Page 33 of Blood & Kisses

He pushes his chair back and leaves the room as Blake, sitting opposite, catches my eye. “Your list,” he says carefully. “The last name on your list is the snake. We know it’s Blackadder.”

“Okay,” I sigh, trying to get my head around it all but pulling my shit together. They went after other girls, including younger girls. They deserve to die. Finding my inner bitch, I add, “So, what happens now? How do we completely fuck them over?”

Blake smiles proudly. “Atta girl,” he croons, relaxing back in his chair as the intensity is sucked out of the room, replaced with warmth and passion. “We go to the shooting range tomorrow, and I teach you how to use a firearm.”

“Why? What do you have in mind?” I ask, knowing that he has a plan and I will probably like it.

“Number three on your list. The Crow?” he proclaims, picking up a chicken leg and ripping meat from the bond with his teeth. “Line Backer in The Crows team, yeah?”

So, they recognized number three on the list. I shouldn’t be surprised that an underground thief and an experienced detective are capable of great insights and prowling. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“We both know the answer is Johann Strang, right?” That dimple greets me with a devastating grin, and those eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Right,” I answer boldly as every ounce of shame seems to fade away like the sun drying up puddles after the rain. They’ll always be sunshine after rain, eventually. “That’s him.”

“He’s leaving town this weekend to meet with his mistress, and that's when you’re going to kill him,” he speaks so casually while chewing on chicken meat that it makes me laugh.

I shrug, slightly overwhelmed. “Um, okay.”

“So, you’ve got two days for me to train you with a rifle,” he explains as Gabe walks back in with three beers and a glass of orange juice that I assume is for me.

“You tell her?” Gabe asks Blake as she places the orange juice in front of me.

“Yep,” Blake answers. His mischievous grin stretches across his dial. He's always ready for some fun. “Don’t worry, Gabe. If she misses, I’ll be there to hit.”

“I won’t miss,” I challenge him, cocking my head at him confidently, even though I’m shitting myself.

Cormac speaks up. “Maybe we need to hedge some bets? Hundred bucks says Rae misses on the first and second, but hits on the third.”

“Thanks, Cormac, for the confidence in me,” I spit sarcastically.

“Nah,” Blake argues, “A hundred bucks that she misses on the first and strikes on the second. Big men aren’t easy to miss, even as an amateur.”

“How big is he?” Cormac enquires.

“Maybe five foot eleven and roughly as wide as he is tall. Thick through the neck. Easy kill, bro,” Blake states casually. “Even a newbie can hit that beast.”

“Nah,” Cormac growls, rubbing his chin and inspecting me closely with those narrowed eyes. “I’ll stick with missed twice and third hit.”

“Alright,” Blake says, holding out his hand to shake. It's a hundred bucks.”

“Thanks for faith in me, guys,” I hiss, shooting them the middle finger.

“Hang on,” Gabe clears his throat. I can feel his gaze watching me as my face lights up in relief that these men now know everything and are on my side. I’ll be okay with these three by my side. “I’m in as well.”

Blake whistles in surprise. “Gabe, you’re not a betting man.”

The silver fox makes us wait while sipping his beer, swallows, and bites his bottom lips before saying, “A hundred bucks she’ll hit on the first shot.”

The boys make whooping noises to champion his own, and I laugh as the weight of stress slides off me. “I guess the pressure is on, isn’t it?” I glance at Gabe, who smiles with his blue eyes, running them down my neck, before looking away.

“You better study hard,” Gabe says, getting excited under a canopy of cheering and grunting from the lads. “Because I don’t want to lose my money.”

“I guess I better,” I reply as darkness comes over me when I’m reminded of something he said. “What did you mean that all evidence leads back to Blackadder?”

“Exactly what I said,” Gabe shrugs as I suppress the urge to wrap my arms around his neck and stick my tongue down his throat. Jeezus effen christ, what the hell is the matter with me? Why does talk of murder and killing fire up my horniness? Obviously, I need more therapy. “DNA collected from both murder scenes, Lyons and the Pig, as you call him, will lead back to Blackadder.”

My heart sinks. “So, they’ll arrest him for their murders? But…I’d rather he was dead than in a prison cell.”

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