Chapter Three

“Can you hear me?” Keres asked as she made her way into the nightclub.

“Yep, you and that screeching noise that passes as music.”

She suppressed her smile.

“Remember the plan,” Darby continued. “If you can’t get him alone, walk away and we’ll figure out something for another day.”

Keres didn’t reply. No matter what, she was going to finish this. She was going to end the last man who had tried to end her. Dishon Peterson had stabbed her six times. Amazingly, he had missed all her vital organs. When he had gotten to Abigail, the first strike had punctured her heart, killing her instantly. Part of her was glad her friend hadn’t felt more pain. Part of her was envious. However, since she was still breathing it was up to her to avenge not only Abigail, but herself.

It didn’t take long for her to spot her target. He was just as she remembered him. Tall, disgusting … and a bad dancer to boot. For a moment, her resolve faltered. This man terrified her. She wanted to turn and run away. Wanted to hide. It made her wonder if she could follow through because for her plan to work, Peterson had to touch her.

“It’s okay to abandon the plan,” Darby said in her earpiece.

No. She had to do this. Needed to do this. Walking away wasn’t an option. Shaking off her trepidation, Keres went to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour. Then she took a deep breath and channeled her inner bitch.

She weaved through the dancers, giggling at everything. Toasting men and women. When she got close to Peterson, she pretended to stumble and practically knocked him down. While he was distracted, she discreetly opened her ring and slipped the tetrodotoxin into his drink.

“Oh! I am so, so, so, so, so whatever I was saying,” she said, ending on a high-pitched squeal.

Peterson wrapped his free arm around her. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my arms?”

She blinked, and a hiccup escaped her mouth causing her to giggle more. “I think I found my Prince Charming. Wanna lead me out of your castle, my good sir?”

“How about I show you my private chambers?”

Keres slid her arm around his neck. “Take me away. Hey, do you have a dragon? I want to ride a dragon.”

“Only in my pants and you’ll be riding it soon.”

That almost made her vomit. As it stood, she would need to scrub off a layer of skin wherever he touched just to eliminate the gross factor. It was hard to hide her revulsion, but somehow she stayed in character and remembered the role she had to play.

He led her off the dance floor, heading to the bathrooms. When they reached the men’s room, a man stood at the urinal.

“Get out,” Peterson snarled.

The young man finished, zipped, and got the hell out of there without bothering to wash his hands. Then Peterson locked the door and turned to her, licking his lips. He gazed up and down her body and it took everything she had to not turn into a crying, bubbling mess.

Full-blown panic gripped her as he grabbed hold of her arms and yanked her into his body. Vomit threatened to come up. The plan quickly fell apart when her brain shut down. All she could think about was getting away. When his mouth landed on hers, she started fighting him. Her knee came up and caught him in his crotch. He let out a gruff kind of squeal and slapped her. She spun around and fell against a sink, her hip connecting painfully against the cold porcelain. That snapped her out of her terror and all the training from Darby came flooding back. She yanked out a dagger she had stashed in her bra and lashed out. The blade connected with his cheek, and she was happy to see a line of blood spill forth.

“Bitch!” he roared.

In the blink of an eye, he lunged, and his own knife buried in her side. She fell back with a cry as agony blossomed through her body. She braced herself for more, but he never advanced.

“What the f— ”

He couldn’t finish the sentence as his lips froze in place. Keres took her time to grab some paper towels and pressed them to her side. A hiss of pain escaped, and she glared at him.

“My fault,” she said, ignoring the pain. “I know you like to stab your victims, so I should’ve expected that. Oh, well. What’s one more scar, eh?”

She walked around him. The only indication he was still alive was from the rattling in his chest.

“Still breathing for now,” she said. “I like this. I like that you can hear and feel everything but can’t do a damn thing to stop the inevitable. And believe me, you will die, if not by me then by the paralytic I slipped into your drink. Now, first things first, I need to move you into a stall. I don’t think I have a lot of time until someone pounds on that door.”

Maneuvering him into the last stall took some strength, and caused her wound to ache, but when he was finally there, she took a deep breath.

“Wow, that was a workout. Okay. Now, you may not remember me, so let me remind you. You and your buddies destroyed my life. You killed my best friend. You took away a piece of me I’ll never have again. And for all those reasons, I’m going to slice off your puny little cock and shove it in your mouth. Kinda like how you stuffed your fist in my mouth so I couldn’t bite you or scream. Karma is a bitch and her name is Keres.”

She pulled some latex gloves from her pocket and slipped them on before slowly sinking the blade into his torso. Only a few wounds so he could feel it and know she was a phoenix who had risen from the ashes to exact revenge. Pain, rage, and desperate fear blended into his eyes. He couldn’t blink and she savored every emotion pouring from them.

“I hate to wrap this up, but our time must come to an end. And by that, I mean your end.”

She cut his pants at his crotch level, and then took hold of his shriveled prick and brought her knife to the base. Staring into his eyes, she slowly sliced, and the piece of flesh flopped in her hand. He wanted to scream but couldn’t move his tongue. His breathing grew labored, and she knew it was the toxin working its way through his respiratory tract. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

“Do you feel your lungs freezing?” she asked. Prying his mouth open, she shoved his dick inside. “You’ll never hurt anyone ever again. Say hi to your friends for me when you meet them in Hell.”

She needed to get out of there. Grabbing more paper towels, she slipped off her gloves and shoved them back into her pocket. Then she flipped the lock on the door and stumbled out, crashing into a man on his way in. All she was able to take in was a tall, muscular man. A gorgeous man. Too bad she gave up on the species.

Keres hurried away and slipped out the back door, glad Darby had managed to sever the alarm. When she made it outside, she realized she had no earpiece. It must’ve fallen out when asswipe back there slapped her.

Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She’d done it. She had avenged Abigail. As her adrenaline crashed, the world started to spin. She could die a happy woman now. A hand grabbed her, and she saw that gorgeous man again. Beautiful toffee-colored skin. Light colored eyes. Maybe he was a fallen angel come to take her away. Although there was no way she was getting into Heaven now. Not after what she’d done to her attackers. That was the last thought that lingered as darkness consumed her.

****

Ronin kept to the shadows as he watched his prey, ignoring the pounding beat of the music blaring through the speakers. The Turkish décor inspired vibrant colors, intricate and antique designs. The pale stone floor offered a cool visual to the overstuffed atmosphere and gilded crushed velvet upholstery.

Dishon Peterson had been gyrating in the crush of people for a solid thirty minutes. Ronin knew because he kept checking the time on his watch. The drink in the man’s hand probably convinced him he had dance moves. The only way he was going to get a piece of ass was if the woman was blindly drunk. Even as he thought this, Ronin spotted said black-haired drunk woman hip-moving her way toward him, and a moment later they crashed together. The laugh she gave was swallowed up by music, but she draped her free arm around his neck and moved in closer. Peterson said something to her, and she nodded.

Ronin tensed as the two made their way to the back area where the restrooms were located. He glanced at his watch again. Two drunk people should be finished fucking in minutes. Wasn’t like they were going to get into foreplay between the urinals.

He waited. And waited. Again, he got the feeling something wasn’t right. Abandoning the warm beer he held to strictly fit in, he made his way to the restrooms. Just as he turned the corner of the hallway that led to the men’s room, the woman came stumbling out. He went to steady her, but their gazes met, and Ronin saw fear and disgust mingled together in crystalline blue eyes that seemed too big for her face. They were captivating, even as a wall came up and she pulled away. In the next instant, she was gone.

Ronin entered the men’s bathroom but didn’t hear a goddamn thing. Slowly, he went stall to stall, pushing the doors open and in the last one sat Dishon Peterson on the toilet. Pants down, penis nowhere to be found. This kill was a little different, however. Stab wounds peppered the torso, with the running blood resembling a Pollock painting.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed under his breath.

He quickly snapped a photo and then left quickly because he didn’t want to be around when someone found the body.

The woman.

Not a hitman, a hit woman . Damn. He followed her out the door, pulling the fire alarm as he slipped out. The shrill bell sounded as he placed a call.

“I need clean-up immediately. Club Ivy. Men’s bathroom, third stall. I’ll pay double if you get here before the fire trucks show up.”

He hung up, knowing his clean-up crew would make it happen. Murky lighting over the area behind the building didn’t help much, but he did notice some blood leading away. She was hurt, and that gave him a way to track her. Moving swiftly, he darted his gaze around until he saw another drop of blood. Hurrying forward, he saw her turn a corner. A moment later, he was right behind her.

“Stop,” he ordered.

She did and slowly turned. One hand covered her side, and he saw blood pooling between her fingers. She opened her mouth, as if trying to say something, but the next moment her eyes rolled back. He managed to catch her before she toppled over. As he hoisted her up, the wig she wore slipped off and he saw the true color. Auburn hair fit her better than black. He needed answers so he swept her up into his arms and headed back to his car.