Lethal (The Disciples 1)

“Just don’t stab anyone and be safe.” He reaches for the back of my neck bringing me to him.

“The sheets are in the cabinet over by the pool table, along with extra towels. And I’ll teach you to swim—it’s easy.” He turns and leaves me. I sink to the edge of the bed and look at the mess on the sheet. Thank God I didn’t bleed on the comforter—I like how soft it is. Pulling my legs up, I look around. It’s so quiet now. With Blade gone he seems to have sucked out all the energy and taken it with him. I can’t decide if I should move to his clean side and try to go back to sleep or get up. It looks like a beautiful day, if the bright sun in the room is any indication. I can’t help but stare at the redhead hanging not ten feet away. Would he be mad if I took her down? I mean for fuck’s sake if I’m expected to live here with him, her fake boobs and stupid red hair are the last thing I want to gaze upon.

“You know what? I’m going to sunbathe.” I nod, jumping up and searching through the numerous bags from yesterday. I’m almost ready to give up when I stifle back a scream. A middle-aged dark-haired woman is standing in front of me staring down at my clothes.

“Holy shit, you scared me.” I look at the door. Does she not feel the need to knock?

“I’m Amy. Let’s take off all the tags and I’ll wash and press everything.” Her matter-of-fact attitude throws me for a second. She turns and looks at the bed.

I jump up. “I’ll take care of it.” My face heats.

“Don’t be absurd. And don’t be ashamed.” She starts stripping the bed sheets with so much authority I back up and let her move. She’s tall and thin and seems to be in charge.

“I… well thank you.” Clearing my throat, I realize I’m wrapped in a sheet. “I’m going to hop in the shower.” She ignores me as she continues to clean up his room, dumping the ashtrays, spraying the bed with Lysol. Scurrying into the bathroom, I stuff the sheet into a hamper and start the water. After a quick rinse off, I peek out the door. The room is spotless. The bed is made with navy sheets and a navy comforter. Big white throw pillows are on it along with my bikini. I still smell the lemon Lysol—when I spotted the can earlier, it said it’s fresh and kills germs. I make a mental note to remember that. I reach for my cherry red string bikini, slip it on, and pull on a sundress that we found at Forever 21.

Before I venture out, I need to find a perfect spot to hide my cash. I twirl around. His room would be the best place, but with Amy cleaning it every day, putting it under the mattress won’t work. I glance up at the hideous velvet painting. Standing on the bed, I lift it up. It’s freaking huge but it’s perfect. I stash my rolled-up cash behind it and jump down, straighten the bed, and look for Amy. I find her in the large kitchen drinking coffee. There are a couple bikers getting breakfast but they don’t even look at me.

“Hi, I’m Eve.” I hold out my hand to her. She raises a nonexistent eyebrow at me.

“Sweetheart, let’s get this straight right away. I’m thrilled you are the one. You don’t need to be shy. Now sit and let me get you some breakfast.” She indicates for me to use one of the stainless steel barstools. I plop down on the barstool and look around. This is the first time I’ve been in here in the daylight. The cheerful yellow walls are a welcome change considering the rest of the house sports a lot of brown and black. It has a row of pretty windows along with shiny appliances.

“I think this is my favorite place in this house.” Resting my chin on my hand, I look at her.

“That’s because this is my domain.” She waves her hand toward the rest of the house.

“I painted, designed, and order everything in this kitchen, so next time you want to stab someone, do it in another area of the house.” She cracks a couple of eggs in a pan. The sizzling butter along with the smell of coffee makes my stomach growl.

“So, what am I supposed to do? I’m used to working.” I twirl on the barstool.

“Well, today I would relax by the pool. I hear he’s taking you tonight.” Her voice laced with disapproval.

I stop twirling. “Is that bad?”

She hands me a fork and napkin, then places an omelet in front of me. I lean forward to look at it. “Is that broccoli?”