Vicious Lies

by Ella Miles

  I step into the light, but he still doesn’t notice me. However, the woman’s eyes shoot up to me. She shrieks out of surprise, but then her eyes are running up my body appreciatively. She’d rather I be fucking her than the schmuck she’s straddling.

  “Get up,” I say calmly and firmly, keeping the anger I feel out of my voice.

  The woman scampers off, listening obediently. The man only slowly turns his head.

  “I said. Get. Up.”

  He swallows, and I know the options he’s considering in his head. But he’s an amateur, and I’m a skilled assassin.

  He reaches for his gun, but I grab it, empty the magazine, and toss it to the floor.

  His eyes grow big, his pupils dilate, his pulse beats rapidly in his throat as the fear spreads. He’s defenseless. He has nothing to match my skill. Basically, he’s my bitch, and he knows it.

  His bottom lip trembles as he considers his next words, but none come out. I’m surprised the man hasn’t pissed himself yet.

  “Who are you?” the woman asks, licking her bottom lip. Apparently, I’m not scary enough to her. She thinks she can seduce me with her good looks. But she’s as fake as this apartment—her curves don’t come naturally. Neither does her bleach blonde hair or her pointed fingernails.

  I turn my attention to her. My heated gaze ponders all the ways I could fuck her. She might be good in bed, but there are a million reasons I won’t fuck her. The main one being that I’m in love with another woman.

  “Go to the bedroom,” I say to her.

  Her smile curves up, revealing her wine-stained teeth and lips. Her breath catches as I stare at her before she obediently walks toward the bedroom.

  With her gone, I can focus on my main task.

  “What—what do you want?” the man asks, his voice trembling as he speaks. He knows exactly what I want.

  I take my time strolling around the sofa between us as I casually sit in the single chair facing him, acting like I’m about to negotiate with him. There is no way that’s going to happen, though. I’m in control, not him, and I know exactly how his story ends.

  “I—I have money. You can have whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  I adjust my watch, completely bored with this conversation, this task, this world.

  I was hired to kill this man. For months now, I’ve been taking odd jobs like this to soothe my killer instinct. To get a little thrill, a little bit of danger in my life. Something I used to get working for Enzo Black, but the Black empire has grown so big, so powerful that no one dares to stand up to him. No one has threatened them in months. The job has become boring and unsatisfying.

  But I’m finding that these jobs, hunting and killing killers, is even less exciting.

  “Mr. Reynolds, thank you for helping me realize something,” I say, standing like I’m about to end a business meeting.

  His eyes fill with hope, and I can see the relief filled smile stretch over his lips.

  “What’s that?”

  I crack my neck casually. His life means nothing to me. This is what I do. I hunt, I protect, I kill.

  I pull out my gun and aim it at his heart.

  “I’ve realized that you are going to be my last job.” And then I squeeze the trigger, watching him drop to a puddle of blood on the floor as his heart squirts out blood.

  I walk out the door before his date for the night comes out and realizes what happened. I’m not worried that she’s going to report me to the police. I don’t care that my prints are all over the condo. The police are no threat to me.

  I take the elevator down, walk out to my motorcycle and start it up. This is definitely my last job. I don’t need the money, I only do it for the thrill, and the thrill is gone.

  My phone buzzes, most likely Adrian, the man who got me this job. I pull it out to answer him when I see the message come through. I’m already getting sent another job because I’m the best hitman. That’s all this town sees me as.

  They don’t know that killing people doesn’t even touch the depths of my capabilities.

  They don’t know exactly how evil my heart is.

  They don’t know what I’ve done, what I’m about to do.

  I consider just deleting the message without reading it, but the way it starts catches my attention.

  Hitman Needed.

  I don’t need you to find the man who made a death threat. I’ll find him.

  I don’t need you to kidnap him. I can do that too.

  I don’t even need you to actually kill him.

  All I need you to do is say that you killed him if the need should arise. Just be there so I can say I didn’t kill him.

  You have to have a record. And you have to have killed before.

  I’ll pay one hundred thousand.

  —Huntress

  I read the message three times before I accept that I’m not dreaming. This is my chance for payback, for redemption, for revenge.

  Huntress.

  It’s been years since I’ve called her huntress. I don’t think I’ve called her that since we were teenagers. And yet, she’s using it here to hide her identity.

  Or she’s calling out to me? Hoping I’ll be the one to answer her ad?

  Not likely, since she hates my guts.

  But this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

  I kick my foot down, starting up my motorcycle as I text back: Accepted.

  Then I slip the phone into my pocket, instead of deleting the message like I should. I keep it, knowing I’ll want to reread the message over and over again as a plan forms in my head.

  I shouldn’t have accepted. I should stay far away from my huntress. She’s destroyed me before, and there is a good chance she’ll do it again.

  But this time, things are different. This time, I won’t give her my heart. This time, I plan on being the one who wins.

  3

  Liesel

  Only one man responded to my message—unusual.

  As shocking as it may seem to some people, this isn’t my first time hiring a hitman. And only getting one response isn’t typical, not in a town like this.

  We are supposed to meet for coffee in SoHo. It’s a trendy third-wave coffee shop that is almost always standing room only, so plenty of people to ensure neither of us is in any danger.

  I’m not worried about being in any danger regardless. We could be meeting in a back alley alone, and I still wouldn’t be afraid to meet him, whoever he is.

  Fear is something that I no longer feel. My fear was taken from me years ago.

  We are supposed to meet at ten o’clock.

  I purposefully show up ten minutes late. I don’t like to wait; I’m not a patient woman. And if he’s not willing to wait ten minutes, then he’s not the man for the job.

  My heels click on the tile floor as I walk to order my drink—a coffee, black. I have no need for extra calories in the form of sugar or milk. Only once I have my coffee in hand do I turn to look for the man I’m meeting.

  We didn’t exchange any details about each other. And it’s not like one of us is holding a single rose or something stupid like that from the movies.

  I’m dressed in a slim navy blue dress and heels. I look like any other woman headed to work in the city. He’s not going to be able to find me. I’m going to have to be the one to find him.

  I walk confidently through the throng of people gathered around the too-small tables. Most people are chatting in a group—those I can rule out. There are a few on their laptops—I rule them out as well. I don’t see a single person on their own.

  I sigh as I sip my coffee. I’ll walk through the room one more time, and if I don’t find him, I’ll have to put out a new call for a hitman. I’m not going to deal with a man being late.

  Suddenly, goosebumps form down my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and all of the air squeezes from my lungs. I don’t have to turn around to know who is standing behind me.

 
This can’t be a coincidence. I haven’t seen him in seven, or is it eight months? He doesn’t live here. He saw my call for a hitman, and he answered it. And I have no doubt he knew exactly who he was answering. I used the nickname that only he calls me.

  “Huntress,” Langston says, sending shivers racing through my body.

  I try not to react. Only Langston has the ability to turn my body on end. To make me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. And not all of those feelings are good.

  “Killer,” I say in a raspy voice, using the nickname I gave for him when we were kids, after I learned that he had killed a deer hunting. If I had only known then that he kills a lot more than deer…

  The flame that burns intensifies as we let it simmer between us. We both relish the feeling, even though we will never do a thing about it. An electric energy between two people doesn’t mean that we belong together. In fact, I think it means we should stay as far away from each other as possible. If we light a match near our smoldering fire, we will burn the entire world to the ground.

  I turn around, hoping that I’m in complete control. That I look confident, poised, and completely unaffected. But when I look at Langston, it’s not what I expect. He’s wearing a suit. He never wears a suit.

  It fits him well, which means he owns it and isn’t renting it. It’s a dark gray color with a white shirt opened at the collar, exposing his delicious sculpted chest. It also hides the muscles and scars underneath, which tell the story of the dangerous life Langston leads.

  He doesn’t look like a gangster, a devil, a killer. Instead, he looks like a businessman meeting a client for coffee.

  “This is a new look for you,” I say, my eyes purposefully trailing down his suit instead of staring at the harsh edges of his jaw and blue depths of his eyes that I’ll get lost in if I stare too long.

  “This is the same look for you,” he says. His voice gives nothing away, but it’s meant to be a compliment. He’s always liked the way I look—neat, tidy, polished with just a hint of womanly curves.

  “Shall we sit, or should we just agree this isn’t going to work and go on with our separate lives?” I ask, lifting my cup to my lips, daring him to be the one to decide if he wants to take this meeting further. I don’t want him to go, and I know he won’t. He wouldn’t have come all the way from Miami to meet me in New York City for coffee if he wasn’t going to stay and talk to me.

  The edge of his lip lifts, reminding me of the playful boy I used to know as a kid before the world darkened him and turned him into a monster that I barely even recognize. And then he walks past me. For a moment, I think he’s leaving, but he walks to a small table in the corner where a couple of college-aged boys are laughing with two empty coffee cups.

  “Time to leave, boys,” Langston says, his voice low and deep, full of a harsh threat if they stay.

  I don’t have to be a fortune teller to know the boys will get up without protest. I know the look that Langston is giving them, I’ve heard the voice. No one denies him when he uses it. His voice alone holds that kind of power, which makes it all the more shocking that he doesn’t use it to rule his own empire. Instead, he follows others’ orders.

  Langston pulls out a chair for me to sit.

  I won’t sit in it. He already knows this, which is why he gives me a smug knowing smile when I sit in the opposite chair. He takes his seat as well, and we both place our cups of coffee on the table.

  “So, my little huntress is going to finally make a kill?” Langston asks.

  “I guess that means we aren’t going to small talk first.” I cross my legs, purposefully pushing the hem on my dress higher up my thigh.

  Langston’s eyes flick down to my legs before meeting my gaze again. “I’d rather get right to the point than play games with you.”

  I smile. “We never play games with each other, killer. We just lie.”

  The disappointed frown Langston gives me affects me more than I want to admit.

  “Yes, I plan on killing someone,” I finally say.

  “Who?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Langston shrugs. “Not really, but it’s not like you to actually kill a man. You hunt them down, you track them, but you never do the killing. Never get your pretty little hands dirty.”

  “No, that’s your job.”

  “So did you change your mind? Am I the one who is going to do the killing?”

  I shake my head. “This one’s mine.”

  His eyes narrow into tight slits as he stares deep into mine. There was a time where we could both read each other with one look. That time has long passed. He has no idea what’s going on behind my hazel eyes. No idea what I’m hiding beneath the mask of makeup, curled blonde hair, and tight dress.

  “Why?” he asks when he can’t find the answer on his own.

  I lift my coffee to my lips, avoiding giving him an answer.

  “Tell me the truth. Why did you come when you knew it was me who sought a killer?” I ask.

  “Now, why would I do that? We never tell each other the truth,” Langston says, his voice angry and sultry as he throws my words back at me. It might be the only truth we ever tell each other.

  I toss my hair over my shoulder. “This was a mistake. I’ll find someone else.”

  Langston leans back in his chair. If I got up and ran out, I know he wouldn’t chase me.

  We never chase.

  We don’t play games.

  We just lie. And lie and lie.

  It’s the only thing I can count on when it comes to us.

  “No, you won’t,” Langston says.

  I frown, my eyes flitting back and forth over his, trying to figure out the hidden meaning.

  “I will. I don’t need you.”

  “It’s me or no one.” His blue eyes shine brightly. He knows he has me cornered. And he’s about to go in for the kill.

  “I’ll make sure that every man knows that you’re mine. That you are tied to the Black name.”

  I grip my coffee cup tighter but don’t show any other outward signs of my anger. “Always using the Black name instead of your own.”

  “The Black name is my own.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth, drawing his attention to my mouth. “Just another lie. You can pretend that it doesn’t matter that you aren’t Enzo’s brother by blood, but it matters. He has a real brother now. He has another best friend. You are nothing but a disposable soldier to him.”

  I stand to get up. I don’t need a hitman anyway. I can kill the man myself. And I can find a way to ensure that no one ties me to the crime.

  Langston catches my wrist, though, before I’m even fully out of my chair. I’d forgotten how quick his reflexes are.

  “When?” he asks, not letting me have any control. Just one of the many reasons why we will never work.

  I inhale a deep breath, taking my time. I may not be able to deny him, but I can prolong my answer. It’s a mistake, though, because all I smell is his husky scent. It fills my nostrils, and it’s going to linger there all day. Every time I take a breath in, I’ll breathe in him—a burning reminder of a man I wish I could get rid of forever.

  “Saturday night.” I don’t give him any more specific details. I don’t have to tell him what time or where. I know he’ll find me. He always finds me.

  He nods.

  I think he’s finally going to release me, but his hand is still wrapped around my wrist.

  “We still need to discuss payment,” he says.

  “$100K. I told you how much in the ad.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want your money.”

  “That’s the only way I’ll pay you.”

  His jaw tightens, and I chance a glance at his eyes. He doesn’t have to tell me with words how I will pay him back. I know. I know what he wants from me. The same thing most men want from me.

  But it’s the one thing I’ll never give him.

  4

  Langston

  Li
esel ran from the only family she’s ever known. She did it years ago to start a new life. To get a fresh start. To stay away from what she deemed evil and brought up too many painful memories for her.

  I understood at the time why she ran.

  I know why she’s disappointed in me.

  I know why she’s been gone all this time.

  She’s been running from her past. But it seems her past has caught up with her.

  For a while, she lived in the middle of nowhere. She was hidden. Safe.

  But that isn’t the life for Liesel. She likes to be near people; she likes to matter. So she moved back to the city and started up her life again as a lawyer. She bought a high-rise condo. She became the powerful woman she once was. She thought she could hide in plain sight, but there is no hiding from our world.

  I know—I’ve tried. Once you are in this world, you are in. There is no quitting. You can try to outrun it, but eventually, the darkness from your history catches up to you.

  Liesel wants to hunt and kill a man.

  She’s always been a hunter, but never a killer. That was always where she drew the line. It’s just another reason she hates me.

  I don’t only kill for self-protection; I kill because I enjoy it.

  She left the coffee shop without telling me who or why. But I have time.

  Saturday, she said. Today is Tuesday. I have four days until I see her again. Four days to figure out the truth she’s hiding. The lies she spoke.

  We never tell each other the truth. We can’t.

  It started as games when we were children. But then I stole half of a secret that I had no right to. She has half of the truth; I have the other half. Both of us will lie forever to keep our secrets.

  My heart pounds in the cage that is my ribs as I think about seeing her again in person instead of watching her from the shadows or on a shitty security camera.

  She’s the same—exquisite beauty, full of all the confidence in the world. But that’s her outward appearance. On the inside, she’s a broken bird hiding beneath giant wings. She hasn’t ever dealt with her past so she can never really live her future. She’s living a half-life, one where she doesn’t fully exist.