63. Casper

63

CASPER

I t took Frankie's little fuck toy several long moments to realize we were watching her. But fuck if the look on her face wasn't worth it when she did. Her eyes flicked to the hospital blanket just out of reach and back to the open door behind us.

I could see all the wheels turning in her head. Chick was trying to decide what was more important. Her freedom or her dignity when the answer was simple.

Neither. Not here at Briarwood. Little Miss Golden Pussy— how else do ya explain Frank's addiction —was in Renegade territory now. Which meant the only way out was after a visit to the chop shop. A couple of pounds and a few garbage bags at a time.

I saw it. The second she decided her bare ass was the lesser of two evils, her toothpick legs rushing forward as fast as they could take her before Bugs stepped out to block her path.

I could picture the smirk tipping up the fucker's mouth even from behind his mask. It was the way he tilted his head to one side, something he always did whenever he enjoyed fucking with someone. Guy had to get out more—it was only a matter of time before all those screens rotted his brain and shit started oozing out his ears.

Couldn't imagine it was all that easy to be a tech genius without the whole genius part. But not my fucking circus. I liked my monkeys with a lot more coke and a lot fewer sticks up their asses.

I dropped my arm from where I was resting it on the metal frame, silently urging the walking-talking set of tits to make a run for it. What I wouldn't give to see those fucking balloons bounce a few times before I snatched an ankle out from under her.

But our little blow-up doll seemed to think better of it, crossing her arms over her pebbled nipples and eyeing me like I kicked her goddamn puppy. Thing was I was always more interested in pussy cats. Speaking of…

My gaze shot to the fuzz peeking out from between her thighs, enough to tell me old Frankie boy didn't trust his girl with a razor.

Smart. Considering she looked ready to slit my throat. Correction: bitch looked ready to slit both our throats.

"Who the fuck are you?" She spat the words between the two of us. Me and Bugs. But they landed on me.

"A friend," I mumbled through the rubber of my favorite mask, tasting my own sweat pooling on the underside. Frankie kept shit hot down here. I grinned at the realization. Sly son of a bitch was doing it for her. He didn't want his princess catching a cold.

Real considerate, that one. Shame about his fucking face.

"Whose friend?" Princess Peach tipped her head back to level her jaw with my chest. "The clerk from the Spirit of Halloween store?"

"Yours, of course." I shrugged before ripping the fabric hood off my head and tossing it aside—I had a dozen more where those came from. When a Ghostface was too bulky for a job, a little black and white paint did the trick. Nothing made a chick scream like seeing a glow-in-the-dark skull climbing in through her window. Nothing ?cept the cock swinging between my legs of course. "We could be very good friends, Emily. Hell, I could even be your knight in shining armor, if ya let me?"

I reached out a hand to brush her hair out of her face, and the ungrateful Ice Queen slapped my arm aside. "No thanks. And don't fucking touch me."

"Okay, not friends. Got it. Acquaintances, then?" I pivoted on a boot before spinning back around again so that there was barely an inch between my chest and her chin. "Or maybe I'm justthe guy who was fucking you in your sleep." I watched her eyes widen as recognition turned our Elsa into an Olaf, and my lips curled into a full-on fucking grin. "Oh, I'm sorry, babe? Did ya really think that shit was a dream?"

"It was… that was you…" Our Sleeping Beauty fumbled over her words as she slowly backed herself into a corner.

I quirked a brow. "Maybe."

"What the fuck do you mean maybe ?" She stepped closer until she realized what she was doing. And quickly stepped back again.

"I mean, most of the time it was him." I gestured a thumb behind me and her eyes bounced from me to Bugs. "Nah, not him, sweetheart. Unless…?" I glanced over one shoulder. Bugs shook his head from side to side and I turned back around. "Most of the time it was Franks. Some of the time, maybe it was me. Can't fault a guy for wanting to know what all the fuss was about."

I pushed off the wall and barely made it a half a step before the Bride of Frankenstein was lunging for my face. "You fucking asshole!"

I shifted to the side, in time to watch her tumble forward and crack a knee against the cement. I'd help her up but chivalry didn't seem to get me very far with this one. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I never touched you at all. Maybe I just liked to watch through the window. And maybe, just maybe, you're better off not knowing." I rushed forward, jumping up and twisting into a backflip. A hand reaching out and snatching Bugs's mask clean off his head as I landed silently on the heels of my boots. Then I rose to my full height. Grinning wider when our wilting flower choked on a name the moment her eyes swept across his profile.

" Elliot…? "

I slammed the door shut on her face while she pounded those cute little fists of hers against a metal panel that had no chance of opening. "Ya know, a lady shouldn't curse so much," I yelled out, and listened as the cursing got louder.

A for effort. B for creativity. I'd been called worse names by the time I reached my ma's knee.

I pivoted down the hall of doors, only to be tugged back by the collar of my shirt a few seconds later. "Did you really fuck Frankie's girl?" Bugs whispered like the walls had ears, and I guess they did. He should know. ?Cause he was the one who put ?em there.

"I'm gonna tell ya the same thing I told her…" I whispered in reply, my left shoulder jumping up without me even feeling it. "Maybe I did."

"Yeah, well, maybe you have a fucking death wish."

"Ya know what? Maybe I do. Maybe I fucking do," I sang out, shoving my hands into my pockets while the sound of my whistling followed me farther into the shadows, dying off the moment I stepped into the freight elevator and turned around to shoot our one-man IT department another grin.

It seemed Elliot Walker had just as much explaining to do as I did. Difference was I was much better at keeping secrets. Especially when they benefited me.