AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Well, shit. I should have thought of a believable backstory before I started poking holes in his. Don’t throw stones from glass houses. That’s what my mother always said, and I never listened. Now my glass house is about to come down around me.
“I don’t like to shit where I sleep,” I say. “I do most of my work on the West Coast, then fly back to New York for my day job. I told you, I used to fly a lot.”
I release a silent sigh of relief when he seems to buy my half-baked lie.
“Someone witnessed one of my crimes,” he shrugs and starts walking again. “When the cops got wind of my accent, they dubbed me the Crumpet Killer. I can only assume they meant to embarrass me, but I don’t care what they call me.”
How odd. I have several contacts in police stations across the country, but I’ve never heard of this guy. Then again, I haven’t heard of most of these people, and some of them are using their genuine pseudonyms. That’s what sets us apart, I suppose. We fly so far beneath the radar that we can’t get caught, but some fly low enough to avoid any sort of notoriety as well.
“And your brother?” I ask. “Who is he?”
“Ah, he’s the Chaos Killer, though you need to keep that between us.” Ezra taps the side of his nose twice. “He’s never revealed his identity in all the years we’ve made the trip. Everyone just knows him as Bennett.”
I stuff that little tidbit away for later. If Ezra chooses to get out of line and piss me off, I have no problem pulling it out and exposing his family.
We find ourselves back at the pavilion again. Cat is still talking to the man with the mullet, and they’ve been joined by the old German guy. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh, which is more than he’s stifling in that tiny Speedo. His balls are three times the size of his gherkin, so I imagine his motive for killing is related to sexual frustration. I doubt women (or men) are beating down his door to experience that.
“So nice of you to join us,” the German says as we approach the three of them. “Your little friend was just telling us about your proficiency with a blade. I’m interested to hear more.”
Ezra steps forward and holds out his hands. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later, Grim. For now, she probably wants to get back to her villa so she can shower off the trip.”
Mullet guy laughs and tips more beer into his mouth. “Looks to me like she just wants to get back to the villa so she can make a sandwich. Since when do?—”
A fist to the mouth interrupts whatever he planned to say next. Ezra grips the back of the man’s mullet and raises him into the air.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to say nothing at all if you can’t say anything nice?” Ezra asks. He sets the man on his feet and pats his swelling cheek. “If she didn’t, I’m telling you now. As far as the women on this island are concerned, keep your comments to yourself.”
I’m too stunned to speak, so I just stand there until Ezra takes my arm and begins leading me toward the villas. Cat jumps to her feet and hurries to catch up, but I don’t miss the hate-filled glare she tosses toward the asshole behind us.
“I really don’t care what people think of my body, so that was unnecessary,” I say as I shuffle along beside Ezra. “I like the way I look, and you aren’t responsible for defending my honor.”
Ezra stops and turns to face me, his teeth gritted and his eyes filled with malice. “No one will talk down to you in my presence. I’ve made my stance clear, and I don’t foresee it being a problem going forward, but this will be the outcome every time if it does.” He turns to Cat. “Take her to her villa, and both of you stay inside until the evening meal at the mansion. My brother and I will escort you there.”
He rushes back toward the pavilion before I can argue. This is shaping up to be the longest five days of my life.
Chapter Twelve
Ezra
As I prepare for dinner, I’ve swapped my beachy attire for something a little classier. I roll down the purple collar, folding it at the crisp seam. As I dress, I feel dapper as hell, which is why I prefer suits to t-shirts and jeans. Also, despite my earlier setback, I’ve renewed my devotion to wooing Kindra. The whole murdering-her-brother conundrum will sort itself.
Eventually.
A knock on my bedroom door tells me that Bennett has let himself in.
“What’s taking so long?” he yells through the flimsy wood separating us.
“I’ll be out in a jiffy, Bennett.”
“Yeah, yeah. You better not be dressed like a?—”
I cut him off when I whip open the door dressed precisely the way he hoped I wasn’t. He’s in Hawaiian bathing shorts and a sleeveless black shirt. We are not the same.
“You look like an advertisement for a midlife crisis.”
“Yeah? You look like a James Bond villain.”
“That good, eh?”
