“What next?” I asked.
He smirked and kicked off the wall, going to the other side of the room to pick up the chainsaw. “You said you watched the show. Stay back if you don’t want to be sprayed.”
Chapter 61
Sebastian
The Wrap Out
“Want some?” I offered Evie a swig of the mouthwash I’d already used several times during the grueling process of taking care of Heather’s body. On top of the blood, gore, bones, and brain matter, the floor was also littered with both Evie’s and my vomit. We’d tried to dismember my former agent, but we were struggling. I’d quickly abandoned the chainsaw in favor of some larger butcher knives I’d found in Heather’s kitchen. The job took longer, but it didn’t spray blood like a chainsaw did.
I just had to make sure I didn’t slip on any vomit.
“Yes, God yes,” Evie groaned as together we slid down the wall and stared around the bloodied room. She accepted the bottle, took a large swig, and then spat it out on the other side of her. “Can we never do it this way again, please?”
“Yeah, lesson learned.” I took my goggles off, wiped the sweat from my brow, and sighed. This was way worse than breaking Glenn’s face with my fists. This was…disgusting. “Real life isn’t like the movies. Who could have guessed cutting someone to pieces was this...”
“I’m gonna be sick again.” She launched forward on all fours, and I patted her back as she threw up all over one of Heather’s arms. “Oh my God, it twitched,” she groaned. I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but the very idea made me feel sick too.
“Let’s grab the trash bags.” I stood and went for the box, pulling out a bag. I began the process of stuffing my former agent’s body parts into the bag for disposal. When Evie stopped gagging, she stood and did the same. We stuffed the bags into my car and, on the way back, grabbed the garden hose and a bucket. As Evie tore the plastic down from the walls, I washed all the blood down the drain at the center of the garage floor. I grabbed a broom and pushed all the pieces of gore toward the hole, stomping them down with my boot, hoping they didn’t create a clog.
“Can you stop waffle-stomping her entrails, please?” Evie gagged again.
I looked down at my feet and realized I’d been going so hard that whatever piece of Heather I’d been stepping on was now the consistency of chunky, bloody oatmeal.
“My bad. We’re almost done.” I hosed down the bottom of my boots and then went to her, wrapping an arm around her. Kissing her head, I said, “Thank you for helping me do this.”
“Of course. I want you to have the same peace I hope to have soon.”
I wondered, as we finished cleaning up the garage and removing all evidence of our visit, would I have peace?
Yes.
“Are we really getting a boat, likeDexter?” she asked as I drove to the marina with the chopped-up body and a box of bricks in the back.
“Yeah, Bryce has one docked there. He’s taken me out fishing a few times. I called him earlier. It’s private and doesn’t have cameras. He told me where the spare keys are.”
“They choose to not have cameras?” she asked. “I guess that says something about their clientele.”
That it did.
“Do you know how to drive a boat?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“I do, actually. I worked on a movie where we had them, and I put in my contract that I got to drive any boats my character needed to, instead of a stuntman.”
I turned up the radio. Whitesnake blasted through the speakers, and when I snuck a glance over at Evie, she was smiling softly.
I understood her questioning things. I was supposed to be the confident one in charge, and yet, there had been so much vomit from us both in the garage. So much so that it had covered up the smell of Heather’s insides.
We parked and headed to Bryce’s boat. I’d been on it more than once, so it was easy for me to identify the green and white pontoon boat. It was the dead of night, so no one was around to watch us load all the bags and bricks.
Soon, I was pulling away from the dock and breathing a sigh of relief. In an hour or two, this would be over, and—as Evie hoped—I’d have peace.
Evie came to sit with me in the passenger seat and silently reached for my hand. I drove one handed and relaxed, enjoying the cool breeze and water lightly spraying my face.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked after a while.
“I’m thinking that a boat ride is often considered a date. If we were two people in a different world, this would be our second date,” she sighed dreamily.
