by Soto, S. M.
“They die.”
My face crumples and I shakily take the pill from his palm and swallow it down with the water. By the time it takes effect, we’re already back on the road, nothing but a long stretch of highway before us.
* * *
I jolt awake at the sound of a car door slamming shut. My eyes fling open, and I jerk on the seat, my gaze settling on the empty driver’s side. The first thing I notice is the darkness surrounding the window. I rub my swollen eyes clear from the fog of sleep. My brows furrow when I glance around me, and my heart rate spikes when I take in the vinyl seats and a different-looking dashboard. Gone is the sleek and sexy look, replaced by a bland, pleather surface.
It hits me all at once that I’m no longer in the same car. When the hell did he switch cars? And why did he switch cars?
A blast of cool night air hits me when the passenger door is thrust open and there, with his arm resting against the door of the car is Percivale. His face is impassive. I can’t tell what he’s thinking or if he’s still angry with me.
So I test the waters with a quiet “Hi.”
He doesn’t bother responding. He just jerks his chin over his shoulder. “Get out.”
It’s then I notice the old, seedy building behind him, laid out like a backdrop straight out of a horror movie. I don’t miss the sign behind him that reads No Vacancy, and underneath that in small, burnt-out neon letters is North Carolina. I swallow thickly and dart my gaze back to his, questions in my eyes. He doesn’t utter a word, just impatiently waits for to me to follow his orders.
Blowing out a sigh, I climb out of the car and take in the entirety of the building. I can’t even suppress my shiver of disgust. I can practically feel the bed bugs crawling on my skin.
“Please don’t tell me we’re staying here? Of all places, seriously?”
His nostrils flare and I can tell his patience with me is thinning. With an irritable sigh, I climb the rest of the way out of the car and slam the door closed behind me. I follow behind Percivale as he leads the way into our room. I glance over my shoulder, taking in our shady surroundings. The parking lot is mostly empty, littered with stray cigarettes and empty bottles of liquor. It’s super reassuring.
I can’t help but grimace when I see a group of guys hanging out by their jalopy of a car, watching us. I feel their eyes on my skin, and it sends a shiver of dread down my spine, prompting me to inch closer to Percivale. Blowing out a sigh of relief, I revel in the warmth and protection his body provides. He must notice me inching closer to him because he glances down at me with an odd expression on his face, and I force a smile, unsure of what else to do. He looks over his shoulder, his brows dipping down when he spots the rowdy group of guys. Percivale looks down at me again, searching my eyes, and surprises the absolute shit out of me when he settles his hand on my lower back and guides us toward our room.
I cringe when we stop in front of a horribly painted green door that’s chipping with paint, labeled 6C. The smell hits me first. When he opens the door, I choke on the thick air that reeks of stale smoke, old people, and feet. It’s disgusting. A look at Percivale’s face tells me he’s equally disgusted.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, dropping his duffel bag on the stained burgundy floor. The carpet doesn’t even look like carpet anymore, it just looks like worn material. My eyes widen when they land on the bed.
One bed.
It’s decent in size. Probably a full, but it’s still only one bed. And quite frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about sleeping next to Percivale.
“There’s only one bed?” I squeak out, and I don’t know if I imagine it, but I swear his lip twitches, like he wants to smile at how uncomfortable I am and revel in it.
“Feel free to sleep on the floor.”
I scowl at him as he digs in his back pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He flicks open a solid gold lighter and lights up, right here where we’re supposed to freaking sleep. My mouth drops open.
“You realize we have to sleep in here? Secondhand smoke is just as deadly, you know that, right?”
In response he blows out a huge plume of smoke, the cloud hovering around us. I shoot him a scathing glare.
“You can’t smoke in here.” I try to keep my voice strong and steady, but by the humorous glint in his eyes, it’s obvious it’s not working.
“And what else would you suggest I do with my mouth in the meantime, princess?”
The blush that coats my skin at his innuendo is vibrant and all consuming as the butterflies slash savagely in my stomach.
“Fine, kill us both, then. I guess it won’t matter when the bed bugs eat us alive tonight.”
He chuckles with the stick poised between his lips, like I’m amusing. “You’ll live.”
“You drive the nicest car I’ve ever seen and this, this is where you decide to stay? This seedy, Bates Motel–looking dump?”
“Could be worse.”
“How can this possibly get any worse than it already is?”
“I could kill you,” he deadpans. It shuts me right up.
Darting my gaze around, I try not to be so disgusted by the room, but it’s a lot harder than one would think. I glance toward the door, a sudden thought striking me.
“Why did you switch cars anyway?” I ask, remembering I woke up in an entirely different car. He managed to get a lot done while I was passed out. Hours of driving, shopping bags, a filled black duffel bag, and a bag of food? What the hell was in that pill he gave me?
“And the bags? When did you have time to go shopping?”
“You ask an awful lot of questions, sweetheart.”
“Well, when someone kidnaps me from my bakery, I tend to want to know what’s going to happen to me. You know.”
He freezes with the food bag in his hand and shoots me a look that has me rubbing my lips together and keeping my lips sealed.
“Do you really want to know what’s going to happen to you, Blossom?” There’s an eerie strain to his voice that has dread swirling in my belly. “I can guarantee you don’t.”
I swallow what feels like a glassful of sand.
His lip twitches and he digs in the bag and pulls out chips and a footlong sandwich. My stomach rumbles at the weight of it in my palms. Percivale moves toward the chair by the desk, and I turn toward the bed and run my hand over the surface, checking for bugs or any creepy-crawlies. Deeming it okay, I perch on the edge, still not comfortable with the thought of lying flat out on this bed, and I unwrap my sandwich. The first bite is like heaven. I normally don’t like all this shit in my sandwiches, but damnit, this is good. Super good.
I devour my sandwich, chips, and drink almost immediately. I sneak glances at Percivale every now and then, only to find him doing the same. Although, I wouldn’t say he’s sneaking glances—he’s just blatantly staring. Watching me like a predator would its prey.
“Need to use the shower or the bathroom?”
My brows dip into a frown, confused by his sudden caring interest. “No, why?” I ask slowly, drawing out the why.
He pushes up from the crappy wooden chair he was sitting on and reaches for the bags he dropped near the door when we came in. I glare at them speculatively when he drops them on the bed next to me. That iridescent gaze meets mine, and he unzips his duffel.
“Because I have shit to do, and you—” The sharp sound of duct tape being stretched pierces my ears. “—are going to stay put until I get back.” My eyes round, and my heart does its best to pound its way out of my chest.
“You’re tying me up?” I ask incredulously in a shrill voice. He continues pulling supplies out of the duffel, and with each item, my eyes grow larger in size. That asshole wasn’t asking because he cared, he was asking because he didn’t want me urinating on myself!
“Is all this really necessary?”
“Yes. You’ve proven you can’t be trusted, and I won’t take any chances.”
“But I told you I was sorry.”
He smiles at me coldly. “That sweet shit might work on everyone else, but it doesn’t on me, Blossom. You fucked with me, now I’m fucking with you.”
“B-but—”
Percivale roughly slaps the tape over my lips and runs his fingers over it, smoothing out the edges. “Shhh. That’s better. You’re so much prettier when your mouth isn’t moving, Blossom.”
I gasp. Even though he can’t hear me. My eyes narrow in outrage, and I swing my arm out to bash my fist into him, but he’s expecting the move. He catches my balled-up fist, and with what seems like superhuman strength, he lifts me in his arms and tosses my body back down on the bed. I flop like a fish out of water, trying to scramble to get up, but he beats me to it. He snatches my wrists together, and within seconds he has my arms twisted behind my back and zip ties around them.
I scream at him beneath the tape covering my lips. I yell out every curse word and obscenity I can think of, and the bastard smiles the entire time, like he’s enjoying this. He binds my ankles together with the zip ties, and when he’s finished with his work, he props extra pillows behind my head and hovers over me, eyes dancing with glee.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to use the bathroom before I get back, pretty girl.”
I growl like a damn animal, and he laughs in my face.
Before walking out of the room, he flips on the TV and finds a basic cable channel that’s playing That ’70s Show. And the cheeky bastard winks before the door slams shut behind him.
Knocking on the Reaper’s Door
Percivale
With my duffel slung over my shoulder, I pop the trunk of the car and throw everything inside. I glance around the now-empty parking lot, relieved the group of assholes from earlier are now gone. I shouldn’t care about Blossom’s well-being, and if we’re being honest, I don’t, not really. But I’ll damned if one of the punks breaks into the room while I’m not there with her. All I need is an even bigger issue on my hands, cleaning up more dead bodies.
If anyone is going to lay a hand on her, it’s going to be me.
I had Bors handle the situation in Jericho with Blossom’s bakery. From the outside looking in, you can’t even tell a crime took place there less than thirty hours ago. No signs of a struggle, no blood, no dead bodies. Just a sign hanging from the glass door, indicating Blossom’s will be closed until further notice.
Raking my gaze across the tree-lined deserted landscape one last time, I look for anything out of the ordinary before sliding in the driver’s seat. As much as I don’t want to leave Blossom with the threat of the Irish lurking, I have shit to do.
Glancing down at the time, I blow out a sigh. I only have three hours to get a job for Arthur done. No one knows I haven’t finished off the girl yet, and I can’t risk raising any suspicion. I still don’t know what I’m going to do with her yet. Part of me knows I’m only delaying the inevitable. I can’t keep her, and she sure as fuck doesn’t want me to. There’s no way Arthur or his men will let her live if I let her escape. She’ll turn up dead by the next day. That means I have to be the one to do it. I should be the one to do it. I can make it quick and easy. She won’t even know what hit her.
Despite all that, there’s still a part of me that wants to play with her a bit longer. Peel back those layers and unveil what the princess is hiding. No one is that perfect. I refuse to believe she is.
I take one last look at the motel before I peel off, heading for Whiteville. I have a hit to finish before I take care of Blossom, who’s safely bound back in that shitty motel room.
* * *
The minute I step foot into the club, I spot Raymond instantly. He’s high off his ass with his face shoved between the fakest pair of tits I’ve ever seen in my life. The stripper laughs for show, pretending she likes having strange men suck and grab on her titties. What the fuck do I know, maybe she does. I’m sure as long as she gets free blow and cash in the process, she’s willing to let anyone do anything.
I light up and inhale the nicotine, letting the smoke fill my chest before striding toward Raymond, who still, unsurprisingly, hasn’t noticed my presence. Because if he had? He’d be running the other way by now. Instead of taking the empty seat beside him like most normal people would, I walk up behind him and rest a heavy hand on his shoulder. His entire body stiffens. The redhead that’s nestled in his lap looks up at me, eyes glazed over in her drug-induced state. I jerk my chin to the side, silently telling her to get the fuck out of the way.
She scrambles off Raymond’s lap with a disgruntled breath. With my hand still resting on his shoulder, I dig the pads of my fingers into the flesh of his skin, until I know it hurts. He hisses and curses under his breath, likely knowing why I’m here. Sliding into the seat next to him, I angle my body toward his ever so slightly while I keep my gaze fixed on the stage. Raymond does the same. There’s only one dancer on right now. She’s no more than a few yards away from us, her legs and pussy spread wide for everyone to see.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here.” I take a long drag and watch him out of the corner of my eye. His face sours, and I see him dart those beady black eyes toward me.
“Tell Arthur he can go fuck himself. I’m not changing my mind.”
I keep my smirk to myself. Arthur didn’t send me to negotiate. He sent me to kill him. He had his chance to decide, and now he lost it. But deep down, he knows this already. Arthur has men for everything, and me? This is what I’m best at. If you see me, you’re as good as dead.
The dancer on stage moves closer toward us, making eyes at me, and I know she’s dying for what’s in my wallet. Too bad she won’t get it.
As she grinds her nude body on the stage and does these intricate moves, all I can picture is Blossom up there, naked, spreading those thick thighs and showing me her pussy. It’s Blossom who’s dancing for me around that pole, practically beginning for it. The need to get this shit finished and head back to that shitty motel—to her—is all consuming.
It’s a shame I don’t have time to play with her. To mold her to my needs. From sweet little baker to a zealous harlot who craves the darkness like I do.
No longer in the mood to beat around the bush, I tear my eyes away from the stage and turn toward Raymond.
“We can either do this the easy way or the hard way, Ray.”
He blows out a sigh and angles his body toward me. “How about I make you a deal. We take out Arthur together. You take over for him, and I get away with a clean slate. No more debts.”
I tsk at him. He should know better. I’d never bite the hand that feeds me. “Is that your answer?” I ask, voice filled with boredom.
His upper lip curls into a snarl that’s now aimed directly at me. “What the fuck you gonna do, pretty boy? Kill me in front of all these people? You can’t.” He lets out a maniacal laugh, like he truly believes being in a strip club full of people is enough to stop me from killing him.
Before Raymond can process my next move, I’ve already grabbed my cig between my fingers, have my arm wrapped around his neck in an air-restricting headlock, and I’m pressing the angry tip of my cancer stick against the skin of his cheek.
He lets out a feral growl, a blend of anger and pain, his body jerking beneath my arm as he tries to pry himself loose. It doesn’t work. I squeeze my bicep muscle, tightening my hold on him. Raymond makes a preening noise low in his throat.
Too bad for him no one can hear his pain over the thumping bass of the music.
Angling my head down, I bend near his ear and growl the words out. “Come outside with me quietly, or I’ll snap your fucking neck right here and walk out like nothing ever happened. It’s your choice, Ray.”
“You motherfucker,” he wheezes.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Tick-tock.”
“F-fine,” he chokes. I smile to myself and release the pressure but keep my arm slung over his shoulder. I grip him by his jacket and pull him to his useless feet, already dragging him toward the exit. Once the cool air slaps us in t
he face, I shove him away from me and watch as he stumbles to right himself.
“I’m telling you, we can both leave this mess rich men. I got my hands on some good shit,” he says, digging in his pocket, ready to show me whatever he has. It won’t matter. I bark out a harsh laugh and shove him backward with my booted foot.
“You know, Ray,” I sigh, already digging in my waistband for my Glock, “I sympathize with you, I really do.”
Once he rights himself, he glares at me. “Spare me, asshole. I know you live for this shit.”
I chuckle, but it’s without humor. “You’re right. I do.” And when Raymond least expects it, I pull the trigger. His body slumps to floor in the back alley of the club, and my footfalls echo along the street as I dig in his pocket, pulling out the pouch he was reaching for earlier. Pulling it open, I take a quick peek inside and smirk when I see the stolen diamonds.
Thank you, Raymond.
I dig the burner out of my pocket, dialing the only number programmed. The line picks up on the second ring.
“It’s done.”
“The funds have been transferred.” His next question makes me pause. “And the other job?”
My fist tightens around the velvet bag of diamonds.
“Still working on it.” I pause, gritting my teeth together. “She’s not the usual,” I throw out, keeping my tone bored and indifferent.
“That a problem?”
“No, but it does have me thinking…she could be of use in another way,” I offer, pulling at fucking scraps. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time Arthur kept someone like her around his estate instead of flat out murdering her.
Arthur’s silent for the longest time. I’ve shown him my hand without meaning to. He’s going to wonder why I haven’t finished her off, why I’m finding uses for her in the organization.
Hell, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.
I can chalk it up to my need to fuck her. That would be the only way he’d understand.
“If you were involved in that side of things, you’d know all about my side projects and uses for people who owe me. But that’s not what I saw in you, Percivale, is it? I saw that you were a savage little shit with a nasty temper, and I found other uses for you. Uses like this—getting rid of problems for the Cavalieri Della Morte. Get rid of her.”