Page 36 of Venomous as a Snake

A frantic, consuming fuck in someone’s office, hoping we don’t get caught? That was how our teenage years went. And early twenties.

“Only one way to find out,” I whisper, not caring if Clumsy hears me.

The memories of my trysts with Walker are so strong I can smell his earth and saltwater scent surrounding me. Yet he isn’t here.

Drew only marginally knows what hardly fair means.

I stumble into the office door, twisting the knob with a perfected drunken gasp. But there’s no one inside, so I pull Clumsy in behind me and flip the lock.

The sound dies away, and we take a moment to adjust to the quiet, dimly lit space.

“Is this room soundproof?” Clumsy asks, his voice slightly hoarse.

I smirk to myself before turning to face him. He takes a step back, leaning to sit on the edge of the desk. Hooded eyes trail across my body, leaving a sickly feeling in my gut.

But it won’t last long.

“It would seem so,” I muse.

“Too bad there’s no couch.”

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, tasting the barest hint of tart venom when I swallow.

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” I reply. “Push everything off the desk.”

He gives me his back as he shoves papers, a lamp, and a desktop computer onto the floor. I pop the latch on my clutch, parting the tampons to retrieve my gun.

The little black Ruger isn’t my favorite, but it’s ridiculously lightweight and thin. It’s easy to conceal, too. Obviously…

I step behind Clumsy, safety clicking off as he turns to me. I press the barrel to his chest, over his heart, and his eyes grow wide with fear.

“You can stalk me from outside my house,” I inform him. “But when you come into my territory, that’s an issue.”

I smile as I pull the trigger. The recoil vibrates through my arm, though the barrel never moves from his chest. My aim stays true as he staggers, waiting to shoot him again.

“I know Clay asked you to do it, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior.”

Clumsy falls to the floor, gurgling as his lungs fill with blood. It oozes from his lips as he tries to speak.

“Clearly, I should have sent a bigger message.”

I kneel beside his body as he takes his last breath. Leaving him here to be found isn’t smart, but… Fangs knows this is one of Clay’s minions. So I stage the scene.

I dab my finger in the blood from the bullet hole and trace across his forehead. The pair of dice aren’t perfect, though I make sure you can see the Snake Eyes calling card.

The K to the left of the dice is neat, unmistakable, and not something anyone will understand. Other than Clay, Fangs, and my dad.

An enforcer doesn’t have to leave a signature, but I want them to know this is my doing. I don’t want to leave any doubts.

I pull the packaged wet wipe and compact mirror from my clutch and clean the blood off my face and arms. Then I wipe both sides of the door handle, cleaning my prints while smudging blood on the surface, before I leave the office without a backward glance.

Someone will find his body. I don’t care who it is.

I warned Fangs. Warned Clay, too.

But they don’t listen, and that’s not my problem anymore.

I’m not worried about the gang and their leader. Fangs loves me, like the heir he wishes he had instead of the sons who can’t carry on his position.