Page 11 of Sweet Touch of Venom
My eyes narrow back on the screen. There’s a bright light surrounding my vision. “Who are you?” I mutter to myself. Now I need to know that more than anything.
I continue staring, thinking she’ll turn her head in the picture and look at me with some devious grin. “First, we need to find out who the fuck is Venom.”
Chapter 4
Venom
A week earlier
Location:
Southeast Europe, Sofia, Capital of Bulgaria
“Almost done.” I swipe the yellow polish on my pointer finger and watch as the cool liquid smears up my nail in a perfectly straight line. There’s something satisfying about it.
Eve scoffed, pulling her pants suit up her bare legs. “I don't understand why you even paint your nails. You’ll just get them messed up, anyway.”
I raise a brow while still applying the polish. “Maybe because I like something else other than stained blood on them.” Something, I do not, find satisfying. I give another swipe before bending my fingers to my mouth to give a gentle blow. Losing my patience, I wiggle them in the air to dry the wet polish faster.
“Perhaps you’re right. But I like the red. It’s become my new favorite color.” Her voice crisp, with a sinister shrill. I look over at her as she straps her knives in her holster, then fluffing her tux to tighten it. Fitting her frame perfectly. Her icy blue eyes winking at me and her bleach blonde hair in a braid flowingdown her back. Eve, also known as Viper, is known for her excitement when it comes to blood, and she is also the brawn in this operation.
“Of course you do, Eve. I’m shocked you don’t bathe in the blood.” A sultry English accent comes into the room. Scarlette waltzes in; her black sequin dress outlines her curves with her walk. My eyes drift to her. The dress truly gives her deep brown skin a run for its money. Scarlette AKA Medusa; She’s a lot more feminine than us all. Don't let that fool you, she once ripped a man’s tongue out of his throat because he broke her nail during a fight. Which happened to be her fault. She runs her hands through her long braids that reach her ass.
Eve’s brow raises, smoothing down her tie. “Now that you’ve said it, I think I may consider that.”
I shake my head, still blowing my nails and swinging them. “You are the worst.”
She grabs her gun off the nightstand, slipping it in the back of her pants. “Not worse than you doing your nails before a mission.”
I check the liquid to see if it is dry before standing and adjusting my knee-high dress. I chose a red silky dress that shows my entire back, a full view of my snake tattoo that wraps to the front of my stomach. “It’s not my fault that you have no sense of self-care.”
She gives me a mocking face before sticking me with the middle finger, walking beside me.
Scarlette saunters to us, looking like a goddess in the night. “Anita is right. Self-care is important.” She swings her hair over her shoulders.
“Okay, where is Kyra?” I say with irritation.
“I’m coming,” a low voice calls from behind the door. Mostly a whisper. I’m surprised we can hear it. But we’ve come to terms with her voice and gotten used to it.
Kyra walks out; she’s wearing her normal attire. Black leather pants with her black jean jacket and a black shirt underneath. Her hair is out and wild, with one side shaven and the rest a mixture of blue, green, and jet black.
The all black really makes her look like a ghost in the night. It’s creepy, but absolutely amazing. Kyra AKA Misery. She may be the quietest of us all, but no doubt the deadliest. Before the mission was over, the man who we thought we killed charged at her, impaling her right knee with a knife. She stood there watching him before taking the blade out of the wound, then stabbing him repeatedly until he was nothing but skin particles.
If I was not used to that, I would have puked. I merely smiled at it and kept it moving. Of course, after, we had to treat her quickly before the wound became infected.
“Are you ready now, Ky?” Scarlette says, snapping her clutch.
Kyra only nods, her face is blank. One day, maybe I’ll get her to smile. But I don’t blame her dry expression and bored looks. There’s nothing amusing about this job, especially when all you see are bloody bodies and gaping holes.
Then there’s me.
Well?…?they don’t call me Venom for no reason.
We are a group, but I stay to myself mainly. I don’t get too close, and I don’t make best friends. That only ends in heartache and hurt from the attachment. This job is dangerous, and I’d rather not have feelings behind it if one of them gets murdered right in front of me. Buttheyare closer than ever.
“Okay, check,” I order out, standing by the entrance of the door. Everyone knows the drill, looking down at their bodies, making sure everything is secure and where it needs to be. Hidden guns, knives, acid spray, if need be, and of course Scarlette’s bomb lipstick. All she has to do is throw it, and a bomb explodes—in case the mission doesn’t fan out right.
We all nod, eyeing each other before stepping out of the primary suite. Why not live in luxury, when once you step out, there is only chaos and death? I happen to like only two of those, luxury is just the perk that comes with it occasionally.
