“Girl, put that down before you nail somebody with it,” I advise, watching her like she has a loaded weapon in her hand because that thing would hurt like a mofo if it was to hit one of us in the face.
“Sorry,” Van sheepishly replies as she reaches over and sits it on top of the coffee table. When the base hits the wood, it sounds like a car backfiring, echoing throughout the room which has all three of us jumping.
“See! Right there. We’re kept in the dark and now, we’re jumping at every noise,” Zoey complains, munching on one of her saltines. “It’s like I’m sitting here blind not knowing where the threat is coming from.”
Van and I simultaneously mumble, “Club business,” which has the two of us giggling in a fit of laughter like a duo of teenage girls talking about our latest celebrity crush.
Not that I’d know that based on experience, I didn’t have girlfriends during those teenage years, and I wasn’t permitted to watch television once it’d been decided that my education wasn’t important and I didn’t need it further after my eighth grade year. Before that, I only got to watch televised programs during the after school program, so I was confused when I’d overhear conversations about the latest shows. Needless to say, I’ve beenspending my evenings ever since coming to town playing catch up.
I’ve become a Supernatural fanatic—that Sam and Dean are scrumptious with a capital S. After binging that show, I’ve got a large supply of salt stored in the kitchen, hidden in the living room, and scattered in various other places throughout the house where Viking won’t think to look. I’ve become obsessed, I even have a shaker in my purse.At all times. When the lights flicker or the wind howls sounding like the house is surrounded by wolf shifters, which I’m sure in actuality are coyotes, I grab one of the containers and keep it handy in case I need to lay a circle around myself. Ain’t no phantom spirits gonna touch me, I have enough ghosts of my own to deal with—I don’t need to add any more to that repertoire.
My plate is overfilled as it is. Viking and Shade told me not long ago that once the time is right, they’re going after my family.
Good riddance.
I hope they make them cry. Boo motherfucking hoo. After everything they put me and my siblings through, after all of the trauma they inflicted upon us, I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire. Nope, I’d enjoy watching them burn. Payback is a biotch, and karma always bites you in the ass. What Iwoulddo is put some marshmallows on a skewer, toss some chocolate on graham crackers, and make me some damn s’mores.
“Anyone else wide awake?” Zoey asks as she snuggles into a throw, wrapping herself up like a burrito.
“I don’t think I could sleep even if I had a visit from the Sandman,” Van replies, yawning. I bet it’s not long before thetwo of them crash. I suffer from insomnia when I’m stressed, and right now, I’m stressed way the hell out.
We’re all stretched out on the U shaped couch, each one of us taking a section as we prepare to spend the entirety of the night here. None of us want to be left alone, we even struggled to let the kids go into little G’s room. In the end, we decided to keep their routine so they don’t get as freaked out and as restless as we are.
An hour in, I’m screaming at the television set as we stream a true crime documentary. “That mother is as dumb as a box of rocks,” I complain. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.” My own parents come to mind.
“She all but sold her kid to that man,” Zoey hisses, slamming her fist on the couch in a fit of rage.
“She needs to be strung up in the closest tree,” Van states, her vigilante side coming out. My girls are bloodthirsty when it comes to the mistreatment of children.
“What little bit of sleepiness I had is now gone,” Zoey whines. “Which one of us thought the Crime Network channel was a good idea?”
Van and I shift in her direction and aim an accusatory eye her way. I remind her, “That’d be you, Miss Thing.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” she drowsily slurs, pointing at her forehead, “pregnancy brain.”
“As far as excuses go, that’s a good one,” Van snickers.
After that, we all snuggle deeper into the cushions and fall into a skittish sleep. I’m not sure what’s going on, but the girls are right, I can feel it in my gut, it has to do with us. I send outlove and light to the guys and hope that whatever they’re up to, they’re being safe.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Icer
There’snothing worse than being stuck in a cage with my brothers when we’re amped up on testosterone. I’ve managed to ignore them for the most part, but Indiana and LoneStar are working my last nerve. Their court jester humor has me gritting my teeth. Even Rip and Slayer have laid into them but it hasn’t stopped them from joking around. This mission is no laughing matter, and once I punch their teeth down their throats, they may come to understand the seriousness of it.
Somehow, I doubt it. Those two use humor as a way to relieve their anxiety. Mine will be alleviated once I remind Maloney where he stands, in the pits of Hell. The reaper will invoice him and make him pay his dues once I introduce the two. I crack my knuckles as the SUV pulls off to the side of the road where we’ll store it until we’re done.
Riptide twists around from the front passenger seat and sets his eyes on me. “Got your head on straight?”
“For now,” I tell him, deciding to cover my ass and not lie to him in case I lose my shit and go off script.
“If you think you’re about to lose it, let us know and we’ll help you get back to rights,” he orders. “For us to pull this off and not come under scrutiny, it has to happen the way we discussed.”
“Still don’t think anyone’s going to buy the suicide thing,” I remark, still believing they’re not considering all of the factors. “He thinks too highly of himself to take his own life. He thinks he’s the ruling rooster over the coop.”
“That may be so, but with the note we came up with, it’ll be hard for someone to prove otherwise,” Slayer inserts.
