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I scoff as he plugs in the drive. “Careful. I know of a man from there that you do not want to piss off.”
Lex smiles arrogantly. “If I can handle the Reaper, I can handle him.”
I’m not so sure.
The program boots up, and the capo clicks through them as the computer whizzes. Sulking, I pull the hood further up my skull to drown out that God awful noise.
“God, Lex, fucking get your computer updated. It sounds like a dead cat asking to be put out of its misery.”
Lex glares, and Killian smirks.
“He’s passionate about computers.”
“I see.”
The doors open behind us, and I smell the rose perfume before I hear her. The perfume is the same our mother wore; whereas I don’t have memories of the woman that birthed me, Sloane clings to the reminders as if they’ll keep her close. From what I discovered about the woman, it’s best to let the ghosts of the past stay dead.
Licking my lip, she rounds the corner, stopping short of my elbow. Two small infants rest in each of her arms, bundled up in pale yellow blankets. They’re only six months old, fussing against her chest.
“Lex? A little help?”
He jumps up, grabbing the one closest to him.
Sloane ignores me and hands the second bundle to Killian.
“Here. Make yourself useful.”
The Reaper’s eyebrows raise, but he holds the baby silently. A hand under the skull, the other under his back, and he sways slightly, keeping the baby quiet. The cigarette doesn’t fall from his mouth.
I tilt my head, surprised. “How are you so good at that?”
“I wasn’t the only kid living on the streets,” he replies softly, tucking in the swaddle. “My mom always wanted to help the other women. That included babysitting when they went to look for work. Besides, when I met you, you were basically this small.”
“Was not.”
“And you wet the bed at night. Someone had to clean you up.”
“Shut up.”
Sloane slams her palms onto the arms of the chair, startling me. With one pointed red nail, she pushes back the hood. Her eyes widen and her bottom ruby lip trembles.
“Briar?” Her bottom lip trembles.
“Hey Sloaney-bug,” I greet, winking. “You look fantastic for having twins. Very pretty.”
She reaches forward, tugging me into an awkward half-hug, half-crawl hybrid. One man laughs as I try to pat her back, and I flip them off. Whoever it is.
After she’s done suffocating me, she keeps me at arm’s length. Sloane appraises me, taking in my scruffy Doc Martens, my old black hoodie with a barely held sneer. She flicks the bangs off my forehead, and I bat her hands away.
“All right, that’s enough. Big sisters are so overbearing.”
“Overbearing?” she retorts, voice high. “I haven’t seen you in years, and all I get is a ‘Happy birthday, twin!’ text once a year?” Sloane pinches me harshly.
“Ow!”
“You’re lucky that’s all you get.” She slips a strand of her fiery red hair over her shoulder. “I can shoot now. You need to watch out.”
I grin and drawl, “I’m shaking in my boots, Sloaney-bug. Does your husband know you stand on chairs when you see a spider across the room, and cry until it’s gone?”
