Page 10 of A Murderous Crow
She stared up at me, horrified, and I swallowed hard, knowing just how to turn this situation to my advantage.
Emotionless, I told her, “Stop your screaming.” As soon as it was safe to do so, I traded my gun for my phone and pulled her in so she could hyperventilate in peace against me, and I could get the job done.
I dialed Requiem.
“Yeah,” he answered on the first ring.
“Cleanup on aisle thirteen,” I said, deadpanned.
“Aw, fuck. How bad and where?”
I rattled off the street address and told him, “Get Reaper over here with you.”
“Shit, man, was thatyou?” he asked.
“Aislethirteen,” I reminded him. It was the unluckiest number, so he knew it meant there was a witness, if not witnesses.
“How many?” he asked.
“One, and one,” I told him.
“Shit, right. YO, REAP!” he hollered, and I pulled the phone away from my ear and grimaced. He came back in his normal tone, “On it, be right there.”
“Thank you,” I said, and the line went dead.
“No, it’s okay. This is okay,” Savannah reasoned with herself, staring in horror at the man I’d just killed. “It was self-defense, or defense of others. The cops will come… it’ll be okay,” she said. She looked up at me, beseechingly, with that sexy-ass gleam of true fear in her eyes and silently begged me to make it all better.
The trap was sprung, and Savvy Savannah Davenport was firmly in my grasp.
I cupped her cheek, rubbed a thumb through the muddy tracks along it, and said, “No cops. It’s too late for that now.”
“What?” She sounded as though I’d stolen her breath.
“Corvus!” Requiem boomed from down below.
“When are the homeowners due back?” I demanded before calling down, “Yeah, we’re up here!”
“What?” she echoed. She was starting to stir, starting to realize I wasn’t the savior she thought me to be.
I seized her up tighter against me and snapped at her, “Focus!”
She gasped and went still, nearly boneless in my grasp.
“The-they’re abroad, um, uh, it’s in my calendar on my laptop downstairs.”
“Good.”
“Shitfire, motherfucker.” Requiem stepped up and around the dead body.
We could hear sirens in the distance.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grim said, coming up behind Requiem. “Syn already called in and made a false claim that it came from Forsythe, more toward the other end. Go on and get out of here.”
“Let’s go.” I cajoled Savannah in the direction of the stairs, and she gasped.
“Come on, sweetheart, let us help you,” Grim said carefully, putting on his funeral director's cautious airs. He knew how to handle fragile women.
“Give us the deets as soon as you can,” Requiem said. I nodded and passed Savannah off to Grim, who handed her down past him to who could only be Reaper around the bend in the stairs.
