“You walk out that door and this goes from coverin’upa murder…toaccessoryto murder.” I skidded to a stop and my face tingled. “See, the thing is, I have this tech guy. He’s got video feed of you cleanin’ that room. Feed of you pulling up to this house and walking to the door…lettin’ yourself in. It can be altered to make it look however I need it to look. I’m just askin’ for a little time with you. Is it that unbearable?”
I think I’m gonna be one of those fainters I just thought it wise to inwardly laugh at. Sweat started dripping from the edges of my head scarf and rolling down the back of my neck. I slowly turned around. “You’re fucked in the head, bud. Is this how you get dates? I’ve been on every shitty kind you can think of, and I’ve heard some despicable lines, but…this might be a chart topper.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Please?”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered under my breath. “Bye.” I snapped myself back around, finally reaching the start of that hallway and decided…if he’s gonna kill me, then fine. But I’m not gonna make it easy for him. I’ll get as far as I can and then when and if he catches up with me, I’ll put up the fight of my life. I refuse to be the stereotypical bimbo in horror movies that trips over stale air or doesn’t know how to put a car in neutral. Me and Death are chums…it won’t end like this. Not for me.
His voice rang out behind me. “You’re really gonna just walk out on your gift? That’s kinda rude.” I caught the corner of the hallway with my gloved hand and popped my head around it to look at him.
“Next time try flowers, psycho. If you were gonna kill me, I think you’d have done it already. If you’re trying to take my panties home, then I doubt you’d really have your ‘tech guy’ try to blackmail me for a date. That seems pretty beneath you. So, yes. I am. Keep your phalanges and your blood money, Hannibal. Deuces.”
“Haha…Hannibal.”
He’s completely unfazed and unhinged. Fuck, why am I turned on?
Shut the hell up and get outta here, you desperate, thirsty husk.
I rolled my eyes and let go of the wall, walking with purpose out that door and through the staircases. That front entrance never seemed more beautiful. And to be honest, cameras or not…as soon as I made it under the cover of the night sky, I fuckingboltedfor my car. There wasn’t anyone out here getting my crap out of the trunk, either. I’m actually really curious what his plans were for me and that poor traitorous escort, but not enough to fuck around and find out. He must have known it, too. The gate to the property was already opened again.
What’s normally over an hour drive, I made in forty-five minutes. My mind’s been racing as fast as this car. It still was when I blearily unlocked my door and stumbled into my apartment, completely and utterly exhausted in every sense, and for some reason…not at all worried if this fucker followed me home or not. For one, I kept one eye on my rear-view the entire way. And for two, I’m not too tired to lay out every pointy thing I have and a Louisville Slugger within reach of my bed. I came out of the jumpsuit and did an impressive swan dive onto my bed that I was, quite frankly, sad no one witnessed…and tried to let sleep take me now that I finally had a chance to embrace it in solitude.
Trouble with that is…sometimes you’re so completely annihilated that everything shuts down except for your mind. I laid there with drool actively trickling from the corner of my mouth, wondering why the only thing I could see when my eyes closed was a pair of green eyes. Men are such dicks. It’s not even worth the effort anymore of going through the trouble of datinganyone just so you can even just getlaid. They’re either terrified of me, I’m too weird, too Amy Lee for their taste, or they’re just downright fuckingboring. Not once has anybody brought flowers to one of these dates, picked me up from this apartment, held a door open for me, or even so much as stayed the night after they mademeride their lazy asses for two seconds because they’re too entitled and full of themselves to makemefeel good for once…but this guy…killedfor me?
Why?
Why in God’s name did I just get invited to watch this perfect stranger play real-lifeOperationon somebody he was in cahoots with, for the sole purpose of getting my attention and spending time with me? And why do I get the feeling that I was absolutely right in what I said to him before I did a five second relay out of that house? What did Mr. Nightshade do or say that was so bad that it earned him a spot in that fancy chair tonight? And what the hell did it have to do with me? Somehow, deep down, I knew this shit wasn’t over.
But the first thing I’m doing before work tomorrow is taking that fucking ad off the Dark Web.
CHAPTER 4
The Executioner
Little Viper didn’t like her gift.
Pouty face.
To be fair, though…I guess I’m a little rusty with the whole, ‘let’s knock a woman off her feet’ thing. I’ll do better. She seems really caught off guard by the notion that I’ve decided she’s mine now, but see…she tried to bite me. And that’s my favorite brand of foreplay. That’s all second to the fact that even though I haven’t seen what color her hair is yet, she’s way too similar to my guardian angel than what’s a coincidence to me…and Irish lads are a superstitious lot. She’s similar…and yet she’s not. She looks like Shavonn reincarnated, but the way she talked shit to me tonight…
I’ve had my fair share of tongue lashings from my woman. Evenbeforewe grew to love each other. But that little firecracker that walked out my door tonight has a mouth like mine. Not Shavonn’s. And it’ll surprise the hell outta me if Declan finally pulls an I.D. on her and she don’t have a head full of ginger hair.
There was an event tonight that I should have been present for, but I had an event of my own planned, and a house all to myself. I’d decided that my little inkling about Conor and the fact that I let my rage get the best of me last night, pulled his number to the top of my kill list. I dropped the ball, and Pop dropped one too, letting him hop a fence of that magnitude and switch his side of this war. He can’t be trusted. Or at least that’s what I kept reminding myself after he called my littledaydreamcute, and thought he’d get away with that. His gesture was nice, if not an attempt to brown his nose a bit, and I’m not disregarding that, but at the end of the day…a finger’s just a fucking finger. I’d gotten what I needed the minute Braughton’s heart stopped beating at the sake of my hands.
I guess I could have cut Conor some slack. He was, after all, the reason I knew my Little Viper existed…but I also decided I didn’t give a fuck about that either, and cut him some slack in other ways instead. Some slack on his belly, just because it’s fun. Some on his hands for taking too long patting her down out front. His eyes, just for looking at her long enough to call her cute. I’m nothing if not generous.
I’m not taking the money back. Even if Ididhave to mop Conor up myself. Call it boredom or disappointment, either is fine, but slowly killing him lost its appeal the minute her car left the driveway. I’m sure she thinks she’s beyond reach now that I let her make it all the way to wherever it is she lives without giving chase…but she must have been too rattled by the situation to remember that I was kind enough to mention a tech guy. Declan is likely well on his way to figuring out where she ran off to. She didn’t drive the same vehicle here tonight, and my money’s on that being her personal car. It lookedveryfeminine. Run the camera feed, zoomie zoomie, run the plate, hack the two phones she conveniently left within range of his Wi-Fi and…there we have it. Or at least he made it sound that simple, anyway.
Conor’s a heavy motherfucker. I tried to remember some details about how Viper took care of her bodies, but I was pretty limited on whatever I could find in the house. I did rip the shower curtain out of my bathroom. I could have sworn that was one thing I noticed her use. Smart. Effective. It’s just big enough to roll him up in. I zip-tied both ends and he kind of looks like one of those sausages we used to have when I was a wee lad.
I’m hungry.
Digging a grave, even this shallow, really takes it outta you. How does she manage this shit on her own? I’m salivating for some more information on this lass. The more I consider it, the more I find to be enchanted by. It’s like she was fuckingmadefor me. I bet if she was here, she’d be telling me everything I was doing wrong in that sassy way she spoke to me earlier. It’s kinda makin’ my dick hard. I’m about knee-deep in the dirt out here in the wooded part of the side yard. Is this deep enough? There’s a little grove of trees out here with just enough light from how clear it is tonight, and the utility lights from the corner of the right wing of the house. Fuck it, he doesn’t deserve this labor. In he goes.
Thump.
“Tell Braughtondia duitfor me, mate. See ya at the fiery gates.”
I was a good ways in covering him up, to the point that the only plastic I could see now was the part that stuck up highest on the tied ends, when my phone started ringing in my back pocket. I slammed the shovel into the dirt and wiped the sweat off my brow before I answered it. I’m outta shape. Turns out I’m a lot more winded if I’m not in my fit of rage.
