SIX
How precious did that Grace appear
the hour I first believed…
JHAY
Monday nights at Empty Cage were b-o-r-i-n-g. Very few customers came out to blow their dough on Mondays, so the strippers are usually found curled up in a booth, freezing from the air-conditioner, while watching the club entrance for the next lone customer who walked in so they could pounce on him.
I glanced over to the stairway leading up to Chad’s office. No sign of the boss’s goons. No sign of him. Maybe he was shaken up from dodging a bullet earlier in the day and wouldn’t bother showing up?
Sitting bored-out-of-my mind in a booth at the back of the club to shield off the chills from the blasting air-conditioner, feet pulled up and tucked beneath me, I yawned for maybe the hundredth time.
This chase was starting to debilitate me. After following Chad undetected for the past three weeks, I’d finally,finallygotten the perfect opening to take him out. My plan, everything, was fucking perfect. A clean takeout. I’d set up camp on the roof of a high-rise across the hotel building he was having a meeting in, had the clearest fucking shot of him, counted down to zero to pull the trigger…then some moron had jumped right in the fucking way.
Pissed, I’d fired anyway, if only to shoot the goddamn imbecile who thought his partner’s life was more valuable than his.
The brave thing to do was keep post and aim for another shot at him. The smart thing to do was Usain Bolt it from the scene.
I went with smart. Because Chad was, well, Chad. He was a fearless, ruthless demon, and if he’d gotten even a glimpse of his shooter, it wouldn’t have been pretty for me. He would’ve found me before I could even think to leave the country. And even if Ididmanage to escape him by the skin of my teeth, and ran back home without getting the job done, it still wouldn’t be pretty for me.
For one, The Voice didn’t take failures lightly. And two, I wouldn’t gain my freedom.
So, I ran, and decided to strike that down as another failed attempt at eradicating Chadrick Niiveux’s existence.
Hence I was back to square one. And I had no damn doubt it would only get harder from here on out, because now that someone had tried to lodge a bullet to his brain, he was likely going back to having no shadows or footprints.
See, over the past three weeks, all of a sudden, he’d developed a pattern; leaving traces, which made it easy as lying to trail him, easier for me to plan, know where he was going to be and at what time.
I’d found it strange at first, considering I’d been studying him for all of six months and had never once gotten that kind of opening. It almost seemed as if he was deliberately leaving himself open. And I didn’t question, didn’t hesitate. I saw the opening, I took it…
And I failed.
I wanted out of this life. But knew I’d never get an out unless I succeeded.
My nightly shivers were coming back. Since Sydney had left, I’d been sleeping by myself and the loneliness was haunting me. Driving me insane. For sex, I screwed around with the club girls, and ordered call-girls a couple of times.
Otherwise, I was stuck being alone. Feeling claustrophobic in my apartment, as sleek and spacious as it was. And, mentally, it was taking a toll on me.
Catching sight of the tall Indian stripper—the only one allowed up the stairway when Chad was at the club—approaching me, I uncurled my feet from beneath me.
This particular stripper watched me constantly—not in a sexual way—and she thought it wasn’t to my knowledge that she did. I long deduced she was a spy for Chad.
As she reached up to my booth, I straightened up and put my slut face on.
“Hey, Blood.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I made a show of biting my lip and raking my eyes up and down her body. Though she wasn’t really my type. She was too lithe, too soft. I liked women who had a bit of firmness in the right places. But, hey, for all I knew she would probably be a better fuck than ‘my type’.
Around my height, she had extremely long, jet black Indian hair, dark eyebrows and even darker lashes. And to say her lips were full and sexy was an understatement. They were damn near eatable.
Indian Girl shifted in a wave of nervousness, watching me with careful eyes. “Um, I—”
“I’m bored and horny,” I cut in. “Let’s fuck in the back room.”
Eyes widening a small fraction, she quickly glanced around as though checking if anyone overheard our convo. Then she licked her lips, uneasy, bosom notably rising and falling heavily as a result of the change in pace of her heartbeat. “I’m sorry, I don’t do gir—”
Faster than she could think to defend herself, I shot up and grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her, then slammed her face-down on the leather-covered seat in the booth.
