Page 108 of The Dearly Departed

Someone was forcing her to be with him, to get married, and I wasn't sure if it was Benjamin or Gerald.

Or someone else entirely … but who? And why?

"Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, clearly hesitating. “I mean, we’re not even engaged yet. Why bother talking about—"

"Hey, creep," Benjamin said, glancing over his shoulder at me, "do you always listen to conversations that have nothing to do with you?"

I frowned, though he couldn’t see it. "Maybe you shouldn’t have started the conversation in front of me if you didn’t want me included.”

"Well, that's your cue, fuckface," Benjamin said, his brow lifting with a snide smirk. "Leave.”

And like a dog, I listened, but not before flashing his back with my raised middle finger. Then, with a shake of my head, I turned away and walked toward the doorway, ready to put this night behind me. But before I could leave altogether, I thought better of it and stopped to glance over my shoulder.

“Thanks again for putting me back together, Nurse,” I said, catching the look of frantic desperation in her eyes as she swept her pleading gaze over me.

She nodded and managed a weak smile as she replied, “You’re welcome.”

What does he do to you? I wanted to ask her. And one day, I would.

One day, I'd demand she tell me, knowing damn well I wouldn't like what I heard. And then I'd kill him, and unlike the others, I'd wear his blood proudly on my hands.

But today wasn't that day.

Because as I entered the foyer, ready to change my clothes and leave Seint Manor, to return to a world that was growing exceedingly more uncomfortable by the second, I bumped into Virginia, and I remembered what she had said before I left the house to execute Marco.

She had wanted to talk.

"Ma’am," I greeted with a nod of my head, swallowing.

“Have you forgotten about our meeting?” she accused.

There was no point in denying it, and I nodded.

“I apologize,” I muttered, hating myself for the compliance. “I’ve had an eventful night.”

With a contemplative sound, she dropped her gaze to my injured leg. "I see. Your poor slacks are ruined," she mentioned, as if it hadn’t already occurred to me. "Come. Gerry keeps spare clothes for you this way, doesn't he?"

"I know where they are," I said, following her toward one of the house's lower-level guest rooms, where Gerald kept the closet stocked with brand-new suits and shoes.

It’d been this way for a year now.

After every job, I was meant to strip, dump my soiled clothes in the trash can in the room, and shower before changing into one of the fresh suits hanging in the closet. It was an accommodation he made to keep me working for him while keeping my brothers from suspecting a thing … and to keep the cops off my ass.

"Let me help," she insisted, opening the door to the bedroom. "You're injured."

“I’m okay,” I said, but my insistence went unheard.

She stepped inside and gestured for me to follow. I looked at her, noticing now the silk robe she wore, tied at the waist. Little was covered of her chest, her cleavage on full display, and if I had to guess, I'd say she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Well?" she said expectantly.

"I don't know what the hell is going on here," I said, continuing to stand in the open doorway without making a move to enter, "but I’ve told you before, I’m not interested."

A look of heated disapproval fell over her face as she cocked her head, scrutiny heavy in her eyes.

"Oh, I apologize if you’ve gotten the wrong idea, but I’m not giving you a choice," she replied as she pulled a pistol from the pocket in her robe.

My heart leaped into my throat as she gestured with the gun into the room.