The Killing Season Read Online Free Page A

on the rag. Hence, Bloody Eve.”
    The knife went flying, landing between Sin’s spread fingers on the table. It wobbled, half its blade buried in the table. Abigail giggled.
    “This is a Baroque piece, Evelyn. I’ll have you remember that.” Killian hadn’t even looked up from his duck.
    “Sorry, sir,” Eve said, shooting Sin a dark look before turning her focus back to me. “My point is, Ollie, take every opportunity you get, and make sure to kill everything that moves. Only then will you get a margin of the respect you deserve.”
    The words could have been bitchy or condescending, and they almost sounded like it, but her eyes shone with vehemence. I knew she’d wanted to do more than threaten Sin’s fingers. She wanted to take one off, and maybe if they were alone, she would have. In that moment, I knew she’d truly earned her nickname and not because she was a bitch. She’d earned it the hard way, the way men like Sin didn’t like to acknowledge in public, so they belittled her instead.
    “I plan on it,” I said quietly. “Killing everything that moves, that is.” My eyes flickered to Killian, and he met my gaze unblinking.
    A threat. A promise. He could take it however he wanted.
    The rest of dinner passed with superficial conversation that I mostly ignored. Eve joined back into the chatter with more jovial threats and not-so-subtle flirting, which she more often than not aimed in Luke’s direction along with lingering glances that set my teeth on edge. Halfway through dessert, I realized she and Sin were a couple. Not a very loyal one, given how she stared at Luke and how Sin’s eyes kept lingering on my chest, but together nonetheless. I couldn’t help but feel, as her gaze found mine occasionally, she’d been trying to warn me with the talk of killing everything that moved.
    By the time we all stood up, ready to be shown to our rooms, Luke and his father had barely spoken to each other, and Abigail had fallen asleep in her chair.
    Back in the entry, Burt told us our luggage had been left in our rooms and handed out little silver keys with a skull fretwork design on the end. Sunny and I had been assigned two separate rooms on the third floor. Everyone else was on the second. After receiving directions to our individual rooms, Sunny and I were the last ones to head up the stairs that coiled like a snake around the entry’s walls, and my feet dragged with exhaustion.
    My injured pelvis caused my legs to move funny, and by the time we hit the third flight of stairs, I had to lean heavily on the banister. A little over two weeks had passed since my fight with the aswang during Fields, but my creaky, stiff limbs acted like it was yesterday. I told myself to be patient with my body, that even though I couldn’t feel it healing, it still needed to heal. Or so Sunny preached. I forced my legs to trudge up the last few steps.
    And nearly fell back down them when a Sasquatch of a man almost ran me over.
    “Excuse us!” Sunny said, reaching for my arm.
    With a growl, I clutched the railing tighter and righted myself, shoveling hair out of my eyes to look up at the face of my newest douchebag acquaintance. “What the fuck?”
    Sasquatch stepped back, and I was finally able to take him all in. Denim overalls. Plaid shirt. Tall snow boots. Leathery face with features lost behind a practical snowfall of a white beard, bushy eyebrows, mustache, and sideburns like you wouldn’t believe. Somewhere in there, I spotted two beady black eyes glaring at me. “That’s a pretty mouth you got there, darlin’,” he said in a deep and rumbling voice that vibrated my bones.
    “Maybe you should watch where you’re stomping, Sasquatch.”
    Thick, gray eyebrows rose, mustache twitching to possibly indicate he was smiling. I honestly didn’t know. The guy could have a nuclear weapon hidden under all that facial hair. “You must be Ollie Andrews. Your reputation precedes you.”
    I stiffened, but tried not to let my