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  There was a pause in her reply and the hairs on the back of my neck rippled in preparation. Part of me hoped she was lonely and just wanted to talk, but the realistic part of me—the part I listened to above all others—told me everything.

  A swell of excitement and admiration ran through my veins. Excitement? Admiration? It was a first—the first time I’d felt anything but emptiness at what I knew was about to happen. I crossed the apartment to grab a bottle of beer as I typed out a reply. I wasn’t unaware at how strange this was. How casual it was, when it should have been anything but. I was acutely aware that we both had our wires crossed. Perhaps that was why we connected the way we had. No, Carter.

  I was tempted to do it for free. There was something about Ariel that reached out to me, no matter how much I tried to push it away. I couldn’t figure it out, but I knew that Number One on her list of four was important to her. I knew this fucker had hurt her; for that very reason I wanted to rip his balls off and drop them at Ariel’s feet. I’d already decided to give her a discount, and I would explain it away as a ‘buy three get one free.’ I couldn’t help but smile at my own humour.

  My email pinged almost immediately, and I quickly opened it, needing to see this motherfucker. He was an ugly shit, and the blood in my veins started to boil with need as I stared at his photograph.

  She knew that receipt meant photographic evidence of job done. I was eager to see whether or not she would accept, and when her confirmation came through, my dick shot to life, excitement at her thirst for blood and retribution calling out to me. Maybe there was hope yet. I had a feeling Ariel’s air of hunger for deviance extended further than hiring a hitman, and I wanted to explore just how far I could push it.

  She terminated the chat as I memorised the specific details and burnt the file.

  Jobe smirked at me when I turned in the chair and grinned. “Time to play?”

  “Hard,” I confirmed. “Very hard.”

  Revealing the email trail, I bounced it around a bit and hid it in some unsuspecting fuck’s inbox. There was no evidence it had ever been through my multiple servers, altered IP addresses and in my hands as an attachment on my phone.

  Every job I did catered to the lust that lived inside me. I always made sure to do a thorough job. Except this time, it felt personal. Thorough wouldn’t be enough for Ariel. I wanted to rip this prick apart until there was nothing left but skin and bone. I wanted to reduce him to dust, so not even Hell would accept him.

  Jack Forbes hung before me. Half of his skin decorated the floor beneath him, each slither curling like dried peel across the plastic sheeting spread out to catch any ‘bits’. No teeth remained in his mouth, each one lined up perfectly on the hostess trolley Jobe always liked to fill with various ‘tools’. The bottom shelf was always littered with numerous body parts. The sick bastard also liked to fill one of the trays housed in the top shelf with goddam peanut M&Ms, frequently popping them into his mouth as he worked beside me.

  I guessed Jack would have narrowed his eyes with hatred—well he might have, if he wasn’t missing both eyelids. “You’re going to die, you sick fucks!” he spat, blood spraying over my ‘work clothes’ with every venomous word.

  Jobe grinned, slipping a yellow M&M into his mouth and crunching on it noisily. “Funny one, this one,” he laughed as he picked up a bodkin and a hammer. I cringed at the glee that sizzled in his eyes as he turned up the music and dropped to a crouch before Jack.

  Jack squealed when Jobe carefully lined up the tip of the bodkin under his big toenail and hit the hammer.

  “Fuck!” he screamed. I smiled. I knew what was coming. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it you. Anything!”

  I inhaled deeply. “We don’t want anything, mate. Just to hurt you.”

  “Why?” he sobbed, his chest heaving with the immense amount of pain he was in. It was inspiring to watch how much a human could withstand before their brain gave in and plunged them into unconsciousness. Jack was particularly withstanding, which surprised me. Although, he had been so high on crack when we’d picked him up that I suspected some of it was still streamlining his veins and giving the motherfucker a little relief.

  His chin dropped to his chest. Finally.

  Jobe slapped him hard, bringing him back round. “Not yet, crater face.”

  “Why won’t you just kill me and be done with it?”

  He stared up at me when I snapped another photo of him, his red-rimmed, lidless eyes making him look comical. “Why the fuck do you keep taking photos?”

  “My client wants to watch each moment of your death.”

  “Your client?” He spluttered on the blood that ran down the back of his throat. “Who the fuck is your client?”

  “Hmm,” I murmured, dropping to my haunches before him. “Well, see, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with that.”

  Jobe frowned at me. We never wanted to know any details about clients. Yet, Ariel intrigued me. I couldn’t understand why, but I wanted to know everything about her. I needed to know who she was, and I knew Jobe would understand when I let him in.

  I slapped Jack’s cheek when he started to drift away. “Come on, sunshine. Give me a clue who’d want you dead.”

  He tried to shake his head, but it drooped again. This was the best part. Sometimes assassination didn’t call for quick death with a bullet between the eyes. Sometimes it called for…more. We had to take some pleasure from it, right? We deserved to enjoy our job, didn’t we?

  Grabbing his hair, I yanked his head back. “You’re one of four, does that help?”

  His head shook and I had to grip onto him harder to keep it from falling back again.

  “A woman hired me.”

  Something, recognition, flashed in his eyes and a slow grin curved across his massacred face. I knew I would slice his fucking lips off next, so he couldn’t ever smile again. “Ahh, Mikey’s girl.”

  “Mikey’s girl?”

  “Who’d have thought the bitch had it in her.” His words were slurred and slow as the life in his eyes slowly started to die out.

  “Who – is – Mikey’s – girl?” I shook him. “Give me a name!”

  “What the fuck?” Jobe hissed, his hard accusing eyes glaring at me. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You’ll see.”

  My control began to wane when Jack started to drift away. His mouth opened and as his last breath left him, a name made the air in my lungs congeal. “Harley Davids.”

  Nine

  The place was heaving, my fear of enclosed places making my blood heat with need as soon as we stepped foot inside.

  “Give it a chance,” Ben coaxed with a small smile as he took my hand and guided me through the throng of people and over to the bar.

  Dance music made the club seem to physically throb. The stench of sweat and alcohol clung heavily in the air as my feet stuck to the residue on the floor, my shoes slipping off my feet with every step. The strobe lights made my eyes ache, and the thrum of excitement made my head buzz.

  I just wanted to go home.

  Ben leaned over the bar ordering drinks, as I took a look around the club. Benny had wanted to bring me for a while, but I’d always refused. Yet yesterday’s breakthrough saw me following my friends for a celebratory night out. Was it sick that I wanted to celebrate the gruesome death of someone?

  A part deep down inside me simmered with a hint of repulsion, however, every single scar Jack Forbes had left on me itched with fulfilment. The clog of fear and revulsion in my lungs was freed—just a fraction—with each breath I had taken since Caesar had forwarded the pictures. Most had turned my stomach, bile scorching my throat with each sickening shot. But I hadn’t been able to look away, the depraved part that lived inside me dancing with pleasure at the evident torture the man I’d hired had put him through. For me.

  Evan gestured for me to follow him to a booth in the corner away from the pit of dancing bodies.

  Blowing out a relieved breat
h at the open space, I finally smiled and took a sip of my beer.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here before, Harl,” Benny shouted in my ear over the thud of some techno shit.

  Just shrugging, I took another drink, the need for oblivion making me draw harder and greedier. Evan watched me with narrow, knowing eyes. “Maybe you should get laid instead,” he offered, studying the vicinity with a serious expression.

  Beer splattered the table when I choked. “I can’t believe you said that!”

  “Well, come on. You never go out, you never fuck. You need a life, Harl.”

  “I do have a life!” I argued. “The gallery and you guys are my life.”

  Rolling his eyes, Benny leaned forward, joining in the ‘gang up on Harley’ discussion. “But there’s nothing better at relieving tension than a good fuck.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “Then I’ll buy a vibrator. I don’t need a man in my life. I don’t want a man.”

  “Who said anything about having a man in your life? I was talking about a fuck, Harley, not a relationship. We don’t need a hanger-on. We’re greedy and we’re keeping you to ourselves…”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t bang a dude ‘til the cows come home and send him on his way after receiving some fresh milk.”

  “Ew.” Heat exploded across my cheeks and I smacked them both in the chest. “It’s not that easy for me, you know it isn’t.”

  Once again, Benny rolled his eyes at my anxieties. “It’s all in your head.”

  “It’s all over my fucking body!” I hissed, losing my patience with his lack of understanding.

  Scowling at me, Evan lowered his voice. “There’s only you that sees your scars for what they are. Any guy would be fucking lucky if you paid them the slightest bit of attention.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, giving up on the argument. They would never understand. And if I was honest, they loved me for who I was, their best friend. I wasn’t their lover, so they couldn’t comprehend my fear. Sometimes, I did wonder if they were right, that a one-time fuck could be a way out for me, but then my mind would send an image of my mutilated body into my head and remind me just how fucking repulsive I was.

  “Let’s dance,” Benny suddenly declared when he sensed my sombreness and tugged on my hand, pulling me free of the booth before I could refuse.

  Benny had moves that a damn choreographer would be jealous of. I couldn’t figure out if it was because he was gay, or just that he had an agility that made his frame move fluidly. He was tall and slim, not an ounce of fat on his body that would hinder the rhythm he clearly had. I, however, had a more curves than a Spirograph, and that meant all I was capable of was provocative gyration that would only attract the wrong attention.

  His hands slipped over my hips as he pulled me back against him, my back to his front as a tune we both loved blasted from the huge speakers around the room.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled in my ear.

  Looking over my shoulder, I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing to be sorry for. You love me, and I know you’re trying to help.”

  Dropping a kiss to the tip of my nose, he returned my smile, his love for me reflected through his eyes. “I do love you, and I worry about you, sweetheart. That’s all it is.”

  “I know.”

  “No more shit,” he declared, swinging his hips and directing my own with his hands. “Time to set yourself free. Be happy. One down, three to go.”

  Three to go. Three more deaths until my nightmares were massacred along with the pain that forever lived inside me. Three more deaths until I had promised myself no more Cloud.

  Sweat made my hair stick to my face. Heat made my skin burn, and exhaustion had me panting as I approached the bar to replenish our drinks. Although I had been reluctant to party with my friends, I had to admit that I’d had a brilliant night. I hadn’t been brave enough to flirt back with any guys who had shown me attention, but Evan and Ben had been understanding and allowed me just to take the night at my own pace.

  Digging out my purse from my bag, I looked up when the barman asked what I wanted. Surprise made my eyes widen when one green and one blue eye stared back at me. My mouth popped open in shock and the order of drinks in my head evaporated.

  Carter stared at me expectantly. Recognition didn’t flash in his eyes and I frowned. “For once you seem lost for words, Carter.”

  He blinked, then squinted, before awareness finally filtered in. “Harley Davids.”

  I shouldn’t have been as hurt as I was that he didn’t instantly recognise me, and I rolled my eyes as I dug into my purse. “I’m so thrilled you remembered.”

  He smirked at the sarcasm in my voice, and tipped his head. “Well someone seems a little upset. Have you been thinking of me, babe?”

  “Grow up.”

  He leaned forward, a grin slowly curving the edges of his plump lips. “I’ve been thinking of you. Of that hot little body squirming beneath me, your exquisite little moans in my ear. My name screaming from you when I fuck you into oblivion and make you come hard over my cock.”

  Heat poured over my skin and into my belly, his crudeness making my body suddenly aware. For a long moment I couldn’t speak and I stood gawping at him.

  His chuckle brought me round and I clenched my teeth together. “Fuck you.”

  “Exactly,” he mocked as I about turned and made my way back to the boys.

  Fingers wrapped around my wrist and I was suddenly spun around, my body colliding with a firm chest. His touch on my skin sent a current up my arm and I shivered.

  “Not so fast…” he breathed in my ear, “I thought you wanted a drink.”

  He was warm; his body heat was so high, I expected a fever, but when my eyes met his it was lust I saw boring into me. His eyes travelled down the length of my body, our closeness showing him the red silk of my bra peeking out from behind the shoulder strap of my dress.

  “Red underwear, babe?” he asked, reaching between us to ping the garment. “Have I told you red is my favourite colour?”

  I stared up at him, the few inches he had on me making my neck crane. The heat stole me next; my core throbbed as the red knickers that matched my bra saturated with arousal. I couldn’t speak. Not a single word would pass my lips, and I knew if I opened my mouth a needy moan would escape.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked with a smirk. “Cat got your tongue?”

  I nodded. Then I shook my head. What was wrong with me? The alcohol swam in my veins and travelled to my mind, making us swirl in the centre of the club. I reached up and gripped his arms.

  “Carter…”

  My voice was hoarse and seductive, an unintentional rasp taking over. I had no control. I was always in control. How had he stolen it so easily?

  “Oh, she speaks,” he said, running his finger over my bottom lip. “How would you like to say my name again when you’re in my bed?”

  I shook my head. Then I nodded. What was going on? Carter’s hand slithered down my body, down the side of my waist before he took my hand and threaded his fingers between mine. His free hand cupped my cheek, keeping my hair out of my face as he leaned closer. I didn’t think Carter No-last-name, or No-first-name Carter would be capable of softness, but when his full lips brushed mine there was nothing but a warm sensuality that promised so much more.

  Evan and Ben’s words rang in my mind and I thought, perhaps, Carter was the one. Not The One, the one, but the one who would give me what I needed. A quick one night fuck and a cab ride home in the morning. Carter didn’t seem like one for relationships, and I wasn’t either. Maybe we’d be a match made in one-night-stand heaven.

  “Harley?” he whispered against my lips.

  I realised I’d stopped kissing him. My lips were unmoving against his, but they were wet. He’d tried to sneak his tongue past them, but I’d zoned out wondering if I could do this.

  “Let’s take this somewhere else,” I whispered, raising my hand to give his hand a gentle tug. “I’m not
one for public displays of…”

  “I’m not one for affection, babe.”

  “Luckily for you, that’s the last thing I want.”

  “Where are your friends?”

  “They’ll understand.”

  “Will they?”

  “They told me to find a man to fuck.”

  His chuckle was low and throaty. He didn’t need to raise his voice over the music. I heard him clearly, like a blind man saw the world around him without looking.

  “Did they now?” I nodded. “And they’d approve of me?”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I snapped, feeling the edge of alcohol begin to wear. “Are we doing this or not?”

  “Are you prepared to beg?”

  “Like hell I am.”

  With a final smirk, Carter stepped back, keeping my hand held tightly in his, and led me round to the opening of the bar. Taking two shot glasses from the cabinet, he poured us both a bright yellow liquor and held the glass to my lips.

  “Open.”

  I did, allowing him to tip the alcohol into my mouth. It instantly slipped down my throat, the burning lemon more than welcome.

  “Limoncello?” I asked, licking my lips to catch every drop.

  “It tastes good and does the job.”

  I giggled, feeling giddy from more than the alcohol as I watch him drink his.

  “There have been many she’s, Harley. If an affectionless fuck is what you’re after, I’m your man. I can’t promise you’ll have had your fill after one night, though.”