Page 92 of Love & Vendettas

He takes the paper and glances at it.

“Do you know how many people reside at this address besides the mark?”

“She now lives alone. She may or may not have a guest tonight. I’m not sure. But let me make one thing clear: Riley Montrose is no longer to be breathing by sunset tomorrow. Is that understood?"

“Understood.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. When you route the amount that I have sent you via encrypted email to the number supplied in the email, then the job will commence. You will pay the final balance upon receipt of proof that the job is complete.”

“Thank you,” I repeat. “Are you busy this evening?” I ask before reaching for the door handle.

“Essence,” he replies, making it personal now. “We’ve discussed this. No more mixing business with pleasure.”

“Too bad. You were such a good lover,” I state, and grab the door handle. It’s pulled from my hands before I can open it.

The driver reaches inside, takes my hand, and helps me out of the car. Before I make it to my front door, the car has pulled away from the curb and is down the street.

I look around before I slip back inside and head to my computer. I don’t waste any time finding the email and routing the money to Derek’s account.

Derek was a damn good lover until a year ago. When I first asked him to do a job for me on Theron James, my former bodyguard, who was blackmailing me, Derek took the job and ended our affair. He did an excellent job of making it look like the poor boy died of kidney failure.

It was a big loss, but I’ve found others who compete. Take Parker Jones, I think, smiling. I collapse on my couch as my head begins pounding from everything that has transpired in the last hour. I refuse to allow that simple-minded imp to ruin the future of this city or my career. It’s bad enough that Zaire Knight is trying to stand in my way; I won’t let his whore’s sister do the same.

He’s still holding a grudge after all these years because his father’s failure to keep his dick in his pants or stand up to his demented wife cost him a few decades in prison. It’s the least he deserved for screwing me over. I need to secure the position of mayor before Isaiah Knight is released from prison.

I told him a long time ago that if he didn’t leave Nora Grace for me, he would never see the light of day again. I meant every word.

Forty-five minutes after I’ve wired the money to Derek Sawyer, my doorbell rings again.

I jump up and head to the door, jerking it open.

“What?” I hiss.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Riley. Where is she? I’m sure she came to visit you, Essence.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know anyone by the name of Riley, and the only visitors that I’ve had are you and this thug beside you,” I state, gesturing at the tall, brown-skinned man with tattoos on his neck and a sinister look in those light caramel eyes that make me shiver.

I have no idea if he does it on purpose or not, but Zaire Knight, the fine young man that he is, surrounds himself with some of the most handsome, sexy, make you want to take your panties off and throw them aside, fine ass men I’ve ever laid eyes on, including Parker Jones.

That foolishly ridiculous girl. She honestly believed that Parker Jones was in love with her. Parker was in love with his ego and his long stroke and nothing more. As for me? I was simply drunk off the things that kid could do with his tongue.

A tingle shoots straight between my legs when I think about what he did to me last night. I’ll call him later when things die down this evening. Maybe we can meet at a little hotel on the outskirts of the city.

“Listen, I know what you’ve been up to and who you’ve been up to it with. Your little reign of terror behind the scenes is coming to an end soon. You and your little partner’s shenanigans are over,” he threatens.

“I should hope not,” I reply with a smirk, clutching my pearls as I think about Parker’s head between my legs again tonight.

There’s a reason why a woman should take good care of her body. At sixty-six, my body rivals that of women half my age, including Bayleigh Reed and Riley Montrose.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Essence. You’re not even ready for the battle, let alone the war,” Zaire warns.

“Good night, gentleman. Oh, and Mr. Washington, if you’re looking for a respectable job where you can put in hard work and really get your back into it, you know where to find me,” I state, eying Jamal Washington up and down before winking at him.

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