❝Hello, you've reached Scar's mortuary! You kill em', we chill em'!❞
The Dixons are the wealthiest family in Harbor Village. They're also the most notorious. When playgirl Scarlet Holloway not-so-innocently uncovers one of their darkest secrets, she...
Nicholias righted the couch, but only to make me its prisoner. I sat down in a huff, ignoring his quiet chuckles. I had tried to escape twice since he'd nabbed me, and each time he had jammed me into a pretzel just for fun.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was panting, and he hadn't broken a sweat.
"Don't feel too bad, Scarlet. I was a wrestler in high school. Won state every year."
"Please, feel free to re-live your glory days. I'd love to hear more about how you peaked senior year."
Grinning, he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, unbuttoning his coat like he had all the time in the world. I had to look away when he smirked, sweeping those dark locks from his forehead. Everything about Nicholias was smooth as liquor. It made me feel clumsy and stupid and just like lashing out.
"You better handle me, Dixon..." I didn't know if he had the guts, but he did have the upper hand–and for that I despised him. "As soon as you leave you know I'm just gonna call the cops."
"No, you won't." His smile leached my confidence on the spot. "You're brave, maybe a little reckless, but you're not an idiot. I could smell this place down the hall--it's like a grow house. Smoking, Scar? Tsk, tsk--I think the police would find that a very unladylike habit..."
"Unladylike? Me? If I said you smell like a thirteen-year-old girl on her way to a 1D concert, that would be unladylike. If I told you I would rather sit on your face right now, than look at it--that would be unladylike too... but I'd never do that." I sat up straight, crossing legs that were smooth and shiny from Aidan's moisturizer. "By the way, you might wanna amp up the interrogation, General. I can feel my heart-rate returning to normal."
Nicholias squinted, trying to gauge my speed. Maybe all he saw was tortoise, but this was pure hare, baby. "You talk tough, but I know you're scared. What did you do, Scarlet? Huh? What did you do for Aidan?" Nicholias reached into his pocket, holding up the ring I had borrowed from our pal, Luther. "You wanna tell me about this?"
"Sure--it's old, it's ugly, the mascot is totally cliché--"
"Where did you get it from, Scarlet?" When I didn't answer, Nicholias got to his feet, advancing until his legs pressed mine. He bent lower; I shrank into the couch, but there was no escaping his breath on my lips. "Normally, I'd find you... entertaining. Now, I'm two seconds from walking out the door and letting nature take its course..." I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but I knew it had something to do with consequences–big ones. "I'm done being nice. I can see that doesn't work on you..."
"You don't have to threaten me." I licked my lips and swallowed. "I am scared, but after what I've seen... it would be insane for me to trust you. So if you really want me dead, you might as well get it over with. Do it--let nature take its course."
Whether or not it was Nicholias who buried the dead girl, the killer felt comfortable enough with the family to risk borrowing a Dixon grave. If I told Nicholias the truth about the ring, the bad guy was that much closer to discovering he wasn't the only one carrying his dirty little secret.
