Page 52 of Demons in My Bed
She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. “If you think that’s the most fucked-up thing I’ve seen this week, then you don’t know the city we live in, bossman.”
“Touché.” I left her at her station and made a beeline for my office. I’d never admit it to Hawthorne or Briar, but I was glad I had them. They were both part of the gang, but they didn’t do anything illegal—they just did hair and ran the shop for me.
Hawthorne had been with me pretty much from the start. I’d liked him straightaway; his sense of fashion was very mid-century and I appreciated a man who took his appearance seriously. He’d arrived with no barber training, so I’d taught him everything I knew. He took to it like he’d done it in a past life.
Briar, on the other hand, had been a fucking disaster when she first came into my life. No dad to speak of, just a crackhead mother who’d lost custody of her when she was thirteen. Being the force that she was, Briar became a runaway after her first foster home experience ended with her stabbing the foster dad in the cock with a stick. As in, an actual fallen stick from the trees surrounding them in the woods where he’d planned to do very bad things to her.
Little fighter had taken off, hopped on a ferry, and ended up here in Port Black. I found her one very cold morning lying on the front step of the shop, looking like a skeleton. I wasn’t intending on letting her in, but when I’d stepped over her to open the door and she’d called me a heartless comb=over-having motherfucker, it made me pause. Even I had to admit that was one hell of an insult, especially for a child.
Long story short, she’d ended up apprenticing beneath Hawthorne and me. The kid was a natural. Now, three years later, I was more than a little protective over the little fireball. Hawthorne too. Loyal, hard-working, dependable employees were something I tried to hold onto.
My body relaxed slightly upon entering my domain. The mahogany bookshelves and large desk gave off a natural wood aroma, and the large, chesterfield sofa added that hint of leather. The industrial vibe carried from the shop to my office with the exposed pipes and colors, but there was just something about being able to come in here and relax.
The main difference here was the smell, which wasn’t as strong as usual today, so I quickly lit one of my custom-made candles I ordered from the shop down the street. Blood orange and cedar. I suddenly felt like I could breathe easier as the scent permeated my office, reminding me of things that I should’ve let go a long time ago. Unfortunately for me, I’d learned that I was a masochist.
Sighing, I sat at my desk and stared at the envelope. The handwriting didn’t look familiar. I reached for my letter opener, which had a crystal demon on the handle, a gift from someone years ago.
The card inside was plain white. Nothing on the front or back to give any clues. I took a breath and opened it. The writing looked like chicken scratch, almost making my skin crawl. Had a child sent this shit? No grown being would write that poorly.
Then I scanned the one sentence, and my skin really did crawl.
“I know things nobody else knows…”
My eyes scanned that sentence back and forth, back and forth, probably a hundred times.Fuck. There’s no way anyone knows. It’s impossible. We’ve been so careful. Why now?
What the fuck did this mean, and what was with the fucking donuts?
Leaning back in my chair, I fired up my computer, quickly accessing the security cameras we had set up, hoping to catch a glimpse of this sneaky asshole. I rewound the footage and sped it up, freezing it at five-thirty-six this morning. Someone dressed in all black—it was impossible to tell anything concrete about their build—had left the box, but they were wearing a ski mask, hiding their face and hair. Of course.
My eyes bounced around the frame, looking to see if anyone else was waiting in the background, when suddenly the person got spooked by something and scrambled back, like they’d seen something truly terrifying.
What the fuck did you see?
I backed up the footage and played it again in real time. The space to the right of the door seemed to shimmer, like looking through leaking gas.What the hell is that?
My phone rang, breaking my focus. Ashland’s picture popped up, which was a selfie he’d taken of himself blowing a kiss. Fucker was always changing his contact photo, but I was thankful that this time it wasn’t his ass or nipple or his damn dick.
Rolling my eyes, I connected the call and leaned back in my chair. “What?”
“Is that any way to greet your best friend?”
“Sometimes you really fucking annoy me, Ace.”
Shit.The ensuing silence told me he’d heard my slip-up.
“Sorry, brother. Old habits and all.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Just make sure it doesn’t happen where anyone else could hear.′
“You really think he doesn’t know? Ash... Come on, man.”
“Listen, we’ll be heading home soon. Did you get a chance to look through anything yet?”
I didn’t like the way he’d sidestepped my question, but it wasn’t like he was suddenly going to enjoy talking about his family. I had to respect that.
I pulled up a new screen on my monitor and gave it a quick scan. “Nothing that stands out, but I’ll look closer, don’t worry. Does she suspect anything?”
“Nah, but it really doesn’t seem like she uses her phone much. That’s weird, isn’t it? The girls at the club can’t put the fucking things down.”
