“God, that’s disgusting,” Varsha mutters, and turns her back to me. “Dorran, that’s enough.”
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me covered in a person’s remains before, sis,” I tell her, then spit out a questionable piece of skin before standing and handing Alex his hammer. “Besides, didn’t you say yes to me using the hammer around five minutes ago? Don’t fucking contradict yourself like that.”
She doesn’t answer me, and instead, chooses to flick a middle finger at me.
I smirk. “Real mature, V,” I tell her, then step away from Steven’s body and turn around, only to find Jayce looking coolly at me.
“You happy?” he asks.
“Very,” I answer with a grin.
He rolls his eyes. “I texted Eddie and asked him to send a cleanup team. He said they’ll be here in 20. Let’s head inside so that I can helpyouclean up all the mess you’ve got clinging on yourself.”
“Always the nurturer,” I muse.
He scowls. “Shut it, asshat.”
I raise my hands and admit defeat, because testing Jayce’s temper right now is not something I want to do, especially after the thrill of a successful kill.
Me and the crew make our way to the backdoor in order to sneak into the restaurant’s bathroom, but I pause when I suddenly remember something.
“Guys.”
They stop and turn to look at me.
I wink at them. “Before we go, I’ve got just one little thing that I need to do.”
23.
Mario’sPlaceis lit up like a chandelier house. As the crew and I step out of the bathroom and into the main dining area, I’m met with a crowd of servers bustling around, trays full of food in hand, their expressions sullen, and their footsteps hurried.
The warm lights in the restaurant complement the wooden interior, and the classic Italian music playing in the background really helps set the mood. But the air in here screams money in the most straightforward way possible – which, I guess, is exactly what the owner had in mind for this place while creating it.
As the four of us walk between the tables, I catch the eyes of a few elites who’ve hired me in the past. Their gazes meet mine, but they immediately look away and squirm in their seats as if maintaining eye-contact with me will make me wanna spill all of their sadistic little secrets out loud for those who’ll listen.
It’s baffling how they think they matter to me, when all I care about when I take up a kill is the act itself, and the fuck load of cash that comes along with it. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about these uptight motherfuckers, and unless they’ve messed with me or the people I’m close to, I prefer to stay as far away from them as I possibly can.
Speaking of keeping a distance…
I wish I could distance myself from the nauseating smell of flowers that’s wafting off of me right now. Out of the various types of soaps available in the market to choose from, the people in charge of toiletries atMario’sPlacepicked the one that smells like a fucking funeral bouquet.
And they use the words “lavishly elegant” to describe their services.
Lavish, my ass.
“Four o’clock,” Jayce whispers in my ear.
I blink and look to my right, and find a waiter serving Miranda her meal.
Tenderloin Steak and a glass of sparkling red wine.
Some of the diners give me and the crew judgmental once-overs, clearly thrown off by our choice of clothing. I mean, with Jayce in a flannel, Alex in a letterman hoodie, Varsha in her signature denim, and me wearing a slim-fit vest, we belong in McDonald’s or a burger joint, not in a sophisticated restaurant.
But then again, if we start giving a fuck about what these people think, then the world will come to an end. And so, I ignore their visual inspections and lead the crew over to Miranda’s table. The waiter has left, and she’s about to commence her meal in expected bliss, but stops short when she sees me.
“Miss Adler,” I address her with a casual smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Jayce, Alex, and Varsha occupy the table opposite Miranda’s, while I slide into the chair that’s directly in front of her.
