Lady Killer (Dead Girls Club #2)

29. Luz

Chapter twenty-nine

Luz

“ A nd why the fuck is this prick still breathing, again?”

“Because you can’t run around murdering anyone who offends your girlfriend’s delicate sensibilities.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

Ever’s devotion was endearing, except when he wanted to kill our best lead.

“You can’t kill Clayton because one, we don’t know that he’s guilty of anything beyond knowing Melody, and two, if he is, then we need him to get information,” I said, rubbing my temples.

He let out an exaggerated huff and slumped back in his seat.

“None of which has anything to do with my sensibilities,” I added, unwilling to give Nixon a pass.

“What’s the plan then, stab him in the hand?” he said.

“For a man who is part of a family of supposedly notorious killers, you sure do whine a lot about something that was barely more than a scratch.”

Nixon flipped me off from across the study room table, causing Everest to growl and lunge out of his seat to grab the offending digit.

“Stop it!” I hissed at the two of them.

Tensions were high.

While Alister and Everest had acquiesced to giving me space during my time with Autumn, they were adamant about having someone with me at all other times.

Today, that meant following me to the library where I was trying to finish up some of my research for my final economics paper.

One guard dog was typically deemed sufficient, but when Alister discovered that Clayton usually spent Saturday afternoons at the main library on campus, I was blessed with both Everest’s and Nixon’s company during my study date.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just scoop him up and hand him over to Locke and let him do his magic,” Everest grumbled.

Without his knife, which I refused to let him play with in the library, he was extra fidgety, his fingers constantly dancing across the tabletop and arms of his chair.

“Because if he is innocent, then you’ve gone and tortured an influential man from an important family for nothing, and it feeds into the narrative that someone is trying to build that the Blackwells are losing control,” I said.

“So, we find who’s saying that and kill them too.”

I slammed the book I was reading shut. It was impossible to work with the two of them. They were worse than Autumn when it came to chatter.

“If the two of you can’t be quiet, then you will have to wait somewhere else.”

Nixon scoffed, kicking his boots up onto the lacquered table. They landed precariously close to my laptop, causing my eye to twitch. He smirked and flicked the lighter in his hand.

“Starbright,” Everest crooned, spinning in his seat to face me .

“Don’t you Starbright me. I have to work on this paper, and the two of you have not stopped fighting since we left the townhouse.”

The serial killer’s face fell into such a dramatic pout that I almost felt bad for admonishing him. Almost.

Clayton may have been our main lead, but I also needed to write this paper. “Ever?”

“Have I mentioned that I adore the sound of my name on your lips, darling?”

“Yes,” Nixon snipped, “roughly a hundred times.”

We ignored him.

“Would you be willing to go get us some snacks?” Maybe if I separated the two of them, it would at least reduce some of the testosterone in here. As much as I would’ve preferred to be rid of Nixon, he was more likely to tell me to go to hell than to agree to sneak some verboten snacks into the study room for me.

Everest raised one white brow in my direction. “I know what you’re doing, darling.”

“Then you’ll understand that I need a break from the bickering,” I practically whined. “Plus, I really am hungry.”

Channeling my inner Autumn, I gave him my biggest eyes and stuck out my bottom lip. Two could play this game .

“All right,” he said, standing up. “But no going after Payton until I return. I don’t trust Nixie to keep you safe.”

“Fuck you, Ever.”

“Seriously, Starbright, he may be decent with a gun and brilliant with matches, but he’s damn near useless with a knife.”

“Come closer and I’ll show you just how useless I am.”

Everest rolled his eyes dramatically as he opened the door. “Sensitive that one, Luz. Make sure he sticks the pointy end out if anything goes down in my absence.” He slipped out the door as Nixon cursed him out.

With a sigh, I opened up my book again. Capital in the Twenty-First Century wasn’t going to read itself.

My babysitter had other plans.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now.” Nixon leaned over the table, crossing his arms.

I didn’t bother looking up at him.

“What’s the matter, puppy, cat got your tongue?”

“The whole point of asking him to get snacks was to give me a break from hearing your voice so that I could actually get some work done,” I said, head still in my book.

Nixon rose from his seat and prowled around the table, plopping himself down in the chair next to me that Ever had just vacated .

“Remember what happened the last time we were in the library?” he said, kicking my chair.

“Trying to get stabbed again? I didn’t realize you had a thing for knife play.”

“Wow, fuck my brother once, and all of a sudden, you’re a kinky bitch. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

I could no longer read the words on the page, but I refused to give him any satisfaction.

Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait .

“Or are you still holding out on him? I know Ali’s more patient than I am, but it’s cruel to string a man along forever without putting out.”

It was the tug on my hair that broke my will.

I spun around to face him, and my temper boiled over at the smug look on his face. “You know what I can’t figure out, Nixon?” I said. “Are you jealous that your brother is paying attention to someone other than you or are you jealous that he’s getting something you can’t?”

Faster than I could have anticipated, he was in my space, hands braced on the armrests of my chair, caging me with his frame.

Like always, he smelled of smoke and spices. It reminded me of the night my mother saved me.

“Is that what you think, puppy? That I couldn’t have exactly what you’re giving my brother. ”

“Never.”

“Really? You’re happy to let him share you with Everest. Haven’t you ever wanted to try a twin sandwich?”

“You’re disgusting,” I said, fidgeting in my seat.

Where Alister was solemn and reserved, wound tight even in moments of passion, Nixon wielded his emotions like a weapon. Scorn and lust were written across his face as plainly as my now-discarded book. That he wanted me was clear, but this was a man who treated women as disposable. Any desire he admitted to would be self-serving.

“You’re a liar. We’re identical twins. You can’t say you’ve thought about fucking one and not the other.” His mouth pulled into a cruel grin, and my eyes snagged on the scar above his lip.

“That’s how you can tell us apart, isn’t it?” he said.

I said nothing but looked up and attempted to burn a hole through him with my eyes. It didn’t work.

“Curious how I got it?”

“No,” I replied a little too quickly.

“Liar.”

He leaned even closer, bringing his long legs to either side of my own and pressing them together.

“Did Alister tell you anything about us? Our childhood? Or has he been too busy losing himself between those beautiful legs of yours? ”

Bands of tension wove around my chest, and my pulse jumped.

“We weren’t always Blackwells,” he said, his eyes roving over me, savoring my discomfort. “I mean, we’re Tyler’s sons, same as Lucian, but we’re bastards. Born to a drug-addicted mother who was an easy lay for a selfish, rich bastard who never got over his wife. She thought we would be her ticket to a life of leisure.”

He chuckled bitterly.

“Joke was on her though. Tyler dumped her ass so fast once he realized she was knocked up.”

Alister had alluded to something along those lines.

Nixon’s jaw tightened and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down the column of his muscular neck. This close, I could make out details of the tattoos that covered the pale skin there. The same tattoos that Alister had said belonged to Nixon, not him.

“Tyler died when we were eight years old, and we didn’t hear boo at first. Imagine not even knowing about your own father’s funeral.”

“My mother was his funeral.”

If the poor little rich boy thought he could use pity to lure me in like easy prey, he was picking the wrong girl.

He smirked. “Right, I forget, you come from a long line of killers too. Anyways, when our dear old deadbeat dad died, followed shortly by his sister, Locke’s mother, our grandfather decided he was running short on heirs and two bastards were better than none.

“One quick call to CPS, and we were ripped from our mother faster than you could blink. A couple bribes later, he was our official guardian, and on paper, it was as if our mother never existed in our lives," he said. "Shortly after that, she ODed, and then it was as if she never existed at all.

“Alister was ambivalent about the whole thing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my brother’s not big on emotions. I had a bit of a harder time with the transition. She was a shitty mom, but she was still my mom, ya know?”

The loss of my own mother still stung, and a drop of compassion bubbled up in me.

Then I remembered who I was dealing with, and I quashed it. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to spread my legs for you? Because of your mommy issues? Or is it daddy issues? Grandaddy issues?”

Nixon slid his hands down to grip the tops of my legs. “I could force them open right now, pet. Spread you nice and wide for me. See what makes that cunt so special that my brother keeps coming back for more.”

“Everest would kill you if you tried, but I would beat him to it. ”

“With what, your little plants? Do I look stupid enough to take food from you? You’re a one-trick pony.”

Now it was my turn to play with him.

I leaned closer, biting down on my lip, and gazed at him from under my lashes. “Oh Nixon, there are so many more ways to poison a man. Especially one as careless as you.”

He bit down on his own lip and squeezed my thigh hard enough to leave a bruise.

Maybe Everest would end up killing him, after all.

“You’re distracting me from my story.”

“Oh, please, do continue.”

His grip pulsed, and his nostrils flared. “Watch your mouth.”

I mimed zipping my lips and pretended to throw away the key.

He narrowed his eyes, as if considering his course of action before he began to speak again.

I was starting to understand why Nixon was such an insufferable pest. Getting a rise out of him was quite the rush.

“As I was saying, pet, the change from absentee mother in a shitty apartment to the Blackwell Estate under Victor’s watch was a big one. One could say I lashed out a bit.” Nixon paused .

“I lit a teensy, little fire”—he held his fingers up to show just how small it was—“and Victor lost his shit. Had one of his men beat the piss out of me, but he wouldn’t let them touch my face.”

He absently ran a hand across his jaw.

“He had plans for me and Alister, you see. Identical twins make for a natural alibi. Can’t prove one of us did anything if you don’t know who is who.”

“Then how did you get the scar?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself, and inwardly, I cursed for showing even the slightest bit of interest.

“My grandfather wouldn’t let anyone else touch my face, but him. The old man slapped the shit out of me. He wears this big old clunky ring with the family crest on it. Split my lip right open.” He thumbed the mark absently.

I knew better than most how much those scars could still sting.

“Told me if I ever gave him a reason to beat me again, he would kill me and Alister too. That we were only useful to him as a package deal, and a dead Blackwell was better than a disobedient one.”

For once, I didn’t know what to say.

Alister had seemed indifferent about their grandfather, and Everest had never mentioned the man. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the patriarch of a family of professional killers was a monster, but still, it caught me off guard.

Alister’s confession came back to me.

“Your tattoos?”

Nixon’s lips thinned, and his hold on me loosened.

“What about them?” he said, shifting.

“Alister said they didn’t matter to him, that they were yours. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time but . . .” I trailed off, suddenly unsure of myself.

A familiar sneer overtook Nixon’s face. “Like I said, my grandfather wanted twins, identical in every way. The only way I was allowed to get a tattoo was if Ali got the exact same one.”

That was . . . sad wasn’t quite the word for.

The twins’ devotion to each other had long been evident, but I had never realized it was literally written on their skin. It was touching, but at the same time, how could someone not yearn to have one thing just for themselves?

Of course, Nixon took the opportunity to ruin his moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Right down to the matching piercings on our cocks, puppy.” He winked, squeezing his cock with one hand and my thigh with the other before stepping away .

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of that but was interrupted by the door slamming open.

“Guess who I found?”