Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I wait the two minutes, then leave by the back door.
By now, he’ll be rubbing himself through his jeans as he waits for me by the dumpster.
Stepping into the late night, the heat of the evening mingles with the scent of garbage and piss and the recent rain shower. I know this alleyway. I know there are no cameras or access to it other than the door I just exited from. It makes it a popular location to make some easy cash if you don’t mind sucking cock in the shadows or getting fucked-up against the wall. But tonight, the rain has kept people away, and it’s empty.
But, of course, I knew that too.
My earlier prediction was correct. My mark is rubbing the rigid outline of his cock through his grubby jeans.
“Oh, you’re a beauty, you are,” he says as he walks toward me. The asshole has a limp from an old football injury. He keeps rubbing the front of his jeans, and with a wave of nausea, I wonder if it’s what he did on that night all those years ago when he raped and murdered my girlfriend.
Did he pleasure himself through his jeans as his friends held her down and did the unimaginable to her?
My hands fist at my sides, and I have to contain the rage and not let my emotion get the better of me. When you kill people for a living, you can’t be a slave to your emotions. I want to rip this guy’s head off and spit down his neck, but that kind of thinking leaves you open to mistakes.
No, I stick to the plan, knowing it’s going to bring me immense satisfaction in the end.
“You’re a big guy,” he says, looking up at me. Desire rages in his expression, and he licks his lips. “You want to show me what you got hiding in those Levi’s?”
“Sure.” I start to unzip my jeans, and he shifts excitedly on his feet, salivating as he drops to his knees.
“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he says. “I’m going to suck you like a goddamn lollipop.”
He slides his palms down my legs and licks his lips again. He’s eager, right up to the moment when my knee collides with his jaw and sends him flying backward, falling onto the wet concrete.
Stunned, he looks up at me. “What the hell?”
I rezip my jeans as he rubs his jaw.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he yells.
I haul him to his feet by his collar so his face is up real close to mine. I can almost see his mind racing. His eyes dart about, his lips quivering in fear and confusion.
Not so tough without your buddies now, are you?
“You want to know what my problem is? It’s you, you pathetic piece of shit.” I let him go. He must still be dazed, or he’d be going for the piece he keeps in his jeans. “We’re going to play a game. It’s called… Let’s Walk Down Memory Lane.”
Blood drips from the corner of his mouth, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, his mind still frantically trying to make sense of the situation. “It’s called fucking what? Who the hell are you, man?”
I step closer, and he has to look up because I tower over him.
“Take a good look and think about it,” I growl through gritted teeth.
It takes him a moment before the recognition slowly seeps in, and he remembers. His pupils dilate with fear. It’s the instant he realizes this isn’t going to end well for him.
Now, he’ll do one of two things.
He’ll go on the defense and think he’ll be able to talk me out of what he knows is coming next.
The first name on the list did that—tried to tell me it was a bit of teenage fun, harmless and juvenile. Until it wasn’t. He shut up when I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed the life out of him.
The second option will be to go on the offense and do something stupid like grab for the pistol in the waistband of his jeans. Which is exactly what he does, but my instincts are faster and my body a hell of a lot stronger. I have him disarmed and pinned to the wall with his throat crushed beneath my forearm before he has a chance to think I’m fucked.
He knows he’s about to die.
But I want to draw it out a little longer.
I want those wide, terror-drenched eyes to beg for mercy a little longer.
I want him to know what real fear feels like right before his heart stops beating.
I want him to know why he’s going to hell and why I am sending him there.
With my free arm, I remove Belle’s picture from my back pocket and shove it in his face.