“You’d miss me.”
“I’d have such a nice big house all to myself. I could collect more cats.”
He shudders, so I poke him in the back as he starts out the door.
“Hey, Liam, would you love me even if I had ten cats?”
The sound he makes tells me what he thinks about that, but of course he says, “I would love you no matter how many cats you make me buy you.”
“The house will be crawling with cats. Maybe fifteen? I bet they’ll be sitting on your lap and rubbing on you, and when you sleep, they’ll attack your feet every time you move.”
“I think Lucy Fur has declared that two is the optimal number of cats for our household. Or maybe even just one.”
“I don’t know. I actually think she’d get along with a kitten better. So maybe a litter of kittens.”
“I devote my very existence to you. If you choose to suffocate me in felines then I shall suffer to see that smile on your face,” he declares robotically. He really is quite dramatic for a man who claims he isn’t.
We reach the car where Liam grabs the cleaning products he took from the diner. He scrapes off some rust particles which he slides into a plastic evidence bag he must have had in thecar. And then he proceeds to clean the hammer with the precise movements of someone who has done this more than once.
I have no doubt that by the time this hammer reaches the department, there will not be a single trace of anything on it.
“I think that’s as clean as it’s going to get,” he says before sliding it into a bag so it won’t touch anything. He pulls his gloves off and tosses them in the trunk. “Ready, my sweet peacock?”
“I was going, ‘Oh wow, look how talented he is,’ and it immediately shifted to ‘I regret everything’ the moment you called me that.”
“What would be better? Ya ready, my sexy buckaroo?”
“Maybe like… hon or something.”
“No thanks,” he says as he gets in the car like he’s just going to leave me here since I’m not thrilled by being called a “peacock” or “buckaroo.” What does that evenmean?
Once we’re buckled in, he takes off and taps his finger against the steering wheel. I can’t help but watch him and question what’s going on in his mind. I also can’t help but question how long before we get caught. It feels like we take risk after risk, and at some point, it has to catch up with us, right?
Although… if I hadn’t caught Liam, would anyone have?
“Do you want to work on moving your stuff tomorrow?” he asks.
“That’s what you’re thinking about? Not the fact that we could get caught. Not that we’re doing something highly illegal. Not that we’re helping our friend get away with murder—kind of.”
“Gabriel… I feel like you’re confused. Ninety-six percent of my thoughts contain you. One percent of my thoughts involve ways to blackmail others. One percent pertains to how much cat hair is on my clothes. Like look at this,” he says, showing me hisarm. “You know cat hair has been the reason why serial killers get caught, right?”
“I hope you change clothes before you… engage in business.”
“Of course I do, but just one stray little flutter of hair and I’d be toast.”
“I’m confident my cat isn’t going to be your downfall.”
“If you saw the way she looks at me when you aren’t home, you would know that she dreams of my downfall every day. She plants cat hair in places that irritate me the most.”
“Sure, sure. So what about the remaining two percent?”
He just flashes me a smile, as though doing so will make me forget. I decide I’ll just brush it off and pretend the remaining two percent is dedicated to him trying to find ways to give me a wedding ring for Christmas.
When we park, Jesse is already there. He looks like he’s been absolutely petrified in his seat.
Liam gets out and smacks the window of his car. Jesse jumps and slowly opens the door.
“Why do you look so fucking foolish?” Liam asks.
