"Hurry," Hale, the guard standing outside the bathroom door, instructed. I’d gathered that he was Malice’s right-hand man. He was always first to be given a job, and right now he was in charge of watching me. I turned off the water, wondering when they would let me leave. Malice’s comments about Grams had me itching to make sure she was okay.
But there was something else he wanted me to do first. He wanted me to get rid of the body.
I found a threadbare towel and wrapped it around my shaky torso. It barely covered me. The clothes I was wearing were sitting in a pile on the floor, covered in blood and piss. There was no way I would wear that again. I wanted to burn the evidence of what happened here today—I had to burn the evidence.
I was a murderer.
I cracked open the door and stared at the man standing guard. "I don't have any clothes."
He rolled his eyes and huffed. "Not my problem. Anthony is waiting."
He wrapped his beefy hand around the door handle and yanked it open with a single jerky movement, pulling me with him. I nearly face-planted on the concrete floor. My towel, which was already hanging open, fell to the ground, giving Hale an eyeful.
"Another show, eh?" he asked while looking at my exposed breasts. "It’s my lucky day."
He grabbed my arm and helped me right myself, and I felt his heavy stare on my naked, shivery body. I'd already endured enough trauma for the day and felt my skin turn to ice at the feel of his stare on my breasts.
"Back off," I growled before tugging my arm free and quickly picking up the towel to wrap around myself. The basement was still dark, but the light from the bathroom brightened it some. From the corner of my eye, I could still see the abandoned body of the stranger I'd murdered.
My throat closed up. Panic went up my spine.
"I suggest keeping your eyes to yourself, Hale. You know how Nicholas gets with his pets." A strange, bright voice cut through the dim basement, making me snap my attention to the source.
"Yes, boss," Hale—my babysitter—said. Boss? I was still trying to figure out the dynamic of this terror squad, and knowing that there were multiple men of varying ranks in my presence made me nervous.
"You can leave now," the voice said.
I heard a light switch turn on before the flickering fluorescents attacked my vision. In the room's corner was a long metal table with various tools on it. Beside it stood a man in a rubber suit with gloves up to his elbows and a beanie on his head. Strands of brown hair peeked through his cap, and he licked his lips appreciatively at the sight of me. He had Malice’s cruel eyes and William's broody mouth. But most importantly, I noted a tattoo on his neck that looked oddly familiar. It was a pair of angel wings identical to ink on my best friend. With one glance, I knew that they were related somehow.
Hale excused himself and exited the basement torture room.
"Want some clothes? I had to get rid of a druggie last week, and she was about your size. Poor prostitute died of an overdose at the club. Bad for business, you know?" he said with a smile before grabbing a box from under the table and sliding it across the floor to me. It bumped into the dead body I was desperately trying to ignore.
"You have a box of dead people's clothes just lying around?" I asked incredulously. Of everything he had said to me, that was the most ridiculous of it. Didn't he know how to get rid of evidence properly? That was enough to send someone to prison. I sure as hell wasn't about to wear a jail sentence.
He grabbed a saw and slammed it on the table, making a loud boom echo around me. "Is that weird?" he asked.
"It's stupid. You should bleach them and then burn them. Make sure there isn't a trace of your DNA on it. What if the cops got a warrant for this place?"
The beautiful man cocked his brow at me. "Why do you sound so experienced with this? Wait, wait, wait. You're Juliet, yeah? You have that true crime podcast that Vicky made me subscribe to," he said, as if it somehow explained everything. "My sister said it could help me up my game. I'm still on episode seven. That serial killer Joe Ball makes me want to start an alligator farm. Could you imagine? You'd get an epic pet and a free cleanup service. He's a genius, honestly."
"You listen to my podcast?" I stuttered.
"Whatever Vicky wants, she gets," he said with a delightful smirk. "I'm a sucker for my baby sister."
"You're her brother?" I was just a revolving line of questions. There was so much I wanted to know. Three brothers. My best friend had three brothers, and I didn’t know any of them.
"Her favorite brother. And you're her secret bestie," he replied before shimmying his shoulders playfully. "It really pissed Nicholas off that everyone knew about you but him. Can't blame Vick for wanting to keep you to herself, though. Nick likes to take over, yeah?"
I nodded, like I understood. Like this wasn't crazy. Like there wasn't a dead, bloated body beside me.
"Speaking of," he continued, "mind getting dressed? You can stay naked if you'd like, but we have a body to get rid of. A fucking messy one, too. Gravity is such a bitch. He's already got postmortem lividity, and I’m guessing that once we move him, there will be some nasty skin slippage. Just another day in paradise."
With one hand, I clutched my towel, and I held the other to my mouth to stop a scream from escaping. I might have been numb before, but the feeling of terror was bursting from me.
"Ah, don't get squeamish now. We haven't even started yet. I’m Anthony, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you."
"Started what?" I choked out, ignoring his greeting.
Anthony rolled his eyes and walked up to me. I had to tip my head up to look at him, and the closer he got, the softer his features became. His face was exotic and beautiful. Despite his insane career, he looked delicate up close. Beautiful. He had Vicky's energy, and even though I didn't know him, I was comforted by their similarities.
Ignoring my nakedness, he placed both hands on my shoulders. "We're gonna get rid of this body, babe," he said in a low voice while looking down at me. I shook my head, but he was unfettered. "Yep," he insisted. "We're going to get rid of it."
"Why? Why do I have to?" I asked in horror.
"Nicholas's rules. If you've got the balls to kill someone, then it's your job to make sure it's cleaned up properly. Keeps his men from getting trigger-happy."
I looked down at the ground where the stranger was lying and let out a gasp. "Oh, God. No. I can't."
"Sure you can," he replied with an encouraging smile. "It's just a body. And as soon as you're done with this, Nicholas said you can go home to your Grams."
Getting the fuck out of here motivated me some. I wanted to get as far away from this mess and these men as possible. "I can leave once we're done?" I asked. It felt like there was some sort of catch.
"I'll be honest here, Killer. You never really leave. But yes, clean up your mess and you can go home."
I let out a shaky exhale. My mind was like a giant puzzle. I just needed to remove the part of me that was freaking the fuck out about murdering someone. "Okay, fine. What do we do?"
Anthony smiled and dropped his hands from my shoulders and hung them at his side. "Killer's choice," he replied.