Page 16 of Secrets

I jerk on the twine, making him groan. “I refuse to waste my time hearing explanations that don’t matter. So you’ll do as I say, or this will not be a peaceful death.”

He sobs again. “Please.”

After tying off the knot, I secure his ankles before walking back in front of him. I keep my voice level and absolute. “Tell me you understand, Kline.”

A snot bubble expands from his nose as he nods, realization and acceptance falling over him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now,” I relax against the counter and begin my questioning, all the while keeping the clock in my periphery. I’m already behind. “Did you lie to the women and say you were with Alexi or Seline?”

Alexi owns more than a few strip clubs, some of which are upscale, providing escort and sexual services. No matter how disturbing, it’s not unheard of for Miss Seline Falcon, the head over clubs, to have these women “checked for quality.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Did any of them refuse and if so, did you continue your ‘testing’ regardless?”

He swallows thickly, his bloodshot eyes finding the floor. “Some of them.”

Vexation licks my spine. I’m not a dogooder by any means, but I feel the inherent need to wipe the world clean of any fifth I happen to come across. Seems Kline is another stain in need of eradication. “Was there any additional abuse outside of the rape?”

Kline begins to cry again, his whole body violently shaking. Just yesterday, he was smiling in my front lobby, watering some plants as he waited for me to finish packing his delivery. He’d always been kind and respectful to the customers. An everyday person no one would expect to commit any atrocities.

But it’s the most innocent with the darkest souls. All humans are all the same. Some are just better at hiding it.

Annoyed with his blubbering, I walk over to the special cabinet where I store my most toxic of plants. The top shelf is dedicated to Nikolai’s while, underneath is my poisonous hemlock.

I withdraw a vial along with a pair of gloves before returning to Kline. Drawing in a calculated breath, I put the gloves on and grip his chin. As I’ve said, I’m not a good woman. My ethics and morals lie within a very flawed internal compass. So when I take a life, I feel as though not only am I ridding the world of scum, I am also righting a wrong. Enacting a justice that would otherwise go amiss. Fixing a mistake.

I am committing my own act of repentance for my failures as a child.

So while the heap of flesh in front of me carries no resemblance to my father, he will bear his sins. Endure the same judgment I laid upon him at a time too late to matter.

“I’ll ask again. Did you abuse them?”

His nod is almost indecipherable, but then he lifts his eyes to look at me. Tears stream down his face, mingling with snot and blood from whatever Alexi or Seline did to him beforehand, and not an ounce of sympathy flits through me.

Instead, Kline’s defeated “yes” to my question brings me peace.

* * *

Kline isa lot heavier than I realized.

Sweat beads at my temples as I finish wrapping his body, turning him over with care much like I would a fresh bouquet. I bat my hair away from my face and check the time.

Shit.

The shop is due to open in ten minutes and I have nothing from my agenda done. Luckily, mornings aren’t too busy and my deliveries don’t start until noon. The most pressing issue is that Nikolai will be here as soon as I unlock the doors, having to pick up his order before reporting to the hospital.

Leaving the body, I rush over to the cabinets and pull out everything I need for his order. I place it into a bag before sealing it and taking it to the front.

His black car is already parked outside, the gleam of the sun bouncing off the hood and shining like a spotlight into my shop. I grimace as I turn back and ensure there isn’t anything out of place or something that would suggest of my recent transgressions. After what happened with Alexi, I never intend to let another soul gather leverage over me.

I huff to myself at the thought and slide Kline’s body under my workstation, tossing the two bags of soiled rags—filled with his vomit and blood—by the back door. I wash my hands for the fifth time, scrubbing my cuticles raw, before repositioning my apron and striding back to the front. Sure enough, Niko has exited his car and stands by the door.

At first glance, it appears as though he’s calm and unbothered, his navy tailored suit pressed to perfection, his stubble trimmed neatly. But another exposes the lack of sleep with the shadows under his light eyes, the worry clear from the tousled hair he’s run his hand through.

I flip the lock, open the door, and give him a small smile. “Rough night?”

Niko smirks. “Not rough, just long. The wife is in the part of her pregnancy that has her insomnia at an all-time high, and I don’t like her to be awake alone.”

---