Once the mixture is poured into the dish and I’ve covered it with cheese, I skim the directions again. Bake for thirty minutes. Then broil.
I examine the oven and see that there is a setting for Bake but also a setting for Broil.
“Well, which is it?” I tap my finger on my lips and then shrug. “Must be a typo. I’ll broil for thirty minutes.”
After turning the oven to the right setting, I slip the glass dish inside and then survey the kitchen.
“Whoa.”
Okay, so I’m not a tidy cook. I have a heaping sink of dirty dishes, knives, and utensils, some not even used, strewn about the countertop, and is thatflouron the floor?
I didn’t use flour. At all.
It’s fine, I’ll get it all cleaned up while the casserole bakes. I bebop my way to the closet where I found cleaning supplies earlier and pull out a broom and some sponges.
Taylor and I are singing about being the man, elbow deep in dish water, when I start to smell something ... not right.
Blinking, I frown and glance over my shoulder toward the oven, andholy fucking shit.
The oven is on fire.
I squeal and splash soapy water everywhere as I spin and grab a towel to quickly dry my hands, then open the oven, and a plume of smoke fills the kitchen.
“Shit!”
The alarms start to go off, and I race for the doors that lead to a stunning courtyard and pool area, open them wide, and do the same with the windows around the breakfast nook, hoping the smoke will drift outdoors.
Grabbing the oven mitts, I reach inside and pull out the dish, set it on the stove, and feel my shoulders sag.
“It’s not supposed to be black.”
Thirteen
JULIAN
The closer Iget to home, the more my blood simmers with rage.
That son of a bitch just threatened to killmy wife.
And for that, he’s going to suffer. He’s going to suffer for a long, long time, until he begs for me to kill him.
Even then, I’ll keep him alive to make him suffer some more.
I’m itching to get to my office, to fire up the computers and start digging into what Sergei could possibly have on Damien. I’ll be surprised if I find anything at all.
Damien is a ghost. We hear murmurs here and there, but that’s all they are. He’s not stupid enough to come to Vegas.
He’d be dead within ten minutes of stepping foot in our city.
But I’ll do my due diligence and search for anything that might give Carson a lead to bring his nemesis to justice. And byjustice, I mean torn into pieces and left in the desert for the critters.
Once I’m home, I walk inside and immediately realize that something is ... very wrong.
The smoke alarm is going off, and I can smell something burning. Running for the kitchen, I come to a halt and then feela smile spread over my face as I watch my angel flutter around, opening windows and cursing, her music playing on her phone.
She’s pulled her long hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She’s wearing a red tank top that molds over her flawless breasts, along with denim shorts that showcase her perfect ass and legs.
Legs that I want to prop over my shoulders as soon as humanly possible so I can feast on her delectable pussy.
