Page 34 of The Carnage We Keep

“Well, what do you want me to do!?” she hisses. “Cry? Make a scene? Lose my shit? Call the police and let them know that, most likely as a result of my years of killing bastards, maybe I’ve made some enemies?” She glances down at the blood on her collar and sighs heavily. “I don’t know who this guy was or who he worked for, but, spoiler, that’s why I was following him, to figure him out. You know, the same reason you were following me?”

My jaw tightens. Bella rolls her eyes.

“You weren’t exactly wearing camouflage, Lamiano. And that’s just a guess on why you were following me, by the way. Maybe you were actually just staring at my ass and couldn’t look away.”

“Believe me,” I mutter. “I have zero interest in your ass.”

“Riiight.” She winks at me. “Well, anyway, great hang as always, but I’ve got shit to do.” She turns and starts to walk away. “Do us both a favor and don’t embarrass yourself by trying to follow me this time.”

She shivers when my hand darts out to grab her arm. “You don’t give me orders, little nightmare,” I snarl quietly. “And before you⁠—”

I narrowly dodge her knee when it rams up, aiming for my balls.

“I’m leaving now,” Bella sighs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “K byeeeee.”

She makes it all of two steps before my hand wraps around her neck. I relish the whimpered gasp I feel against my fingers before I spin her around and slam her to the wall beside the dumpsters.

“Before that,” I growl, “you're going to take care of this fucking body.”

Her brow furrows. “Um, excuse me? Am I ironing your clothes and making you a nice dinner after that?”

I lift a shoulder. “That sounds delightful. Thank you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Would that be before or after you iron my shirts?”

Her eyes narrow. “I’ll do it happily if you’re wearing them while I do it.”

I bite back a grin.

“Look, Lamiano, you killed him, so you clean up the⁠—”

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “I’m quite done cleaning up your messes.”

Her mouth falls open. “My messes?”

“Your sloppy, amateur night messes,” I growl, making a face. “Beckford’s head? Jesus Christ, what’d you use, a rusty fucking spoon? Your teeth?”

Her mouth thins as she glares up at me. “Maybe I did use my teeth. Wanna find out?”

“What I want is not to get arrested because your fucking messes keep landing on my fucking shoes,” I snarl.

My hand tightens around her throat.

“Take care of the body, Bella. And this time give a shit about doing it right?”

Anger sparks in her eyes as her mouth opens in an incensed “O”. “I don’t think I like this insinuation that I’m sloppy with my work.”

I snort. “Insinuation? I’m outright telling you. Your work is sloppy. Amateur.”

Her mouth falls open. “Okay, first, rude?” She grabs my wrist, yanking my hand off her throat. “Second, go fuck yourself. And third, I’m not sloppy. I’m artistic.”

“Yes, like a toddler finger painting with mashed avocado or their own shit is artistic.”

“I have heart, douchebag!”

I exhale tightly. “Yeah? Then do it with heart when you get rid of the body.”