Page 3 of Killer Confections
“Good,” I crumple up the picture, throwing it to the dirt floor as I crouch down in front of the man. “You’ve been in and out of that apartment countless times. Youknowthe people who live on the third floor. Unit number thirty. Who lives there?”
I reach out, grabbing the gag and ripping it away before I curl my fingers past his lips, gripping his bottom teeth as I drag him closer to me. “You scream and I’ll extract your organs while you watch. Tell me the name of the woman who lives in unit thirty and you can go home.”
He nods quickly, blinking back the sweat and tears from his eyes. I release him, standing to my full six-foot-five inchesheight as I give him a second to collect himself.
“L-Loxley!” He stutters, his voice rough. “Her name is Loxley! Please don’t kill me! I-I have a family and—”
I slap a hand over his mouth, giving him a faux gentle look. “You did great. That’s all I needed to know.”
I let my hand fall away before I turn, meeting Dom halfway and grabbing the knife from his hand. I keep my back to Charles as I grip the handle tightly, my mind thrumming with excitement.
My elation isn’t with the kill. This is more of a job, but my senses buzz knowing that she’s so close.
After all these years…
“That’s it?” Charles asks, his grating voice ruining my moment. “You got your answers. Can I go home now?”
I run my thumb along the blade, smirking when I gash my flesh. The blood wells, but I switch my grip, enjoying the sting and using it to center myself.
Get this done, then find her.
“Sure,” I shrug, making my tone light. “In a body bag.”
I turn before grabbing the top of Charles’ head to hold him still. He’s surprised by my attack, his mouth open, but before he can speak, I plunge the knife past his teeth, feeling the slight resistance when the long blade touches the back of his throat.
I keep pushing, holding him still as he gargles a scream and tries to pull away. When there’s resistance, I move my hand like I’m cutting a steak, sawing into the fleshy tissue until I reach the base of his skull. As I hit bone, I draw the knife back, watching the red essence as it spews from his mutilated mouth, dripping all down the front of his white button down.
He’s still alive—barely—but he’s filtering in and out of unconsciousness as he chokes on his own blood. If I don’t kill him, he’ll drown.
Decisions, decisions.
“Just kill him!” Dom yells, shaking his head as he packs his bag. “I forgot you’re almost as insane as your sister.”
“Thalia is fucking nuts,” I agree, as I watch the blood pool on the tarp.
“Put the old man out of his misery and let’s go,” my right hand says, sounding like he’snothaving as much fun as I am.
Weak.
I sigh, slicing the knife across Charles’ neck and hitting an artery. Blood squirts, spraying Dom as he attempts to walk around us.
“I hate you,” he grumbles as he stomps out of the warehouse.
“Call for a clean-up crew!” I yell. “This is fucking sick.”
I leave Charles to bleed out, giving his body some time to drain his life force. I’m smiling when I get in the car. I have to cram myself into the passenger side, my long legs looking ridiculous as they touch the glove box. I adjust the seat, the buzzing of the controls filling the car as Dom watches me with an austere expression. I give him a shit-eating grin as I slam my door.
“What’s got you so happy? Who’s Loxley?” He asks, starting the car. He pulls out of the abandoned lot, following the dirt road surrounded by a thicket of trees on either side.
“Don’t you worry about that,” I say. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
My skin crawls with the need to see her—touch her.
It’s been years, but I’ve kept tabs on her. The syndicate was under chaos when my dad ruled, making strict rules of no outsiders allowed into our organization.
About twenty families of highly trained assassins live in widespread homes across the two-hundred acre property. Most keep to themselves, but we function as a unit. As hits get released, we decide who takes them. Most of our jobs take us far away from home, but nothing long-term, unless Thalia is involved.
If we don’t pick up the hit, another syndicate across the states will. We often run into the fuckers on missions, enjoying the challenge of who will get the kill first.
