Page 88 of The Wicked
“Cig—cigarettes.”
“How can you not have cigars?” I sighed, rubbing my neck in tiredness. Then I gestured hastily with my hand. “Give me the cigarettes.”
He rushed to fish for a pack, placing it on the counter.
I picked it up, watching the van as I took out a smoke, placing it between my lips while I checked my front pocket for a lighter. I flicked it on and lit the cigarette. Returning the lighter, I sucked in the smoke, blowing it back out.
“Do you believe in luck?” I asked the boy while watching the van.
“Huh?” he squeaked out.
I turned to him again, shoving my hand inside my other pocket and pulling out a small bundle of money, placing it on the counter.
“Luck, do you believe in it? Do you think it exists?”
His jaw was dropping at the sight of the money on the counter.
“I—I guess?”
“Hm.” My gaze shifted to his side, and then I pointed to the baseball bat resting in the corner. “Is that yours?”
He quickly looked to the side, nodding. “Yes, sir.”
“I need to borrow it. You can get yourself a new one.”
He blinked before quickly reaching for the bat and handing it to me. It was strong enough, perfect for my grip.
“Thank—”
“Sir, this money is—even if I got a baseball bat with it and paid for the cigarettes, it’s still too much, sir.”
I blinked at him. “It’s for the phone bill. Also, you need to stock the store with cigars, preferably flavored ones, in case I happen to visit again.”
He gulped. “Yes, I—thank you—I will—thank you, sir.”
I nodded, exiting the store as I walked towards the guy in the mask, watching him close the fuel tank before going around the van.
“Hey,” I called, slipping the cigarette between my lips.
The moment he turned, I forcefully swung the bat at the side of his head. His body dropped to the ground, and he passed out on impact.
I twirled the bat, nodding. “Hm. Perfect.”
Then I got in the van, satisfied to see that the location he was heading to had been channeled into his mobile device resting on the console. I started the engine, set the car gear into drive, and proceeded to save the woman.
How… inconvenient.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Zahra
“Amore mio…”
His gloved hand softly stroked my left cheek, warm and tender. His hot breath fanned my face, and I shifted uncomfortably, dread tugging at my stomach.
That voice…
“My Zahra…” The side of his face brushed mine, clean-shaven and smooth; his lips hovered above my ear, and he whispered,“Wake up.”
