“It’s not,” says Valerian. “It’s the same.” He circles the body like a vulture. “It’s nothing new. People are trying to kill me all the time.” He prods the man with his boot, flipping him onto his back.
I gasp. His neck is pallid. And very fucking deformed. His head is tilted ninety degrees away from his body.
Again, I want to look away. But I can’t bring myself to.
“He was waiting behind the gates for me with a knife.” Valerian squats beside the man, grabbing his face, inspecting it. The man’s eyes are wide open. The pain is frozen in his eyes. Valerian looks right into them. “Somehow,” he continues, “the man knew my movements.”
“What do you mean?”
“I leave the property most nights to take care of… some things.” Valerian pinches the man’s cheeks, taking stock of his face. He’s paying close attention to every detail, running his finger over their lips, through his hair. He even touches the man’seye.
It’s like he’s doing a post-mortem on the body…
Like he doesn’t already know the cause of death.
I watch Valerian. He’s getting a rise out of this, like him examining dead bodies is his equivalent of drinking caffeine in the morning.
It’s what keeps him alive.
I shiver. Especially when I look down at my hands and see the wedding ring. I’mmarriedto amurderer.
Which basically makes me an accessory to murder.
After inspecting the man’s broken neck, Valerian rises back to his feet. He finds my eyes, narrowing his. “You look like a ghost, sweetheart.”
“Because I’m married to a psychopath.”
He laughs. That only confirms it even more.
“A lot of people in this city are psychopaths.”
Weird thing to say, coming from a psychopath.
Then again, it must take one to point another out from the crowd.
“They’re very good at hiding their tracks,” says Valerian. “Everyone sees Los Angeles as a fantasy, full of showbiz, sparkling lights, nice beaches. Let me tell you something, sweetheart.” Valerian steps over the body, coming into my personal space. His frame completely engulfs me. “The prettier something looks on the surface, the more evil there is going on underneath.”
I gulp. That would check out—case in point with Valerian.
He takes one look into my eye and returns to the body. “Thismudakalso stabbed me in the chest. Too bad his gut was sticking out around the gate. I could see him from a mile away.” Valerian drags his eyes up and down the corpse. “I could smell him, too. All that whiskey. It’s not good for him. My son pays him all that money, and he throws it all away on things that will weaken him?” Valerian tuts. “Amateur.”
“Igor was paying him?” I blink. “What?”
Valerian glances at me, his eyes vacant for a moment.
I think he just slipped up.
He wasn’t supposed to tell me that.
“Valerian? Is Igor hiring people to kill you?”
He wipes his bloody hands on his suit pants, stalking closer. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
“Well, I want to know the answer. Tell me.”
Valerian scans my face.
I have to clamp my thighs together. It’s such an unnecessary time to be turned on. The man just strangled someone with his bare hands. And the guy wasn’t exactly very small, either. Imagine the damage he could do to me.