Page 30 of King of Hollywood

“Tell. Me.”

I’d never been more aroused by a person in all my life. This wicked, wretched little man—so beautiful, so perfect. My tiny little accidental killer.

“You can’t kill him…” Felix whispered, the tension in his body melting away as he opened his eyes—blood red—gorgeous—ringed by a dark fringe of curly lashes. “Because I…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” My heart was pounding.

“Because I already did.”

Chapter seven

Allen arched a brow at me as he pulled the door to the back of the crematory open. “Another one? So soon?” He cocked his head to the side, obviously judging me.

In The Club we had rules. Not that they were enforced or anything, because they weren’t. Murder was not a sport that could be regulated. But that didn’t mean we were free of judgment should any of us choose to act recklessly. No one wanted the local authorities sniffing around The Club’s secrets.

Not even I knew all of them—as most of the time we talked in code.

Last week, the dry cleaner in our twisted little group had told us all he’d eliminated a rogue werewolf. We all knew that meant an uncouth hairy man—but the code made it fun all the same.

“It wasn’t me,” I said simply, adjusting the body over my shoulder as I shouldered my way through the door.

He eyed me critically, clearly amused. “You look very proud of that fact.”

“Maybe I am.” Felix was a fledgling killer, and not interested in another man, other than to murder him—so that was a win in my book.

Tonight was officially a good night, despite how rocky a start it’d had.

“Where’s the boy toy?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous nickname. I didn’t dignify it with a proper reply however, instead focusing on hefting Felix’s kill where it needed to go. “He’s in the car.”

“You left him in the car?”

“You don’t have to sound so judgy about it,” I huffed, annoyed. “He was crying. He was hungry. I needed to dispose of a body, so I bought him a hamburger. What do you want from me?”

“He was crying…and you left him—”

“With a hamburger.”

“With a hamburger,” Allen repeated slowly like the food aspect of this was odder than the crying. I wasn’t sure why he was speaking to me like I was a toddler—as I was probably the size of twenty of them.

“It’s not as though I could carry him and the corpse at the same time,” I huffed.

Unless…I could?

I squinted thoughtfully, imagining the logistics of that. Perhaps Felix could wrap his legs around my waist from the front and I could—No, no. Then he’d have a face full of trash-bag-covered body. That was not ideal for anyone involved.

“What do you want from me, Allen?” I huffed, dumping the body on the table and brushing my hands off. “Because clearly you have something to say.”

“I’m just saying…” Allen continued to speak to me like I was stupid. “That it’s an odd way to comfort someone. To leave them…alone—in the woods—crying, with a hamburger.”

Why was Allen so concerned about Felix?

My eyes narrowed. Allen rolled his eyes. “I’m not after your man, Marshall—”

“He’s not my—”

“I’m just trying to help you.”