Page 14 of Venomous Games

She fidgets with the bracelets in front of her. She likes to make friendship bracelets to sell on Etsy. “Just to tell me not to make a report, and if I needed anything to contact him.”

“So he was threatening you?” I growl, sitting back in my chair.

She glances up at me and shakes her head. I’ve never had faith in the system, and I bet he was here to cover up for his friend.

“No.” She seems to think about her answer, then scoffs and puts the bracelet down. “Actually, I think he was. Asshole.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Good. Just a little sore,” she replies, smiling, but I know her well enough to know it’s forced.

“Do you need anything? I thought I would check on you before I head out for the day.”

Her gaze meets mine. “Where are you going?”

“Shopping,” I lie.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re a terrible liar,” she says, but thankfully doesn’t push. I stand and then lean down to kiss her on the top of the head. “Are you mad at me?” she whispers.

“Mad?” I ask, pulling back.

“About the money,” she explains.

I knew what she was asking. I pause before I answer. She’s older than me, and I shouldn’t be the one to clean up her mess. I can’t say I’m not disappointed in her; I am. But I know Carrie, and right now, she needs to hear what she wants me to say. So I let the words fall from my lips.

“No, I have enough put away,” I tell her, and that’s half the truth.

“I thought I could double it. I really did,” she whispers.

“Don’t do that again. If you want to double it, ask me.” I pick up my helmet and then leave the apartment before I say something I’ll regret.

What I do is a form of art. It takes great skill to be able to take a life and not get caught doing so. I have excelled in this career for well over five years. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

I sit out front of Bailey’s office building on my Ducati with my helmet on my head as I watch him leave, his trousers pulling tight with each step he takes. He’s laughing with the woman at his side. I wonder if she knows he likes to get handsy with women.

I stay where I am as the two of them walk down the street and then descend the stairs leading to the subway, and out of my view. But that’s okay because I already know where he’s going.

Turning my bike around, I head in the direction of his home. When I get there, I drive by slowly, noticing all the lights are off, which is a good thing. When I researched him, I found that he’s single and has no children. I could only find the basics on him; Carrie does the deep-dive background checks, and she doesn’t need to know what I’m doing right now.

A few blocks away, I find a side street and park my bike. Removing my helmet, I place it on the seat and hope to God someone doesn’t steal it. The neighborhood is considered a good one, but you never know when someone like me is lurking around.

The sun has started to set, and the streetlights flicker as I reach his house. Everything is so quiet right now. I don’t bother going up to the front door. Instead, I go around the back, where I find a doggie door built into the main door. Biting my lip, I contemplate whether I can actually fit through it. Deciding that’s my best option, I get down on all fours and push it open before I start wiggling through.

Just as I’m halfway in, I hear a noise, and my heart pounds in my chest. What I’m doing is so unlike me. I don’t kill for my own personal reasons; it’s usually all business. I lift my head and see two eyes level with mine, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Animals don’t scare me, and thankfully, this one looks like a fur baby. It immediately starts licking my face, probably thinking I’m here to play.

Once I’m finally able to stand after wriggling the rest of the way through the tiny door, I look around at the dishes stacked in the sink and the garbage on the counter. He clearly doesn’t spend enough time at home to worry about the mess that is his house. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

My boots crunch on something on the floor, and I stop, looking down to see chips scattered all over the place.

He really is a fucking pig.

The dog follows me while I make my way around the house. When I reach the bedroom, the door is already open, and right away, I scrunch up my nose at the smell.

His room literally stinks.

He probably hasn’t washed his sheets in … who knows how long, and even in the darkness, I can tell they aren’t clean. The dog starts barking, and I know Bailey’s home. I also know that I have to make this kill clean; it cannot come back to Carrie or me in any way.

Stepping into his closet, I hide behind his row of clothes and patiently wait until he enters the bedroom. I hear the creak of the mattress and realize he doesn’t even shower before he climbs into bed. That is disgusting. Not long after that, his snores fill the room.