It takes me a second too long to realize she's referring to the dead guy, but once I do, I shake my head and sigh. "I saw your pants. Before I torched them."
Cora tugs her top lip between her teeth and draws in a breath. "He was going to rape me."
I reach across the counter but don't touch her; I just leave my hand there and hope she knows I mean no harm. "You don't have to justify what you did to him. And you sure as hell don't have to feel bad about it. He deserves to rot in hell."
"When it first happened, I thought I would feel bad once my shock started to fade...but instead I feel bad aboutnotfeeling bad. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah." There are countless times when I fully understand that what I did was wrong, yet I have no remorse or guilt for having done it. I guess that's what separates me from others, and maybe it's why I'm so drawn to Cora, because in a way, I somehow knew we shared that similarity. A fucked up one. But as I watch her, the golden angel sitting in my presence, it's hard to imagine that she's fucked up at all. And maybethat'sthe real connection, that I see something in her that lives within me, only it's not this ugly terrible thing I once thought it was. In me, I thought it was a weakness, but in her, it radiates strength.
Cora reaches for her coffee this time. "I hated him way before today, you know?"
"Joshua?" I hate even saying his name.
"Yeah. He's a fucking prick. Well, he was, before I stabbed him to death." Her eyes widen briefly as she takes a drink of her coffee. "So crazy. I fucking stabbed a guy to death." She places the mug on the counter. "I ended a guy's life."
"You sure did." And damn did she do it well. She got him in enough vital places that there was no way he would survive. Whether she did that on purpose or accident, the fact remains, she fucked him up well. A familiar sense of pride washes over me.
"I wonder who's going take his place?" Cora glances over at me like I might have the answer, but I don't, not yet anyway. I'd be willing to figure it out for her, if that's what she wanted.
"I can look into it, if you'd like?"
"Nah." She shrugs. "Can't be worse than Joshua. Plus, now that I have you in my life, I can kill him if he sucks, right?" Cora grins and I know she's joking but I wish she knew I'd do it if that's what it took to keep her happy and safe.
Although, now that Miller bought the building, I can't imagine he'd employ anyone that would pose a threat to her once he's in possession and control.
It hasn't been made public knowledge yet, but after a little digging, I found out that Mr. Wellerton had sold the property to Miller. I can't imagine the chunk of change Miller paid to purchase it was small, but the way Miller threw me that money tonight without question, there's no telling how loaded he really is.
"I'm kidding," Cora adds when I don't follow her up.
"I'd hide your dead bodies whenever you needed me to." I wink at her and drink some of my water to distract me from staring at her. "You getting tired?"
"Nope." She swivels forward and extends to reach for the boxes of dessert, flipping both of them open. "Ah man, how am I supposed to choose between them?"
"Easy. Have one of each. Treat it like how you do your drinks."
"Hmm." Cora presses her index finger to her lips. "Yeah. Good idea." She does exactly that and then passes the boxes toward my side of the counter. "Which one are you going with?"
"Both." I wink at her again and for a split second, her cheeks flush before she turns away.
We sit there in silence, eating our dessert for a few minutes and I grow very comfortable with the two of us being near each other, existing in the same space, enjoying a meal together. It's been a long time since I've shared a meal with someone that wasn't work-related, let alone a person of the opposite sex. Sure, I've had my fair share of one-night stands, but to hang out in sweatpants and eat pizza…I don't know if I've ever done that.
"Would you like to add a fourth drink to your lineup?" I clear our plates away and tidy up the counter.
Cora sits there, cute as hell on her stool, and looks up at me. "What did you have in mind?"
I open the cabinet below the counter and kneel on the floor. "I have all your basic options. Bourbon, tequila, rum, gin, vodka..."
"What's your poison?" She rests her head in her hands.
"I'm usually a bourbon guy."
"Bourbon it is."
"I can make you whatever you'd like," I tell her, because not only did I go through a coffee phase where I bought a high-end machine and learned how to brew a damn good cup, but I went through a mixology phase, too. I got all the basics, stocked the appropriate tools and mixers, and became my own little bartender.
"I'm good with bourbon," she tells me again.
I snatch the bottle closest to me and place it on the counter before reaching for two short glasses. "Ice, no ice? Do you want a mixer?"
