Page 5 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some callous murderer. Well, not all the time. I’m definitely a little fucked in the head and perhaps slightly unhinged from time to time, but for the most part, I consider myself a successful businessman.

A killer for hire. A weapon for the highest bidder. A means to an end. As long as there’s money to be made, fun to be had, and a life to be lost, you can count me in. After all, it’s important that a well-rounded man enjoys what he does with his days. If there’s no enjoyment in your work, no passion, or enthusiasm, then what’s the point? Motivation for money only gets you so far, and in my industry, shit like that gets you nothing but twenty to life . . . or a death sentence. And while that sounds like a wild ride, I prefer not being caught up with law enforcement.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and as I watch Lyra sway her hips while mixing some drink called a Last Regret, my own regret begins pounding through me, knowing exactly what I’m about to find on my phone.

Checking the notification, I find a text from an unknown number, likely from a burner phone with nothing but a picture of my next hit and a location pinned on a map.

It’s go time. And unfortunately for me, that means my time at Black Velvet has come to an end. But that doesn’t mean this is over. Lyra said she gets off at two, and by ten past, I fully intend to be buried inside her.

It’s only just creeping up to midnight, and considering my target doesn’t move from the location pinned on the map, I should have more than enough time to cut across the city, find him, take the hit, and be back here with enough time to indulge in my latest fantasy.

Getting up from the bar, I immediately catch Lyra’s attention, and she arches a brow. “Leaving so soon?” she questions with a challenge in her sweet tone, probably wondering if I’d changed my mind and couldn’t follow through on my vow to leave her screaming.

An amused scoff tears from the back of my throat, and I find myself completely bewildered by this woman. Generally, they shrink away from me. They sense something isn’t right and go out of their way not to make eye contact. But not Lyra. So she’s either clueless with no survival instincts, or she’s something else entirely. Probably clueless.

“Things to do, Savage,” I tell her. “But don’t worry. I’ll be here at two to give you what you need.”

“What I need?” she questions. “You’re the one who can’t seem to look away. I see it in your eyes. You’re obsessed. You need this more than I do. I can get what I need from any one of the hundreds of men in this bar. But something tells me it’s not that simple for you. You know what you like, and nothing less is ever going to be enough. You want me and only me.”

Well, fuck. She’s got me there. But she doesn’t need to know that.

She grins, her eyes shining with silent laughter. “And to think I was about to take my break, and let you have your way with me in the back alley. Suppose it’ll have to wait.”

I clench my jaw. I might be a nightmare, but this woman is about to be the bane of my existence, yet I want it more than I could have ever prepared for. There’s no doubt that I’m going to destroy her, but this feisty little vixen might just beat me to the punch.

“Two a.m., Lyra. You better be here when I get back. And don’t even think about keeping me waiting.”

Lyra’s only response is a satisfied smirk, and despite how fucking stunning she is, I can’t wait to wipe the look off her face. Preferably when I’m pushing past her gag reflexes, and she’s choking on my cock.

God. I can’t fucking wait.

Suddenly having no interest in my job, I turn on my heel and reluctantly make my way toward the main entrance, weaving through the hundreds of bodies crammed into Black Velvet.

What I wouldn’t give to follow Lyra out to that back alley, but like I said, I’m a businessman, and I’m not letting a payday slip away because I’ve stupidly allowed myself to become infatuated by some woman who spends her Friday nights dancing on bars with a wet see-through tank.

I need to focus. I can’t allow myself to slip. I have a job to do, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability, no matter how desperately I’d rather be with someone else . . . or inside someone else.

Stepping out into the streets of Onyx Heights, I head down the sidewalk toward my matte black Dodge Challenger that’s parked on the next side street. Heading past the long line of people waiting to get into Black Velvet, my phone buzzes again, and I pause just before stepping out onto the road.

Once that confirmation text comes through, that should be it. No more communication is permitted.

Hastily checking the message, I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh.

Unknown: Target is on the move. Wait for instructions.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter to myself. Not only has the client messed up the one task I gave him, but he also cost me precious minutes where my eyeballs could have lingered on Lyra’s skin, potentially even having her up against the wall in a side alley. And to me, that’s a mistake punishable by death.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I switch it out for my pack of cigarettes, lifting the whole thing to my mouth. Pinching one between my lips, I pull it free, light it, and take a long drag.

A few of the Black Velvet bartenders linger around the side of the building, taking their break, and I almost laugh, realizing this is likely the very side alley Lyra was referring to.

Leaning against the wall, I prop my foot up as I quickly work my way through my cigarette, and as I’m waiting for a new confirmation text, the back door flies open, and the very woman I’d just bailed on strides out, laughing animatedly with some of the other girls.

That is until she senses my stare on her and pauses, glancing back at me.

She doesn’t try to approach me, doesn’t even try to talk to me. Just stands there among her friends, her eyes roaming up and down my body, eye-fucking me with everything she’s got. And judging by the smug expression on her face, I know exactly what she’s thinking; that I just blew off burying myself nine inches inside of her just to stand out here like a fucking loser sucking on the end of a cigarette.

I don’t know what game we’re playing here, but whatever it is, she thinks she’s just won. But she’s far from it. Nobody outplays me.