs. “It’s something with fashion.”
I’m honestly horrified. Loxley laughs at my pain before suggesting the damn movie for our first movie night.
We’re laughing as I unlock the door, but the sound of my phone ringing cuts through our moment. When I lift it, Rowan’s name flashes across the screen and Loxley gasps.
“Answer it!” She bounces on her toes, holding onto my arm.
I smile at her excitement before answering. “It was the nuts thing, wasn’t it? You didn’t want me to drag them across your pretty boy face.”
“What?” Loxley chokes.
The line is silent before Rowan’s voice cuts through. He sounds strained—solemn. “I’m coming over. Be there in ten.”
Loxley lets me go, giving me a concerned look as I mumble an okay into the speaker before hanging up.
Chapter Forty
Atlas
“How the fuck is shemissing, Rowan?” I growl loudly as Loxley sobs into my shoulder.
My brother, dressed in his standard white T-shirt and jeans, stands behind the coffee table in our living room. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he looks guilty enough, but something is off about him. Like he isn’t telling me the whole fucking story.
I see it in the way he shifts from foot to foot. The way he doesn’t look Loxley directly in the eyes.
Like hecan’tlook at her without giving something away.
Dale, another assassin on the compound and the owner of the bar, stands beside him. He’s dressed in some ridiculous cargo shorts and a short-sleeve button-down. He’s been out gathering intel about the South syndicate with another team and has yet to announce his news. Seeing the look in his eyes as he takes in my distraught wife, whatever information he’s brought, isn’t pleasant.
“We were at a rest stop,” Rowan sniffs. “I told her not to get out of the car and she did. She ran for the woods and one of the South guys intercepted her before I could find her.”
Loxley whips around to him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shouts. “WHY WOULD SHE RUN AWAY FROM YOU? WHAT DID YOU DO?”
My heart feels like someone is ripping it right out of my chest as I smooth a hand over her back. “Well? Fucking answer her, Rowan.”
My brother’s jaw rolls and I register his reactions as strange. He shrugs. “I tried to tell her about the syndicate before bringing her here and she freaked out.”
Our eyes connect and I see it clear as fucking day.
He’s lying.
