“I don’t know, asshole. How about Queen. Or, Your Highness. Fuck off.”
I groan as Lachlan’s laugh surrounds us again, even louder than before. “Fuck Off it is. ‘Pleased to meet you, Fuck Off. I’m your brother-in-law, welcome to the family, Fuck Off.’”
I’m about to launch into Lachlan when my burner phone dings in my pocket.
Making the most of it.
There’s a photo of Sloane’s delicate fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne in business class on a plane, her blood-red manicure shining in the artificial cabin light.
My heart knocks against my ribs.
I can almost feel those nails scraping across my chest and down my abs, wrapping around my cock with deceptive strength. I can imagine the heat of those hazel eyes locked to mine, her breath warming my neck as she whispers in my ear.
Lachlan snickers as though he can read my every thought and I clear my throat.
I see you’re already on the plane. That’s…great…
Indeed I am. And you’re clearly not. I’ll see you if you eventually catch up! I won’t hold my breath though!
My cheeks flush as my thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Is it too late to call a restart?
Sloane’s response is immediate.
Absofuckinglutely.
A growl vibrates through my chest as I double my efforts to pack, even though I know it won’t get me on a plane any faster.
“You okay there, little brother? Or has Fuck Off already killed your target?”
I consider throwing my half-packed luggage at Lachlan’s smirking face when his phone rings. Any trace of humor disintegrates from his features like ash falling from a charred log, leaving only cracked carbon behind.
“This is Lachlan,” he says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers, his timbre low. I twist the shirt I’m rolling into a tight coil until my knuckles bleach. My eyes are fused to my older brother, but he doesn’t look up from the switchblade turning over in his hand. “I’ll be there. Give me thirty minutes.”
When he meets my eyes, Lachlan’s brief smile is grim.
“Night shift?” I ask.
“Night shift,” he replies.
By day, Lachlan runs Kane Atelier, his specialist leatherworking studio where he creates beauty from the skin of death. But by night, whenever Leander Mayes calls, my brother becomes the ruthless tool of the devil.
Personally, I enjoy taking the lives of whatever scumbags happen to float my way through the hellish soup of modern society.
Lachlan…？ I don’t know if he enjoys much of anything these days. He kills with purpose but shrouds himself in cool detachment. Unless he’s carving hide with his hands or taking the piss out of me and Fionn, I don’t think life matters to him at all.
A pang hits my chest as Lachlan rises from his chair, pocketing his blade and cracking his neck as he threads his stropping belt back into place across his waist. A faint trace of his smile returns when it lands on me.
“Be safe, dickhead,” he says.
“You too, asshat.”
Lachlan sneers, but still claps a warm hand on my shoulder as he passes by. He presses his head to mine for a breath and then he’s gone, heading toward the door to do the same with Fionn. Our youngest brother has never been good at hiding his worries. Fionn wears every shade of sadness and worry in his light blue eyes, and he watches Lachlan stride away with aching concern spread across his boyish features.
“See you later, kids,” Lachlan says as he strides over the threshold and disappears down the dimly lit hall. “And move home, Fionn.”
“Hard pass,” Fionn replies, and a chuckle responds from the dark before the heavy door of my apartment closes with a reverberant thud. Fionn turns to me, that anxiety still etched as a crease in the space between his brows. “You sure this trip of yours is a good idea? I mean, how well do you even know this Sloane?”
I drop Fionn’s gaze, grinning as I zip my duffel and sling it over my shoulder.
“Not well at all. I’ve met her only once.”
Fionn’s nervous swallow is nearly audible. “Once? How did you meet?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
“This sounds a bit impulsive, Rowan, even for you. I know you’ve got the whole middle child thing going on,” he says, waving a hand in my direction the way he and Lachlan always do to explain my wild behavior and reckless decisions. “Meeting with some serial killer woman who you’ve only spoken to once a year ago is…not normal.”