She doesn’t even notice me, her eyes trained on him. “Boogeyman,” she greets coolly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He simply relaxes in the chair and places his gun on the table as he stares at her. I notice a bead of sweat trickling down her neck and laugh as I chug the bottle.
“I did what I had to,” she blurts. “I had a job—”
“You shouldn’t have accepted it,” is all he says. I finish the bottle and toss it on the floor before perching on one of his legs. He presses his hand to my back to keep me there as they stare at each other.
“Killing me won’t change anything. You’ll never get to him,” she hisses.
“It will sure as shit make me happy,” he snaps. “He’ll die too, but don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you—”
She sits up taller, a flirty smile on her lips. “No? I knew you liked me.”
“First, we’re going to have some fun,” he finishes, and she pales further. He stands and places me on the chair before he rounds the table to tower above her.
“You choose. Your lying mouth or traitorous hands first, Bessie?” he asks, twirling a knife.
“It’s Lola,” she sneers, and he stabs her hand, pinning it to the table as she screams. Even I wince. Shit, that has to hurt.
“I don’t give a fuck. No one will remember your name after today,” he growls.
Her other hand slaps the table as she swears and screams at him. Her perfect makeup is ruined as tears slip down her face. She sucks in desperate breaths and her lips quiver, even as she tries to fake her strength. “He’ll kill you.”
“Nikolic won’t—”
She laughs, the sound choked. “Not him. You have no idea who even runs this operation. He owns everything and everyone.”
“Even you?” Idris retorts.
She nods. “The bastard probably knew you were coming. That’s who I was meeting. He set it up and then left halfway through, wishing me good night. When I said I would see him tomorrow, he just laughed, the fucker. I thought he…”
“He what?” I prompt.
She looks at me, licking her lips, and I see vulnerability there, even through the haze of agony. “Liked me. I was a fool, you will be too. He’s untouchable.”
“No one is,” is all Idris says, having no sympathy for the love-struck girl. She made her choice—a foolish one. One that cost lives and ruined countless others. If he betrayed her, she deserves it.
She deserves everything she gets.
He pulls the knife out, and she falls back with a screech, holding her wounded hand to her chest and ruining her dress as blood coats her skin and the fabric. “You should know criminals have no loyalty to anyone but themselves,” Idris snarls.
“Doesn’t the same go for assassins?” she counters and looks at me. “He’ll kill you, he has to. You know far too much, I’m betting. Don’t you know that’s what they do? Use people, betray them, and kill them. He told me so.”
“The American?” I query.
She nods. “He knows them all somehow, knows Donald.”
“That’s enough,” Idris snaps. “That’s not our problem, that’s Donald’s. You are our problem, one soon to be resolved.”
“He’ll kill you! Help me get free and I’ll—” She tries to convince me, leaning forward in her desperation, but Idris smacks her back. One hit, and she’s out cold, her face slack and eyes closed. How boring. He sighs and looks at me.
“She talks too much,” I comment, pouting.
“She always did,” he replies, “and bakes the worst fucking cookies.”
I can’t help but laugh and lean forward, running my fingers across the bloody tablecloth. “What shall we do while we wait?” I purr. He smirks, his eyes dropping to my body, but she gasps and wakes up.
Groaning, I sit back. “What a fucking cockblock,” I snap as Idris laughs, grabs her half drank glass, and tosses it over her as she sputters.