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And I’m no longer certain I want to survive the extraction.
What the hell do I do now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EMILY
I’ve taken the day off to prepare for my next move, and once everything is in place, I can’t stay away from the man I kill for, gladly. So now here I am sitting in a bus shelter while it rains. The water streaks the glass, distorting my view, but I can still see Alden’s office building.
My jacket hood is up, my hands are in my pockets, and my eyes are trained on the front doors. People arrive and leave, but I never move from my spot.
I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of Alden before he heads out of town, but what I don’t expect to see is Camille striding through the front doors like she owns the building.
My hand curls into a fist inside the coat, nails digging into my palms. Alden, have you really stooped so low as to call her back to your side? My teeth grind, and the anger burns in the center of my chest with every minute she’s inside.
Checking the time, Camille has been in there fifteen minutes. With a quick calculation and assuming that she gets into his office the moment she reaches the top floor, she’s been with him for six minutes.
Lifting my head, I stare at the bright lights shining like a beacon from the top floor and swallow down the rage. Camille’s death was assured when she dared to show her face at Rob’s funeral, but now…she will understand the full weight of her mistake.
Movement at the front door catches my eye, and my lip twitches as Camille marches out. I can’t see her face clearly, but the way she stomps to her car and races away tells me that Alden hasn’t given her the time of day.
Good boy.
He’s leaving tomorrow to complete his kill, and that’s when I’ll strike. He’ll be too far away to be considered a suspect. With a last glance at the top floor, I can just make out a shadow backlit by the warm glow.
Don’t worry, Alden. I’ll take care of her for you. After tomorrow, Camille will never bother you again.
Smiling, I feel lighter than I have all day. I walk out and down the street toward my car. Some things in this world must be handled between two women.
THE NEXT NIGHT
Camille is predictable in the way you know a stray cat will come back for food and milk every night. Alden’s rejection hasn’t stopped her from seeking out company, and it just so happens to be Malcolm, Alden’s cousin. From what I’ve been able to dig up on him, he is no good.
Always in debt, shady dealings, gambling issues, stealing, and swindling money. I found out about Malcolm screwing Alden over during their dinner at Le Bernardin. I was seated two tables away, never seen by either of them, but I heard every word.
Alden can handle himself, but no one fucks with what is mine.
And since Camille has decided to bring Malcolm home for a fuck session, there is no better time to enact my revenge on them both. Two birds with one stone, as they say, or in this case, one bottle of very expensive wine.
Alden will thank me for this.
The nearly empty bottle sits on the coffee table as the two of them fuck on the couch like rabbits. I stay perfectly still in my hiding spot under the kitchen sink. I’ve always been good at hiding. It’s necessary when your life depends on not being seen.
Through the slim crack of the two doors, I watch and wait.
Camille is hit first. She’s riding Malcom, bouncing on his lap when she suddenly freezes.
“Camille, don’t stop.”
He grabs her hips and forces her to move up and down, too consumed with his own need, selfish to the bone, to notice she is in distress.
“Fuck, I’m almost there.”
Camille slumps forward onto his shoulder. I shake my head at the sheer stupidity I’m witnessing.
“Malcolm…I…I…”
Camille tries to get out what’s wrong even as her body betrays her on two fronts. The pleasure and dopamine war with the poison shutting everything down.
