“Doesn’t matter,” Kai says, waving a hand dismissively. “The key to a good cover story isn’t truth; it’s believability. I hacked into his bank records and added a few questionable transactions—online poker, dodgy loan repayments. Then I set his phone to ping near a bus station on its way out of town before it went dark. It’ll look like he ran off when things got too hot.”
I blink at him. “When did you have time to do this?”
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you,” he says with a mock bow, a rare moment of playfulness. “Now, eat your toast and try not to look guilty. You’re supposed to be the devastated girlfriend.”
“Got it,” I mutter, though I can’t help but wonder just how many other times Kai has pulled off something like this.
By the time we get to Carina’s it's a little after midday, the sun is high in the sky, and I’m sweating like a pig.Ironic.
I had to fight for space against the massive carpet taking up room in Kai’s car. I’m not sure when he even had time to buy it, let alone the ability to put it in the car all before I woke up.Did he even go to sleep?
The front door opens before we have a chance to knock.
Nate stands on the other side grinning. “There’s our little murderer.”Kill me now.“Come in, I should warn you though, Cupcake is a little feral today.”
As he says it a blond cockapoo puppy, with adorable ringlet curls, comes sprinting towards us with Carina hot on its heels. She wrestles the little thing into her arms before pulling me into a hug.
Kai and I share a bemused look before heading inside. I’vebeen to their place a few times over the past year, so I make myself comfortable on their sofa. They had a different house when I first got reacquainted with Carina but sold it not long after and now, they live in a two-bedroom house—still in Kensington, the rich fuckers—that has a quirky mix of both their personalities.
The sofas are cream—like my singular one—but are scattered with cushions in various shades of pink. The walls are painted in neutral grey, something that I know was Nate’s doing.
They have various pieces of abstract art on the walls. They're like—proper functioning adults. Unlike me who thinks that my one photo frame is doing enough to make my flat homey—it’s just the frame with the stock image that came with it still inside.
Carina comes to sit next to me, and Cupcake immediately wiggles out of her arms and settles in my lap. Kai and Nate sit opposite us in the armchairs. Two sofas and two armchairs!Where did I go wrong?
No one speaks for a moment until I break the silence. “So… anyone want to tell me about their spare time hobbies that require Kai here to ‘clean’ things?”
The three of them exchange a glance—silent communication passing between them—before Carina takes the lead. “Look, if I tell you about this it has to stay in this room.” She waits for me to nod before continuing. “Nate and I take down evil men—”
“—and women,” Nate interjects smoothly. “We’re equal-opportunity justice dealers.”
Carina shoots him a glare before continuing. “As I was saying, we take down evil people, and Kai here cleans up the mess. Makes it all pretty, like we were never there.”
“The fuck?”
“That’s how we met actually,” Nate says with a wistful smile as if he’s remembering the exact moment. “There I was, ready to kill some paedo, and this pink princess stole him from under me.”
I study each of them with my eyes, trying to work out if they’re fucking with me but they’re dead serious.
“So… you’re murderers?”
“We prefer the term artists. But yes, you could say that,” Nate says with a smug expression.
“We’re only telling you this because I knew you hadquestions.” Carina places her hand over mine.
This is probably around about the time for me to start freaking out. I mean… my best friend and her boyfriend just admitted to murdering people. I should be running out of here screaming.
But I don’t feel unsafe. I don’t think they kill everyone. Maybe it’s naive of me but I get the feeling they’re more like vigilante’s than straight up serial killers.
“Alright. Cool. Cool. Cool.”
“What happened with Jake, Tess?” Carina asks, changing the subject and reminding me of my own killer status.
“It was kill or be killed,” I shrug like it’s no big deal.