Page 48 of Like Grim Death: Part One
But who the hell is driving the white Mercedes?
I wait a few more moments as the car backs up, slowly, as if trying to be respectful. It doesn’t peel off, instead cruising down the street, and I swear, it seems to coast when it gets level with me, like the driver could be looking right at me.
I think about the blood on my palm. I tried to get it off, spitting on my hand and rubbing with my opposite thumb, but even though it’s mainly gone, I feel guilty all the same as the car slows.
I don’t move until it turns right, toward the entrance and the guardhouse.
Maverick’s angry steps seem to ricochet on the pavement, but relief unknots itself in my gut. He wasn’t with her.
I feel another wave of guilt for going to Atlas’s. For the taste of mint in the back of my throat. As I imagine his fingers in his mouth, sucking me off him, the shame turns hot in my chest. But I try to shove it aside, ready to sprint toward my security blanket.
Until I hear him speak.
“What the fuck was that?” His voice is low, those words little more than a snarl. He’s pacing, and a second passes before I catch the sweet scent of marijuana.
I lean my head against the stone, the rock cold on my temple as I let my eyes close, listening.
Tell me your secrets, Maverick.
“I don’t care. You could’ve fucking warned me.Thatwas bullshit and you know it.” There’s no arguing with that tone, but I know whoever it is on the other line is probably doing just that. Arguing.
Another pause.
In my head, I can picture him exhaling smoke through his nose, his baby blue eyes livid.
“Threats don’t work on me, Dominus.”
Elijah. Ezra’s dad. I still have trouble sorting everyone out in my mind, not least of all because I’ve yet to meet them in any official capacity. The 6 and their sons seem to want a certain distance. This street is evidence of that.
“I willbury youif you threaten her again.”
Her? Me?My heart skips a beat. I know Dominus is important. I don’t know exactly how important, or what he means to the world, but they have their hands in everything. For Maverick to threaten to kill him…
“Try me. Your wife might’ve gotten out alive last time, but next time, I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Another pause.
Then he laughs. It’s full of humor, shockingly, but I know it’s got an evil intent beneath the sound. “Right,” he says, his voice caustic. “But here’s the thing. I’m starting to think none of this shit is worth it. I’m starting to think it might be best if all these secrets came out from beneath the shadows. And yeah, I know, I know, you’ll kill me before I can talk. But that’s the problem, right? With the internet, it only takes a second to spread a plague. Is that what happened with Samson?”
Samson?Who is he?
Another pause.
What if Maverick left?The thought occurred to me before. I know Sid has begged much of the same from Lucifer.
But they can’t leave.
It’s one of the first things Maverick ever told me about this.
I flex my fingers in my pocket, thinking of the scar on my palm. The smeared blood.
“I’ll see you soon. We can talk about this face-to-face.” A second passes, then he says, his voice full of emotion and I know he isn’t on the phone anymore,“Fuck.”
I take a breath, wanting to go to him. But he never opens up to me. I don’t know how to coax it out of him, all these sins eating him alive. I hear his boots on the concrete, pacing.
I yearn for him. I want to hug him and hold him just like he’s done to me so many times.
I step away from the side of the house, ready to beg him to talk to me. I want to touch him and be there for him in ways maybe he didn’t think I was ready for before. I want to ask him what the hell is happening, and why he was gone.
