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  “I hired you, Caesar.”

  “You did what?”

  What the fuck? Why would a man hire his own hit? Why hadn’t he made more of his last day on Earth instead of spending the evening with boring people talking about boring shit, and then returning home to a boring night alone? And then I remembered…there had been no date on the order. I was just told to kill him, the time and date were up to me, and I realised he had ordered his own assassination. He wanted to be surprised, like every other person I’d killed. He was ready for death…why?

  “You see, money made me miserable, but I couldn’t not spend it. I couldn’t not have it. And then I couldn’t stop giving it to bad people, for bad things, that made me feel so good. I’m done, boy. I’m asking you to kill me, to save others.”

  “What the fuck are you on? I should take your money and walk the fuck out.” Even as I said the words, I raised the gun and watched him work on a constricted swallow. “No one should order their own hit. How fucking lonely do you have to be?”

  “Did you know when you have money you have a world of debauchery at your fingertips? I’ve fucked underage girls; I’ve fed them cocaine and injected them with heroin. I’ve accepted gifts from clients, and they didn’t come in gift-wrapped boxes. I don’t want to be a bad man…”

  I couldn’t understand what was going on. All I knew was I wanted to kill him now. Now it was personal because he was a fucking idiot. He hadn’t been caught. He could have continued to fuck and inject and participate in deviance until he took his last natural breath, but fuck…this guy had a conscience and it had led to him paying to be taken out.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I spat, taking a step forward to press the barrel of the gun to his forehead. He raised his eyes to look at it, becoming acquainted with the weapon that would end him. I couldn’t let him live, even if I wanted to. He’d seen my face. “You really want me to kill you, and spend the money you paid me to do it?”

  He nodded.

  I shrugged.

  “Okay.”

  I pulled the trigger and the bang echoed around the room as his head flew back, his body followed, and his bedroom was painted a fresh new colour of red, marbled with lumps of his sick brain. Pulling my torch out of my pocket, I shone it around the bedroom as I stepped over his dead body, dodged the bits of him scattered over the carpet, and then I left the room, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge in the kitchen before heading out of his apartment with it.

  “Good morning, Carter,” Peyton said with a smile, glancing over her computer at me as I stopped at her desk.

  “Good morning.” Leaning on the desk, I smiled at her and edged closer to snag her undivided attention. “How are you?”

  “Good, thank you.” Her fucking smile got me, causing my dick to stir. Then I noted her eye colour, chocolate fucking brown, and I was transported back to the night I met another. “How are you?”

  “Fine. I want to make a donation.”

  “I figured. I think you singlehandedly keep us going.”

  “Ah.” I swatted my hand through the air. I really didn’t want her saying shit like that. I only donated so the taxman didn’t take it when I died. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Yes, but-”

  “Just give me the form,” I clipped, growing impatient and needing her to just shut up. She was talking to the wrong man if she expected genuine feelings. “I have things to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” She swivelled in her chair, giving me a glimpse of gossamer sheathed legs made in heaven. I’d been between them and although I wouldn’t go again—I didn’t double-dip—I would admire the view. “Here you go,” she said, handing me the form. “Anonymous?”

  “Of course.”

  I filled in the form, ticking the boxes and leaving all identifiable information blank. Then I reached to the ground and picked up the gym bag I’d brought in with me.

  “There’s fifty thousand.”

  “Carter…”

  “Seriously, Peyton, it’s a drop in the ocean.”

  “The women will appreciate it.”

  “I know.”

  “And their children.”

  “I know that, too.” Shoving the bag towards her, I didn’t wait for her to empty it before backing up towards the exit. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

  “Thank you.” I ignored her, turning and pushing the door open and stepping into the street. “See you soon.”

  I waved her off over my shoulder and didn’t look back before I walked away. I needed to get back to the club and prepare for Saturday night, but I had no urgency to. I knew it was covered. I knew I should take the night off; it was essential to take breaks between kills so talks of a spree and a serial killer on the loose couldn’t fall from the lips of people who knew nothing. I didn’t just kill innocent civilians. Mr Fraser played on my mind; a rapist, drug-feeding prick who deserved to die, and I refused to let myself feel bad. I wasn’t capable of it. Instead, I reminded myself that his death had been worth it, and I felt something…I lacked the experience to label it anything other than something, but it was better than nothing. Wasn’t it?

  “Carter.”

  I rolled my eyes and stopped walking, remembering I had to be the nice guy and keep my unknowing accomplices on my side. I wasn’t expecting the object of my newest obsession to be standing in front of me when I turned around.

  “Well,” I said with a smirk when I took in the sparkle in her eyes that still hinted at a healthy dose of fear. “If it isn’t Harley Davids.”

  “Shouldn’t you be off killing people or raping them next to dumpsters?”

  “Killing people, huh?” I took a step closer. She was paralysed, curious although frightened. Why had she called me if she had every intention of shying away of whatever it was that passed between us? “Have you been following me?”

  She shrugged and a small smile played on her lips then. “I wouldn’t waste my energy. I was simply calling you to tell you you’re in my way.”

  “In your way?”

  I looked down, and then back up. Damn. Harley was a runner. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Why hadn’t I noticed the soft tightness of her abs, the gentle swell of muscular thighs and toned calves that definitely hinted at a competent runner?

  “Yeah. You were just standing there in the middle of the street.”

  “Huh,” I scoffed, bemused. I didn’t remember stopping. “How many miles have you got left, Farah?”

  “Funny.” She rolled her eyes. I felt something turn in my stomach and, for once, it wasn’t the urge to puke. It was…amusement, perhaps. I wanted to watch her eyes roll again, with me between her legs pumping into her tight cunt. “I’m done, actually. Cooling down on the walk home.”

  “Great.” Taking hold of her shoulder, I smiled when she flinched as I turned her to face the other way, positioning her next to me with my arm around her. It felt…not uncomfortable. “Then let’s do coffee.”

  “How very human of you, Carter,” she said, catching my attention with the smart fucking mouth I wanted to fill…and watch as she spoke. “Are you planning on being an asshole?”

  “Perhaps.” I shrugged. And smiled. She hadn’t agreed—yet—but she was walking next to me and we were heading towards the bistro on the corner. “It’s who I am, babe."

  “Well, then you should know I’m the kind of girl likely to throw coffee all over you if you say something I don’t like.”

  “Well.” Dipping lower, I whispered in her ear as I reached for the door handle. “Lucky for you, I like them feisty.”

  I pushed the door open and let her lead the way.

  Because I liked watching her ass as she walked in front of me.

  And I didn’t trust her not to run off. I wasn’t finished with Ms Harley Davids. Far, far from it.

  Five

  Taking a seat in the window where it seemed safer, I watched Carter stroll to the counter. He was wearing jeans that showcased his firm backside perfectly, and a snug grey t-shirt. His
thick hair was styled effortlessly, and as was the case when we first met, he wore that same smug smirk.

  He returned with a cup of tea for me and a black coffee for himself, and placed a granola bar in front of me. “Figured you’d need something to lift your energy levels after your run.”

  I looked at his double chocolate muffin and to the cardboard mush disguised as a ‘healthy alternative to chocolate’, then reached out, swapping the two around.

  He quirked an eyebrow, staring down at the oats and raisin bar. “Do you always take things that don’t belong to you, Miss Davids?”

  I smirked, tearing into a huge piece of the soft sponge. “Only when they’re full of sugar. If you seriously think that a crappy granola bar is going to build my strength then I worry you’re living a very boring life, Carter.”

  He chuckled, tearing the wrapper off the bar with his teeth and taking an experimental bite. Grimacing, he threw it down and then leaned over and tore a piece of the muffin off.

  “On the contrary, I just happen to know that women like to take care of their figures.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I regarded him. “Are you saying I don’t look after my figure?”

  A blaze lit his eyes as they dropped to my chest, and then back up to my face. “From where I’m sitting, your figure is maintained to perfection, Harley. Of course, I can’t verify that fact until I have seen you naked.”

  “Then I guess you’ll never know.”

  A smile titled the corners of his lips, amusement lighting his eyes. “You willing to bet a wager on that, babe?”

  Staring at him, I shook my head, and decided not to answer him as I popped the last piece of the cake into my mouth.

  His gaze dropped to watch me eat. If he thought I was conscious of him watching me then he would be sorely mistaken.

  “So,” he muttered as he leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. “I take it your ‘business’ Saturday night was successful.”

  I stiffened. Doing my best to appear nonchalant, I took a drink of tea and forced it past the lump in my throat. “What exactly do you want, Carter?”

  Holding up his hands, he shook his head. “I’m offended you think I have an ulterior motive. I'm simply asking about your profession.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was serious, or mocking. “You seem like the type of person that has motives for lots of things.”

  He laughed. “You know me so well already.”

  “Well enough,” I mumbled as I finished my drink and stood up. “Thank you for the drink, and your muffin.”

  He unashamedly dragged his gaze down my body, his eyes resting on my thighs for a tad too long before sweeping back up to my face. “It was my pleasure.” He stood and I started when he rested a hand at the base of my spine, his light touch burning through the thin cotton of my t-shirt, and led me out of the café. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

  I scoffed. “Are you asking me to climb into a stranger’s car, and give him my address? So he can come and murder me in my sleep?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, Harley.” He leaned into my ear, the rush of his breath over my skin making me shiver. “I already know where you live.”

  I froze, my eyes widening on him. “What?”

  “And I’m quite positive we can find more ways of making you scream than murder.”

  My belly throbbed, but my heart thundered. “Care to tell me why you find it necessary to stalk me?”

  He laughed, the deep rumble making my fists clench. “I am merely taking an interest in your wellbeing. London is far from a safe place, and I’m not sure if I could ever handle someone else making you scream, Miss Davids.”

  He was infuriating. The flesh of my bottom lip popped when my teeth sunk in too deep and the taste of copper tickled my tongue.

  I tensed when Carter lifted a hand and swiped his thumb over the small nick in my lip. He grinned before sliding his thumb between his lips and sucking at the blood. “There is something sweet to you, after all.”

  “You're a prick.” I hissed as I turned and set off into a run, thankful that I was already in my running gear.

  "Hey, pricks don't buy pretty girls tea and granola bars. I believe, if I'm sincerely a prick, then you owe me a coffee and a muffin."

  Raising my hand above my shoulder, I flipped him off as I continued along the street.

  I could feel Carter’s gaze on me as he watched me round the corner at the end of the street. I couldn’t understand why I reacted the way I did around him. He was an obnoxious arsehole who thought everyone owed him something. He was used to them falling at his feet. Not me. I didn't bow to anyone—anymore. His words from the gallery exhibition last week filtered into my mind.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t take you until you offer it. And believe me, you will offer yourself to me. In fact, I have no doubt that you’ll be fucking begging for it.”

  A smile curved my mouth. The idiot had no idea. It was evident no one had ever turned him down before. Not until me. I couldn’t risk allowing Carter to get any closer, to see the real me. He was already too inquisitive, too pushy.

  He hadn’t quite divulged what he’d witnessed when he’d walked in on me during the job I’d had to finish off for Benny at the gallery, but I had a feeling he’d seen more than I wanted him to. I wasn’t sure if he was going to use it to blackmail me, or for some other specific reason, yet I had made sure to completely veil any trace I may have left at the gallery. So unless Carter was a pro, I was certain he had nothing to hold over me.

  Spots of rain started to hit my hot skin as I rounded the corner of my street and jogged around the house to the rear steps.

  My feet stumbled and I froze on the top step when I saw my back door ajar. The wooden frame was splintered, shards of wood scattered across the porch as the wind that had suddenly got up blew my door further open.

  Fishing for my phone out of my bra, I quickly scrolled my contacts and called Evan.

  “Harl?”

  “I need you. Someone’s broken into my house.”

  The hiss through his teeth made me wince. “Stay outside. I’ll be ten.”

  Carter had a lot to answer for. If this was his idea of letting me know he knew my address, I didn’t appreciate his sense of humour.

  The door creaked as I pushed it open, the fractured wood breaking even more and sending small chips over my trainers. I tried to calm my racing heart by pressing my palm to my chest as I stepped over the threshold.

  “Plum,” I called, my eyes hunting for my cat.

  Blowing out a breath of relief when she trotted around the corner of the hallway from the kitchen, I scooped her up into my arms and buried my face into her soft grey fur. “Thank God. You okay, baby?” I studied her, my eyes and fingers examining every inch of her to check she wasn’t hurt.

  Nothing appeared out of place in the hallway and I hesitantly moved into the front room, the pounding of my pulse in my ears too loud as I strived to listen for sounds of an intruder.

  But it was quiet. And a complete mess.

  My breath hitched when I found the destruction of my home. My sofa had been slashed, the filling spilling out onto the floor. The drawers in my dresser had been pulled free, the contents upended and scattered across the room. Even the carpet had been pulled up and various floorboards uprooted and tossed to the side.

  “What the hell?”

  Plum meowed and nudged me with her nose when she felt my shock. Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away, not allowing whoever had done this to control my emotions.

  “Jesus.”

  Evan’s voice in the quiet room made me jump and spin around. Plum jumped out of my arms and made a beeline for Evan, her best friend.

  “Any idea who did this?” he asked as he picked her up and stroked his hand over her head.

  Anger made my chest tight and I clenched my teeth together. “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Have you checked the rest of the house?”

  I shook my head. He passed Plum back
to me then went to inspect upstairs.

  The door to the basement was still securely locked; the pin code and finger scan that was required to open it hadn't given the intruder access to what I assumed they'd been looking for. Carter was evidently fucked off that he couldn’t get what he needed from the gallery, so he’d tried to find something in my home.

  “Upstairs is a mess but nothing that can’t be fixed,” Evan said as he followed me down the stairs into my office.

  The lights switched on as we descended and my equipment fired up, already preparing itself for me.

  Evan took a chair to the kit at the back of the room as I logged into the CCTV.

  “What is it?” he asked when he heard my sharp intake of breath, and I jolted when his hand squeezed my shoulder.

  I turned to look at him and lifted a brow when his eyes widened and fixed on the screen.

  “Shit.” He stared at the monitor, his face paling slightly. “Is that on a loop?”

  “Yep.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “There’s only one person we know that could hack into your system, Harl.”

  His sad gaze on me had me rubbing my hands over my face as I accepted the truth.

  Michael was back.

  Six

  18 Months Ago

  “Michael. Oh, Michael.”

  I rode the high like a nymph…and that’s exactly what I was. A dirty fucking nymph—Michael’s good little toy.

  “You want it, Harley?” he spat, thrusting up into me as I slumped over him. “How badly do you want it?”

  “So bad,” I slurred, forcing my body to obey my mind and keep me conscious. All I wanted was to slip away. “So, so badly, Michael. I want it so much.”

  “There’s a good little whore,” he said with a smack to my arse and a hard thrust that brought his balls up to smack against me. “Make me come, baby.”

  I grimaced when he pulled out of me, fisted my hair and shoved me to move down the bed. Kneeling between his legs, I took his cock in my mouth, working it with a strong tongue and a hard suck, with an eager hand gripping the base. I sucked him long and hard, the lingering trip to utopia helping his body hold on, hold out, and prologue my payment. He took ages; my gag reflex went into overdrive and my head pounded with the need to get this over with. I needed more. The pulsing in my temples told me to hurry up and claw at my purchase. Exchanging my body for consumables from my sick lover was how I lived my life now. Gone was the girl who attended university with the aspiration to move to Italy, deal in art of the highest quality in a beautiful country—the country of love and romance and hope. I’d hoped Michael and I would do it together but, it wasn’t to be…