Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
A strange giggle left her.
Maxwell shook his shoulders as if getting rid of a cold chill.
I blocked his view. “Maxwell? What could the Butcher do to help us?”
“This. . .dark side is. . .evolving.” Maxwell lowered his voice. “That’s why I called Jean-Pierre.”
“That explains nothing.”
“Come on, man. Piece it together.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Jean-Pierre is our resident serial killer. He is here to give expertise on madness.”
“Wait a minute.” Stunned, Jean-Pierre waved his hand. “I am not a serial killer.”
We stared at Jean-Pierre.
He lowered into the chair and placed his violin case on his lap. “I am a killer, but not. . .a serial killer.”
“Motherfucker, you made a violin bow with a blade to carve people.”
I nodded. “And you do a whole ritual, playing music and probably doing things to the dead bodies.”
Lunita grinned.
Jean-Pierre shook his head. “I do not do things with them—”
“Killers just shoot and keep it moving. Serial killers bring props and take joy in it, so you’re a serial killer, Jean-Pierre. No judgement.” Maxwell looked back at me. “Are you going to sit down and let me take control of this?”
I held out my hands. “How is Jean-Pierre being a psychopath going to help Lunita?”
The Butcher cleared his throat. “I am not a psychopath either. I may be well-versed in pain, but it is merely—”
“Shut up.” I turned back to Maxwell. “I just need you to explain to me what is going on.”
“Look, man.” Maxwell pointed to Lunita. “Demily needs to talk to him.”
Lunita looked behind her and spoke in Spanish, “Who is Demily?”
I sighed. “You are.”
“But I’m Lunita.”
“Tell him that.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Maxwell backed up. “She really. . .does speak. . .and. . .in Spanish.”
Jean-Pierre leaned forward and switched into the language too. “How long have you spoken Spanish?”
“All my life.”
“Hold up.” Maxwell backed up some more. “First. . .you all have to speak in English so I can follow what is going on.”
Lunita looked away.
Jean-Pierre raised his eyebrows at her action.
It made me uneasy the way he studied her like some lab scientist going over a project.
I frowned. “The Butcher must leave.”
Maxwell sucked his teeth. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“Either he goes, or I break his fucking neck.”
“Man, I thought you had Big Dick Energy, but I think you more so have Big Head Energy.”
Lunita snickered.
I glared at her.
She whispered in Spanish, “Max is funny.”
“He isn’t.”
“What the fuck are you two saying?” Max pointed at me and then Lunita. “Keep it in English before I shoot the both of you in your legs.”
“You need to calm down.”
Max continued to point my way. “And you need to chill out. Besides the whole psychopath thing, Jean-Pierre should be here.”
“For what reason?”
“I feel like Jean-Pierre is something close to Em’s work husband.”
Rage boiled through me. “What?!”
Jean-Pierre raised both hands in the air. “I have no idea what he is saying!”
“Man, chill out. Let me explain.” Maxwell held up one finger. “Work-husbands and work-wives don’t fuck. They just work together and maybe eat lunch and laugh and shit—”
“Maxwell.” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “Let us end the metaphors. We are losing time.”
Someone knocked.
“This is so fucked up.” Maxwell rubbed his hands and headed off to the door.
I turned to the Butcher. “Work-husband?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
I noticed the way he kept his feet to the side as if making sure he could jump up fast. Only a few feet lay between us. I could grab his neck.
Lunita whispered, “Max is mad.”
Jean-Pierre leaned forward. “Are you afraid of Maxwell?”
Lunita shook her head.
“Then, why do you look away when he talks about you?”
She swallowed. “I. . .don’t like when he is mad at me.”
Jean-Pierre nodded. “His thoughts of you are important?”
Lunita touched her chest. “It hurts right here.”
Maybe, the psycho can help.
I went back to the couch and sat down by her.
She took my hand and gripped it hard.
Jean-Pierre quirked his brows at me. “Do you accept my participation?”
What else could I do? Maxwell had been right before. It was time to start listening to him and helping my mouse.
I gritted my teeth. “You can stay.”
Chapter 31
Flowers in the Hair
Kazimir
Maxwell returned with Boris.
As soon as Lunita spotted him, she blushed and shyly waved.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
She whispered in Spanish, “That’s Boris.”
“And?”
“He is so hot. I want to kiss and cut him.”
I leaned her way and growled, “We discussed this. You are mine. That means, no one else.”
“She is yours. Not me. I am my—”
“Yo!” Maxwell stepped our way. “No more Spanish.”
Jean-Pierre watched us. “Interesting. Lunita has her own desires and needs that are completely separate from Emily.”
Maxwell turned to Boris who was watching Lunita in utter fascination. “Clean up the bathroom, then run a bath. Oh. I need you to go to my room and get my old radio with the CDs. Make sure they are all Coltrane.”