Death & Stilettos (Reapers in Heels The Complete Volume 1)

by Krumbine, Jason

  Decessus focuses on the device for a second. He folds his hands on his desk and looks solemnly at Avery. “Yes, I was recently made aware of Mr. Ibanez’s extra curricular activities. Here at Messor & Decessus we are deeply distraught over Mr. Ibanez’s actions. Obviously none of us realized how deeply disturbed he was. As soon as Mr. Ibanez’s illegal activity was brought to our attention we immediately turned him over to the Council of Reapers.”

  Brooke and Avery look at each other, confused and slightly deflated.

  “Just like that?” Avery asks Decessus.

  “We’re grim reapers, same as yourselves, ladies,” Decessus says. His gaze lingers a second longer on Avery. “An individual like Ibanez casts a black mark on us all. I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

  “So you just turned him over?” Brooke asks.

  Decessus regards the younger Graves sister with a detached interest. “I believe that is the correct procedure for rogue reapers,” he says. “It’s not as if the Council argued otherwise when we turned him in. In fact, they seemed positively delighted. Apparently, Mr. Ibanez has been moonlighting for quite a while.”

  “And you only just now found out about it?” Avery asks, not bothering to mask her doubt.

  “Unlike your operation, Ms. Graves,” Decessus says, with a heavy tone. “We employ over a hundred different reapers in four different states. We are not a tiny, fly-by-night organization. It’s nearly impossible to keep tabs on every single one of our reapers.”

  “Maybe you should consider downsizing,” Brooke suggests.

  “Mr. Ibanez was very good at covering his tracks,” Decessus replies flatly.

  “And what about Larry Faraco?” Avery says.

  “Well, obviously, Mr. Ibanez had questionable motives and ethics, but you can’t deny his discovery of Mr. Faraco isn’t a unique situation,” Decessus says.

  “The man’s undead,” Brooke says.

  “As I said, a unique situation,” Decessus scratches his eyebrow. “I can’t condone, Mr. Ibanez’s behavior, but I’m not going to turn my back on Larry Faraco. Mr. Ibanez offered him representation and protection. We will honor that.”

  Avery frowns. “I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t help but feel like you guys are trying to game the system a bit.”

  Decessus’ expression turns slightly sour. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Ms. Graves. As you both know, the reaping business is always changing. Each new generation brings with it a new set of challenges. Here at Messor & Decessus we try to meet each new challenge enthusiastically.”

  “And sometimes you just get caught up in all that enthusiasm and don’t realize you’ve got a rogue reaper?” Brooke asks.

  “I understand your father was a grim reaper,” Decessus says, sidestepping Brooke’s question.

  The sisters shift awkwardly in their seats.

  “He was,” Avery says.

  Decessus nods. “William Graves wasn’t it? Good man, as I recall.”

  “How do you know our father?” Avery asks.

  Decessus merely shrugs. “Oh, he and I had a few run-ins back in the day,” he pauses, shifting his gaze between the two sisters. “I understand he’s out of the business these days?”

  “He passed away a few years ago,” Avery says simply. She watches Decessus’ expression.

  “I’m sorry,” Decessus says with a tone of sincerity that doesn’t quite sound sincere. “You have my condolences.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish we had met under better circumstances,” Decessus begins. “It was not my intention to begin our branch here in Century City on such rocky terms.” He pulls a folder from his desk. “When my partner and I started this firm so many years ago, we had a very simple mission: help those who needed help. To do that we decided we would only work with the best.”

  There are two contracts in the folder. He hands them to the sisters. Each contract is already filled out with their names.

  “I don’t understand,” Brooke says, flipping through the contract.

  “You’re offering us a job?” Avery asks.

  “Not just a job, an opportunity,” Decessus says. “As I said, we employ only the best. I don’t need your answer today.” He gets to his feet. “In fact, I don’t want it today. Take your time, look over the contract. Think about it. Discuss it with your family. I think you’ll not only find that it’s a reasonable offer, but a very generous one as well.” Decessus smiles. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  Davy’s Coffee is a quaint little cafe located a few blocks from the sister’s office. They’re seated at a small table outside.

  “This is unbelievable,” Brooke says, skimming through the contract. “Half of this doesn’t make any sense and the other half is just too good to be true.” She taps her finger against page 16. “We would get vacation time.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to do with that,” Avery says, sipping her chai.

  “I know, right?” Brooke shakes her head. “When was the last time we had a vacation? Two years ago?”

  “Do we count spa trips?” Avery asks.

  “Spa trips are not vacations,” Brooke says.

  “Mini vacations. A vacation for the afternoon.”

  Brooke shakes her head. “No. A vacation is a beach somewhere that’s not here. A beach, a bikini and three cabana boys waiting on me hand and foot. That is a vacation.”

  “Should I cancel our appointment at Florentio’s then?” Avery asks.

  “Hell, no.” Brooke pinches her right cheek. “Do you see these pores? I need a facial worse than I need to eat right now.” Brooke goes back to skimming the contract. “Just a lot of big numbers here.”

  “They give off a certain feel,” Avery says. “Messor & Decessus.”

  “Yeah, they do,” Brooke agrees.

  “Kind of dirty,” Avery continues.

  “A little scummy?”

  “A very dubious reaper firm.”

  “Very,” Brooke agrees. “But then, that could be because of Ibanez. He was a bit of a scumbag.”

  “That’s true,” Avery concedes.

  “But Decessus...” Brooke trails off.

  “Something didn’t sit right about him,” Avery finishes.

  Brooke nods. “Yeah.”

  “I mean, we got what we went there for, right?” Avery asks.

  Brook holds up the contracts. “Hell, we got more than what we went there for.”

  Avery drinks her chai, nodding. “That’s true.”

  “A job offer,” Brooke says.

  “Okay,” Avery says after a minute. “I’m gonna throw something out there. It’s probably going to sound a little crazy, though.”

  “Any crazier than me spending thirty grand on shoes?” Brooke asks, not looking up from the contract.

  “That’s probably not something you want to keep bringing up,” Avery suggests to her.

  Brooke shrugs. “It is what it is.”

  “I don’t think they were headhunting Alan.” Avery says.

  Brooke looks at her sister. “I don’t follow.”

  “Remember, Alan told us that that Messor & Decessus were going to offer him a staff position?”

  Brooke nods. “Yeah, Billy said they were offering these to half the reapers in town.”

  “Maybe,” Avery says. “But I don’t think they were offering one to Alan.”

  “You think Alan just made it up?”

  “No,” Avery replies, tracing her finger around the top of her cup. “I think he thinks they were going to offer him something.”

  “Okay,” Brooke says, still not following.

  “But I don’t think they really were,” Avery finishes.

  “Then would why would they approach him?” Brooke asks.

  Avery doesn’t answer right away. “This is a crazy part.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m telling you, it’s gonna seem weird,” Avery continues. “But think about it for a moment.”

  “The sus
pense is killing me,” Brooke says dryly.

  “Decessus had these contracts just sitting there, waiting for us to show up,” Avery says. “I don’t think they were headhunting Alan. I think they were headhunting us.”

  Brooke lets it sink for a moment. She slowly nods her head. “Yeah. You’re right. That is a little crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “Why not just approach us like they did Alan?”

  “Good question,” Avery says. She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  Brooke looks at the contracts on the table. “It’s a hell of a roundabout way.” She chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking it over for a minute. “You’re right, though. It sounds like it should be crazy...”

  “...but it’s not,” Avery finishes.

  Brooke looks up at her sister with zero humor in her expression. “I think this is first time I don’t feel excited at the thought of being wanted.”

  Book Two

  Death Wears Stilettos

  one

  Cindy Mason is scared. Where there was once love and hope for the future, there now only remains fear. Cold, paralyzing fear that grips her so tight she finds it hard to breathe. She looks to her husband for guidance, but doesn’t find any there.

  Brian is pacing the length of their living room. Sweat drips off his forehead. He’s running his hands back and forth across his hair. He knew there was a possibility...He knew he could be bad...But he never thought it would become horrible.

  “What do we do?” Cindy whispers. It feels like the walls of their home are closing in on her.

  “I don’t...” Brian mutters. “I don’t know.”

  “Can we talk to them again?”

  “And say what?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “There must be something.”

  Brian shakes his head violently. “No, they’re not going to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know!” he shouts at her.

  Cindy flinches, shrinking back against the sofa.

  Brian’s scared himself. This is not who he is. This is not who he wanted to be.

  “No, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Brian says, sitting next to her. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her to his chest. “I’m not mad at you. I’m never mad at you.”

  Cindy starts to cry. “They’re never going to leave us alone, are they?”

  “No,” Brian answers, his voice hollow. “No they aren’t.”

  “Can we run?” she asks.

  “Where?” Brian says. “We have no money. And they’d find us anyway.”

  Cindy sobs against his chest.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her. “I’m, so, so sorry.”

  two

  Brooke Graves is being overwhelmed, assaulted, really; assaulted by a barrage of sensations that are drowning her in pleasure.

  It starts at the tips of her fingers, the tips of her toes. Every ounce of energy is being pulled through her body, all heading towards the same sweet spot between her legs.

  Her thighs quiver as it approaches. A light sweat breaks out along her skin. Brooke squeezes her eyes shut, giving herself completely over to the sensations that are racing through her body.

  She starts to writhe on the bed. It's closer now. Her hands clutch at the beige sheets, bunching them tightly between her fingers. Her knuckles turn white.

  Her breasts shake as her breathing becomes more irregular.

  It's so very close now.

  She bites her lip. Her hips buck, as though reaching out for it.

  "Yes," she moans, quietly at first. Then louder. "Yes. Yes. YES!"

  It shudders outwards through her body like a wave, crashing over her with pleasure.

  Brooke cries out again, arching her body as she pulls the sheets around her.

  "YESSSS!"

  Smaller waves follow, decreasing in intensity, carrying her down from the peak she ascended.

  Brooke drops back against the bed, releasing the linen from her grasp. Her heart's still pounding, but it's slowly backing down into its regular rhythm.

  She opens her eyes and gazes down at the man between her legs.

  He smiles at her, revealing a set of sparkling, perfect teeth.

  "Was that a good one?" he asks.

  "Like you have to ask?" Brooke says, wiping her brow with her wrists. She squirms a bit on the bed, like a cat lazily basking in the golden warmth of the sun. "Hmmm, I can still feel it."

  He pulls himself beside her. His hair is a dark brown and the rest of him is solid muscle. On her phone, he's listed as simply, Steven the Bartender. She's not sure if he's got a last name and she doesn't particularly care.

  Her phone goes off.

  "You want to get that?" Steven asks, pointing to the cellphone on her nightstand.

  "Not particularly," Brooke admits. "It's my sister's ring tone."

  "Oh?"

  "She can be a bit of a buzz kill," Brooke says. "And this is a buzz I don't want to kill just yet."

  After a couple of rings, the phone falls silent.

  "See? Problem solved." Brooke gives a happy sigh and stretches out.

  Steven lazily traces circles around her nipples and ideas start popping into Brooke’s head. She smiles and starts to reach below his waist.

  Then the phone rings again.

  "Oh, come on." Brooke frowns. She rolls over and snatches the phone from the nightstand. "Do you know what voicemail is?" she says, answering the phone.

  On the other end, her sister, Avery says, "Yes. Do you know what an appointment is?"

  Brooke holds the phone in front of her to check the time. It's ten past eleven. She puts the phone back to her ear. "We weren’t supposed to be there until twelve."

  "It's twelve now," Avery says.

  "No it's not," Brooke insists.

  "That's because last night was daylight savings," Avery says. "And now you're late."

  Brooke curses under her breath.

  "What?" Avery asks.

  "I'll meet you there," Brooke says louder.

  "At the doctor's place?"

  "At the doctor's place," Brooke says.

  "You know where it is?"

  Brooke rolls her eyes. "I know how to get a taxi to take me there."

  "Brooke..."

  "Thirty minutes," Brooke cuts her off. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes." She hangs up before Avery can say anything else.

  Brooke tosses the phone back on the nightstand and turns her head to look at Steven. "What are you doing up here?"

  Steven frowns. "Should I not be up here?"

  "No, you should not," Brooke replies, gently pushing him back down between her legs.

  "I thought you had to leave," Steven says.

  "Whatever," Brooke says. "She can wait a few minutes. Let's see if we can work up another buzz, I want to go out on a high note."

  Steven laughs softly as he settles between her legs again. His tongue darts out, lightly stroking her soft lips and Brooke closes her eyes again.

  "This is my favorite way to start the day."

  three

  It's an hour later.

  "An hour," Avery Graves says to her sister, standing outside the dull grey, two-story medical complex. "Do you know how to tell time? Do you know the difference between thirty minutes and an hour?"

  Brooke looks both ways and pauses to let a Buick pass before crossing through the parking lot. She's got a hot tea in one hand and a glazed donut in the other. As she approaches her sister, Brooke holds up her wrist to show off her watch. "Remember, I have Dad's watch."

  "That's not really an excuse when you know that Dad's watch is broken," Avery says. "Also, you have a cellphone."

  "Which doesn't apparently tell the correct time either." Brooke pulls the phone out of her pocket. "I thought these things were supposed to automatically correct for daylight savings?"

  Avery takes a deep, calming breath. She’s the older of the two sisters. Her hair is a dark brown, shorter, but still long enough t
o pulled back in a simple ponytail. She has a slim figure and is wearing a pair of practical jeans with sparkling rhinestones along the back pockets. Her shirt is a light pink tank top and a long sleeve blouse with the sleeves rolled up. Today she went with her red Espadrille’s with the three-inch wedge heel for a little extra flare.

  “An hour,” Avery simply repeats after a minute.

  “Uh. Sorry?”

  “Are telling me you’re sorry or asking if you should be?”

  Brooke shrugs. “Honestly, whichever one gets you off my back.”

  Brooke’s taller than her sister, only by a few inches, but usually more because she favors the stripper heels. After a quick shower to wash away the scent of Steven the bartender, Brooke threw on her clothes from last night: a black t-shirt with an extremely low scooped neckline and a denim mini skirt.

  The sisters enter the small medical complex.

  “Not exactly a professional outfit,” Avery says, taking notice of her sister’s appearance as they head towards the elevator.

  Brooke buys herself a few seconds by taking an extra long bite from her glazed donut.

  “Did you give any thought to what you were going to wear or did you just grab your most recent outfit?” Avery pauses. “Wait a minute, that’s what you were wearing last night. Where were you when I called you this morning?”

  Brooke swallows. “With a gentlemen friend.”

  “A gentlemen friend?” Avery echoes.

  “That’s what I said.” Brooke pushes the UP button for the elevator and finishes off her donut.

  Avery runs through her memory of the previous night. “It wasn’t the guy at the bar, was it?”

  “What guy?”

  “The guy with the bow tie.”

  Brooke laughs. “Please. A bow tie?”

  “Bow ties are cool now,” Avery insists.

  “Bow ties are not cool,” Brooke replies. The elevator arrives and they enter. “They’re code.”

  “Code?”

  “As in secret,” Brooke explains. “Any man in a bow tie is probably looking for another man.”