Wicked Heart

Born to Die, Book One

Candace Wondrak

© 2022 Candace Wondrak

All Rights Reserved.

Book cover by Melony Paradise at Paradise Cover Design – Premade Book Covers Group

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Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Maddox

Chapter Three – Lola

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Sylvester

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Lola

Chapter Eight – Viper

Chapter Nine – Lola

Hey, you. It’s me again. I bet I know what you’re gonna say. Ain’t this bitch done already? Don’t she have her happily ever after yet? Or whatever stupid shit people wonder these days. Don’t know, stopped trying to read people’s minds when they kept proving to me they didn’t give a shit about me.

In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Lola Harding, your favorite nighttime serial killer extraordinaire, the Night Slayer.

Except, you know, I haven’t done much hunting lately. Too much politics. Because, as you may or may not remember, I ain’t just a serial killer anymore. I dethroned the last DeLuca in the city, Bianca, AKA the Bloody Princess… the little bitch who turned Tony and got me to do some of her dirty work. She made me poison her father, and then when she was sure she had the loyalty of his men, she ended his suffering.

And then I ended hers. Poetic, right? I took her house, took her money, even took her driver, a cute guy named Harvey. It was his idea to take all her shit. I like the guy. He might have a squeaky-clean air about him, but the man ain’t squeamish when the shit hits the fan, which it seems to do often in this fucking city.

So, yeah, after taking out that bitch, I’m the fucking Bloody Queen. Everyone knows it. And in the months since, it’s been nice. It’s been quiet. Of course, it helps that my incest-loving brother isn’t in the picture anymore, since I killed that motherfucker.

Hmm. Maybe sisterfucker is the better word for him, but whatever. I’m getting off track.

What was the point of this again?

Oh, yeah. Me, welcoming you back into my not-so-loving arms.

You think the last ride we went on together was crazy? You thought me ripping a gal’s throat out with nothing but my nails was a little insane? Ha. Well, buckle up, buttercups, because the happily ever after thing ain’t quite here yet…

Huh. Where’s some Frankie Sinatra when you need him? That shit always calms me down.

Chapter One – Lola

Sex. It’s what kept people going. They might claim to be family men and women, but when the lights shut off and no one was watching, it was all about the sex. ‘Course, when you were surrounded by strangers in a dark club, you weren’t exactly alone, but everyone had their own problems, things each and every soul was trying to forget.

With sex.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Sex was great. I loved fucking my guys. I loved it when they fucked me. But sometimes these people were just… desperate. Yeah, that’s the word. Desperate for a lay, any lay, no matter what the consequences would be.

It’s how it was so easy for me to become the Night Slayer, the serial killer who stalked men in clubs, pretended to get drunk, and let them take me to their place, where they thought they’d be able to wet their dicks in me. Only that never happened, because usually they were dead before they could.

Do you know how long it took for a hardened cock to lose its hardness after death? I did. Since the dick got hard with blood pumping through it, when their hearts stopped beating, well… the penis was soon to follow.

It was kind of fun to watch.

Although, that did depend on where the heart was in reference to the schlong after death. Blood tended to move thanks to the whole gravity situation.

But Sylvester, Maddox, and Viper didn’t like it when I saw other men’s packages, for obvious reasons, so I’d steered clear of that. Plus, I was pretty sure it reminded them of when I killed Dickless—Mario Luciano—the youngest Luciano son.

Oh, yeah. They’d found out it was me, kidnapped me, and put me to work as their pet serial killer. It was kind of fun. Honestly, I never expected it to turn out like this. I thought I’d die at their hands, so I’d figured, why not go along for the ride? Might just be the twisted fun I liked.

And it had been.

Only they didn’t kill me, because I was still very much alive, and now, after dethroning Bianca, I had just as much power in this city as Sylvester did. It was ironic, in a way. Without them, I’d probably be dead by now, regardless. Caught by the FBI, thrown in prison, awaiting trial. They didn’t like serial killers in federal prison, from what I heard. That and child rapists.

Hey, unlike those guys, I had a reason for what I did. I killed men who thought they could take advantage of women. Being drunk was no excuse for rape, and I made sure they knew it before they died.

My brother… he’d never gotten me drunk. He didn’t need to. Aiden had been my parents’ golden child, the son who could do no wrong, even if he occasionally got his sister pregnant. They had tried to teach me that silence was my golden virtue. They’d even taken me to a doctor to sterilize me; got me a nice scar to prove it.

It’s good my parents were dead. Better that Aiden was dead. They all got what they deserved, and they’d died with fear running through their veins. You didn’t get better than that when you were a killer like me.

Oh, I was no angel anymore. I might have the voice of one, might be a beauty unlike any other—men these days were still a sucker for blond hair and big, blue eyes—but I was the farthest thing from an angel. More like an angel of death.

But, back to the present.

We were in a club. I liked to make the rounds every night, showing my face, to prove this city hadn’t killed me yet. Were there death attempts? Yeah, some. You’d think they’d get smart and realize I wasn’t an ordinary target. I didn’t kill the Bloody Princess and take her crown all that time ago based on sheer dumb luck. It helped, of course, that I never went anywhere alone.

I liked to show my face, and I liked to show off my guys: Maddox, Sylvester, and Viper.

Maddox was the kind of guy that made girls clench their thighs and drip from the cunt with just one look from those pitch-black eyes. He used to go with the half-shaven look on his head to show off the tattoos he had beneath his hair, but he’d let it grow out. He now had a fauxhawk, the top of his head a mop of longer dark hair while the sides all around were shaved short. He usually wore all black, and when we went to the clubs, he undid the top two buttons on his shirt, showing off his clavicle, his collarbone, and just the faintest hint of his muscles.

Because he was muscled, perhaps the most out of any of them.

Over six feet tall with muscles to spare, not to mention a dick so thick it made you wonder: no fucking way will that thing fit inside me. But it did, every single time. And every single time it pushed you to the brink of what your body could handle.

Maddox was technically the true heir to Richard Luciano’s throne, the only blood son Richie had left. But he was more of a guy who liked to talk with his fists and his guns rather than play at criminal politics, so he left that job to his brother.

Don’t even get me started on the girls who went after him. I hadn’t forgotten his playboy days, before I’d walked my way into the picture—or killed my way in. He liked to stick his dick in anything that moved, especially that Mina chick. She never seemed to get the hint, always flirting with him when she saw him.

One of these days, I might have to teach that one a lesson she won’t ever forget.

The one in charge of the Luciano household and its fortune, the one keeping the underbelly of the city running like it had for so long before, was Sylvester, the adopted son. He had been plucked off the streets by Richard when he was nothing but a child, and he was raised with Maddox and Dickless like he was a brother.

And he was, but because he was not blood-related, certain group activities that didn’t involve clothes were a little less weird.

Sylvester was a year younger than Maddox, with hair like mine—only much shorter, obviously. He also had blue eyes like me, only his were a deeper hue in comparison. Not as tall as Maddox or as muscled, but he made up for it with the way he dressed. Gotta love a man in a suit.

And he was always straight to business, too. He could be kind, yes, but when the situation called for an iron fist, he was all too happy to be of service. The taste for blood and putting people in their place ran hot through his veins.

Women didn’t go after him as hard, though I still caught some giving him quick glances every now and then. Both Sylvester and Maddox were sexy as hell; any girl would gladly spread their legs for either of them, but I think if they had the choice, they’d go after Maddox, mainly because he did nothing to hide the bad boy persona, and if there was one thing girls loved, it was a bad boy with a thick dick and the skill to use it.

But both their dicks were mine now, and I wasn’t going to share, even if someone asked nicely.

Speaking of dicks, there was one more in my circle: Viper. His real name was Vinny Milano, but everybody called him Viper. He had a thing for snakes, had tattoos of them all over his body. On his arms, on his chest, on his stomach. They were fun to scratch during sexy times. He was a few years older than Maddox, near thirty or just above, with thick brown hair that was easy to take hold of when you were fucking and hazel eyes that I swore changed colors depending on the light.

And his dick? It was so long you had to really deep throat that bitch when you were giving him head. Not that I liked doing that often—a gal liked having all the attention on her own lady bits, you know—but sometimes it was nice to remind the guys that you worshiped them just as much as they did you.

Viper had been my guard in the beginning, told to watch over me like a hawk because they didn’t trust me. But the softie couldn’t hate me for long. What could I say? I had a way about me that just drew the psychotic men in… except these three were ones I liked, and I was going to keep them. Call me selfish.

Those were my three guys. My dicks. My sexy as fuck psychos. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I was actually happy with them. In fact, I was happy with everything right now.

I know. Me just thinking that was mind-blowing, because there used to be a time when I wanted nothing but the sweet release only one thing could give me: death. I’d longed for the electric chair or the lethal injection, to be put out of my misery, because that’s all the world had given me until I’d killed my way into this city. Fucking misery. And instead of taking myself out of the equation—which, not going to lie, I had thought about every once in a while—I’d decided to take as many assholes out with me before I went.

Thus the Night Slayer was born.

I never thought I’d be happy. Never. Not once. I never thought I’d find one man, let alone three, who drove me crazy in the best of ways. I never, ever thought I’d find a place where I actually felt like I belonged. This whole thing was still new to me, and it was definitely a learning process as I navigated these unfamiliar waters.

What would mommy and daddy think of their angel if they could see me now? They’d probably be horrified, actually, but who gave a shit.

Back to the present. Back to the club.

Sylvester was near the bar, grabbing a drink. He wore a suit, so he didn’t do much dancing. I also knew he was packing some serious heat beneath that suit jacket. If something happened, he’d whip out that gun and shoot to kill.

I was sandwiched between Maddox and Viper. Maddox had my ass grinding against his cock, while Viper ground his hard member against my front. We were all fully clothed, much like the rest of the people dancing around us, but that didn’t stop us from going at it like we weren’t.

Hey, I didn’t mind showing off every now and then. Meek and shy ain’t my style. Sometimes it was fun to let people take a peek into the fire we had for each other. Let them watch. Let them be jealous. Let them get off as long as they weren’t touching the dicks that belonged to me.

I wore a short little number that left nothing to the imagination. My mask was in Sylvester’s car, so if I needed it, he could always go grab it. I found when I danced, I tended to get sweaty, and when I got sweaty, the mask was a little stifling.

Back to the dress, though. It was a sparkling silver, reflecting the strobe lights above. Strapless, which meant my tits looked killer. It was also very short. Not short enough, though, for the greedy hands on my hips and sides kept tugging it up further. If they weren’t careful, they might just cause me to flash the entire club.

No panties tonight.

Being in between them made me feel some type of way. I couldn’t describe it. Actually, wait, no, I could. Horny was the word. Having Maddox behind me and Viper in front of me, all of us swaying to the same beat, was making me horny. I wanted to throw them down right here and tear off their clothes, fuck them wild with the same frantic beat.

Hmm. A gal could dream.

Remember when I said dancing in heels was a killer workout? Yeah, still rang true to this day. Like, the only thing saving me right now was the fact that we went out more often than we used to.

I was jostled around, flipped so that my front now ground against Maddox and his thick cock, but right then something caught my eye. Something that didn’t look quite right. Through the crowd of people dancing in the club, I spotted a girl being led to the restrooms by a man, and the way he held onto her wrist, from what small snippets of them I could see around the people, didn’t look too kind.

If there was one thing that got me riled up, it was seeing a man treat a woman—whether it was his girl or not—like shit. The whole world treated us like shit, so why did men constantly get a free pass to? No. Not this time.

I know, I know. The world treated us like shit because men ran it.

“I have to pee,” I shouted to Maddox, slipping out of his and Viper’s grip. They looked sad, but they let me go. As possessive as they could be sometimes, even they knew when to let me go.

I wove through the crowd, moving like a hunter even though I wasn’t wearing my mask. The guys weren’t too comfortable with me going out and hunting unsuspecting men, so I’d had to reel my impulses in. There was only so much I could do, though. I couldn’t sit back and watch something like that happen, let a girl be bullied, or worse, in the same club I was in.

This was my fucking city now, and by God, everyone was going to know it.

I made it to the girls’ restroom, poked my head in and didn’t see the girl or the guy in there. I ducked out and went to the restroom that hardly got used in comparison: the men’s. I tried walking in, but something blocked the door on the inside, maybe a garbage can. I didn’t know what else was in a public restroom you could use to do something like that.

Stepping back a few feet, I let out a calming breath and sprinted toward the door, body-slamming the handle-less door and causing whatever was in the way on the other side to tip over with the sudden harsh movement. I burst into the restroom, spotting a trash can spilled over on the floor, much as I suspected.

The girl was cornered against the opposite wall, the guy towering over her with a posture I didn’t particularly care for. He whipped his head around to glare at me, while the girl stared around him with wide eyes. Neither said anything, but I could read the room: she was anxious, maybe scared, and he was an asshole through and through, whether he was her boyfriend or not.

“This is the men’s room,” he growled out, breaking the silence of the room, though the pounding music from the club did that, too. The tension was so thick in the air, I could cut it with a knife.

I flashed him a smile. Oh, this guy better tread carefully. If he said one more douchey thing to me, it would be game over for Dickface.

“Oh, is it?” I pretended I didn’t realize it, checking the sign on the restroom door. “Oh, yeah, I guess it is.” I shrugged and stepped away from the door, letting it close on its own. I had no idea if anyone else would walk in; didn’t care. No one was in the stalls, and no guys stood near the urinals, awkwardly taking a piss while all this was going on.

No, it was just us three.

“The girl’s room has a super long line,” I spoke, moving closer to them, taking a hand to my hair and starting to twirl a finger in its length. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a clubber. Like a girl who was here just to have some fun. I’d done my makeup, kinked my hair, and everything.

Oh, did I mention I got a tattoo on my inner right arm? Because I did. A stiletto heel, a flower, some lipstick; a few of the most girly things ever. I liked my tattoo, even if it was nothing in comparison to what Viper and Maddox had.

“I don’t fucking care,” he said, not letting my charm lower his guard. “Get out of here. My girl and I need a minute.” He no longer had his hands on his girl, his entire body now facing me. One of his hands did curl into a fist, and behind him, the girl was busy shaking her head, not a lot, but just enough of a movement to tell me this wasn’t a good idea.

But she didn’t know me, and neither did he.

I now stood a few feet in front of him. The dude was tall, but he wasn’t built like a mountain, not like Viper’s brother, Big Mike. There’s a reason he was named Big Mike. The dude was like a mix between a lumberjack and a mobster; you didn’t get much more intimidating than him.

But this guy? Psh. He was lanky. The t-shirt he wore hung on his shoulders a little loose. And I knew the taller they were, the more fun bringing them down was. Dickless had been tall, too. Mister Dickface wouldn’t pose half as much of a challenge to me.

“You know, I actually don’t think I’m going to leave,” I said, shrugging once. “I think I’m right where I want to be. The real question is: are you?”

Dickface narrowed his eyes at me. “What the fuck are you talking about? I said get out of here—” He went to grab me, probably to forcefully drag my ass out of the men’s room so he and the girl could have some private time, but I sidestepped him. Wasn’t my first time dodging a hand, and it wouldn’t be my last.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I hissed out, my girly facade gone, the Night Slayer taking its place. “Do you know who I am, Dickface?” He looked like he wanted to hit me. Maybe that’s what he’d dragged the girl in here for. Hit a girl when she refused to be put in place. “I don’t think you do, so I’m going to tell you.”

He reached for me again, and this time I grabbed his wrist quicker than he could blink while my other went for the fingers, bending his whole hand back harder than he was expecting. He winced and pulled himself away from me, rubbing his wrist.

He didn’t escape from me, though. I let him go. Big fucking difference. “I’m Lola. I go by many names. Tonight I’m going to remind you that I’m the Bloody Queen.”

Dickface got mad, furious, charging at me, but one swift kick to the balls brought him to his knees. Before he could react, besides groaning and cupping his manhood like I’d caused his balls to explode, I grabbed the back of his head. Jerking a knee up, I whipped his head down in the same movement, cracking his nose from the blunt force of my bony knee.

I let go of him, disgusted by him and all the men like him in this world. He fell back, hitting his head on the floor. Pretty sure he was unconscious… or fighting to remain conscious, anyway. I looked at the girl, who had brought those terrified eyes to me. I extended a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s get you away from him.”

“I don’t know…” She looked down at the man. “I don’t—”

“We both know he didn’t bring you in here to propose,” I said. “So take my hand, and let’s get out of here before he wakes up.”

She stepped around him, taking her time in coming to me, though she didn’t take my hand once she stood beside me—which was fine. “He’s going to be mad when he wakes up.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“I promise you, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” I put a hand on her back and turned her away from the man on the floor, guiding her to the restroom’s door. Together we pushed out into the club, the music ten times louder out here.

“He’s not normally like that,” she was busy saying, and I did my best to simply nod and agree with her, as if I knew Dickface, too. “He always gets like this when he has an exam. He’s going to school to be a—”

At that point, she started rambling about him, like I gave a shit. I spotted Sylvester near the bar. Maddox and Viper had joined him, and when they saw us walk up, they instantly were guarded. Sylvester looked me up and down, then turned his questioning blue gaze to the girl with me. “Who’s she?”

“Tina,” she whispered softly. She rubbed her arm and kept glancing over her shoulder, like she expected her boyfriend to pop up any moment now. “Is Brandon going to be okay? Should we call him an ambulance?” She wore a tight dress and held no purse, so I assumed she had no phone on her. All the easier it made for men like Brandon to control her.

“Who the fuck is Brandon?” Maddox huffed, already looking like he wanted to kill.

“He’s in the men’s restroom,” I said, glancing between Maddox and Viper. “I think you two should show him out. Let’s just say he’s overstayed his welcome.” There was an added weight to my words, something hidden I didn’t say. Couldn’t, not in front of Tina.

Maddox and Viper exchanged glances. Neither of them said anything more, moving around us to do as I’d asked.

“Sylvester, do you think we could drive Tina home? She’s had quite the night, and I want to make sure she gets home safely.” I looked at Tina. “I’m assuming Brandon was your ride?” She nodded, telling me what I already knew.

“Sure,” Sylvester said. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s.” Had to leave the club before Tina saw Maddox and Viper drag him out. Some girls couldn’t help themselves. They didn’t know any better, didn’t know how to protect themselves from men like Brandon. Or they kept going back to men like that, putting themselves in harm’s way simply because they didn’t know anything different.

I knew what being trapped was like more than most. My parents had trapped me in a house with Aiden for years upon years. Not a fun time to remember.

I hooked my arm through Tina’s and walked us through the club, to the exit. Sylvester and I passed the bouncer, who gave us a nod. He knew who we were, while most of the people in there didn’t. They were too busy going about their lives. Everyone who was anyone in this city knew Sylvester, and they knew me, even without my mask.

We walked to the parking lot, and Sylvester pulled out his keys. Within the next minute, I was in the back with Tina, and Sylvester was pulling us out onto the road. I figured I’d sit in the back with her to make sure she stayed calm. Tonight was probably a lot for her to handle, but she’d be fine. She wouldn’t have to worry about Brandon, AKA Dickface, anymore.

“Where are we going?” I asked, and Tina told Sylvester where she lived. Another college student who’d come downtown to party it up a bit.

No one spoke during the drive. Sylvester had the radio on low, its music a far cry from the loud shit pounding on the speakers in the club. I could feel the anxiety rolling off Tina in waves, and I wished I could tell her that things got better. Not all men were like Brandon. There might’ve been a time when I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but recent events had caused me to open my eyes.

Yes, the not all men mantra was true… only the men who tended to scream it anytime women brought up the fact that men committed most rapes and domestic violence acts were not included in that number. Go figure.

But there were good men out there. Just look at my guys. They’d reined in their impulse to kill me long enough to fall for me. Joke was on them. Falling for their brother’s murderer. What losers.

After a twenty-minute drive out of the city, we arrived at the dorm where Tina lived. I got out with her, walking her to the front door. “Hey,” I told her. “You’re going to be okay.”

She bit her lower lip, unsure. “He’s going to be so pissed off—”

“I told you, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Focus on yourself. You don’t need a man like that. Come on, girl, surely there are others who’ve told you that guy wasn’t good for you.”

Tina nodded. “Yeah, yeah my family never liked him. He isn’t always like that, though. It’s only when he gets stressed—”

“Let me stop you right there. Take it from me: life is full of stressors. Not a day will go by when you’re not stressed about something, big or small. Don’t make excuses for men and their failures. You don’t need them.”

She blinked at me, and though I couldn’t tell whether or not my words had sunk in, she asked, “Who are you?”

“Lola, but most people call me the Bloody Queen. I ain’t afraid to put men in their place. If you need anything, come find me, okay? I know we don’t know each other, but I’ve made it my life’s mission to help girls like you out of situations like that.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true… but it was close enough.

“Why?”

“Because,” I said, pausing to glance back at Sylvester’s car. “When I was younger, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I was alone.” Meeting her stare once more, I finished, “I don’t want any other girls to go through what I did.”

Tina waited a moment, and then she whispered a soft, “Thank you.” She said nothing else, turning and heading into the building.

I watched her go, satisfaction building in my veins. Killing assholes wasn’t the only thing I enjoyed. No, I did like helping girls like her. Even if the message of tonight didn’t stick and she found herself in another relationship with another douchebag, I hoped she’d remember this night and what I’d told her.

Not all men was true, but there were just enough of them out there that we had to think that way until we were proven wrong by the good ones. All men just to be safe. The opposite of innocent until proven guilty. Society had proven it wouldn’t protect us, so we had to do it ourselves.

I got back in the car, sitting in the front with Sylvester. He was on the phone with Maddox or Viper, for he set the phone against his shoulder as he looked at me and asked, “Where should they take him? He’s conscious, but not very alert. Whatever you did to him knocked him out for a while.”

“Have them bring him to our place,” I said, leaving it at that. I reached into the center console and pulled out my mask. It was a beautiful thing, a silver skull jaw with some pretty adornments. Fang, someone who specialized in metalwork but tried to steer clear of underworld politics, had made it for me. It had been a surprise, way back when, the best surprise of my life. No one had ever given me a gift that meant so much.

Sylvester told them where to go, and he hung up. “Well, not how I thought tonight would go.” He got us back on the road, heading to our special spot.

“Is any night with me boring?” I asked, grinning. My mask sat on my lap. I couldn’t wait to put it on and smear it with some blood. Oh, tonight was going to be fun indeed.

He shot me a sly smile. “Can’t say there’s been a boring night yet.” Out of the three of them, Sylvester’s smiles always felt more genuine. Ironic. Whereas Maddox and Viper did not hide their feelings, Sylvester was able to be charming and good-natured when situations called for it. What did that make him? A sociopath? A psychopath?

Eh, whatever. It was a skill I had, too. Maybe that’s why we got along together so well.

My anticipation did nothing but build as we drove to the spot. Now, you might be wondering what that spot was, so let me tell you: on the outskirts of downtown, a river wound through. You had to cross that river to get out of the city—like to Tina’s college. But being a city with a river meant there were docks. Docks, warehouses that, at one time, were bustling with trade back when this city wasn’t so… let’s just call it fake glamorous.

Because, yeah, some parts of the city might be lavish and rich, but other parts weren’t, and that’s where most of the people lived. The slums. The alleys. The people who were not as fortunate in their lives.

You had the golden parts, like where we lived and the Gilded Rose—the place where I’d been forced to go undercover and sing, don’t remind me—but you also had the derelict warehouses on the waterfront that had been abandoned for some time now. It wasn’t a hopping trade center anymore. The only business done near the water was that of disposing bodies. Or drugs. Or gun-running. The police pretty much stayed away, though that was probably because most of them were in the Luciano coiffeurs.

Or the DeLuca’s—mine, now.

I was pretty sure I’d heard that Fang’s brother, Beast, had a warehouse in the area. He ran guns in and out of the city. I’d never met the man, but the things I’d heard about him, I liked. I mean, being Fang’s brother, I pretty much assumed he was a weirdo. Fang liked to bite, or so he’d told me, and apparently Beast like to tear people limb from limb.

I know. Sounded sexy, didn’t it?

We were not headed to Beast’s warehouse, though. We were headed to one we kept under watch. It’s where we did a little torturing, a little interrogating. Whatever we needed it for, really. When you had run of the city, you could do whatever the fuck you wanted, and no one would stop you.

Was I letting all this power go to my head? Nah, I was still the same old Lola Harding, still the Night Slayer, just with a little empire to match.

Tonight I’d helped out a girl, which I felt very good about, thanks for asking, and as a reward for my recent good behavior, I was going to go Rambo on that son of a bitch Dickface. Brandon. Whatever the fuck Tina had said his name was.

The world was one of night as we pulled off the road and headed into the abandoned warehouse district on the waterfront. As Sylvester slowly drove us through the dark, dingy area, I peered out of the car window, reliving one of the most vivid memories I had of the place.

Tony. Tony the liar. Tony the opportunist. Tony the asshole who thought he’d take a sip from my drink just because he could. And by drink, I didn’t really mean a drink. That motherfucker had tricked me, lied to me, got me to do Bianca DeLuca’s dirty work without knowing, and I’d pretty much shut down, and the sleazebag had taken advantage.

When word came that I’d killed Bianca in her own home, that I’d torn out her throat with my bare hands, he’d gone into hiding. The idiot should’ve hightailed it out of the city, but he didn’t. He’d been caught by someone looking to gain favor with me, someone who had played both sides—Newton, the proprietor of the Gilded Rose. Newton had given me Tony as a gift after his men had found him, and then we’d brought him here.

Should’ve kept him alive longer and taken my time in torturing him, but what could I say? The vengeance in my heart had been undeniable, the rage so deep and so strong I couldn’t put it to rest in order to savor his pain and misery. So, we’d brought him here, and then I gave him the only going away present I could.

I cut off his hands with whatever rusty blade we could scrounge up around here, threw them in the river, and dumped him in much the same fashion. My bon voyage moment to dear old Tony.

Hell, he deserved a worse ending than that. He deserved to be cut open and torn apart like my brother, but sometimes you had to work with what life handed you, and it wasn’t always lemons. Sometimes it handed you a rusted metal sheet that could double as a makeshift saw.

But I digress.

I spotted Viper’s car up ahead, parked in front of the last warehouse on the trash-covered street. The moon hung low in the sky, the only light, but it was enough to illuminate the area and shed a little spooky eeriness. The night air was cool, but not cold enough to make me shiver. Many would call me a cold-hearted bitch, so obviously the cold hardly affected me.

Sylvester pulled up beside the parked vehicle, and we both got out. I stared past the warehouse, at where I knew the river was. We were so very close to the spot where I’d given Tony exactly what he deserved—and I’d give another man what he deserved tonight. That Dickface dude had no idea the hurt headed his way.

Maddox strolled out of the main door of the warehouse, his mouth drawn into a frown. “Took you guys long enough. Where the fuck were you? Had to find somewhere to park to get a quickie in?” He smirked at that, because that was a veiled insult at Sylvester and his stamina.

Hey, they both had stamina where it counted.

“We took the girl home,” I said. “She goes to the college just outside the city, so it was a little drive.” I sauntered over to Maddox and curled an arm around his neck. My other hand held onto my mask. “No quickie. We’ll save the fucking for after, when I’m all bloody and hot.” I ended the statement with a hard kiss, nibbling the bottom of Maddox’s mouth and making him groan.

Before the man could respond—or pin me against the nearest car and fuck me right there, right now—I let him go, smiled, and put my mask on.

“It’s showtime,” I spoke with a grin, not like anyone could see it behind the metal mask. The metal was cool on my face, a reminder of what I was, what I stood for. This mask was the new me. That old girl, the one who came from a rich family of liars, was dead and gone.

I turned away from Maddox, ignoring his grumbling, and sauntered over to the door. I pulled it open and strolled into the warehouse. A single light was on in the center of the wide-open space, a dim bulb that flickered every now and then, as if it was on its last leg.

Viper stood under the light, his arms folded over his chest, his head bent to look at the man before him. Dickface was tied to a chair, his head leaning back, looking very unconscious. When I got closer, I spotted a new bruise on his jaw, though it was hard to see given the dried blood that had spewed from his nose back at the club, the handiwork of yours truly.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice muffled from my mask.

Viper glanced at me, stepping away from Dickface. “The asshole wouldn’t stop talking, so I had to shut him up,” he said, not sounding very sorry. I wouldn’t be, either. “I’m sure he’ll wake up once you start.” His hazel stare, which appeared more brown in this light, flicked to Sylvester and Maddox, who had come to join us.

Maddox carried a bat, while Sylvester carried a machete. Two of my most favorite things, items which they always kept in their trunks for me, the sweeties.

You see, when you were going to kill someone, it didn’t really matter what you used to do it. Your hands, a knife, a gun. Me? I wasn’t so much a fan of guns, mostly because they didn’t have that personal touch to them. You could kill someone with a gun and be thirty feet away. Now where was the fun in that?

But a baseball bat and a machete? Those you had to get up close and personal. A bat was kind of stereotypical, but you couldn’t beat the sound of knees crunching when you hit them just right. A bat could kick some serious ass if you used it correctly.

And the machete… well, this was America, land of both horrors and horror movies. You couldn’t find another weapon that instantly made people uncomfortable quite like it. It was big enough to make an impression, and if you kept the blade sharp, it could double for both tiny cuts and large ones—and let’s not forget the fact that it could also be used to sever limbs from the body. Quite versatile, right?

I looked at Dickface. His hands were tied behind his back, attached to the old chair we’d scavenged in the area. His ankles were also tied to the chair. There would be no getting up and walking away.

But… before I had my fun with him, I had to get him conscious.

With a sway of my hips that was mainly for my three men watching, I moved to stand before Dickface. I straddled his lap, sitting on him, and the action made my dress hike up, revealing just enough of my ass and pussy that I heard the three guys watching huff and groan.

Of course they didn’t like seeing me straddle Dickface, but I had to watch girls hit on them all the fucking time, especially Maddox, so they could suck it up for a while.

I brought my hands to Dickface’s chest, running them down it. He might be tall, but he was lanky. Beneath his shirt, I felt no muscles. Thin, but nothing to back it up. Nothing substantial. Not my kind of man.

He didn’t stir.

So my traveling hands kept moving. I let them dip down low enough to feel the waistband of his jeans. He groaned, but his head didn’t straighten. I threw a glance over to my guys, locking eyes with them as I let one of my hands dip even lower to Dickface’s crotch. I started rubbing him through his jeans, turning my face back to him and whispering, “Wakey, wakey. I have a present for you.” Even with my mask on, my voice sounded sultry and enticing, exactly the kind of voice that would hook any weaker man.

And Dickface was definitely a weaker man.

I could feel his dick getting harder, just from being rubbed over his jeans. It was like magic. The harder his dick grew, the closer he got to waking up. His head lifted, he let out a groan, and his eyes finally peeked open.

Of course, then he saw it was me, and his expression soured. “What the fuck…” He could hardly get the words out. His nose was a mess; the swelling was awful, and all that dried blood… it made him look better, in my humble opinion.

I stopped rubbing him, bringing both arms to his shoulders and resting them there. I grinned widely behind my mask, cocking my face at him. “What? Don’t remember me? I know, it’s the mask. Ain’t it beautiful?”

“What… where am I?” He blinked, finally seeing past me, at the dark warehouse around us. Last he knew, he was in the club or Viper’s car. Or, maybe, he’d woken up here, got too chatty, and Viper punched him so hard he knocked him out cold. The details didn’t really matter.

“It doesn’t matter where you are,” I told him, grabbing the sides of his face and forcing him to look at me, at my mask. “What matters is who you’re here with, and right now, Dickface, your odds ain’t looking too good, because you’re here with me.” I held onto his face so hard my fingers began to dig into his skin.

He tried to get out of his restraints, but he failed. He couldn’t. Viper was very good at tying people up. “You’re fucking crazy. You’re fucking crazy! Just—” He began to raise his voice at me, and that only made me madder.

I lifted my body up off his lap just a bit, enough to rest my forehead against his. “Fucking crazy is my middle name, actually. How’d you know?” And then I started to laugh. You know the kind, the laugh that came off as totally unhinged, a laugh that told everyone in the room I was off my rocker.

But Sylvester, Maddox, and Viper already knew that. It’s what got me on their radar to begin with. That, and murdering the youngest Luciano brother.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” I whispered. “Since you’re going to die here tonight and all, what could it hurt?” He fought at his restraints harder, and yet, it still didn’t do shit. “Have you heard of the Night Slayer? She goes into clubs, pretends to get drunk, has guys hit on her constantly. And then she picks her target and goes home with them. She lets them think she’s drunk, that they can fuck her however they want—because, let’s be honest, men like that take any kind of fucking they can get if it’s free.”

One of the hands on his face roamed up to his hair, pulling it, while the other fell to his neck, curling around it tightly. I went on, “She asks to use their bathroom beforehand, and they let her. They never stop her, because they don’t think she’s a threat. Just a boozed-up chick who’s ready to spread her legs for them. They always wait in the bedroom, cocks ready. But instead of going to the bathroom, she goes to their kitchen and finds a knife. Sharp or not, it doesn’t really matter. With enough force, any knife will do.”

I’d bet all my money that his hard-on had disappeared by now, and it took everything in me to not laugh in his face. “She goes back to their bedroom, where they’re waiting, and she climbs on top of them, hiding the knife behind her back. She’s naked, of course, so they’re always too preoccupied with her tits or her cunt to realize she’s holding something.” I chuckled, a bitter sound. “They don’t even care that she’s got a scar on her belly. They don’t ask. Their only goal is getting their dick wet in a girl they’ll never have to see again. They don’t care about protection or ask me if I’m on birth control. They don’t care. None of you care.”

I dropped both hands to Dickface’s chest, lowering my voice to a whisper, “They only care when they see the knife, in that quick, split second before it plunges down into their necks. You know you have a vital vein there, right? Do you know how long it takes for you to bleed out once it’s severed? You’d be surprised at how quickly it happens.”

I swung my left leg around, getting off his lap and tugging down my dress enough to cover myself. “That was me, before I stumbled into a war between two crime families, and now I’m the Bloody Queen of the city. Guess what, Brandon?” I hissed out his name, as if it was the silliest name I’d ever had the misfortune of speaking aloud. “I don’t take kindly to men like you. Being stressed isn’t ever an excuse to abuse your girlfriend.”

“That’s what all this is about? I don’t abuse Tina—”

“The look in her eyes said differently.” That got him to shut up. “Plus, why block the restroom door, hmm? When I came in, it certainly didn’t look like she wanted to be in there alone with you. What can I say? You make my asshole radar go off.”

He ran his tongue over his lips, tasting his own blood. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t ever talk to Tina again. I won’t even look at a girl wrong. I’ll never hit or pressure a girl into sex. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You don’t get it, Dickface,” I spoke, moving to stand near my guys. I stood between Sylvester and Maddox, and I looked back at him on the chair. “The only thing I want to hear tonight is you screaming.” I reached for the bat and took it out of Maddox’s grip. I held it behind my back, lifting it to rest it above my shoulders at the back of my neck.

When he realized I wasn’t going to let him go, his face twisted into a frown. “Fuck you, you crazy bitch.”

I stopped when I stood a foot in front of him, my hip cocked. “Would you believe that’s not the first time I’ve been called that?” I giggled. Men and their insults—they weren’t the most creative creatures in this world. When it came to insulting women, it was either bitch or some variation of whore or slut.

And I say, why couldn’t a gal be both? A bitch and a whore, but one who knew when to say no and when enough was enough. And this guy… I’d certainly had enough of him.

“Any last words?” I asked, not really giving a shit. A moment passed. “No? Okay, that’s fine, we’ll get right to it, then.” I moved to stand beside him, lowering the bat. Both hands gripped the old wood, and let’s just say it was the opposite of a swing and miss.

I hit him right in the chest. All of the air whooshed out of Dickface’s lungs, and unless I was mistaken, I was pretty sure I heard a rib or two crack. He didn’t even have enough air in his lungs to cry out, only able to whimper and wince after the fact. My kind of music.

Oh, hold on.

“Maestro!” I called out to my guys. “Give me something good.”

Though I wasn’t looking right at him, I could tell Sylvester rolled his eyes at me, but he got out his phone and did as I asked. He put on a classic, not by my boy Frankie Sinatra, but by another one that was right up there with him: Mister Dean Martin.

The first line of the song made me laugh: it asked how lucky a guy could be, which was totally ironic, since Dickface was the unluckiest man of the night. I mean, considering the fact he wouldn’t make it through to see another sunrise, I’d definitely put him in the unlucky category.

I began humming to the beat of the song, swinging my bat around in the air, making a big show of it. Dickface was too busy struggling to breathe to do much else, although when I did what I planned on doing next, he’d definitely let out a scream or two. Maybe more. I hoped this bitch screamed loud.

Next target: his knees.

When you think about it, knees were such vital parts of your body, and yet they were so very breakable, especially with blunt force. Like, you’d think evolution or whatever would’ve given us more protection when it came to our bones, but nope. We remained soft, fleshy things that could break so easily.

I swung the bat, hitting his right knee. A loud crack filled the air, and Dickface let out a scream I could feel in my very core. It was a scream that made me feel alive.

Ironic, since Dickface wouldn’t be alive much longer. His body would join all the others that got dumped in the river over the years. The current was strong; I’d been told it carried the bodies far enough away from downtown that no one ever came to us. And when they did, we could either kill them or pay them off. The great circle of life.

“Yeah,” I squealed, positioning myself near his other knee. “Let me hear you.” Humming to a song about love and comparing it to a kick in the head, I swung the bat one more time, shattering his second knee.

And the screams were even better this time. God, the pain filling the air was enough to make a crazy but gorgeous gal weak at the knees and wet between the thighs.

Me. I was talking about me, in case that wasn’t clear.

God, I loved the screams. I loved the blood. You could get high off it. Inflicting pain was a drug, same with killing people who deserved it. If you didn’t get off doing it, you were definitely doing something wrong.

I danced my way back to Maddox, handing him the bat. As I hummed along, I took the machete from Sylvester, who held onto his phone with his other hand, letting me listen to the music of the soul.

Ah, there was something special about older music. Less auto-tune, less of an overall beat, but the smooth voices, the simplicity of it all… I’d never want to go back in time, because shit was even worse for women back then, but there was something nostalgic about the music.

Turning back to Dickface, I saw tears had begun to fall from his eyes, his body’s natural reaction to being attacked like that, bones broken. No longer a tough guy with an army of swearwords behind him. He was nothing. He was no one. He would die alone and in pain, and I could think of no better end for a man like him.

I took the tip of the machete and brought it to the underside of his chin, forcing his head up. “You’ve screamed for me,” I whispered. “Now you’re going to bleed for me. Where should I start first? What part of you should I dig into, hmm? Feel free to let me know if you have any ideas. I’ll take ‘em into consideration. Any part of your body you’re not strictly attached to?” I couldn’t get out that question without laughing. “Get it? It’s your body, so you’re attached to all of it—but you won’t be very soon.”

I could not describe the look of sheer terror in Dickface’s eyes if I tried. Like, I didn’t know eyes could shake, but I swear to God, his did. A dark spot blossomed in his crotch, and I scrunched my nose in response. The fool had pissed himself. Unsurprising. I supposed it would’ve happened sooner or later, since you tended to do it when you died, anyway.

What was gross, though, was that his piss was potent, like he’d just drank a lot of coffee or was severely dehydrated. Yuck.

“Awe, that’s okay,” I said. “Don’t be embarrassed. It happens to everybody. At least you’re not naked, so the piss has somewhere to go.” I didn’t wait to start inflicting pain upon this man; I brought the machete down to his legs, just above his knees, slashing through his jeans and digging the metal into his skin.

And then I cut his arms up, and then his chest. With each cut into his body, his skin grew paler and paler—and the more red that escaped him. Oh, his blood looked quite dark in the dingy light, and yet it fed the monster inside me all the same.

Eventually, the smell of the metallic blood was stronger than the piss. Dickface lived through a lot, I had to give him credit. By the time his head lolled back and he perspired, his body was damn near unrecognizable. So many cuts all over him, of varying depth. Some were just superficial, deep enough to make him bleed, while others were deep enough to split the skin entirely, allowing you to see tendons and veins and muscles.

Some gals might get squeamish at the sight of all this blood, but honestly… honestly a vision like this was home to me. I’d lost track of how many men I’d ended as the Night Slayer, plus my parents… and my brother. All of them had ended in a pool of blood, their life essence spilled and spread.

Right when Dickface died, I swung the machete as hard as I could across his neck, cutting so deep I had to be just millimeters from the spine. His neck split open, splattering me with warm, gooey blood, and I felt myself grinning behind my mask.

Oh, this was the life.

I tossed the machete to the side, hearing it clank and slide on the old concrete pad of the warehouse floor, and I brought both hands to Dickface’s neck, dipping my fingers in his blood, smearing the red stuff all over my hands. It was such a stark contrast to my white skin, and yet it painted such a beautiful picture.

I didn’t feel bad for Dickface. I didn’t care if he had a family or people who cared about him. Like some men say when women wore revealing clothes or drank too much in the presence of strangers, he asked for it.

He asked for an end like this by being a worthless dick. I didn’t fucking care if he had good days, if he wasn’t so rough with his girlfriend when he wasn’t stressed. I took no excuses, and I made none. As far as I was concerned, everyone else in the world needed to be a bit more like me.

I took off my heels, stepping down into the puddle of blood that circled Dickface’s now motionless body, feeling the warm stuff seep between my toes. I didn’t have to turn around; strong hands gripped my sides and wasted no time in yanking my dress up to expose my lower half. Based on the feeling of the wide, strong body behind me, I’d say it was Maddox coming to taste me before anyone else could.

One of his hands curled around my hips and sank low between my thighs, expertly dipping along my slit. I inhaled sharply, my eyelids threatening to flutter closed as my body leaned back into his. That finger slid inside of me without warning just as his other hand rose to my chest, cupping a tit over the dress’s fabric.

Everything in me was instantly set ablaze, even more so than it was before. Killing was one thing, but being with my guys was another. Two of the best things in this world, the only two things that brought me happiness, if I was honest. A happiness I might not deserve, but one I would take by the balls and never let go of.

The hand pawing at my tit yanked the top of my dress down, exposing it. He pinched the nipple, almost cruelly, causing me to squirm against him. The finger between my legs went in and out of me in much the same way his cock would soon.

Oh, yes. This was the life indeed.

Chapter Two – Maddox

I never thought a girl could be so fucking hot while torturing some helpless sap, but fuck, Lola was fucking amazing. She was unrelenting, unrepentantly herself, a vicious, vengeful goddess of death and blood. She wore blood like it was an outfit, smearing that red stuff all over her.

Watching her go at that guy was something else. It got my dick hard. I couldn’t help it. As I watched her climb onto his lap, I couldn’t help but want to be right there with her. The only thing that would’ve made the whole thing better would’ve been if she was doing it naked… but I didn’t know if the others would be down for that.

By the time the guy was dead, my cock was rock hard in my pants, and I was desperate to feel that tight cunt wrapped around it. I could hardly think straight, and I sure as fuck didn’t know how Sylvester and Viper were thinking straight while watching her do her thing. She was fucking spectacular.

I think that’s why Sylvester didn’t want her to go out hunting alone. Not only so we could watch over her, but also because it had to be something we shared. Her going on a hunt for unsuspecting men had been what brought her to us.

No, I couldn’t forget about my brother, Mario, nor could I forget about my father ditching us in the thick of things a few months back, all because it became too much for him. He’d stepped down, handed Sylvester the reins, and left to live in some fucking cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere. A mob boss to a lumberjack, apparently.

I know. Fucking unreal.

But the more time I was with her, the harder it was to simply hate her and want her dead. Sometimes I might imagine cutting into that pretty, soft skin and pushing her to the brink of death—but the difference was that I loved her too fucking much now to kill her. I still hated her for what she did to Mario, but that pussy was the best bandage for that specific pain.

Lola tossed the machete to the side, letting it clamor on the ground, and then she slipped out of her heels, unable to take her gaze off of the guy she’d torn up. It was like she marveled at her own handiwork, at the sheer amount of blood that had escaped the man and pooled on the floor. Her bare toes nestled in the blood, soaking it in.

I held myself back for as long as I could, standing there watching her relish in the death, but it wasn’t for long. I swept forward, setting both of my hands on her hips, digging my fingers into that fabric, hopefully telling her how much I needed to feel her pussy wrapped around my length. I didn’t give a shit about the others or what they did; Viper would probably take care of the body, which would leave Lola and me a perfect place to get down and nasty.

Always loved fucking in the blood. There was nothing like it.

And Sylvester? He could watch, or help Viper, or join in. I didn’t give a fuck. Right now, Lola was mine. If he wanted to fuck her, he’d have to let me stick my dick in her, first.

I didn’t hold onto her hips for long. One of my arms curled around her upper body, a hand finding her chest and cupping one of her perky, round tits through the dress as my other arm dipped lower on her frame after hoisting up her dress.

My girl didn’t wear panties tonight. I’d known it at the club. She liked the secret thrill of going commando—and she also liked how easy it was for us to get at her. Although, frankly, having panties on never stopped us. If we wanted to rip them off and feast on her cunt, that’s exactly what we did.

The hand that dipped lower slipped between her folds, and when I slid my finger near her entrance, I could feel just how wet she was. Probably started at the club, when she was dancing on us like a sex-crazed maniac, but definitely furthered by this little excursion. Lola had learned to enjoy herself while tearing into men… perhaps a little too much, but fuck, I wasn’t going to complain.

She let out a low moan, her head leaning back on my chest. She still wore her mask, the metal skeletal thing hiding the lower half of her face, and she gazed at the corpse resting a few feet away from us. My shoes were already stained by the guy’s blood on the floor, but I didn’t care. I could dirty up every piece of clothing I owned and I still wouldn’t give a shit. As long as I got to fuck this girl, everything would be all right.

She was one crazy bitch, and I was here for it.

“Maddox,” she purred out my name, making my cock twitch something fierce, “you know just how to touch a lady.” Her hips began to sway, and she rubbed herself along the hand between her legs.

For now, Viper and Sylvester stayed back, letting Lola have a little extra time with the sight of her handiwork. I think it helped her get off.

Hey, we were all psychopaths here. None of us were sane. We knew it, the city knew it. Hell, the crime rate in this city was through the fucking roof, but since most everyone who had been loyal to the Bloody Princess was either dead or had fled the city like cowards after Lola killed her, not many people had tried to go after her.

A shock, I know. You’d think people would want to stick it to Lola, who’d moved herself into the DeLuca’s residence and taken over their share of the city. The ones who did were fumbling idiots, and we were always with her to help take care of things. No one had tried for a long while. Things had calmed down lately, at least where we were concerned.

Things were never really calm here, but that was beside the point. For people like us, this wasn’t an unusual night.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re tearing into someone,” I whispered into her ear, focusing on rubbing her clit. The hand near her chest yanked her dress down further, exposing both tits to the warehouse. I’d been toying with one, hardening that nipple, but when the other was out, it followed suit. She whimpered as I ran my palm over them.

I played with her tits while I rubbed her clit. Lola was putty in my grip, lost in search of her own pleasure—which, I’d bet anything, she’d find very, very soon. If blood was nearby, Lola was ready to ride… or be ridden.

“You know just what to tell a gal to get her all hot and bothered,” Lola said, her voice a little muffled behind the mask. The more I rubbed her clit, the more I pinched and tweaked her nipples, the more sounds came from her. Her skin was on fire, and the space between her legs became even slicker with her arousal.

Fuck. I didn’t know how long I could continue like this, rubbing her, touching her, holding her little minxy body against mine while feeling the strain in my own cock. It was fucking hard to focus on her when all I wanted was to bring her to her knees, yank that mask off, and fuck that pretty mouth into oblivion.

And then her cunt. Then maybe her mouth again. Who knew when we’d stop? Sometimes, when the feeling was right, I was like the Energizer Bunny, going and going and going, never stopping.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where we were going with this, and apparently Sylvester didn’t want to watch tonight, for he muttered, “We’ll give you two the warehouse. Let us know when you’re done so Viper can take care of the body.”

Though my back was to them, their footsteps told me they were indeed leaving us to fuck. That was fine. I didn’t care what they did, as long as I got my dick wet in Lola one way or another. Sometimes they joined in, sometimes it was a mess of fucking limbs and dicks, but not tonight. Again, I was more than fine with that.

Lola’s sounds grew louder, and I could tell she had started to lose it. The rocking of her hips against my hand intensified, and she went to grab the wrist near her apex, as if bracing herself. She came with a muffled cry, her head thrown back against me and her body tensing up as the orgasm took hold of her.

“God,” she whispered, panting behind her mask.

I pinched her nipple hard, drawing out another moan from her. “We both know there are no gods here. Now take off that fucking mask and get on your knees.” It was an order, my tone one she could not argue with, but I knew she’d be all too happy to drop to her knees and suck me off. Gentle wasn’t in either of our vocabularies. We both liked it rough.

I let go of her tit and her clit, and she stepped forward once before turning to face me. Her blue eyes looked darker in the dim lighting. Wearing that mask, I knew exactly what her victims felt when they gazed upon her in their final moments: fear. Pure fucking fear. I didn’t fear this woman, but maybe that was because, in the beginning, I’d viewed her as nothing but a toy, a serial killer we’d put a leash on.

How times had changed.

As Lola took off her mask, my gaze fell to her bare tits, and then to the bunched-up dress on her hips. She moved to set the metal mask down on the ground, away from the puddle of blood and the corpse, leaving bloody footprints as she went. She then returned to me and lifted up her arm, going for the zipper on the side of the dress. She undid it, lowering the dress past her hips and down her legs. She let it fall into the blood, the fabric instantly soaking it up.

I saw the corpse in the background, all the blood, but my focus had fallen to Lola’s naked figure the moment she’d taken off the dress. She had a smoking body, lean where it counted, and curves for days. Her tits were fucking spectacular, perky on their own, no need for support. The only thing that filled me with rage was the scar on her lower stomach, the one from her parents.

Or, really, from that fucking doctor her parents had paid to sterilize her. They couldn’t control their son and his dick, or maybe they didn’t care to, so they had instead turned their attention to Lola and the only way to stop her from getting pregnant.

Sterilization.

Lola acted like she didn’t care about it anymore, like it was so far in the past it had ceased to matter. She’d never have kids—although, whether or not Lola would be a good parent might be up for debate. Serial killers tended to fuck their kids up one way or another.

Which was fine. I didn’t want kids. I might be the last Luciano son left alive, so the burden of continuing the bloodline fell upon me… but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to raise an army of mini-mes, so maybe it was a good thing my father had let his depression win and left the city. He’d probably be in my ear, telling me that I had a duty to get a girl pregnant or some shit.

Fuck to the no. I mean, just look at Lola. Seriously. How could I ever even think about being with someone else when I had the most badass, craziest chick around? No woman could ever hold a candle to Lola fucking Harding, the Night Slayer, the Bloody Queen.

Lola licked her lips, and she brought her hands to her face, running her fingers up and down them, smearing what blood she’d gotten onto her hands on her skin. Even in the dim light, the red was a stark contrast to her white skin.

She was fucking sexy as sin, sexier than anyone else around. I might’ve played around before, might’ve never been a man to stick with one girl for long, but Lola… she made me want to. She made me want her. Could I blame Mario for falling under her spell and being so caught unaware by her that he couldn’t stop her from killing him?

No, because if she’d caught me at a club and decided to flirt and act a little tipsy, I would’ve taken her home, too. I would’ve wanted to fuck her. I would’ve been just another notch on her belt. She would’ve gotten me instead of Mario, and things would’ve turned out differently.

But there was no point in thinking about that, especially when Lola moved to stand inches before me, her gaze full of hunger and lust, the desire to let our animal instincts take over plain on her face. She fell to her knees, working on the button on my pants. No belt for me, so she could get straight to the point.

And the point was my rock-hard dick.

Her bloody fingers worked on my zipper next, and within another minute, my pants were tugged down by my ankles, my boxers following suit. My cock stood straight, at attention, thick and hard as hell, so hard it could probably cut steel. I didn’t doubt my tip already oozed precum; dancing with her, then watching her go at this guy, and then touching her… it was like the world’s most torturous edging.

Lola grinned, flicking her eyes between me and my cock. Who knew what was on her mind, but she said not a word as she flicked her tongue out and ran it over the tip of my cock. She did it again, and again, drawing a low groan from me. It took me a while to realize what she was doing, and then it hit me: she was licking the precum off me, bit by bit.

Fuck. She knew how to drive me absolutely fucking crazy—but the thing was, at any given time, I was already halfway to crazy.

I couldn’t hold myself back; I fisted the back of her head, forcing her to take my length into her mouth. Lola’s lips parted, opening up, and I began to rock my hips. Not as wildly as I would once I was inside her tight pussy, but hard enough that she would have some trouble breathing.

Whatever. She could take it. I’d learned a while ago that Lola could take a lot most normal girls couldn’t. She liked it hard, she liked it fast, and she liked when it hurt—and luckily for her, I enjoyed all three of those things, too.

I fucked that sweet mouth like it was the first time, dragging my thick cock in and out of her supple mouth over and over. With each thrust of my hips, I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. Hell, I was practically already there before her lips had taken me in the first time, but my stamina was nothing to joke at. It was the one thing in this world I actually took pride in, and I’d spent years of my life practicing before ever setting sight on Lola Harding.

If I said it was glorious, I’d be a liar. Fucking her mouth… it was more than that. Knowing she’d just tasted blood, knowing she knelt in a pool of that red stuff, naked as all fuck… it was so much more than words could ever say.

I didn’t know how long I went at her, how long I lasted, but eventually the orgasm was too big, too impatient to push off further. It practically choked me as it arrived, exploding within me like a shockwave, causing me to jerk my hips against Lola’s head and spear my cock deeper into that throat, so deep she damn near gagged on it. I emptied myself into her, every squirt of jizz feeding her appetite for me. The fingers on the back of her head tensed, pulling on her hair tightly in the process.

And she took it all. Lola took every bit of cum and each of the hard, rough jerks of my body like a champ. When I pulled out of her mouth, she grinned and licked her lips, as if she was ready for more—and I knew she probably was. I could drag Sylvester and Viper in here and she’d more than happily give them head, too.

But I wasn’t thinking about my brother or Viper when I went to take off my shirt, nor was I thinking about either of them when I got my shoes off and fully took off my pants. They were the absolute last thing on my fucking mind as I stood there, as naked as Lola was, our only company in the warehouse the corpse and all of the blood.

Lola hadn’t gotten up from her knees as she watched me undress, her gaze eating me up like I was a piece of meat and she was a starving carnivore. She smirked, the corners of her lips curling upwards.

I knew that look. That look told me she had a certain something in mind.

Still smiling, she sank to her ass and lay back, right in the blood puddle. The corpse was less than a foot away from her head, and she closed her eyes and whispered, “Paint me in red, Maddox.” A desperate plea from a desperate woman who wanted to be fucked senseless.

I lowered myself to my knees, spreading her legs. As my stare took in the sight of her swollen clit and the slickness of the lips near her pussy, I murmured, “Oh, I’ll do more than that.” She was wetter than ever; I knew she didn’t need any extra lubrication, but that wouldn’t stop me from doing it.

I crawled over her, so that I held myself directly above her body. Both of my hands were now in the blood, and I held her stare as I brought a hand to her chest, smearing the blood all over her. Around her tits, over her nipples. I tweaked them again once they were bloodied, and she writhed beneath me. By now, her blond hair had been stained red, and I knew this meant a long-ass shower was in our future.

And more fucking, obviously.

I covered her stomach in the blood, made her a lovely, grotesque picture of beauty… and then I did something most people would be horrified at. But hey, they didn’t call me Mad Maddox for nothing.

I smeared my hand in the blood and took that hand to my cock, stroking myself a few times in order to cover my length in it. Once my cock was covered, I positioned myself at her entrance. We locked eyes once again, and a part of me wondered if she’d stop me, if she’d tell me not to do this—that this was somehow crossing a line for her.

But she didn’t say a word. Her lips parted, and she gave me nothing but a lustful expression, telling me she was ready to be fucked, whether my cock had an extra gory layer of lubrication or not.

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning like a madman when I pushed inside of her. I held myself over her body, hilt-deep in her cunt, and I shuddered. Fuck. Every single time I thought I’d gotten used to the feeling of that pussy and the feeling of it around my cock, I was proven wrong. Her mouth had felt great, but this? This was even better. This made all logical thoughts in my head vanish… although, I guess I didn’t have too many of those to begin with.

“Fuck,” I muttered, beginning to thrust, “you feel so fucking good.”

Her hands found my sides, fingernails digging into my skin, the opposite of a loving caress. Lola’s blue stare twinkled with maniacal glee, her lips still grinning madly. “Fuck me hard, Maddox.” Halfway between begging and ordering me, though I knew Lola would never beg for anything. She wasn’t the type.

And so I did. My hips took on a rapid pace, my cock spearing her over and over. Together, we bloodied our bodies as we came together as one. The metallic air filled with the sounds of our sex, our wild fucking.

“Harder,” she bit out, bringing her hands to my neck and forcing my head down to hers. She bit my lip so hard she cracked it open, and again she whispered, “Harder.”

As the lady wished.

I fucked her harder, grunting as I did so. Her body swayed beneath mine with each thrust of my hips, and I went at her as hard as I could, given the position we were in. Missionary-style didn’t lend to a rough fuck, not as much as doggie did. When going at her from behind, you could really get going, push her face down into the bed, fuck her so hard her arms gave out and she couldn’t hold herself up. It was a game I liked to play with myself.

The best part was, you didn’t even have to be on a bed. What were a few scrapes if you were on concrete?

This was a match made in hell. We each fed the other’s inner psycho. I couldn’t imagine myself doing this with anyone other than Lola; she brought it out of me, made it so easy to be bad.

Fuck. I wasn’t someone who proclaimed their love for anyone out loud often, let alone at all, but she made me want to. Sometimes. Like now, for instance, when I was cock-deep in her, fucking her with some extra blood thrown in, her entire body coated in the stuff.

And the way she grinned at me from below… that devilishly gleeful and twisted grin made my balls tighten up on their own. I wasn’t lying when I said this girl made me feel things no other chick had, and no one else would.

Nothing would tear me away from Lola. Nothing and no one.

Time was a blur as we fucked near the corpse, getting our fill of each other’s body. We rolled around, shifted positions every so often, until we were both covered in blood. My lungs burned with the exercise—because fucking Lola should definitely be considered strenuous physical activity—and I labored to go as long as I could.

Not that I was in a competition with the others… but it was nice to know that my dick could go the longest.

Okay, so maybe it was a little competition. Sylvester and Viper just didn’t know about it.

I had Lola on her hands and knees in the blood, fucking her as hard as I could from behind, when I felt the urge to come wash over me. I leaned forward and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as much as I could while still fucking her, my other hand digging into her hip.

A roar of a sound left my chest, thunderous and loud, a signal of my release. I pumped my cock deep into that cunt, pushing myself as far into her as I could go, causing her to cry out in delight. I unleashed wave after wave of cum into her body, every muscle in my midsection tightening up. The pleasure was so much, so strong, I had to close my eyes to get through it.

It lingered, refusing to dissipate right away, even after my cock had spent itself inside Lola’s pussy. I didn’t know how long it took me to regain control of myself, but I wasn’t going to rush it.

Fuck, man. Fucking Lola put every other girl I’d been with to shame. With them, it’d just been sex, but with this crazy serial killer? It was so much more than that. Like an out of body experience each and every time. When I came inside that pussy, it was like my soul, whatever blackened pieces I had left, left my body and had a spiritual awakening or some shit. No joke.

I labored to pull myself out of her, panting, hardly able to catch my breath. I fell backward, my ass landing on the concrete ground, and I ran a hand through my hair, watching as Lola was even slower to sit up and stretch.

She didn’t seem to care that she was covered in blood, that the magnificent sight of her tits was amplified by the bright red stuff, even in this shitty light. She didn’t seem to mind at all, and when she caught me ogling her, she gave me a wicked grin.

“Ready for another round, big boy?” Lola asked, letting out a short laugh. I had no idea if she was serious or not, but I could definitely go for another round or two…

Right then, the door to the warehouse creaked open, and Sylvester and Viper strolled in. Sylvester had his phone on him, the screen brighter than the damned bulb above the corpse. He walked toward us, and he glanced up from his phone, spotting us—and the second he did, his legs skidded to a halt.

“What the fuck…” Whatever he had planned to say apparently died in this throat when he saw us.

Viper stood beside him, his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t seem shocked at what he saw, but he did manage to say, “What a mess. You both are going to need to take ten showers to get all that off you.”

Sylvester’s frown intensified. “You’re going to get all that shit in my car.” He looked at Viper. “Unless they ride with you.” Before Viper could argue, he nodded along with himself. “They’re riding with you.”

Viper’s open mouth slammed shut, and he didn’t appear too thrilled with the prospect of getting his car bloody.

I rolled my eyes. Like it mattered. Like it would be the first time either of them had gotten their cars bloody. For fuck’s sake, we had a guy who cleaned out our cars when that happened, so it really wasn’t like this was far out of the ordinary for us. I glanced at Lola, at all the red coating that beautiful, tight body.

Hmm. I guess we were pretty fucking covered in it.

“It’s getting pretty late. If we have any hope of getting an ounce of sleep tonight,” Sylvester went on, “we need to finish this up so we can clean up.”

Even though I really didn’t want to, I got to my feet, grabbing my clothes and my shoes. Lola did the same, though I think she took glee in flashing Sylvester and Viper her naked, blood-covered body. My clothes had dipped in the blood a little, but not nearly as badly as Lola’s clubbing dress. The dress was soaked, as were her heels.

Sylvester turned toward Viper. “Get him in the river. I’ll call a clean-up crew for the blood.” Mario used to be on that crew, mostly because he used to act out, which pissed our father off to no end; it had been a punishment for him. Now that he was gone, I couldn’t even remember the names of the guys on the crew.

Didn’t matter. We’d be long gone by the time they got here, as would the body.

As Viper reached into his pocket and took out a short switchblade to undo the ropes holding the corpse to the chair, Sylvester made the call. Lola and I got dressed. It wasn’t the most fun thing, putting clothes on when you were covered in blood, but it wasn’t the worst. Sylvester could act like it would be the end of the world for his fucking car, but he was just being a drama queen about it.

Viper released the corpse from its rope, hoisting the body over his shoulder. Without another word, he walked out of the warehouse and into the night to toss that poor bastard into the river. I’d lost count of how many bodies we’d tossed; as far as I knew, they were never found. Must be some hungry as fuck fish around here, or they’d grown used to snacking on some flesh.

Sylvester told the guys where to go, and then he hung up. He went to fetch the machete, picking it up. He also picked up Lola’s mask, which he almost handed to her, but he saw just how bloody she was, from her head to her hands to her feet. “I guess I’ll keep hold of this until we get back. First thing I want you both to do is shower.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I shot back, and when he gave me an annoyed look, I chuckled to myself. It was all too easy to rile Sylvester up. He liked to pretend he was the cool, calm, and collected one in the family, but it didn’t take much to set him off.

And when he was set off, he really went bananas. It was very entertaining to watch.

Lola stretched again, sighing a wistful sound, and she walked right past us both, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. “What a night,” she mused, doing a little twirl. She held onto her heels, still barefoot, but she’d slipped on her dress. There would be no saving that particular dress. Into the trash it would go. “Not at all how I thought it’d turn out, but hey, I ain’t gonna complain.”

Sylvester and I glanced at each other, and in the next moment, we each followed after her. We pushed out of the warehouse, breathing in the cool night air. Lola sauntered over to Sylvester’s car, heading to the passenger’s seat.

“Hey, I said—” Sylvester stopped when Lola turned around and batted her eyelashes at him. I heard him swallow. “Fine, fine. You can ride with me. But you,” he paused, turning to face me, “are going with Viper. One bloodied seat is more than enough for me.” He went to put the machete in his car. We’d have to clean it when we got home, but that could be a job for tomorrow.

Lola hummed as she got into Sylvester’s car, and I couldn’t roll my eyes harder at my brother. Whatever. I’d go with Viper. We’d all end up at the same place: our house, where we’d probably have more sex, once all this blood was washed off.

Who the fuck needed sleep? Weak men and women, that’s who, and in case you didn’t already know, none of us were in that category.

Chapter Three – Lola

Sometimes I wondered what my parents would think of me now. You know, if they were still alive, if I hadn’t killed them all those years ago. What would they say to me if they knew I was the Night Slayer? Obviously, they’d be disappointed in me, but beyond that… would they be horrified that their angel had turned to the darkness? Would they be sick to their stomachs, knowing I’d ended so many, in their words, promising young men?

That’s what my brother was to them. A promising young man with the world ahead of him. What did it matter if he liked his sister a little too much?

The things I’d tell them, the things I’d show them… oh, it wouldn’t be pretty. Now that I knew what I was capable of, what I could do without batting an eye, I’d kill them much differently. I’d relish in the act, just like I’d done with Aiden. I’d take my time in ending them, memorize their screams and what their vacant bodies looked like after I tore them apart. They would know they’d created this darkness within me by turning a blind eye, by not giving enough of a shit about me. This was their fault. They would know before they died that I was nothing more than a monster of their own creation.

But the problem was, it wasn’t just them. It was society. It was everyone. When push came to shove and things got down to the nitty gritty… we were always worth less than our penis-having counterparts. It wasn’t right, and I would do everything in my power to make sure this city, at least, wasn’t like that.

I was the Bloody Queen now, and I wasn’t going to take any man treating his woman like shit lightly. What happened last night would happen more and more. I needed to talk to my men about going on the hunt again, less opportunistic and more ritualistic.

I needed to pick up where I left off, and I hoped they’d understand that.

After heading back to the Luciano house, we cleaned up. You know, showered, did some extra fucking, all that good stuff. I didn’t think Viper and I made it back to my place until the sun was practically rising, and because of that, I got next to no sleep.

Viper might be fine running on caffeine, but a gal like me needed her beauty rest. So, I headed straight back to my bedroom and drew the curtain closed to block out as much morning sun as I could, and then I stripped and went to bed, crawling beneath the sheets without a care in the world—besides the whole men suck thing.

And when I say men sucked, I didn’t mean my guys. I didn’t mean every single penis-having person out there. I just meant most of them. If you were to round the number, you’d definitely round up to all instead of down to none.

All that wild fucking made me tired, and I fell asleep quite easily. No dreams entered my brain, nothing to keep my mind occupied while I slept. That’s how it usually was for me. I didn’t have nightmares, didn’t dream of strange, funny things. I think going through what I did when I was younger had been a living nightmare, so when I had time to myself, I think my mind shut off.

And when I did dream, they were more like memories, so I wouldn’t call them nightmares or make-believe. No, if my mind thought of things when I was asleep, it thought of those dark, awful nights. Those hands. Those fucking hands.

Gripping, greedy, grasping. Hands didn’t have to be bad things, but his were. They always were. He’d whisper things into my ear, but the words didn’t register; they never did. Nothing he could say mattered, because all I could focus on were those hands. How they touched me, how they shouldn’t touch me. How they shouldn’t be here.

But they were. They were always there. That was the problem, wasn’t it? When night fell, Aiden would always come to me. He used the darkness of the night to try to shield his dirty deeds, and I had been so caught up in wanting to be the perfect daughter, the angel my parents had taught me to be, that I shut up and took it. I took it all, and then some. Truly, this body of mine had been through so much.

I supposed it was why I liked to hunt at night. Instead of being subjected to my brother’s wandering hands and other body parts, I turned the tables myself and picked a target. And once a target was chosen, they didn’t live to see another sunrise.

I was not born a monster. I was made, molded, shaped into this thing by the family that should have tried harder to protect me. My family made me, and every ounce of blood I spilled was in their name.

I couldn’t say how much time passed, how much I actually slept, because when I woke next, I didn’t look at my phone or any clock. I didn’t even put on any clothes when I forced myself to roll out of bed. I shuffled across the hall, heading into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Not to wash myself off, but to help wake myself up.

The water was as hot as it could be, and I stood beneath the showerhead for a long time, letting it pelt the top of my head. The water coursed down my body, around my curves, down the flat of my back. Some of it got in my eyes and mouth, but I didn’t spit or wipe it out. I only stood there, not really thinking of anything.

My hands twitched, and I angled my head down to look at them. My hands. It was funny. I used to hate hands for so long—still did, honestly—but I’d come to appreciate the fact that they didn’t have to hurt you. They could please you. They didn’t have to have ill intentions. I’d grown to love the hands of Sylvester, Viper, and Maddox, and what those particular hands could do.

But my hands? I didn’t know if I could say the same.

The skin on my hands was smooth. You couldn’t even see where I’d cut myself on my palm, holding onto a jagged piece of broken glass. The memory of that day flashed before my eyes: me breaking the mirror on the wall after locking myself into a bathroom at the Luciano house. Me taking one of those shards. The only reason I wasn’t dead was because of them, my men. Even though they’d hated me at the time, I think by then, their feelings had already started to change, and they’d stopped me.

They’d saved me from myself.

That had been the first time they’d really seen me. Past the serial killer part, I mean. That night they’d learned the truth about why I was the Night Slayer, that I hadn’t just decided to go after men just because.

No. If I could save even one girl from experiencing the same fate as me, I’d have done my job—and if that meant every now and then I took out a man who did no wrong, oh well. I wouldn’t be sorry. They were never sorry when they killed us.

I dropped my hands to my sides, heaving a sigh. After another minute of soaking in the hot water, I turned it off and stepped out. I grabbed a towel, dried myself off, and ran a brush through my hair. The mirror was covered in condensation, so I couldn’t see my reflection. Just as well. I didn’t like seeing that scar on my stomach, anyway. It was a constant reminder of Aiden and my parents, what they did to me, what they put me through.

Fuck them. If they weren’t already dead, I’ll kill them again.

I walked out of the bathroom, and right when I did, my stomach gurgled in hunger. I supposed I’d slept through breakfast, but I was fine with snacking on whatever we had in the house. Instead of going to the bedroom to put clothes on, I turned the opposite way and headed toward the kitchen.

Hey, it wasn’t like I was modest. Everyone in this house had already seen me naked, just in varying capacities.

When I emerged from the hall, I spotted Viper sitting near the island, on his phone. He had a sandwich in front of him, which told me it was indeed lunchtime. He hadn’t touched it yet, so I sauntered over to his side and took the sandwich off the plate, saying, “Awe, thanks. You shouldn’t have.” And then I took a huge bite that told Viper the sandwich was now mine. I’d commandeered it. Permanently.

“Hey,” Viper said, his hazel eyes narrowing at me. “That was mine.” His short brown hair was slicked back, most of his snake tattoos hidden by long sleeves.

With a full mouth, I said, “You can have it back in about eight hours.” He scowled at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh and shrug. Oh, and continue to eat the sandwich.

His stare dipped low on my body, and he finally seemed to realize I stood beside him naked. The way that gaze traveled over me, unrepentant in its hunger, was such a striking contrast to how he’d first acted when alone with me.

Always tried to put distance between us, and yet I think he was the first one to see through my uncaring facade. I think Viper had seen the pain I hid from the world long before Sylvester and Maddox had.

“Maybe I could let it go,” he muttered, no longer scowling at me. He turned his body toward mine, grabbing me and pulling me in closer to him, so that I stood nestled between his open knees. “My brother went to the store. We have some time to ourselves.”

Ah, yes. Big Mike. The brother I used to imagine climbing like a mountain. He was tall, very mountain-like, so those thoughts were warranted. He was quiet and broody in the way that made most girls go nuts, and his hands were rough. And big.

But I had enough dicks, I think. Not that there could ever be too many, but what had grown between Mike and me was more of a friendship than anything else.

I took another bite of the sandwich, grinning at Viper. With a full mouth, I said, “Why don’t you let me finish this, first, and then we can figure out a way I can pay you back for it.” Sylvester and Maddox didn’t live here with us, and the only reason Viper and Mike had moved in was because of the whole shootout at their apartment.

Yeah, the Bloody Princess had tricked me into poisoning her father and wanted to meet me. She’d told me to kill Maddox and Sylvester, bring her their heads, that we could rule the city together. That same night, she’d hired some guys to shoot up the Dollhouse, where Roman and Carter’s gal worked—two men who were loyal to the Lucianos—and another group of guys to shoot up Viper and Mike’s place.

Needless to say, I didn’t accept her suggestion of murdering my guys and ruling the city with her. A queen did not share her throne.

I continued to eat, but Viper didn’t want to wait. His hands started to roam over my body, touching me in places that instantly got me all hot and bothered. He slid off the stool and pulled me through the kitchen, all the way to the living room.

Not once did I let go of my purloined sandwich; I continued to eat it, even as he sat down and pulled me down onto his lap. It was about halfway gone. To say I devoured that bitch like a maniac would be the world’s biggest understatement.

My ass on his lap, my back to him, Viper ran his hands along my spine, and I did my best not to shiver. The warmth the shower had given me only lasted so long; I’d definitely say my nipples were perked, and the chill from Viper’s touch only served to further that cool feeling.

“You should make me another sandwich,” I said, finishing it up. My stomach wasn’t as raging hungry as it had been before, but I still felt like I could eat more.

Viper turned my body on his lap, stopping only when I straddled him, one leg on either side of him, my cunt positioned directly above the growing hardness in his crotch. “How about I make you another sandwich after you pay me back for that one?” He couldn’t hide the smile he gave me then, and his white, dazzling grin made my stomach churn in the best of ways.

His smile was quite cute. In fact, Viper was quite cute. For a guy with so many snake tattoos, he could turn on the boyish charm. But with him, it was like a coin toss: one side was the boyish charm, the other the steely bodyguard that had tried to keep us apart. I was glad the horny one won, because I didn’t know what I’d do without my Viper.

“I think,” I spoke, starting to rock my hips along his lap, “that’s a fine compromise.” I drew out a moan from his chest, soaking it in. His hands held onto my sides. Not once did I ever imagine I’d grow to enjoy the feeling of a man’s hands on me, let alone the hands of three different men, but here I was.

I guess it was true. You never knew what life would throw at you next. Just when you’d settled into a routine, right when you thought you had everything down pat, it threw you a curveball, and my curveball involved three sexy as hell mobsters who enjoyed spilling blood just as much as I did.

I know. How’d a gal like me get so damn lucky? I wondered that a lot myself. I didn’t deserve any of this happiness, none of those tingly, feel-good moments, but as long as I was still on this earth, alive and kicking ass, I’d enjoy every moment.

Drawing my hands down Viper’s shirt, I stopped riding his lap so I could undo his pants and get that dick out. Maddox didn’t really like it when I was the one in charge during sex; neither did Sylvester. Viper, on the other hand, got off on seeing me on top, I think, which was good. Change of pace and all that.

Viper’s cock was hard as steel thanks to my dry-humping, and before fucking him, I decided to jerk him off a little. My fingers curled around his immaculately long member—kind of like a snake, ironically—and I locked eyes with him as I started to run my hand up and down his length.

His head fell back and his eyes closed; he was unable to keep watching me, too swallowed up by how good it must feel to have my hand on him. I couldn’t help but smile at him. With his head bent back, his throat was exposed to me. So vulnerable, which meant he trusted me, and knowing he trusted me… well, I wasn’t going to let it go to my head, but it was a nice feeling, let me just say.

As I stroked his length, I whispered, “Do you want to be inside of me right now, Viper? Do you want to feel my pussy sink down on you and take you in, inch by inch, until you fill me up to the brink?” My smile could only grow. We both already knew the answer to those questions, but they were still fun to ask.

If you couldn’t talk dirty, what was the point?

Viper nodded once, lifting his head and cracking his eyes open. His pupils were so dilated in desire, desire for me. For us. For this. Last night had been a free-for-all; we didn’t really get any time to ourselves, just him and I. Group activity was fun, but sometimes one-on-one was what you needed.

I lifted myself and moved, positioning myself just above his cock. I let go of it, sinking down onto it slowly. I was never one for slow; I’d much rather have it fast and hard, but a slow pace was good every now and then, just to up the anticipation factor.

Viper’s body shuddered when his cock filled me, and I let out a hushed sigh. I was content here, on the couch, with my belly somewhat full and Viper’s cock nestled deep within my core. I never, ever wanted things to change. This was good. This was what I wanted my ever after to be.

I decided on the pace, and I began to rock on his cock, bouncing up and down and drawing out more moans from his chest. If his shirt would’ve had buttons, I would’ve torn them open and drawn my tongue along every tattoo I could reach. But, sadly, buttons there were, so no licking any sexy tattoos for me. Not this time.

We didn’t get very far into it when I heard the faint sounds of someone coming into the house. I thought Viper said we had a while? Oh, well. It wasn’t like Big Mike hadn’t seen this before. He’d seen a hell of a lot of it, actually—and I knew from past experiences he didn’t mind watching. A hard bulge was always a dead giveaway.

Viper must not have heard the door to the house open and shut, too focused on me and the way my body currently rocked on his dick. His hands never let up their intensity on my hips, and his lustful gaze bore right into me, searing.

We continued fucking like that, even after someone rounded the corner into the living area. And, surprise surprise, it wasn’t Mike.

“Oh, God!” the man exclaimed, lifting a hand to block us out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know you two would be…” He fumbled, adorably, and I’d bet anything his cheeks had turned red. After the past few months, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen us in a state like this, and yet he acted as if it was.

I straightened my back out, grinning at the man standing fifteen feet away behind the couch. “Harvey.” I was out of breath, but I managed to say his name, and the moment I did, that got Viper to react. Finally.

Viper’s hands left my hips and he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down to him, hiding my tits by pushing them against his face. Yeah… he didn’t really think too much about it before doing it. I’d bet we looked ridiculous.

I laughed and pulled my tits away from Viper’s face, bringing my stare to Harvey. Or, rather, his hand, since it was still held in between his gaze and mine. “I don’t mind if you look, Harvey. Just don’t touch.”

Viper grumbled, “I mind. I mind a lot, actually.” His words came off so deliciously possessive, and I couldn’t help but rock my hips along his cock once and draw out an unwilling moan from him. “I think the others would mind, too.”

Yeah, he was probably right.

With Viper’s cock still very much nestled in my cunt, I stared at that outstretched hand. “If it bothers you that much, you could just turn around—”

“Or leave,” Viper cut in.

I set a hand on Viper’s mouth to stop him from saying anything else. “Just turn around, Harvey, and drop the hand.” The man was slow to turn around and do as I suggested, his outstretched arm dropping to his side once he was no longer faced with my naked top half. Because, let’s be honest, that’s all the man could see from where he was at: my tits and the back of Viper’s head. Not really a big deal, if you asked me.

I supposed I could’ve pulled myself off Viper, gone to get some clothes, but where would be the fun in that? So instead, I continued to fuck Viper while I asked, “What’s going on, my dude? What’s the word on the street?”

Harvey wasn’t someone who hit the pavement. He was not exactly the kind of man you’d think of when you imagined a driver for the mafia. Or the mob. Whatever the fuck the DeLuca empire used to be. I still wasn’t clear about the difference between the two, and I didn’t give enough of a shit to learn.

He was a clean-cut kind of guy. Meek compared to many of the men I surrounded myself with. In his lower thirties, I’d say. He had light brown hair that was often styled in a windswept way—but the kind of windswept style that you didn’t get just by rolling out of bed. No, he shaved his jaw and he used some kind of hair putty to get that look. A man like Harvey would never just roll out of bed and throw on whatever clothes were clean. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was lean enough, I supposed, and he always wore a simple suit.

A cute guy. A guy I imagined would be easy to date if I wasn’t so fucked up in the head, or, you know, a serial killer. A guy that any normal gal would love to call her boyfriend. I didn’t think Harvey had one bad bone in his body—which made it ironic that he’d been Bianca’s driver.

Before I’d killed her, I mean.

I had to hand it to him, though. He’d stopped Bianca’s men from shooting me on my way out of the house after I’d killed her… this very house, actually. He’d even come up with the idea to take her accounts and her empire for myself.

So, yeah, after all that, I might have a soft spot for Harvey.

“Um, I haven’t heard anything new,” Harvey started, choosing to be oblivious to the fact that I still fucked Viper. “I just heard that you went out last night. You know that’s what I’m here for. It’s what you pay me to do: drive you to places. Anywhere, at any time of the day. Really, it’s—”

I slowed my pace on Viper’s cock. “Wait, I pay you?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, the money is still deposited in my account every two weeks, so—”

Huh. That was news to me. Must be some automatic thing Bianca had set up before I’d killed her. All this time, and he’d not once mentioned that. No wonder the guy was over here all the time, trying to drive me everywhere. I’d just thought he was attempting to make himself useful. Go figure.

“You learn something new every day,” I said, slowing my pace on Viper’s cock but still rocking on it. “I didn’t really have any plans today, not after yesterday’s late night.” I looked at Viper, who was busy frowning at me. Frowning but not stopping me from rocking on his cock, I might add. “Did you have any plans?”

“No,” Viper grumbled.

“What about Sylvester and Maddox?”

“I don’t know—”

Well, this wasn’t going anywhere. I looked up at Harvey’s back. “How about this? I’ll give you a call if I need you, okay? You don’t need to check in on me. I’m fine. Just take a day off or something. Do something fun. You got a girlfriend?” Having this conversation while riding Viper was a little odd, I admit, but I’d done stranger things.

Maybe.

“I’ve had plenty of days off since you…” Harvey coughed. “Took care of Bianca. I’ve cleaned my house half a dozen times, got my spring cleaning out of the way, and even organized my CD collection alphabetically.”

That got me to stop rocking, and Viper and I glanced at each other, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we both were thinking the same thing: who the fuck has a CD collection nowadays? Oof. What a millennial.

“What about a girlfriend, Harvey? You sound like you need a girlfriend,” I said. It was true. If the man had nothing to do with his time besides clean and organize his, insert eye roll here, CD collection, there was a problem.

“I don’t… I’ve never really had time for a girlfriend before,” Harvey remarked. “And even when I had the time, I didn’t want to bring anyone into this mess. Working for Bianca wasn’t the safest job, you know? I didn’t want them to go after me, or anyone I was seeing.”

“Well, if anyone goes after you, I’ll rip out their throats just like I did to Bianca, okay? So I’ll tell you what: come back tonight, and we’ll go out. We’ll work on getting you laid.” Beneath me, Viper started to argue, but I once again clamped a hand over his mouth. “I want you dressed to impress, okay? Tonight at ten. Now, unless you want to rip off those clothes and join us, I think you should go.”

“Uh…” Harvey mumbled. “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

I watched him leave, heard the door to the house close again, and it was only then that I realized he never told me that he’d be here tonight. Ah, well. If he showed up, I’d go out with him, be his wingwoman, and get him a girl. He was a nice guy, and I meant that. It wasn’t a compliment I’d give to every guy, believe me. He deserved to be happy.

Plus, if he had a girl, he wouldn’t be over here bothering me half as much.

Once we were alone again, I let go of Viper’s mouth, and he frowned at me. “Sylvester and Maddox won’t like you going out alone with Harvey, even if it is to find him a girl,” he said. “The dude’s weird, Lola. Why can’t you just fire him?”

I smacked his chest. “He’s not weird. He’s nice.”

Viper’s eyebrows rose, as if saying, That’s exactly my point. He’s nice. No one in this city is nice. His hands once more found my hips, settling on them as I resumed my pace of bouncing on his cock.

I know, I know. Nice guys and girls always finished last. But Harvey had one thing those other nice people didn’t have: me, and I didn’t pull my shots. If anyone went after Harvey and his girl, they’d have to answer to me… and I liked to think I instilled a hell of a lot more fear into the hearts of criminals in this city much more than Bianca ever did.

It was kind of sad. I’d been looking forward to some ass-kicking, but I guess me literally tearing out the Bloody Princess’s throat had turned into a story that struck fear into the hearts of the ones who’d want me dead. So many of them had just abandoned everything and ran away from the city with their dicks tucked between their legs.

“Everything will be fine,” I whispered, lowering my mouth to Viper’s. I kissed him once. “You know I can take care of myself. I don’t need you three with me all of the time.”

“But Harvey—”

“You think he’ll try something with me? You think I wouldn’t be able to cut his dick off if he does?”

Viper frowned. “Let’s not talk about cutting anyone’s dick off while I’m inside of you.”

“That can be done,” I purred out, running my fingers through his hair and pulling. We didn’t talk after that, putting all of our focus back to the sex. I rode him until he couldn’t last anymore, until his body trembled in pleasure and he exploded inside of me, coating my inner walls with his hot, sticky cum.

That was my Viper.

I got off him after that, went to put on some clothes. I didn’t wash off the area between my legs; I liked knowing I had a part of my guys with me anywhere I went. Viper had tucked himself away and trailed after me, standing at the doorframe of my bedroom, arms folded over his chest as he watched me get dressed. His cock was still a little hard, the bulge in his pants telltale above all else, but other than that, you’d never know we had a hot and dirty session on the couch.

“I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea to go out with Harvey,” Viper stated.

Letting out an annoyed groan, I turned to face him. “What is with you? Why can’t you let it go? I can take care of myself, or do you need a reminder?” I had pulled on some leggings, the fabric clinging to my legs tightly. No panties. No shirt or bra yet, either.

“No,” he relented. “But you’ve only gone out with us lately. What if someone’s watching you, waiting for you to make a move by yourself? You’re not exactly safe here, not after what you did to the Bloody Princess. A lot of her men ran, but there are still some in this city that would love to see you dead, people who would love to take this house and make it theirs just as you did.”

“Let them. I’ll kill every single person in this fucking city if I have to.” I turned my back to him, grabbing a bra out of a drawer and putting it on. I went for a purple shirt and tugged it over my head. It was loose and low-cut, my favorite kind of shirt. Not revealing enough to catch everybody’s attention, but enough to draw a few looks from my guys… or the men who liked to look no matter what a girl wore.

And there were plenty of those, unfortunately.

I walked over to Viper, standing less than a foot in front of him. He eyed me up. “You know we would all go crazy if something happened to you, right?” he asked, his voice a bare whisper, so quiet and serious I had to pause to soak it in.

Having a group of three possessive men was… nice. They would kill anyone for me, if I asked them to. They’d give me presents of the heads of my enemies, if that’s what they knew I wanted. But I wasn’t a girl who couldn’t take out her own trash; I didn’t need them to chop off any heads for me… I could do it myself.

Still, it was sweet.

“I know,” I whispered back. What had begun as a bit of kidnapping and revenge had turned into so much more. I still couldn’t believe where we all were. If you would’ve asked me in the beginning where I’d end up with these guys, I would’ve said in the river, with the fish feasting on my decaying flesh. Never had I been more thrilled to be wrong.

Still, as much as these guys wanted to protect me, they knew I could handle my own business. I didn’t need them constantly watching my back like some freaking damsel in distress. I might be in distress sometimes, but that was because I put myself there, and I was always able to get myself out.

Usually. Let’s just say I’d never gotten myself into a scrap I couldn’t get out of yet. There might be a first time for everything, but I doubted that would happen when I went out with Harvey to find him a gal.

Viper had been right, of course. Not that I thought he’d be wrong, but when I told Sylvester and Maddox my plan to go out with Harvey—and the reason behind it—they were less than thrilled. Not happy at all. According to Sylvester, it was a stupid idea, and if you heard Maddox talk, you would’ve heard him ask, Who the fuck gives a shit about Harvey and his dick? Why does he have a key to your house anyways? We need to change the fucking locks.

So now the locks on my house were getting changed.

But that was all beside the point, because I was going out, and I was going with Harvey and Harvey alone. It’s high past time I spent some one-on-one time with my fancy new driver, anyway. Though it had been months, I really didn’t know the guy that well, besides the vibe he gave off.

And if there was one thing I knew, it was that sometimes the vibe ebbing off you was nothing but a lie.

Maddox and Sylvester had come over to see me and Harvey off. I knew it was their last-ditch attempt at getting me to stay home with them, to not go out with him. Out of all of the guys in the house, Mike was the only one who didn’t raise a peep about it… mostly because the guy didn’t like talking. What I wouldn’t give to crack open his skull and take a peek in his brain…

Okay, now that was getting way off track.

Mike was frying up some late-night snack, while Viper, Maddox, and Sylvester huddled around the island. I stood a few feet away, adjusting my earrings, well aware they all watched me, besides the big guy.

“You know,” I started, “I can feel your eyes on me. It’s not the best feeling. Kinda goopy, kinda gross—” That’s what I imagined having eyeballs on you would feel like. A little wet, a little sticky, like peeled grapes.

“Okay, ew,” Maddox grumbled, frowning.

“I still think one of us should go with you,” Sylvester said, glancing between Viper and Maddox. When I let out a sigh, he said, “What about Big Mike? He can stand in the background and watch, in case something happens. You never know. Someone might see you without us and decide it’s a good night to go after you.” Quieter, he said, “I don’t trust anybody in this fucking city.”

Viper nodded along with him. “Me, either.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at his brother. “You wanna go?”

The two brothers couldn’t have been more different. The same age, fraternal twins, but Mike had gotten most of the tall genes. Mike had no tattoos, either, further separating him from his brother. His hair was also longer than Viper’s, which he usually kept tied together in a low, loose pony.

“The lady says she wants to go alone,” Mike muttered. “Just let her go.” Not once did he ever move his stare off the oven top and what he was cooking.

Mike’s comments got the others to argue with him, a hodgepodge of voices I instantly tuned out. I bent my head to look at the dress I wore. A beautiful, shiny silver. Tight, but not too tight, and not my most revealing. My tits were covered by the fabric, and the length hit my knees. A very conservative clubbing dress, or a cocktail dress. I’d also curled my blond hair into waves, done some smoky makeup around my eyes.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure where we were going tonight. A bar, a club, one and then the other?

“I agree,” I said, causing their eyes to dart to me. “Just let me go, and everything will be fine. Everything’s been pretty quiet anyways. What are the odds that tonight something’ll happen?” Right as I said it, I knew I probably should’ve worded it differently.

It was like wearing a red shirt in—oh, God, what was it? Star Trek? Star Wars? Whatever. Like going off alone in a horror movie. Running away from the bad guy, but instead of running out of the house you trip going up the stairs like a dumb bitch. Any decision you could make in a horror movie, really.

Ooh! Or saying ‘what could go wrong?’ Yeah, that was a big one. Cut to the next scene and something went wrong.

Eh, maybe I’ll kick myself in the ass for saying it, maybe not. Guess we’d have to wait and see if tonight proceeded without a hitch.

Sylvester’s blue eyes dipped low, all the way to my heeled feet. Slowly that gaze traveled up, along my legs, over my hips, all the way to my face. A look like that could make a gal squeeze her thighs together in anticipation, but there was no thigh-squeezing here, because I knew that sexy motherfucker was about to say something that’ll tick me off.

“I don’t like you going out there, looking like that, without us.”

Ah, yep. There it was. See? I told ya he was going to say something to get me pissy, and that was it. Get me a run-down building and all of the sun and moon objects you can find at your local mall, because I was a fucking fortune teller.

I stepped closer to Sylvester, cocking my head at him. “It shouldn’t matter whether I’m naked or in a burka, Sylvester. I’m going out, and I don’t want you three with me.” When he started to reference Mike, I quickly added, “Or the big guy. I’m going out with Harvey alone, understand? I ain’t gonna budge on this.”

To try to appease him a little, I added, “If something seems fishy, I’ll give you a call, all right? Look!” I dipped my hands to my hips, and they disappeared inside two sewed-in pockets. “It’s got pockets! Pockets.” I pulled out my phone just to show him that my cell could fit inside without a problem.

I know, I know. Crazy, right? You couldn’t beat a dress with pockets—or any women’s clothing with actual pockets, for that matter. Nice clothing with pockets for women? Mind blown. Who needed a purse when you had everything you needed tucked in a pocket? If I ever got my hands on the people designing mainstream clothes for women, I’d chain them up and torture them, and I’d only let them go once they agreed to put more damned pockets on stuff.

Sheesh.

The unimpressed look Sylvester gave me told me he didn’t really care about the pockets. Easy for him to say, since all his fucking clothes had pockets and he never had to worry about that kind of stuff. That said, the man knew he wouldn’t be swaying me, so he whispered, “Fine, but be careful. Watch your back. At the first sign of trouble, I want you to call me.” Like I’d need him to come save the day or some shit.

Touching. Yeah, very touching.

I wondered who these guys thought Harvey was. I mean, the guy had been the Bloody Princess’s personal driver, for fuck’s sake. He carried a gun with him at all times, and he knew how to shoot it. He might look and act like a pushover sometimes, but he wasn’t, I could guarantee that.

Instead of saying all that, though, I only said, “Yes, I will call you. Happy?” I loved these guys, but damn, could they get on my lady nerves.

Sylvester nodded, and before anyone could say anything else, the front door to the house opened, alerting us to Harvey’s presence. Before they could posture and try to intimidate Harvey, I said, “I’ll be good, I promise. No killing, no maiming, no hunting.” I placed a quick kiss on Sylvester’s cheek, rushing to do the same to Maddox and Viper before spinning on my heels and hurrying to the front vestibule, where Harvey waited.

He saw me, his gray eyes taking in my appearance—not in a checking out way, but more in the way of simply appreciating all the hard work I’d put into it. “You look great—”

Whatever else he was going to say, I didn’t care. I hooked my arm through his and said, “Yeah, you too. Now let’s get going.” I pulled him from the house, out into the world of night outside and away from the guys who were probably on their way to us to try to intimidate Harvey into letting one of them tag along.

Once we got in the car, he asked, “Where to?”

“I don’t know. Where do you normally go to meet ladies?” I wasn’t trying to get him laid tonight, but if sparks flew, and everything was aces, then maybe I’d let him go off and have a little fun.

No drunk girls, though. No tipsy girls, either, and definitely nobody that was high. Anyone who couldn’t make an informed, clear-headed decision was off the table.

“Um, I don’t even know…” Harvey stuck the key into the ignition, and before he started it, I turned my head to see Sylvester, Maddox, and Viper huddled near the front door to the house, none of them looking too happy. He had to lean down a bit to see them through the passenger’s window. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“They don’t look fine.”

“They’re big boys. They can handle one night without me. Now, drive, my man.” I buckled my seatbelt, ready to get the hell out of here. The longer we waited, the more opportunities it gave my guys to rush to the car and slip inside.

He was slow to pull away from the house, turning around on the driveway and heading toward the road. “Where are we going? We never decided.”

“You really don’t have any favorite hangouts? Even places you used to go to before becoming a driver for Bianca?” Man, no wonder Harvey didn’t have a girlfriend. He was kind of lame, no offense to the guy or anything. A guy like this was exactly who online dating was made for: slightly awkward, quiet, and meek. Not a guy who would ever approach a girl he thought was pretty on his own.

“I mean, I guess there’s this bar—” he started.

“Great. Let’s go there.”

He threw me a look, just a quick glimpse, but I could tell he was wondering if I was crazy. And the answer to that was: yes, of course I was crazy. I was Lola Harding. Duh. “I didn’t even tell you where it is.”

“I don’t need to hear where it is. Let’s go, get some drinks, and see where the night takes us.”

“But it’s…” He lowered his voice. “It’s in old DeLuca territory. I’m not sure you’d be too welcome there.” He made a left turn. I sat in the front with him, which I was sure he found odd; he was used to Bianca sitting in the back, I bet. Having to get out and open the door for her, all that jizz.

I mean jazz. Jizz and jazz were two totally different things.

“Harvey, I’m not afraid of anyone who followed the DeLucas. I don’t care if they want me dead. Hell, I don’t even care if they try to kill me. To them I say, get in the back of the line.” I grinned. My mask was safely at home, but if I needed to bust out a little crazy, I was always more than happy to do so. Didn’t need a mask for that.

“The only reason I mentioned it is because I heard it’s come under new ownership. The place closed down for a while, but it opened back up last week. I hear it’s nice.”

“Great, so it’s settled, then. That’s where we’re going.”

Harvey didn’t argue with me, which was good. I wanted us to pick a place and stick to it. If, say, there wasn’t anyone there that Harvey was interested in, or if he tried to talk to a girl and made a fool of himself, we could revisit the decision and choose another place to go to.

The bar was in the middle of downtown, an area that wasn’t too rundown. The night sky was pitch black, but the neon signs of the businesses on the street were blinding. The sidewalks were full of people coming and going; no one around here seemed to give a shit that this city had a fuckton of crime. They all acted like they were safe as long as they stuck to their friend group, or their boyfriend.

But that’s the thing. You were never truly safe here. Not anywhere. That was the not-so-beautiful truth about life.

Harvey parked the car on the road, parallel parking like a master—something I could never do. Hell, it’d been a long-ass time since I’d been behind the wheel myself. I was probably rusty as hell. I undid my seatbelt and turned to face him.

The man wore a suit. A suit and tie, like he was going to some sort of business meeting. Now that wouldn’t do.

“Harvey, my man, I’m gonna ask you to do something, and I’m gonna need you to do it without asking me a million questions why,” I started.

He looked at me, his face reflecting the yellow neon sign above the bar. “Why?” He then caught himself and added, “Sorry. A habit.”

“Did you always ask Bianca why, why, why?”

“No. I never said more than four words to her at a time. She didn’t like questions. Anyone who wanted to keep their head knew to shut up, but with you…” He paused. “You’re new. You’re an unknown, and even though I saw you walk out of that sitting room with a chunk of Bianca’s throat in your hand, you still don’t seem half as bad as her.”

Hmm. Not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or not.

“Don’t let this pretty face fool you, Harvey: I’m just as bad as your old boss, except I don’t use people. I don’t get other people to do my dirty work for me. The difference between me and her is I like to do things myself.” I always found it ironic that she was called the Bloody Princess and she hated getting blood on her clothes. Like, come on. “Now, back to what I was saying before. Take off that suit jacket.”

Harvey opened his mouth again, and I held up a finger, pointing it at him, wordlessly reminding him of what I’d said before. He shut his mouth and worked to undo the buttons and take it off after unbuckling his seatbelt.

I helped him throw the suit jacket into the back. “Good, good. Now, this tie has to go.” He started to argue with me about it, so I leaned over the center console and tugged on the tie knot myself, loosening it.

He held back a frown, giving in and letting me take the tie off.

The next thing I went for were the buttons on his shirt. I undid the top two near his throat.

“There,” I said, “you look better. Less stuffy.” I got out of the car and stretched, craning my head back to look at the neon sign. There were multiple. One said DRINKS with an arrow pointing to where the door was. Another simply said BAR. In all honesty, this place wasn’t too far from the Gilded Rose, where I’d been forced to dress up and sing for a bunch of cranky old men.

Also where I’d poisoned the DeLuca patriarch. Ah, the memories.

Harvey got out of the car and hurried around it to stand beside me, asking, “You think I’m stuffy?” He almost sounded hurt at that, and when I turned to look at him, I found he stared at me, waiting to hear what I thought of him.

“You’re—” I stopped myself. “You’re really—” Again, I couldn’t quite find the right words to say. “You’ve got a…” No matter how many times I tried to come up with a compliment of some kind, it died in the back of my throat, because it would’ve been a lie.

“Okay, wow. So, I’m stuffy.” Harvey reached up to his neck, and then he remembered I’d taken the tie off him, and his hand fell back to his side. “Stuffy doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though, does it?” As he asked that, we watched a group of four walk past us and enter the bar. All women, which was a good sign.

I didn’t know how to answer that without further insulting the guy, so I just said, “Maybe we should just go in.” I didn’t wait for him to respond; I headed for the door myself, my heels clicking on the concrete below, and Harvey trailed after me.

The inside of the bar was a mix between a club and an old-fashioned bar. There was a large bar with countless bottles of alcohol all lined up in front of a mirrored wall, a wooden countertop and stools surrounding it, but there were also a few booths situated in the front of the place, near the windows. In the back, it was more like a club. No DJ, but there was a jukebox that you could pick songs out of and a dance floor where some rowdy folks were doing their thing.

Nothing wild like the club we’d gone to last night—that had been younger people, closer to my age. This place? From a quick glance, I could tell most of these people were older than me. In their late twenties or early thirties, AKA Harvey’s age. A perfect spot to try to find him a girl so he could take some time off and stop bugging me about driving me everywhere.

No one turned to look at us, because we were just a guy and a girl. Some people might know me as the one who killed the Bloody Princess, but to most people of this city, without my mask I was just a pretty blond girl with big, blue eyes and a perfect come-hither look. I think my guys were a little too concerned over nothing. Like most people, they underestimated the things a pretty face like mine could do.

As it turned out, a pretty face could do a hell of a lot of things.

We headed to the bar, where we ordered some drinks. We sat on the barstools beside each other, and I surveyed the place, checked out the groups of women that didn’t have guys hanging around, the ones who looked like they could be single.

“So, Harvey,” I started, sipping from my pink cocktail, “it occurs to me I don’t know much about you. Tell me about yourself. How’d you end up as Bianca’s personal driver?”

Harvey got some whiskey, and he took the tiniest sip ever. “My father was actually Carl’s driver. He taught me how to drive, how to dodge the cops if I ever needed to. Action movie kind of stuff. He’d take me out of the city, and we’d spend hours driving.” He glanced down at his drink. “When Bianca told Carl she needed her own driver, he suggested me.”

“And she actually agreed with someone her father suggested?” From what I heard, she hated her father. Hated him. Maybe because he’d never been too kind to her. She loathed her father like no one’s business—something which I definitely could understand. Just because a dude was your dad didn’t mean you had to love him unconditionally.

Bianca and I… we weren’t totally different from each other, as much as I didn’t want to admit it.

“She wasn’t too thrilled with me at first, but one job turned into two, and on and on it went. Once I figured out she never wanted to talk, that she only wanted a driver, well…” Harvey shrugged. “Things got easy, I guess. She never got rid of me.”

“And you don’t hate me for—” I mimicked the throat-tearing motion on my own neck.

He smiled, although it could’ve been a grimace, too. “I thought about it. I mean, hell, we could’ve intervened that day, when you and her were going at it, but she stopped us. That’s the thing about people like her, like her father: their pride. If their pride gets wounded, they become blinded by anger. So when you came out of that room the victor, by then it was too late. With Carl gone and his only remaining daughter dead, what was left to fight for?” He took another sip of his drink.

Finally, he finished, “No, I don’t hate you. I think a lot of people in this city would’ve done the same thing to her, if they could’ve. As far as I’m concerned, you earned that house and that money.”

“It was a good idea you had, to take it all,” I said. “Have I ever thanked you for that?”

He smiled, bashful, and looked away. “I don’t think so.”

I raised my pink drink in his direction. “Thank you, then.” I sipped from it, turning to look at the people swaying to the song currently playing on the loudspeakers near the dance floor. No disco lights, no flashing strobe lights. This was definitely more of a mellowed-out place than last night’s club. “See anyone you like?” As fun as it was to talk to Harvey myself—and I hesitated to use the word fun—I didn’t want anyone to think we were here together. He wasn’t mine. He was here to mingle.

“Uh.” His gaze surveyed the area, and they settled on a woman dancing with her friends in the back area of the dance floor. “She’s pretty.”

“Go talk to her,” I said. “Let me see what you got, bigshot.” I’d watch, observe, take mental notes, see where Harvey could improve his game. Just guessing, the places where he could up his game were every single category. He didn’t drip style or sex appeal, no offense to the guy. He was just kinda… there.

He got off the barstool, taking another sip of his drink. “What do I say?”

“Whatever you want. I want to see what I’m working with here.”

Harvey didn’t look too sure, but to his credit, he did what I said. He left the bar, and zigzagged through the place, heading into the back, where the woman he’d spotted was. I watched, eyebrows creasing as I observed.

Sometimes you could tell just by looking at a man if he had the skills to pick up a woman. Whether that was due to confidence or something else, I didn’t know. I couldn’t say. Some guys gave off a douchebag aura, but Harvey? I didn’t know what Harvey gave off, but it wasn’t the vibe of a tool. More like a guy who hadn’t quite nailed down asking out a girl in high school.

He danced behind her a bit, awkwardly, I might add, and he did that for a while. Not once did he try to get her attention, and he even threw a helpless glance back at me, as if asking me for help.

What did the guy want me to do? Grab the girl’s hand and hit on her for him? Like, come on. Sometimes you needed to nut up or shut up, man up or stand down.

After a while, Harvey gave up and returned to me, slinking with his tail between his legs. I couldn’t help but giggle when I saw his expression. “Harvey, you’ve got a lot of work to do if you have any hope of landing a woman. Like, any woman.”

“Gee, thanks,” he spoke dryly, taking another sip of his drink. “What would you suggest I do, then?”

“Even if you have zero confidence, act like you do. It doesn’t matter if you don’t. As long as you act like you do, everyone will think you do—that’s pretty much the whole battle. If you’re sulking around, being all meek and unsure, no one’s going to take you seriously. Women want a confident man—but not overly confident. It’s a fine line, because if you’re too confident, you cross the line into cocky, and being cocky is bad.” I lowered my voice to a bare whisper, leaning closer to him, “I kill cocky men, Harvey, so keep that in mind.”

His eyes widened so much I thought they might bulge out of his head. I mean, surely he didn’t think Bianca had been my first kill. I’d brought her two bloody heads in a freaking sack. Come on. You didn’t go from zero to tearing a bitch’s throat out with a snap of your fingers.

I sent him back over to the group of dancing women, watching him again. It went on like that for a while. He didn’t really get anywhere with them, and when he was unsure of himself, he always returned to me like a sad little puppy dog that needed some encouragement. Needless to say, nothing would ever happen between him and me; I much preferred guys who weren’t afraid to go after what they wanted.

Yeah, Maddox and Sylvester strode the line between confidence and cocky. Viper, on the other hand, was a little more reserved, but once you got him going, he was gone. Jealous, possessive, not afraid to claim what was his, AKA me.

Frankly, after a few hit and misses, I started to realize I’d severely overestimated Harvey’s abilities with the women folk… he might be cute in the accountant type of way, but cuteness wasn’t everything. You had to get women to actually look at you.

I had long since finished up my pink cocktail when I decided to get off my ass and go over to him. He stood near the dance floor, quietly calculating, watching as the small crowd hopped to the beat. Tonight was probably going to be a bust, but—

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” a male’s voice entered my ears, causing me to whip around, a smartass comment ready to be flung.

“If this is your kind of pickup line, it needs some work,” I rattled off my response before seeing who it was, and the moment I saw him, I couldn’t hide the shock on my face. Well, Harvey did say this place had come under new management recently, but I didn’t think… I mean, what were the freaking odds that the new owner would be the very same man who owned the Gilded Rose?

The man that had approached me was Newton, a man I had a mixed relationship with. When I’d masqueraded as nothing more than a pretty girl who could sing in his gentlemen’s club, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with him. But then he’d found me Tony, the asshole who’d lied to me and taken advantage of me when I was vulnerable, so I guess I would consider us on amiable terms.

Not friends, but more like acquaintances.

“Not a pickup line,” Newton spoke, giving me a measured smile. “From what I hear, you’re a taken woman, and I’d never dream of trying to steal the Luciano’s woman.” Those dark eyes of his were just as intense as I remembered. His blond hair was short, shaved shorter on the sides and a bit longer on top, though it was combed back. He wore an all-black suit, his tie some kind of velvet. A handsome enough man for someone near forty, not a wrinkle on his face or a gray hair to be seen.

“You hear right, of course,” I said. Though I didn’t want to turn my back on Harvey, I would rather give my back to him than Newton. Newton… I had the feeling he was someone who was only on your side as long as you could provide him with something. The moment you ceased to be of help, or the moment he thought you would lose, he switched sides. The Gilded Rose was a Deluca hangout, after all, as was this club.

Newton stepped closer to the bar, getting the bartender’s attention. “Whatever she had, give her another. Tonight her tab is on the house.” Flashing his influence on me was a wasted effort; whatever he wanted, I had nothing to give him tonight.

But I wasn’t going to turn down a free drink. “So, this is your new place?” I asked.

“It is.” He turned toward me, leaning his elbow on the bar’s counter. He stood between my stool and the one beside it, the one Harvey had claimed… which was to say he stood a little too close to me. I wouldn’t say it made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t exactly at ease with him, either.

If I would’ve known this was his place, I would’ve suggested Harvey and I go somewhere else. Seeing Newton made me relive all those moments in the Gilded Rose, being put on stage, singing for a crowd of rich, old men. Judged by my voice and my appearance. And then poisoning Carl Deluca, that thing with Tony…

Yeah, all of the memories I had involving Newton weren’t good ones. Then again, most of the memories I had in general weren’t good ones. The good came few and far between, though with the help of my crazy flock of guys, my life had started to turn around.

“Why aren’t you at the Gilded Rose tonight?” I asked. As the bartender slid me over another pink drink, I never once broke eye contact with Newton. Someone like him… I knew he had no problems with me, but the moment I gave him my back, he was likely to strike. This man was an opportunist. Couldn’t blame him. In a city like this, you had to be aware of who was on top, and it definitely behooved you to kiss their ass.

In this case, it was my ass he should kiss. Not, uh, literally, of course. I had three guys kissing my ass literally already.

“Ah, I’ve had some… trouble finding new talent lately,” Newton said. “Because of it, I’ve had to make some concessions. The Gilded Rose is only open Thursday to Sunday right now—but when we’re open, business is good. So good that I was able to purchase this establishment and fix it up a bit. You’re not a true businessman without a few ventures running simultaneously.”

As enthralled as I was—and let’s be honest, I wasn’t enthralled in the least—I didn’t want this conversation to keep going, so I turned toward the bar and took a sip from my new drink. I didn’t know how to respond to him and what he’d said, and I wished the dude would get a hint and leave me alone. I should get up and check on Harvey.

But I wasn’t giving off enough of a go away vibe, apparently, for he remarked, “I find it odd you’re here alone. I can’t imagine the Lucianos are happy letting you go out and about in this city after dark without them.”

My lips twitched into a frown, and I sent him a glare. “No one lets me do anything. I do what I want, when I want. Being with them doesn’t mean they control me. You’d do well to remember that, Newton.”

He let out a sound that was close to a chuckle, but not quite. “Of course. You are the Bloody Queen now.”

“Right. And no one tells the Bloody Queen what to do. Got that, buddy?” I kind of wanted to hit him. Not kill him, but give him enough pain to really hammer it in: he might own this place, he might own the Gilded Rose, but he did not own me. And he certain as fuck didn’t know me enough to make judgments on me or my actions.

“You seem tense,” he said. “Did I say something wrong?”

Playing innocent wasn’t his strong suit, but instead of pinpointing the precise cause of my irritation with the man, I only muttered, “No, but if you’ll excuse me—” Right then Harvey walked up to us, to me, rather, and he wore a wide smile. He held his phone in his hand, and he could not hide his excitement, even if he tried.

“I got a number,” he said. He was going to say more, but then he realized someone had crowded his stool: Newton. “Mr. Newton! How are you? It’s been a while. If you don’t remember, I’m—”

“You used to drive the Bloody Princess around, yes, I remember your face. Harvey, was it?” Newton acted like he was unsure, but I knew it was a front. A man like Newton had a thing for faces and names.

Harvey nodded, but I was too busy looking back at the dance floor, at the woman that Harvey had been trying to talk to. She still danced with her friends; she wasn’t looking over here at all. “You got her number?”

“Oh, no,” Harvey was quick to say. “She actually just left.”

I looked toward the door, not seeing anyone. She must’ve walked by when I was too busy talking to Newton to pay attention. Damn it. Harvey seemed happy, but just because he was happy about getting a gal’s digits didn’t mean anything. “Why would she give you her number and then leave?”

“I guess she thought I was cute or something—”

Newton looked bored with the turn of the conversation, and he set a hand on Harvey’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “On that note, I think I’ll leave you to it. It was good to see you again, Harvey.” He turned those dark brown eyes to me. “And you as well, Lola.” He walked away after that, and he headed into a door on the side of the bar, labeled Employees Only.

It was good he left. Very good. Not only did I not really want to talk to the guy, but I also didn’t really like the way my name sounded on his tongue. Probably residual effects from being forced to sing at the Gilded Rose.

Harvey was slow in retaking his stool. The bartender came back and asked him if he wanted anything else to drink, and he shook his head. “I’m good man, thanks.” To me, he said, “I didn’t know you knew Newton.”

“When I first got into this whole mess between the DeLucas and the Lucianos, I was forced to sing at the Gilded Rose. It’s where I met Newton, and Bianca. Not fond memories of mine. Let’s change the subject. Who’s this girl?”

I listened to Harvey describe her. She sounded pretty. Her name was Giulia, and she’d found his floundering about endearing or some shit. I tried to pay attention to him, because he was stupidly excited he’d gotten her number, but I’d be lying if I said my mind wasn’t elsewhere.

Talking to Newton had brought up too many memories in my head, too many bad memories. I never wanted to go back to those days, but it was almost like being here was a reminder. Everything in this city was a reminder of the struggles I had to overcome. The people I had to kill. The ones I wanted to kill.

This city was changing, yes, but at the same time, it wasn’t. With Bianca gone, with the DeLuca line gone, save for Maddox, of course, this city was looking for someone else to take the throne. Right now, it was me, but soon enough someone would try to take it from me. Heavy was the head with the crown.

I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t afraid of what was to come. Come hell or high water, the only way I would relinquish my place in the hierarchy of this city was in a body bag.

If only I knew what was to come.

Chapter Four – Lola

Days passed, and Harvey had a date tonight with Giulia. I, for one, couldn’t be happier for the guy. I mean, he really deserved it. He should be happy. He should find something else to do besides drive my ass back and forth. I mean, come on. I had three guys, plus Big Mike. I didn’t need a driver, even if I was paying him.

But Harvey wanted my help in styling him for the date, so again, he’d be coming over tonight, right before his date.

I was all for getting the guy a hobby, even if that hobby included a girlfriend. Not that I was saying everybody needed a significant other, but they tended to be a big time suck, which was exactly what the man needed.

Mike had gone with Viper to do something for Sylvester. Shake down some business or something. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what the fuck they did, and I didn’t care enough to ask questions. I was simply trying to live in the now—which grew increasingly more difficult when Sylvester himself showed up at the house, followed by someone I’d only met briefly before.

And that someone I’d met when the shit had hit the fan in the worst fucking way.

Sylvester walked inside my house with him in tow. I’d already seen the two cars pull up, so I met them in the hall just off the vestibule, my arms crossed and my hips cocked. My blond hair was drawn up in a ponytail, my shoulders bare in a tank top. I’d been doing some workouts; back in the day, I never really paid much attention to toning my muscles, but it gave me something to do.

Plus it was always good to be stronger than you looked, especially when you liked to hunt men.

“Sylvester,” I said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Sylvester knew I was irritable, and so he flashed me a smile, closing the distance between us and sweeping me up into his arms, planting a quick, heated kiss on my lips. “I told you the other day that I didn’t like the fact that Newton still had a key to your place, so I enlisted some help.”

I leaned my head to the side, looking around Sylvester’s frame to see the man who’d gotten enlisted, and I recognized him immediately. Someone like him, it was impossible to not remember him.

All black hair, save for a small silver tuft near the left temple. A tall guy, well over six feet. Not built like Big Mike, but impressive enough. And fast—I couldn’t forget how fast he was. His reaction time was spot-on.

But all of that was nothing compared to his special bite.

Fang carried a small black bag with him, and he set it down on the ground near the front door, walking over to me and giving me a smile, flashing me those shiny teeth. “Lola,” he spoke as Sylvester released me from his iron grip. “How’s the mask doing?” With each word he spoke, I could see the reflective silver of his sharpened fangs.

The man had the bite of a vampire. It’s why he was called Fang, I guess. He liked working with metal of all kinds, and he’d given himself a bite that could easily tear flesh off. Or leave love marks in the form of scars from his fangs.

He was also the man who’d created my skull face mask. He’d recently added to it, giving it more decorations, making it a little more girly. The mask now had a chain on the back of it, which let me leave it around my neck like a necklace. A heavy as fuck necklace, but still a necklace. It had come in handy on the occasions when I wanted to get the point across without saying much. One look at the mask hanging around my neck and most people knew exactly who they were dealing with.

“Good,” I said. “I take it you’re here to switch my locks.” At that, I glanced at Sylvester, who didn’t so much as shrug.

“Honestly, you should’ve had them switched the moment you took the place,” Fang said.

“That’s what I told her, and all she said was that she’d handle it,” Sylvester spoke, narrowing his eyes at me.

“And I have,” I reminded them both. “Do you see me dead right now? No? Well, then it’s handled. This is just ridiculous.” I knew it was only Sylvester’s way of trying to keep me safe, especially since we didn’t live together, but I could handle myself. And, anyway, Viper and Big Mike lived here now, too. We were one big happy family, and we didn’t need new locks to do it.

“Harvey just walks in like he owns the place,” Sylvester said, unable to let it go.

“I’m sure that’s what he did when he was working for Bianca.”

“And you’re not Bianca.”

Oh, as if I needed another reminder of that. Rolling my eyes, I turned away from Fang and started to walk away. I headed into the kitchen and grabbed myself a glass of water, sipping it slowly to stop myself from saying anything I might regret.

Sometimes I liked Sylvester’s possessiveness, but other times it made me want to scream. How many years had I lived by myself, hunting men, doing whatever the fuck I felt like? I’d survived then without any help, and I sure as shit didn’t need help now.

Sylvester followed me. “You’re upset.”

I set my glass down, fingers curled around it tightly. My nail polish was chipped; I needed to redo it soon. Hey, a gal can enjoy some murder every now and then and still find pleasure in pampering herself. Turning around to face him, I saw him leaning on the island, staring at me with those bright, blue eyes.

“I just think it’s unnecessary,” I was slow to say. “If someone wants to stroll in here and try to kill me, let ‘em. Let them try, because that’s all they’ll be able to do: try. I’m not so easy to kill, Sylvester. You know that.”

“I do.” He nodded along. “But all it takes is one mistake, one misstep. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t here to save you? What if—”

“What if they decide to bust through the windows instead of the door? What if they still get inside? What if the sky turns purple and the moon comes crashing into the earth while we’re all sleeping? What if, what if, what if. There are a million what ifs. I don’t live my life based on what ifs. I’ve learned to live in the moment. You should try it.”

Sylvester’s hands curled into fists, and he pushed off the island, storming around it. He came right at me, pinned me against the counter and brought a hand to my neck. He didn’t choke me, but he held onto me tightly, his fingers curled around my throat so snugly I could feel them every time I breathed.

“You’re not some serial killer out on her own anymore,” he reminded me. “Things have changed. You’re mine. You’re Maddox’s. You’re Viper’s. You belong to us, Lola. If we lost you…” He let out the roughest, most haggard sigh I’d ever heard, and I felt it deep within my bones. “I don’t know what we’d do—besides go crazy.”

With his hand on my throat, his strong body pinning mine to the counter, I couldn’t move. Not that I would if I could. I did so enjoy when they got a little angry with me, a little wild, a little rough. The heat, the passion… they helped me feel alive, reminding me that I hadn’t met my bloody end just yet.

“Awe,” I whispered, staring deep into those crisp, clear blue eyes. “You’d go bananas if you lost me.”

“I don’t know if bananas is the right word,” he grumbled.

All I could do was giggle. Giggle and sigh as the hand around my neck loosened. That hand curled around to the back of my neck, its fingers weaving into my hair and pulling my head back. My mouth parted, and Sylvester dipped his frame low to meet our lips.

He kissed me long and he kissed me hard. His lips were softer than you’d think they’d be, and they instantly set a fire burning deep within my gut. I could let him swallow me up whole, I swore. It’d be so easy to stay naked and in bed with these guys, to push out the world and everything in it while occupying ourselves with the other’s body.

But that wasn’t real life, and apparently Sylvester had someplace to go.

He tugged his mouth off mine, panting, “I have a meeting with… let’s just call him an investor. I can’t be late. I’ll be back later tonight, okay? Fang is going to change all the locks and leave five copies of the new key—I don’t think I need to tell you who they’re for.”

I pouted. No, he didn’t, but did he really have to go right now? Why couldn’t he be a little late? I mean, fuck, that kiss made me want to drop to my knees and kiss him in places that would make him forget about his meeting.

Sylvester must’ve known what I was thinking, for he warned: “Don’t.”

I quit with the pouting, but I did ask, “Do you need some backup? I can go change, grab my mask, and—”

“No,” he was quick to say. “I don’t need the Bloody Queen. I will be back tonight, and then we can argue some more about the locks.”

I grinned. “Only if you promise to hold me down and remind me again who I belong to.”

“That’s a promise.” With that, Sylvester left, and I watched him go. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go with him; ever since his father had left and he’d been in charge, he’d been a busy little bee, buzzing around, trying to keep his father’s contacts and the Luciano power in check. After losing the city for a bit there, Sylvester swore up and down it would never happen again, no matter what gang tried to overthrow the status quo.

I supposed I could’ve watched Fang like a hawk, but Sylvester trusted him, as did the others. Fang and his brother didn’t like to get involved in the politics of who ran the city, but when they were called, they always were willing to help. Still hadn’t ever met his brother though, and I was dying to. I mean, he called himself the Beast; you didn’t get more badass than that.

So I went back to working out. I worked up a sweat, and then I kept going at it. Building up stamina, building up strength; you never knew when it would come in handy. Hell, I’d probably gotten lucky that none of the men I’d killed in the past had managed to overpower me. The less luck used in the equation, the better.

I hit the shower after my workout, washing all the sweat off my body even though I knew the moment Sylvester got back, we’d work up more. That sweat would be a different kind of sweat, though. I didn’t mind that particular sweat lingering, but workout sweat? No thanks.

When I got out, I changed into fresh clothes and dried my hair. I headed down the steps, to the first floor, expecting Fang to be gone, but I found him in the kitchen, standing near the Keurig, making himself a cup of coffee. Seemed late for coffee, but whatever.

Spotting five silver keys on the island, I walked over to them and picked one up. “I’d thank you for doing this,” I started, “but it wasn’t really my idea to begin with.” My gaze met Fang’s, and for just the quickest of moments, I was reminded of the day I’d first met him, when I’d thought he was out to hurt my men and me.

Fang shrugged. “You’re his girl. He wants you safe. I get it.” The coffee was done, and he took the mug and brought it to his mouth, sipping it slowly. “I took the last hazelnut. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I don’t drink that shit. That’s Mike’s and Viper’s stash. If anyone’s going to kill you for taking the last hazelnut, it’ll be them. Speaking of significant others, you got a girl finally, or are you still on the market?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m on the market for anyone,” he eventually said, pausing. “Why? You know someone that likes to get bitten?” As Fang asked the question, he flashed me his sharp, silvery canines.

“No one that comes to mind immediately, no.” Considering I had a whopping zero girlfriends, I knew absolutely no one who would want to be with Fang, though I did catch that anyone comment. Did that mean Fang was down for dick as much as he was down for pussy? A question that was way too private for me to ask, I suppose, but nothing could stop me from asking this next thing: “It is just biting, right?”

He took a long sip from the mug, as if the heat didn’t bother him at all. He spoke into the mug, “As opposed to…”

“The other things you can do with teeth like that.” Come on. Was he really going to make me say it? Judging by his blank stare, I guess he was. “Biting, tearing… pretty sure our teeth are the way they are because of what we eat, Fang.”

Fang blinked. “Are you asking me if I eat people?”

“Fabulous question. I, personally, have never. Never even thought about it. Have you?” I might be a serial killer, but it took some kind of special fucked up person to want to devour someone else in that particular way.

“And if I have? What then?” I opened my mouth to give him an answer, but Fang smirked and added, “I’m kidding. Of course, I haven’t eaten anyone. Who do you think I am, Hannibal Lecter?” He set the coffee mug down, and it sounded pretty empty to me. He’d drank that coffee faster than I could blink.

As he left the kitchen, I trailed after him. “How do I know you’re not just saying that?” I watched him bend down to pick up his black leather bag. Every movement the guy made was measured and calculated; I had the feeling he and I might get along very well, if things were a little different.

Fang shrugged, and without another word he headed for the door. The man was aware that I followed him, because he paused after opening it, one foot outside and one still inside. He turned around to look at me, flashed me his eerie, uncanny smile once more, and said, “I guess you don’t.”

Hmm. Didn’t know what to think about that.

I stood there, holding the door open with my foot, watching Fang load his bag into his car and then himself shortly after. He drove off, leaving me alone to wonder if he’d simply been teasing or if that last statement meant something more.

And then I realized what I was doing: debating on whether or not someone was a freaking cannibal, and I laughed at myself and then went inside. I even locked the door’s new locks. I know, time to give myself a pat on the back for that.

Which, as it turned out, was just annoying, because when Viper and Mike returned, I had to go all the way downstairs and let them in, explain to them about Fang and give them each a new key to the house. They were fine with it, not seeing what the problem was, though it was hard to argue from my perspective, especially in front of Big Mike. He’d nearly died from getting shot, so a better-fortified house was always better in his eyes.

Before they wandered away from me, their new key on their keyrings, I asked, “Do you guys think Fang eats people, or does he just bite them?”

Mike and Viper exchanged what I would call a semi-worried glance. The two brothers looked so different, you’d never know they were related. It was only apparent when they stood side-by-side, when you could compare them quickly. One towering and built like a wrestler, no ink in sight, the other over half a foot shorter and covered with tattoos, but they had the same jawline.

Viper was the one who answered me, “What the fuck are you talking about?” Okay, so it wasn’t really an answer at all, then. “Why are you even wondering that?”

“You’re saying you deal with a guy with big ass silver fangs and you never once wondered whether he eats people or not?” I couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t crossed either of their minds. I mean, come on. If he was kinky enough to give himself sharp silver fangs, it wasn’t completely out of the question to wonder if he liked to do a little more than just bite with them.

“To be fair,” Mike harrumphed, “we don’t deal with him or his brother that often.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Viper pointed to his brother. “And, no, not once did that thought ever cross my mind… until now, so thanks for that.” He made a yuck sound, which only made me laugh and scoot closer to him.

I threw my arms around his neck and grinned. “Oh, don’t be so squeamish.”

“I’m not squeamish,” Viper hissed. “That’s just disgusting.” He was going to say more, but I brought my mouth to his, kissing whatever it was away.

“Don’t forget your shirt,” Mike reminded him, which caused Viper’s mouth to tug off mine.

Both Viper and I glanced down at his shirt. Didn’t see it before, but now that I was looking, there was some blood splatter. “You killed someone without me?” I pouted, frowning, and I disentangled myself from him.

“We didn’t kill anybody,” Viper said. “Just had to rough someone up a bit.”

Hmm. Well, had to be more than a little bit to get blood to spray on you, but I wasn’t going to argue about the details. I let him and Mike go, wandering over to the living room area and plopping myself down on the couch. Reclining back, I turned on the TV and started to channel surf.

Viper rejoined me after a while, a new shirt clinging to his body, and the hours passed.

The day turned into afternoon, and afternoon turned into evening. Mike was in the kitchen, cooking up some pasta and chicken dish—not a huge fan of pasta, but a gal couldn’t complain since she wasn’t too particular about cooking herself—when the doorbell rang.

I got up and answered it, already knowing who it was, since he’d texted me a while back and said he was on his way. Harvey. I started to smile when I greeted him, but right then I noticed something was wrong. Something was different, and when I realized what it was, my smile morphed into a wince.

He looked absolutely dorky.

“Oh, Harvey. You got a haircut. Why the fuck would you get a haircut right before a date? Don’t all guys know you look ridiculous for a day or two afterward?” Maybe that was just me being overdramatic, but I’d always thought so growing up, and that much hadn’t changed. You’d think since guys had to get their hair cut more often, I’d be used to seeing it, but nope. Definitely not.

They just looked silly, and Harvey was no exception.

His normally windswept hair was an inch shorter on top. What adorable dorkiness he had going for him before was severely diminished now with that short hair.

“I look ridiculous?” Harvey echoed, frowning slightly. He lifted a hand to his hair, touching his newly-chopped locks. Or what was left of them. It looked almost like a buzzcut now. It’d take a while for it to grow back to the way it was. “Oh, no…”

I let my eyes fall to his clothes, taking in his black slacks and the dark blue button-down shirt he wore tucked into them, thick leather belt and all. “Oh, just come in.” I stepped aside, letting him enter the house. I didn’t lock the door, knowing Sylvester was going to pop in shortly.

Leading Harvey through the house, we came upon Mike and Viper in the kitchen, and the moment they saw him, they looked at me for an explanation.

“I know exactly what you’re all thinking: there is no way this is ever going to work with that stupid haircut,” I said, quite dramatically too. “I don’t know how I’m going to salvage this—”

Viper spoke up, “That’s actually not what I was thinking. I’m more wondering why the hell he’s here again.”

“He has a date,” I said.

“Yeah, so go to it, then?” Viper shrugged, clearly not giving a shit. Mike returned to cooking, which left me and Harvey to deal with the fiasco that was his haircut, while Viper looked on, frowning at us both.

“You should’ve asked me before getting your hair cut,” I told him. “You shouldn’t have… ugh, whatever. No use crying over soured milk.” What’s done was done; there was no reattaching the chopped off hair or using magic to make it grow fast.

I wished there was, though.

“Spilled milk,” Harvey said, and when I gave him a look, he clarified, “I think the saying is no use crying over spilled milk. Not sour milk. Milk has an expiration date, so if you go past it, you can pretty much expect soured milk, but spilled milk? That milk could’ve been…” He trailed off when he noticed even Mike had turned to glare at him on that one. “Sorry. I guess I ramble when I’m nervous.”

Yeah, that much was obvious.

“What time is your date?” I asked.

“The dinner reservation is at seven. I’d like to be there first, so I’d like to get there at least ten minutes early.”

Viper was annoyed again. “That’s two hours from now.”

“I know. I got antsy,” Harvey replied.

“Why the fuck come here so early, even if you’re antsy?”

Harvey glanced at Viper, and he didn’t say anything right away. He took his time in saying, “With everything that’s happened… I don’t really—that is to say, I spent years being at Bianca’s beck and call, so I never had the time to…” He trailed off, but I had the feeling I knew what he was trying to say.

“Have friends?” I offered, and I was met with a sheepish, semi-embarrassed look from Harvey.

Yeah, somehow I think we all had that figured out already.

Moving on from that awkward subject. “Okay, well, first I’m going to ask you to take off your belt and untuck that shirt. You’re going on a date, not a business meeting.” At least he didn’t try to wear a suit. I guess this was a step up from that, but that damned haircut… that really set him back in the cuteness factor—and if Harvey wasn’t cute, he was just awkward, and who the hell wanted that?

I did what I could for him, which took a whole two minutes—and that left us with an hour and fifty-eight minutes to go before the man had to leave for his date.

Harvey’s nose turned up toward Mike. “Oh, that smells delicious. Do you think I can get some? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Mike glared at him, and it looked like he was going to say something mean, but I held up a finger to the mountain man and said in his place, “Yes, you can have some, as long as you’re not going to throw it up or make a mess on your clothes. Now, when you see her walk in, you’re going to get up and greet her with a smile.”

“Yes, of course, I know all that.”

“Do you know what to do after that?”

“Tell her that she looks nice.”

I nodded. “Good! See? You’re not that bad at dating. You’re just a little rusty, and your style needs some work, and—”

Harvey coughed and muttered, “I get it.”

Viper was in the process of getting down three plates, but when I shot him a glare, he got down a fourth for Harvey. “I think this whole thing is fucking ridiculous,” he remarked. “If you can’t get a girl, that’s your problem, not any of ours.” Near the stove, Mike harrumphed his agreement. “And, anyway, what the hell would you know about dating, Lola? Pretty sure if you had to go on a date, you wouldn’t know what the fuck to do, either.”

“Hey, I take insult to that,” I muttered, shooting my sexy serpent man a frown. “I…” It was as I started to argue with him, purely out of habit, that I realized he was right. With my history, with my no-good brother and stupid-ass parents, I’d never gone on dates. I’d been too busy drowning in my own personal hell. Dating, meeting cute guys, hooking up with them and not really caring about the consequences; none of that was me. I’d never wanted to.

And, hell, I’d never really had friends either, much like Harvey, though me not having friends was due to a far different reason.

Hmm. Maybe I liked Harvey and wanted to help him so much because he had opportunities I didn’t, because he could now live his life in a way I never could when I was younger. If I didn’t have three boyfriends, I might be a little jealous of him, but I did, so jealous I was not.

At least that’s what I told myself.

“Okay, fine,” I relented. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t have much experience dating, but I do have a lot of experience when it comes to reeling in stupid guys. Dating can’t be that hard, even if Harvey is acting like he’s useless.”

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he said not a thing, which was probably for the best. Any argument there wouldn’t get that far because it’d be defenseless.

Mike spread the food across four plates, and we sat side by side near the island as we ate. Harvey had taken up the far left seat, and I sat beside him, Viper on my right and Mike on his. We could’ve gone to the table to eat, but then one of the guys would’ve either had to sit beside Harvey or stared at him while eating. Obviously, they both wanted to pretend Harvey wasn’t here.

It was quiet for a while, save for the noise from the television set in the adjacent living room and the sound of forks hitting the plate. That was, until Harvey hummed and said, “Ooh, this is great. You’re a good cook.”

Mike only grunted in response, which was fair. Holding up a full-blown conversation wasn’t something he enjoyed doing. If anyone preferred sticking to silence, it was Big Mike.

Viper and Mike scarfed down the food, I think to get away from Harvey, because once they were done eating, they hurried up to put their plates in the dishwasher and then disappeared upstairs. Maybe to work out, maybe to bitch about my strange desire to help Harvey get a life. Who could say for sure?

I didn’t get up the moment I finished eating; I simply swung to my left to look at Harvey. He’d only taken a small portion of pasta, and yet he was still eating. I wouldn’t say he played with his food, but he came pretty damned close. “What’s this girl’s name again? You didn’t really tell me much about her.” I still kicked myself in the ass for being too busy talking to Newton to see someone come onto Harvey and slip him her number.

Yeah. What were the odds that happened while I wasn’t paying attention? Apparently higher than I thought. But, hey, maybe I wasn’t the only one kind of enthralled by Harvey’s awkward boyish charm. He was a far cry from the macho, murderous men I was used to dealing with.

“Giulia. She’s…” Harvey paused, grinning to himself. “She’s gorgeous. I don’t know why someone like her would ever want to go out on a date with me, but—” He stopped talking the second I punched his arm. A hard one, too. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“Stop acting like that. Be confident. Girls love confidence. Just don’t be too cocky, because once you cross that line, you get in my territory, and believe me when I say, Harvey, you don’t want to be a man in my territory.” The men who liked to take advantage of women were often the ones who were a notch above cocky. They thought their shit didn’t stink, but I was always there to remind them it stunk worse than the city dump.

Harvey was busy rubbing his arm where I hit him, so I went on, “Just have fun. Relax.” I didn’t think I had to tell him to not be pushy; I didn’t see Harvey as the type who would strongarm a gal into taking him home… or strongarm her into going home with him. Giulia, whoever she was, was safe with Harvey.

One of the few men in this entire city I could think that about wholeheartedly. Kind of sad if you thought about it.

Harvey joined me in the living room, watched a little TV with me as he waited for the time to count down. Viper and Mike stayed away. It was kind of funny; Viper was overprotective, jealous when guys looked at me when we were out and about in the city, but he could leave me alone with Harvey without a problem. I think that said more about Harvey than it did about Viper.

Not too long after we’d settled watching some rerun of a show dealing with a bunch of smart people and a stupid laugh track that I heard the main door to the house open and slam shut. I didn’t get up; I knew who it was, although the shouting voice from the front vestibule was also a dead giveaway.

“I had Fang change the locks so you’d actually be able to lock the fucking door!” Sylvester’s voice didn’t sound happy, and I could only smile.

Harvey threw me a look. “Was it because of me? I could’ve just given you the key back—” He stopped when Sylvester appeared.

“You,” Sylvester growled out, blue gaze narrowing at Harvey and me on the couch. “You’re not supposed to be here, Harvey.” He wore a suit, the fabric snug on his body. No one wore a suit quite like Sylvester, that’s for sure. Made me all hot and bothered just looking at him.

Mostly because I knew every inch of the body underneath.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” I spoke with a giggle. “He’s got a date soon. He won’t be here too much longer.” I was slow to get up, walk around the couch, and meet Sylvester. I leaned my body against his chest, breathing him in. Not a speck of blood anywhere to be seen on his clothes; he didn’t like getting them dirty when he didn’t have to.

Sylvester frowned at me. “Why should I give a fuck about whether or not he has a date? He shouldn’t even be here.”

“You know, it’s kind of handy to have a driver,” I said. “What if I need to go somewhere and you and the guys are all gone, taking care of business? I never officially got my license. I don’t know how I’d be behind the wheel, but—”

“Point taken,” he was measured in admitting. I didn’t think he trusted me to be behind the wheel, and I couldn’t blame him. “But still. I don’t trust him.”

“Uh, I’m right here,” Harvey pointed out. “I can hear you.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering, “Be nice.”

“What do I get for it?” Sylvester asked, taking both his hands and cupping my face, angling my head back as he gazed deep into my eyes. I knew a few of the things he had in mind; I could tell based on how hard those blue eyes of his bore into me.

“What do you want?” I spoke in a whisper, licking my lower lip.

His gaze fell to watch my tongue. “I could think of a few things.” My lower half burned in response, and he let me go. I sauntered back to the couch and sat down, doing my best to calm myself down.

These guys… oh, a single look from them got me all worked up. Never thought I’d see the day when one guy, let alone three, made everything in me go haywire. It was the damnedest thing, and you know what?

I was happy. I was happy with them, with this little empire I’d taken and claimed for myself. I never wanted it to end, never wanted anyone to take it away from me. This city, these guys… they were my home now, not Lionsgrove. They were my family, even Big Mike.

It’s funny. With all the sins I’d committed, all of the blood I’d coated these hands with, I definitely didn’t deserve to find happiness with anyone. It wasn’t as if I’d gone out searching for it. In fact, by all accounts, these men should’ve killed me in the beginning.

But they didn’t, and so here we were. Man, how things had changed.

Chapter Five – Sylvester

In the end, Harvey left thirty minutes before seven. I overheard the exchange between him and Lola; she argued he shouldn’t get there too early, lest he risk looking desperate. He, on the other hand, said you never knew what traffic would be like downtown. True, I supposed, although it was so late you were guaranteed to avoid the rush hour traffic.

Anyway, Lola couldn’t stop him from going early, and I wasn’t going to complain. The whole point of those locks, besides making the house a safer place for her, was to keep that asshole out. Sure, he might not seem too bad, but just because he could be awkward every now and then didn’t mean he wasn’t silently planning his revenge. Lola killed his boss, after all. No one in this city could forget that.

When she returned to me after walking him out, I asked, “Did you lock the door?”

She folded her arms over her chest, and for a moment, I thought she was going to tell me that she didn’t. But, thankfully, she sighed and muttered, “Yeah, yeah, your precious door is locked. Happy?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t like I thought Lola was a damsel in distress, a helpless girl who didn’t know left from right. It was more like I didn’t trust this city to leave her alone. She’d killed the Bloody Princess and had a hand in taking down the big man himself, Carl DeLuca. So what if most of the men who’d been loyal to Bianca left town after they lost the war? They could come back. Or they could be hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike. I didn’t trust any of them.

In fact, I only trusted my brother, Viper, and Big Mike.

And Lola, obviously, but sometimes she was too brash to see straight. Thinking with your gut wasn’t always the best thing to do. She might’ve had a death wish before, but I hoped being with me, being with us, was changing her. At least a little.

“Now,” I started, getting up off the couch, “I believe you owe me for being nice.” I wasn’t often one to play games when it came to sex—that was much more my brother’s territory than mine—but what could I say? Lola brought it out of me. She made me a hungry, ravenous beast, and when it came to her, I could never get my fill.

She shot me a not-so-shy smile, took my hand, and led me to the stairs. Up we went, heading straight to her room. It used to be Bianca’s room; the walls were white. Lola had changed the bedding, but beyond that, it still screamed Bloody Princess. Could use a paint job…

Lola brought me out of my mind by letting go of my hand and shutting the door. Just the two of us now; no interruptions. No Harvey. No Viper to share in her body. No Mike skulking in the background. Just Lola and me.

“Now,” she purred out, her voice taking on a sultry tone she’d undoubtedly used to ensnare countless of men before me, “what should we do, hmm?” As she asked, her fingers worked to undo the buttons on my suit jacket. Once they were undone, she helped me out of it, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. With a wicked grin, she grabbed my shirt and yanked it up, pulling it out of the waistband of my pants, untucking it.

I watched her, drinking in every move she made. She’d told me in the beginning that she was supposed to be her parents’ angel, that they’d dressed her up, made her act a certain way, and it had killed her inside. She was beautiful, yes, with that long blond hair and those big, blue eyes, but I’d known from the beginning.

Lola Harding was no angel of light. Whatever goodness had been inside her when she was born had been stolen from her, forcibly taken by the world and the shitty people she was born to. By her brother.

No, Lola was no angel sent from heaven. If she was an angel now, an angel of anything, she was an angel of death, and when she donned her mask, she was on her own level. She was everything. She was death, destruction, and chaos all rolled into one.

And she was mine.

Lola dropped to her knees before me, working on undoing my belt and yanking it off. She undid the button on my pants, and then the zipper. By the time she pulled my pants down, my cock was rock hard in my boxer briefs. How could it not be? How could I not want to take this girl, throw her on the bed, and fuck her until she screamed my name? Maddox had always been the one addicted to sex and all the highs it brought, but when it came to Lola, I think we were all quite addicted to the particular high she gave.

She ran her hand over the bulge of my cock, tilting her head back and gazing up at me. She wore no makeup right now, but she was still gorgeous. She didn’t need makeup to highlight her natural beauty. Thick eyelashes, full, supple lips. Skin that held not a single mark or scar… besides the one I knew rested on her stomach, but I wasn’t going to think of that one right now. When I did, I tended to get pissed off.

Letting out a sigh, Lola pulled down my boxer briefs, and my cock swung out in response, nearly smacking her in the face. She giggled, and then she leaned closer to it, licking the tip with her tongue. Just a quick flick, and I had to hold back the urge I had to grab her and push my cock deep into that throat and fuck her gorgeous mouth like I’d never fucked it before.

There would be time for that, but right now, I’d let her take her time, as agonizing as it was. It would only make the orgasm sweeter.

Lola brought a hand to the base of my cock, pulling the skin taught, and then she parted her lips, opening wide. She took my length in, just an inch, swirling her tongue around the tip. I fought the groan from escaping me, but I was unable to keep it down when she began to bob her head along my length.

Fuck. Such an agonizingly slow pace. How could I stand there and pretend she didn’t drive me crazy? My eyelids slammed shut, and I focused on the sensations she gave me, on the way her mouth took my cock in.

And that mouth? Oh, it was fucking heaven. Warm and wet, tight when she deep-throated me, almost as good as her pussy.

Nothing could beat that sweet space between her legs, though. Nothing at all. When I said she was addicting, perhaps that wasn’t quite a strong enough word to describe it. She wasn’t the high I chased; she was the air I needed to breathe, to keep going, and the way her body made mine feel only served to remind me of that.

I brought a hand to the back of her head, my hips beginning to move of their own accord. As much as I wanted to stand there and let her dictate the pace, sometimes I couldn’t fight the beast inside, and right now, the beast wanted to fuck this girl into oblivion. Make her mine once more. Neither of us could get enough.

Lola took every thrust without complaint. Not that she could complain with a mouthful of dick, but whatever. I rocked along, my balls swaying with the movement, searching for the precipice of my pleasure, needing that orgasm. Filling her body with my cum gave me a certain type of smug satisfaction I couldn’t get anywhere else.

I didn’t know how long I went at her mouth, didn’t know how many minutes passed. Not too long, I’d wager, because I could feel my lower half starting to burn with the need to come, certain parts of me tensing up in anticipation. I must’ve been seconds away from erupting when my phone started to ring.

It was in the pocket of my suit jacket, which currently lay on the bed in a heap. The sound of the cell ringing brought me out of my rhythm for a few moments, and it took a lot out of me to shake off the need to go answer it and re-focus on Lola and her mouth.

The cell stopped ringing, whoever it was going to voicemail. If it was important, they’d leave a message and I’d get to it when I got to it. Preferably after I fucked Lola’s sweet, tight pussy. As spectacular as her mouth felt, I knew I’d need more. I always did.

I resumed my pace, my hips rocking my cock deep into that mouth, but what would you know, my phone rang yet again. I jerked to a stop, pulling my cock out of Lola’s mouth, wishing death upon whoever it was calling. If it was Maddox, I swore to God, I would fucking kill him.

Lola licked her lips, crawled over to the bed, and searched through my jacket to find my phone. It still rang when she pulled it out, and she crawled back before me, retaking her place before my cock. Lifting the phone to me, she said, “Go ahead, answer it. I got this.”

The very moment I took the phone from her, she gripped my cock with her hand tightly and puckered her mouth over the tip once more. With no hesitation whatsoever, she began to bob along my length again, this time her hand as an added tool.

Goddamn it. How was I supposed to answer this call while she went to town on my dick?

My eyes glanced at the caller ID, and even though I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to speak without giving away the fact that I was kind of in the middle of something, I answered the phone. “What is it?” I could’ve sounded nicer, I supposed, since it wasn’t someone I usually spoke to, but given the fact that Lola was literally sucking me off, he’d have to take what he could get from me.

“Is that how you normally say hello?” the man on the other line harrumphed. He didn’t sound happy, but I suppose the man himself was hardly happy in general. I heard a rumor he’d gotten himself a girl, but I’d never met her. The Beast usually steered clear of me and my kind, doing his own thing.

Strange that he called me now, though, after his brother was just here this morning.

I started to reply, but he went on, “I don’t really give a shit. This is more a courtesy call than anything else.”

“A courtesy call?” I echoed, a little confused. Not my normal state of being, that’s for sure. “What’s this about, Beast?” Saying his name got Lola’s eyebrows to shoot up. Ever since meeting Fang, she’d always wondered about the other one, the older one. She’d never met him.

That said, she didn’t stop bobbing along my cock. She kept working on it, working on me, doing her best to get me off even though I was on the phone. I had to press my lips together to stop myself from groaning when she started to play with my balls with her other hand.

Fuck, this girl. At this rate, I wouldn’t last the whole phone call.

“During a routine check of the area, my boys found a body. I was going to tell them to dump it in the river, but I figured I’d give you a call first, seeing as how it’s not the first one. I heard you’ve been dealing with them. From what I understand, this one’s… a little different.”

I could hardly think straight, the feeling in my lower half threatening to overtake me. Lola kept at it, and I knew I was seconds from coming. “Different how?” I could hardly get the words out, and I knew I sounded flustered.

Thankfully, the Beast didn’t address how I sounded. As he explained what made the body different, I tuned out a little, unable to help myself. My hips rocked forward, plunging my cock deeper into her mouth. A stifled groan left me, and I had the wherewithal to hold the phone against my shoulder so I didn’t moan directly into the line with Beast.

I came in a rush, my cock spewing its cum straight into her mouth, and Lola grinned as much as she could while she took it.

She’d probably gloat later that she’d gotten me off while I was on the phone, but—

Shit.

I brought the phone back to my ear. I hadn’t really heard what was different about this one, so I said, “Don’t do anything with it yet. I want to see it. Text me the exact location, and I’ll meet you and your guys there.” You’d think talking after coming would be easier than it was before, but it was still just as difficult.

As Lola licked the corners of her mouth and sat back, flicking her gaze between my cock and my face, the Beast spoke on the other line, “Fine, but get here soon. I got a business deal going down at midnight, so we’re on the clock.” And then he hung up. A few seconds later, my phone dinged with a text from him, telling me where exactly I needed to go to see it.

Damn it.

“So that was the Beast, huh? Fang’s brother? You going to meet him somewhere?” She hopped up, ran her hands down her sides, and added, “Because, if so, I definitely want to come. I want to meet the guy who likes to tear people apart.”

I shook my head. “No.” Even though my cock was still hard, even though I wanted nothing more than to bury it between her legs, I bent over to grab my pants and pull them up. Once they were on, I tucked in my shirt and fastened my belt, then went over to grab my jacket. When I turned back to face Lola, she was frowning at me.

“No?” she echoed. “Why the fuck not? I’ve been dying to meet the man! Put a face to the name, all that jazz. I’m coming.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet the Beast. It’s…” I’d been hoping I could handle this on my own, that I didn’t need to involve her, mostly because I knew the moment Lola got involved, she’d make it her personal mission to find whoever was responsible—and if there was one thing I knew about Lola, it was that she didn’t care enough about her own personal safety to not be stupid about it.

Lola stared at me, waiting, not very patient. “Well? Are you going to spit it out, or what?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” If I told her now, it’d take too long. I could tell her while we drove there. And since I’d be driving, I hoped that meant she wouldn’t flip out on me too much. I only hoped she understood why I’d kept it from her.

She pursed her lips, not appearing satisfied, but then again, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew the whole truth. I didn’t wait a second longer; I left the room, Lola on my tail.

“What about Viper and Big Mike?” she asked.

“I’ll text them when we’re on our way. We shouldn’t keep the Beast waiting.”

As we headed down the stairs, Lola scoffed. “It’s the Beast, is it? Not just Beast? What’s his real name, anyway?”

“Maximus, but I wouldn’t advise calling him that unless you want to piss him off. He goes by the Beast.” I’d been raised in this life, so I didn’t find it too outlandish. Everyone had their little nicknames, but the Beast’s was well-earned, as was Fang’s.

I created a group text with Viper and Mike just before we got on the road, telling them I’d taken Lola, and that we’d be back in a bit. The world had become one of twilight, the sun still setting, but since the sky was so cloudy, it was basically night. Seven o’clock. Seemed a little early for a body to show up, unless that body had been there since last night, and the Beast’s men had only recently discovered it.

“So?” Lola asked. “We’re on our way. You going to tell me what this is about now?”

I kept both hands on the wheel as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. I knew where we were headed: the outskirts of the city, in the district businesses had abandoned a generation ago. There were no more manufacturing jobs in this place; hadn’t been for a long time.

“There’ve been murders,” I mumbled.

“Yeah? So?”

I threw a glance in her direction. “Not by me or any of my guys.”

Lola shrugged, still not quite getting it. “Hate to break it to ya, but this city is chock full of murders. Hell, I just killed someone the other night, and you don’t see me too torn up about it. Shit happens. Here, shit just happens more often. Why does it concern you?”

“I’m not talking about a robbery gone wrong,” I said. “Or someone murdering their friend in a fit of rage. This is different. I knew it after the second one, because it was so much like the first. Jimmy brought me in. Something told him it wasn’t normal. Even for this city, it’s… it’s bad, Lola.”

“Jimmy…” She tried to remember. “That your policeman friend?”

Friend was not the word I’d use to describe him, but I let it go. I nodded.

“What makes it different? What makes this bad, even for this city?” Lola asked, and when I didn’t answer right away, she said, “Sylvester, this isn’t like you. Just tell me already.”

No use beating around the bush anymore. “They’re all young women. Pretty—at least before whoever’s doing it got their hands on them. Late teens, early twenties. They were all found naked, with their necks cut so deeply their heads… have a hard time staying on when the bodies are moved.”

“You’re telling me someone’s in my city killing girls, and you kept it from me? What the fuck, Sylvester! Why didn’t I hear about this sooner? Why haven’t I heard it on the news?” She lobbied question after question at me, and no answer I gave her would calm her.

“You haven’t heard it on the news because we’re keeping it under wraps. Most of the police force listens, especially when you agree to make massive donations.” Donations, blackmail. Either or. “And you didn’t hear about it because I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you’d want to run off and play vigilante—which you are not, by the way.”

Lola let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This city’s mine too, you know. You don’t get to make those decisions for me. If you want a girl that’ll shut up and let you rule over her like some kind of king, that ain’t me, sweetcheeks.” Her voice dripped venom, but it was much deserved.

Of course, I shouldn’t have kept this from her for so long. Or at all. But it was hard for me to want to tell her these things when I knew she’d put herself in danger because of it. She’d want to find the person responsible—which, honestly, I did too; murder like this was bad for the business. For any business, really, but Lola would be stupid about it. She’d stop at nothing to find them, and she wouldn’t care if she got hurt in the process.

I couldn’t lose her. I just couldn’t.

“I didn’t tell you because I worry about you sometimes,” I admitted.

Lola’s glare did not soften. “I can take care of myself. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Her jaw ground, and she looked as if she wanted to kill something, which wasn’t unusual for her, but right now all of her ire came directed toward me.

“I know, I know. I just remember when we first found you. When things were… more complicated. You were ready to go. It’s like you were waiting to die, like you welcomed it. I don’t want you to go back to that, Lola. You’re ours now, so I’m not going to apologize for keeping this from you, because I was only trying to keep you safe.”

Lola got quiet for a few moments, and she turned her head to the side to gaze out of the window, at the passing scenery. I wished I could be in her head, know what she was thinking about. It wasn’t a question of whether or not she was pissed at me. I knew she was. No, the question was how pissed, how upset she was at me for keeping all of this from her for so long.

I decided to ask her, “What are you thinking about right now?” We were getting close to the abandoned waterfront district; I hoped she didn’t make a scene in front of the Beast’s men. I hoped we checked out the body and left and that that would be that.

But this was Lola.

“I’m thinking,” she answered after a while, slow to turn those blue eyes back to me. Shadows danced across her face, making their hue almost black. The skies had officially turned dark during the drive, the only light what few streetlights we passed. “I’m thinking I’m so used to being on my own that I’m not used to anyone caring enough to try to keep me safe. I’m thinking maybe I shouldn’t be so mad… but then I think about all the girls who’ve lost and will lose their lives at the hands of dickwads, and I start wondering if I’m not mad enough.”

That was perhaps one of the rawest things she’d ever said out loud. Lola wasn’t very good at talking about her feelings; neither was Maddox. The two were very similar like that. Me? I preferred to talk things out… mostly because when I resorted to action, I didn’t stop until someone was beaten into a bloody pulp or their brains had exploded from the impact of a bullet. I’d take any baby steps Lola could make.

But she wasn’t done. She went on, “I start wondering if you’re not mad enough.”

I slowed the car down, pulling into the main street that led to the waterfront warehouses, where the Beast and his men waited for us. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t just mean you. I mean everyone. Everyone is so used to girls going missing, to ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands getting so mad all they can do is kill. Why doesn’t the world give a shit about us? Why doesn’t anybody seem to care? Without us—well, not me anymore—but without us, there’d be no more humans anymore. You need us, but maybe that’s why. It’s the biggest fucking lie of them all. You need us, so you pretend you don’t care at all, just to put us in our place and make us feel worthless, so we come crawling to you for validation, for reassurance, for love, even when it kills us. Congrats. You’ve officially flipped the script.”

I slowed the car. No one drove down here anymore, unless they were like us, or dumping a body. I put the car in park right there, knowing we had to get this out before meeting the Beast and his men.

Turning the top half of my body toward Lola, I whispered, “I care.”

Lola didn’t miss a beat: “About me. I know, but who will care about all those girls that fall through the cracks? It ain’t the police. It ain’t the government. If I don’t care about them, who will?”

I knew it then: there was nothing I could say that would dissuade Lola from investigating. She’d want to find whoever was killing girls in the city, and she’d do whatever she could in order to find them. And then she’d kill them, laughing in glee all the while, but she’d make it last. She would make their misery last as long as she possibly could.

Even though I didn’t want to, I found myself saying, “We’re going to find whoever’s doing this, and we’re going to make them pay, okay? I won’t keep it from you anymore. If there are more bodies after this one, you’ll be the first to know.” After I knew, of course.

That seemed to placate her, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Okay, good. Glad we’re on the same page again.” I could tell she still sounded hurt, maybe annoyed at me, but that was probably as good as I would get tonight, when everything was still so fresh.

I resumed driving, heading to the warehouse the Beast had specified.

The waterfront, from what I understood, used to be bustling. The river was large, deep enough it could take massive boats to carry shipments in and out. Those days had long since passed, but nothing was ever torn down or repurposed.

We ended up at a warehouse on the far side of the district from where Lola had killed that guy from the club. It was the Beast’s territory; I knew enough to steer clear of it, mostly because he didn’t want anything to do with politics. Fang was much more amiable, go figure. A single light shone above the warehouse doors, enough to illuminate the area. It flickered every now and then.

I spotted two cars, and I pulled right beside them. I was slow to get out. It was as I shut my car door that someone rounded the far-left corner of the warehouse, holding onto a gun. Tall and a little lanky, with light hair that caught the old yellow bulb’s light, the man lowered his pistol when he saw it was me.

“Sylvester?” the man spoke. “Good. The boss was getting antsy. Come on.” Without another word, he turned around and headed back around the side of the warehouse, disappearing from my line of sight.

Lola and I exchanged glances, and then we trailed after him. The night air was inexplicably cool tonight, the breeze flowing off the water enough to whip Lola’s hair all around. Struggle as she might to tuck her hair behind her ears, it didn’t help much.

As we rounded the corner of the warehouse, we saw a small group of men huddled around an old dumpster. It was only because two of the men carried flashlights that I was able to see just how rusted the dumpster was. Old, abandoned, forgotten, years past its prime. The body must’ve been dumped on the other side of the dumpster, for I couldn’t see it yet.

A large, imposing figure turned away from the men, and he walked toward us, meeting us halfway, about twenty feet away from the dumpster and the body. The man who’d led us there gave him a nod before rejoining the others.

The lack of light only made the man more imposing. His figure was easily over six feet tall, his shoulders wide like a linebacker’s. His hair was dark, though his eyes were even darker. He growled out his greeting, his voice low and scratchy, “About fucking time you showed up. I was growing tired of waiting for you.” He didn’t even acknowledge Lola, who was currently leaning around him to try to see.

“We live on the other side of town. We got here as fast as we could,” I told him. I glanced at Lola, finding that she’d turned her attention to the man before us. “Lola, this is the Beast.” He was, perhaps, one of the most intimidating men I’d ever met. Not that I could be intimidated by sheer size, but the man was like a bear, only full of muscle.

“The Beast, huh?” she asked, cocking her head and drinking him in… a little too much, if you asked me. “So, you’re Fang’s brother? I can totally see the resemblance. You’re both super creepy, but I love it.” She paused, craning her neck back to meet his stare. “You’re a big guy, aren’t you? Fang’s tall, but you’re… very wide.”

“And you’re the one who killed the Bloody Princess and took her throne,” the Beast muttered, though he didn’t sound too impressed with Lola’s feats. “Why are you here?” Straight to the point. A man like him didn’t often beat around the bush, I didn’t think.

“I’m here to see the body. I only recently found out that someone’s been killing girls here, and I plan on finding them and making them regret every single choice they’ve ever made.” Lola probably would’ve said more, would’ve admired the Beast more, but she had a one-track mind, and she pushed around him, walking toward the men with flashlights.

The Beast drew his gaze to me. “You seem to have your hands full with her.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He harrumphed. That or he chuckled. Honestly, the sound could’ve gone either way. “I used to think love was a fool’s game, that I was better than that. It proves me wrong every day. It’s good to see I’m not alone in that, at least.” He turned. “Come, look at the body. Get what you need from it.”

As we walked toward it, to where Lola froze, I said, “I could get my guys here, have them clean it up—”

“No, the river’s right there. It’s where the body will go. Wherever it washes up will not be my problem.”

“When did your men find it?”

“About an hour ago. They do daily sweeps of the area. They heard rumors there might be a serial killer stalking the streets, so they called me. When I saw the state of the body, I remembered hearing you wanted any and all information.” The Beast didn’t work for me, but our networks did overlap some, so it made sense that he’d heard about my desire to find the culprit. “It’s smart to keep this to ourselves for now. No use inducing a city-wide panic. As criminal as this place is, serial killers are usually a different matter.”

Didn’t I know it. I currently stared at one, though she’d gone a long time since her last ritualistic kill. The guy from the club didn’t count; when you were a serial killer, you had a ritual. Hers was getting all dressed up, going to clubs, drinking enough so she could pretend she was buzzed, and going home with her chosen man. She’d expressed desire to restart her killings, but I didn’t like the idea of her being alone, going after men. What if something happened to her? What if she killed someone else she shouldn’t, like Mario?

Once we reached the group of people, I stepped forward, standing beside Lola. The ones holding onto the flashlights had pointed them at the body on the ground, and I immediately saw what was different about this one.

The poor girl was young, maybe in her early twenties. Her eyes were closed, her limbs splayed out every which way. Naked, just like the others, not a single shred of clothing anywhere to be seen. Bruises littered her skin, as if she’d been beaten before she’d been killed—but that wasn’t what made her different than the others. No, all the others had gone through something similar.

A deep, garish wound rested on her throat, a cleave so jagged it looked like something had sawed through her, practically splitting her head from the rest of her body. If I got closer, I knew I’d be able to see down to her spine through that meaty cut. That part was just like the rest.

What was different? The face.

Unlike the previous victims, someone had taken a knife to this girl’s face, pulled it through her lips on both cheeks, all the way up, as if giving her a smile. A grotesque, horrific smile that would cause nightmares in kinder souls.

“Oh, my God,” Lola whispered, moving to kneel down beside the corpse. It would seem she was speechless at the sight of this girl and the state of her body, and her hands clenched into fists.

Whoever it was was evolving, coming into himself. Or herself, I supposed, but given the obvious sexual nature of this, I could only imagine a man as the culprit. All of these girls’ last few moments on this earth were filled with terror; I couldn’t put myself in their shoes, but I knew Lola could. I knew she looked at this girl and saw a version of herself.

This was why she hated men so much. This was why she had no faith in anyone or anything. The world was unkind to all, but to women, it gave a special kind of torture.

“Are you done?” the Beast asked. “Clock’s ticking. I’d like to get this shit cleaned up.”

“It’s not shit,” Lola hissed out, standing and whirling on the Beast. Though he was over a foot taller than her, she didn’t seem to care. She growled out, “She was a girl, and she deserved so much more than this.”

When the Beast said nothing in return, she shook her head and stormed away, walking past us, heading around the corner of the warehouse to where the cars were. Even from where I was, I could hear the door slam.

“Well, she’s colorful. An absolute ray of sunshine,” the man who’d gotten us chimed in, his voice dripping facetiousness. Beside him, a shorter man elbowed him and glared, to which he only shrugged.

“Thank you for letting me know,” I said, knowing I had to get back to Lola as soon as possible. “If you or your men find anything else, if you hear anything else—”

“I will let you know, of course,” the Beast said. “I enjoy my kills like everyone else in this city, but this… even I know this is too much. Whoever’s doing this is one sick fuck, I think we can all agree on that.”

I nodded once. That we definitely could. “I’ll see you.” I had no intention of seeing him again anytime soon, but I didn’t know what else to say at that point. Without waiting for him to say anything back, I turned on my heel and returned to the car, finding Lola broodingly staring out of the window, her arms folded over her chest.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at me. I’d bet anything she couldn’t get the image of that poor girl out of her head, and it would be all she’d be able to think about until the guy was caught.

I started up the car and we got going, leaving the Beast and his men to clean up.

It was after a few minutes of driving that Lola muttered, “I can’t believe you kept that yourself.”

I knew telling her that I’d hoped it would stop wasn’t the reply she wanted. Nothing I said right now could soothe her. So instead, I said, “It’s getting worse. The Black Dahlia smile was new. It was just the neck before. Whoever it is is learning he likes cutting into women.”

Lola sighed, and her hands fell to her lap. Still she stared out of the window. “I think you’re right. Someone doesn’t do that to another person if they don’t enjoy it. We need to find him before he finds someone else to hack up. I need to find him.”

This was exactly what I didn’t want, and yet I knew I couldn’t dissuade her from this. I said, “We will. We’ll find him.” I’d be damned if I let Lola go do this on her own. If she had to find the man responsible, I’d be right there beside her, as would Maddox and Viper. None of us would let Lola go off and do this by herself.

She let out another explosive sigh. “We don’t even know who she is. She had no clothes, so no phone, no I.D. She’s got to have a family out there, somewhere. Not all families are shit like mine. She could have parents who care about her, who are waiting for her to come home… and now they’ll never know.”

There was nothing I could tell her to ease that kind of pain. It wasn’t like I had a secret database that could identify someone by their face. Maybe the FBI did, but they weren’t in town—and if I had my way, they never would be. Just another reason why we had to keep this whole thing under wraps as best we could. The moment this turned national, we’d be welcoming a lot of outsider eyes here.

Suddenly Lola turned her body toward me. “I want to see the others, if they weren’t dumped like trash into the river.”

How I wished I could tell her no, convince her that she did not need to lay eyes on the other girls, but it would be a pointless endeavor. “You can see the first one. She’s a Jane Doe in the city morgue. I can call Jimmy in the morning, and he’ll bring us in—” I paused, glancing at her. “—if you’re sure about this.” I didn’t know what good it would do to look at the body, but if Lola needed to see it for herself, then I’d be right by her side.

“And why couldn’t the police just take this body, too? Why did the Beast have to dump her in the river?”

“Because if the police take more bodies in, it’s only a matter of time until the FBI gets involved. Serial killers tend to attract a hell of a lot of press—none of which we need.” I made a sharp right turn. “So, the Beast dumped the body, just like I ordered the others dumped. I’m sorry, Lola. I am, but it was the only thing I could do.”

“Besides hide it from me, you mean.”

Yes, besides that.

I dropped her off at her house, where Viper and Mike were waiting. I asked her if she wanted me to come in, spend the night with her, but she said no. I watched her hurry to the front door, waited until she was safe inside before leaving, and then I turned the car around in the driveway and headed home.

Maybe I should’ve fought with her, told her I would stay with her tonight. I couldn’t imagine what she was telling Viper and Mike. She’d probably demand the truth from them, ask them if they’d known about the bodies, and they’d say no, because I didn’t tell them. This was something I’d kept to myself; not even Maddox knew.

But I supposed that would have to change.

I made the drive home, pulled into the garage, and sat in my car for a few minutes. Maddox wouldn’t care nearly as much as Lola, but we all had to be on the same page. If I was off in business meetings and making sure the city was running as it should and everyone was doing everything they should, I might not be able to be at Lola’s side during this. If my father was still here, he’d handle the business side of things while I went off with Lola and found the fucker.

But my father wasn’t here. He was off being miserable by himself.

I supposed I could give him a call, ask him for advice, ask him what he’d do if he was in my position, but a part of me didn’t want to go to him. I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t handle running the show, taking the reins from him.

Fuck. This whole thing really sucked. In all of my father’s years of running this city with the DeLucas, tiptoeing the line to avoid an all-out war between the families, I didn’t think he’d ever had to deal with a fucking serial killer. Besides Lola.

Eventually, when the garage light shut off due to no movement, I got out of my car. It flickered back on, and I wandered to the door to the house. I pushed inside, hearing not a thing, so I went upstairs to find my brother. It took a few minutes to find where he was, but I found him.

Maddox sat hunched over in his room, at his desk. He didn’t use his desk for anything other than gun-cleaning, so I figured that’s what he was doing. I couldn’t see past his shoulders and back from where I was. When he heard me walk in, he stopped, straightened out, and turned his body away from the disassembled gun.

He went stir crazy in here by himself, but we’d agreed that we wouldn’t always be with Lola at the same time. I wouldn’t say we had rotating nights, but it was nice to be with her without having an audience, and since he was a taken man with a very jealous girlfriend, that meant he couldn’t go to the clubs to get wasted. He’d taken up learning everything he could about the vast array of guns we had here in the house.

We had a lot. A lot that didn’t see action often, but that didn’t stop him from cleaning them, taking them apart and putting them back together. I think he timed himself sometimes.

“Back already?” Maddox asked, a deep frown on his face. He ran a hand through his black hair, and I saw it was damp, telling me he’d been in the shower—probably jerking off, wishing he was with Lola.

He didn’t miss anything fun tonight, though.

It was still odd to me that he was growing his hair out. I’d gotten so used to the half-shaved head he used to have. With his hair grown out like this, you couldn’t tell he had a tattoo wrapped around his scalp.

“Yeah,” I said, moving to lean against the wall near him. I folded my arms over my chest, glancing at the gun pieces on his desk. “There’s something I need to tell you, something you should know.”

His black eyes narrowed at me. “What the fuck is it now, Sylvester? Just… tell me it’s not anything to do with Big Mike.” For as jealous as Lola got when girls gave him googly eyes, Maddox was just as jealous, if not more so. And, for whatever reason, he kept thinking Mike would make a move on Lola, want to join this not-so-typical relationship of ours.

Personally, I didn’t think we had anything to worry about with Big Mike. I didn’t think Lola was his type. He might find her attractive, might get off listening to us go at it like rabbits, but I didn’t think he’d ever cross the line with her.

“No,” I quickly said, and Maddox waved a hand through the air, as if telling me he didn’t care about anything else. “But given tonight’s events, it’s still something I think you should know about, especially since now Lola’s involved.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We have a serial killer.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t tell me she asked to go out again tonight—”

“Not Lola,” I cut in. “I’m talking about someone else. Someone’s been killing young women for the past two weeks. There was another body tonight—it was left on the waterfront, in the Beast’s territory. He heard I was trying to investigate and he gave me a call. Lola was with me when he called and… well, I was trying to keep it a secret.”

Maddox blinked. “A secret? Why? Who better than to catch another serial killer than Lola, the girl who got on our radar because she serial-killed our brother?”

“I don’t think serial-killed is a thing.”

“Whatever. So, she knows. And now I know. We all know. Now what?”

I rubbed a hand on my face, against my cheek. I could feel the stubble on my skin, a five o’clock shadow that had come in sometime during the past few hours. Maybe my stress was making it grow faster. Was that a thing?

Eventually, I said, “I don’t know. She wants to see the first body, so I’m taking her to the police station tomorrow. All the others were disposed of in the river. The last thing we need is the FBI poking around here. I can only imagine the things they’d find.”

He was slow in agreeing, “Yeah, you’re probably right there.” He waited a moment, thinking. “We really have no idea who it is?”

“No clue. Could be anyone. I’m assuming it’s a man though, given the state of the girls when they’re found: naked, beaten, their throats sliced deep.” I’d bet anything that their bodies had experienced more trauma than that before their throats were cut. Someone capable of doing that didn’t stop at a physical beating. No, he’d probably violated the young women in other ways. “Tonight’s was one step further, though. Her mouth was cut on both sides. He made her smile even in death.”

“Wasn’t there a famous murder about that, years and years ago?”

“The Black Dahlia,” I muttered. “I don’t think there’s any other connection, and I doubt he’s drawing inspiration from that.” I sighed. “At this point, I don’t know what his game is, why he’s doing this.”

“Shit,” Maddox said. “Well, that fucking sucks, don’t it? Just when things were starting to calm down, we go and get ourselves another serial killer. You got a plan to find him?”

“I’ve been putting men on watch at the clubs and the main bars downtown, but so far, nothing. I don’t know where he’s finding the victims. We don’t even know their names. They might not be from here. He might find them out of town, bring them in, and dump them.”

Maddox looked thoughtful. “Well, if he’s doing that, he’s doing it for a reason. To send a message. The question is: who’s he trying to send the message to?” His dark stare met mine, and for a few seconds, neither one of us spoke, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was.

Why make such a disgusting show of the bodies? Why not just take them and dump them into the river himself? Why not leave them to rot in the middle of nowhere, where the birds and insects could devour the flesh and leave only the bones?

He wanted someone to find them, but who?

“I’ll probably leave around nine tomorrow morning to pick Lola up. If you want to come, make sure to set an alarm.” I said nothing else as I walked out of his room, but I couldn’t deny the way my gut had hardened when Maddox had suggested the killer was sending a message.

This city had more than its fair share of crime, yes, but no serial killers until Lola. And now that Lola was in charge of the DeLuca fortune and estate, she’d made no secrets about being anti-man and pro-woman.

A single question rang in my head over and over as I went to my room and started to undress. I left my suit in a heap on the floor; I’d have to take it to the steamer to get the wrinkles out of it, but it didn’t matter. I had other suits to wear.

No, as the minutes turned into hours and I struggled to fall asleep, that same question kept popping up in my head over and over again.

Was this because of Lola?

Chapter Six – Lola

A face like mine stared back at me from the mirror—only it wasn’t mine. The cheekbones were more pronounced, the jaw a bit squarer and lined with blond stubble. Eyes there were my shade of blue sat in a face I knew deep within my soul. It wasn’t my face, though.

It was my brother’s.

Aiden stared at me from the mirror, watching me as I watched him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong here.

I blinked, and suddenly Aiden’s face had a red handprint on his right cheek. Blood smeared onto his white skin, and he was slow to smile at me… and that smile made my insides churn in the worst of ways.

That smile always conned everyone but me. He was my parents’ angel, the son who could do no wrong. Wasn’t he dead? Did I kill him? Why the fuck was he here? I felt insane. I reached up to run a hand through my hair, and as I did so, I watched Aiden’s reflection do the exact same thing. Whatever movement I made, he mirrored.

I froze. He froze.

I glared. He glared.

I gave him the stink eye, and he gave me one right back.

What the hell was going on here? I opened my mouth to speak, because maybe that wasn’t a mirror—maybe my mind was playing tricks on me; it’s been known to do that, after all. However, the moment I started to speak, Aiden’s reflection changed. It morphed into something different.

Still Aiden, unfortunately, but he was covered in blood. His blond hair dripped the gooey stuff, and his entire face was coated in it. With so much blood on him, it made his blue eyes pop, and he stared at me with a frown.

“Look at what you’ve done,” he whispered, his voice a nagging, creeping thing crawling up my neck, threatening to choke me. As he spoke, something dripped off the top of my head, falling onto my cheek and causing me to recoil a bit.

I went to smear it on my fingers, to get whatever it was off, and when I did, I saw that it was blood, just like Aiden. I blinked, and suddenly both of my hands dripped red. So much blood. So much. I couldn’t even remember where it had come from, how I’d stained my hands this time.

“Look at what you’ve done.” Again, my brother spoke it, but this time it wasn’t my brother’s voice. It sounded… strangely familiar, and it caused my head to snap up and my eyes to lock with the reflection in the mirror.

It wasn’t my brother anymore. It was me. I’d said that, although I definitely didn’t remember moving my lips to do so. I didn’t know what the hell was going on here, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. I almost felt sick.

The me in the mirror lifted her hands—bloody, like mine—and she slammed them against the mirror, cracking it into a spiderweb of broken pieces. I jerked back and…

…And then I woke up.

My eyes flew open, and I stared at the ceiling of my room. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains on the windows, illuminating the room, telling me it was time to get up and start the day. I didn’t move right away, mostly because I wrestled with a rapidly-beating heart and cold, clammy palms.

I didn’t often dream. Or, at least, I didn’t often remember my dreams. When I did, they typically involved Aiden and the things he’d done to me; more like memories than dreams or nightmares. But that? That was… not quite like anything I’d ever dreamed before. Did it mean something? Did it have a deeper meaning, or was my mind just fucked up?

Not sure if I wanted the answer to that question or not.

With a sigh, I worked on slowing my heartbeat before getting up. I shuffled out of my room and to the bathroom across the hall to shower, and as I stood there with the water pelting my back, I rubbed a hand over my face.

What the actual fuck was that? Seriously, what the fuck? I’d killed Aiden. I shouldn’t spare the fucktard any more thoughts, and he definitely shouldn’t be in my dreams anymore. His hands, his pointless reassurances… other body parts that didn’t belong with mine. Pinning me down, stopping me from screaming, telling me everything was going to be all right.

But that’s the thing: it wasn’t all right. It would never be all right. I’d learned that so very young. If ever there should’ve been a funeral for innocence lost, it should’ve been mine, because I laid it to rest before I even understood what was happening.

The water was hot on my head, but the heat didn’t bother me. Let my skin get red and flare up under the hot water. The pain reminded me that I was still alive, still kicking—and Aiden wasn’t. That was the most important thing. Still, I couldn’t shake the way that dream made me feel, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the fact that there was a serial killer here, hurting and killing the girls of this city.

My mirror opposite. I killed men, this other killer did the same to girls, though I’d bet anything his reason wasn’t like mine. I’d bet anything he was just a stupid, angry man who wanted to exert his power and control over someone. Over girls.

I washed up and got out of the shower. I dried myself off and left the towel on the vanity countertop, walking across the hall to get some clothes. I chose a simple black shirt and some tight jeans. The sleeves were short, showing off the tattoo on my arm.

It’s funny. Sometimes I forgot I’d gotten a tattoo, and then I happened to look down and see it. What I should do was get a skull tattooed on me somewhere. Then I’d have something girly and something not-so-girly.

I wandered out of my room, heading downstairs. As I took the stairs, my nose picked up the smell of bacon, and my stomach rumbled. When Sylvester had dropped me off last night, I’d gone straight to my room. I didn’t talk to Viper or Mike. That would change soon enough, though.

No part of me last night could’ve held a conversation, not after seeing that poor girl’s body. What she’d gone through before her last moments, the pain she’d felt, the sheer helplessness… there wasn’t anything like it. And you never could understand what it was like unless you were in the exact same position. There were countless of terrors out there, and each one was a little different.

I had to find the motherfucker doing it. Serial killer against serial killer. This city was only big enough for one of us, and I wasn’t going to let some sick fuck hurt any more girls. This was my city now. Mine, and the only way I’d relinquish my power was if the fucker killed me.

I found Viper on his phone, sitting at the island, and Mike near the stove, cooking up some eggs and bacon. I slid onto the stool beside Viper, looking between the brothers for a few moments. Not once did it ever occur to me that they could be hiding something from me. I’d thought… as cheesy as it sounded, and fuck, did it sound cheesy, I’d thought we all trusted each other.

But Sylvester trying to keep me from knowing about the other serial killer… how was I supposed to feel? Besides pissed off, I mean, because yeah, I was a little pissed off.

No, scratch that. Not a little. A lot.

Don’t get me wrong, I still loved the asshole, but fuck. He knew how I’d feel about a killer going after girls. He knew how enraged I’d get at the state of the bodies. The one I saw had been imprinted in my brain the second I saw her mangled corpse.

Even in the darkness of the night, with nothing but flashlights on her, I could see the bruises on her skin. She’d gotten one hell of a beating while she was still alive. Worse than that, probably, given the fact her body had no clothes.

Hell, maybe the motherfucker stuck his prick in her coochie after she was already dead. You never knew with those sick freaks. When it was all about power and control, they did everything they could to remind you of that, everything they could to make themselves feel better, even if that meant fucking a corpse.

And then her neck, cut so deeply you could see past the skin and the muscle tissue. The way it was bent back, letting you see a bit of ivory from her spinal cord. Someone had anger issues, that much was clear. Based on the fact there was no blood near the body, she’d been brought there.

Someone had dropped her off and abandoned her like trash. Oh, but not before cutting a sick, grotesque smile into her face, so she smiled even in death.

All those times men said things along the lines of Where’s that smile, honey? Or You’d look prettier if you smiled. Those comments took on a whole different meaning now. We owed smiles to no one, especially strange men who had the balls to comment on it, but now that poor girl was forced to smile forever.

I didn’t like the idea of dumping her body in the river. Whoever the girl was, she deserved more. Deserved better. But I could agree with Sylvester on one thing: we didn’t need the FBI poking around, so we had to keep this as close to our chests as possible. Had to figure this out on our own before it got worse.

And, hoo boy, things always got worse when you were dealing with someone off their rocker. Just look at me. I went from abused girl to serial killer to mafia fucking queen.

“How’d you sleep?” Viper asked, sipping from a mug full of coffee, totally interrupting my thoughts.

But that was fine. It was time to ask him and Mike if they knew anything about it.

“Like shit,” I said, deciding to be honest. Hey, at least one of us was honest.

“I was surprised you went straight to bed when you got back. Sylvester told us you went to look at a body.”

I turned my head, meeting Viper’s hazel eyes. His brown hair wasn’t slicked back; it hung over the sides of his head and his forehead, a bit of a mess. He was kind of cute like that, though. “I wanted to ask you two about that, actually. What do you know about it?”

“About the body you went to look at? Not a thing. We didn’t go with you.” Viper’s eyebrows furrowed, and from the stove, all Mike could do was nod in agreement with his brother.

“I don’t mean about the body last night. I’m talking about the others.” When neither of them said anything more, I went on, “Sylvester told me about the others, that he’s been trying to keep me out of it because he doesn’t want me going off half-cocked. Well, newsflash: I ain’t half-cocked. I’m fully cocked. Cocked and ready to go—”

Viper was slow to say, “What are you talking about? Cocked for what?”

Mike shrugged and muttered, “Don’t think you’re really cocked about anything, since you don’t have one.”

I barked out a laugh. “Oh, I have one. It’s just not attached to me. I have three, actually. Four, counting you, big guy. But that’s beside the point. I’m asking if you two knew about the killings. So help me, if you lie to me, I’ll… well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’ll do something, and mark my words, it’ll suck big time for you two.” I pointed at them.

Viper was the first to say, “Lola, we didn’t know. I swear. Sylvester never told us nothing about bodies.” He glanced at Mike, who’d momentarily turned away from the stove to look at me, a pensive expression on his face.

I waited a moment before asking, “You two really didn’t know?”

“No,” Mike said, turning away from us to use tongs to grab the bacon from the pan, carefully laying them onto a napkin-covered plate.

Beside me, Viper shook his head. “I had no idea. He probably kept it from us because he knew we’d want to tell you.” He rolled his eyes. “What the fuck was Sylvester thinking? He had to know you’d find out eventually. How’d you find out about this one?”

I believed him when he said he didn’t know. Maybe that was stupid of me. Maybe this whole thing, me being with them, was stupid, but I couldn’t fight the way Viper, Sylvester, and Maddox made me feel. Alive. Happy to be alive. I didn’t want secrets to come between us.

“I was going down on him when he got a call from the Beast,” I rattled off, and Viper nearly choked on his coffee, though I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t modest when it came to that sort of thing. He knew that. “At first, I just wanted to meet Fang’s brother, but then it dawned on me just how big this shitstorm is. We’ve got a serial killer, boys, and I want to catch him.”

Mike worked on the toast, not saying a word, but Viper had some thoughts. “When you go off the deep end, things tend to get messy. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you went off and did your own thing?”

If he was talking about my meeting with Bianca, right after Tony had decided to trick me and then take advantage of me, yes, I remembered. I remembered my last hunt. I’d been so out of it at the time that I went home with someone who wasn’t a predator. And then I’d regretted it.

And I’d killed his roommates, but that was neither here nor there. The shit with Bianca and Tony—not to mention seeing my brother again—had made me more than a little unhinged.

But I wasn’t going to do that this time. Too much was at stake.

“Yes, I remember. Things aren’t going to turn out the same, though. I can’t just sit back and let some fucker go off and kill whatever girl he sees next. I need to find him, and then I’m going to make him pay.” For those girls. For me.

Mike slid a plate in front of me, along with a glass of orange juice. He gave his brother another plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, grabbed his own and walked around the island to sit on Viper’s other side.

I grabbed a piece of bacon and chewed angrily while Viper spoke, “How are you going to find him? This city is huge. And what’s to say he’s even here? Maybe he doesn’t live here, and he only comes here to find his next victim.”

Viper could be right. Or he could be wrong.

“I’m thinking up a plan,” I said. “Meanwhile, Sylvester’s picking me up in a bit. He’s going to take me to the city morgue, where the first girl’s body is. I want to see her.” I hoped neither of them would ask me why. I just… I just had to see her. I didn’t know how to explain the need inside me; it was like I needed to go to her, to pay my respects, to tell her that her death would be avenged. I didn’t get the chance to do that to the others that Sylvester had hidden and cleaned up.

Thankfully, Viper didn’t ask me why. He did, however, ask, “Do you want us to go with you?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.” I supposed it was sweet, in a way, that Viper offered to go with me. Gals, find yourself someone who’d go with you to the city morgue. Find you someone who would look at dead bodies with you. You know, couple shit.

We ate in silence. The eggs were cooked to perfection, my favorite. The dippy kind. Mike was a good cook. I was glad he was here, otherwise I had the feeling I’d be eating out a fuckton—or going over to the Luciano house and seeing if Sylvester or Maddox would make me anything. When I was on my own, doing my Night Slayer thing, I totally just ate whatever I could make in the oven or microwave. And cereal. Lots and lots of cereal.

It was right when I was finishing up eating that I heard the doorbell ring. “That’s gotta be Sylvester,” I said, gulping down what was left of my orange juice as I slid off the stool. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

Before I could go, Viper grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me once before he whispered, “Don’t let this eat you up, Lola.” Friendly advice or an order? Eh, didn’t matter which one, because it was already eating me up.

I headed to the front door, slipped on some studded ankle-high boots, and flung myself out of the door before I realized it was not, in fact, Sylvester on the other side. I was seconds from colliding with a chest that did not belong to one of my boyfriends when I saw the light gray eyes of a man I’d last seen the night before, before he’d gone on his date.

Harvey held a to-go coffee cup in his hand, and he took a step back, helping me avoid the collision. “Whoa. You’re in a rush this morning. Where are you headed? Do you need me to drive?” So eager, as always.

“Harvey,” I said, peering around him. No Sylvester yet. “No, I’m waiting for Sylvester. I thought you were him. What are you doing here?” I could go back in the house, but then Harvey would probably follow me, and I just couldn’t say no to his puppy dog face. I sat down on one of the front steps, facing the rising sun in the distance. “How was your date?” I patted the space beside me.

He was slow to sit down, stretching out his legs—long legs. If he beefed up a bit, he’d be more than just cute. “It was good. Giulia is… she’s not my typical type, but I think that’s a good thing. She’s very outgoing.”

“Yeah, I can see why an outgoing chick would be good for you. What did you guys do? What’d you talk about? Give me the deets, dude. Don’t keep me hanging in suspense.” The more I focused on Harvey and his date, the less time I spent thinking about all of the girls who’d lost their life to this new serial killer.

Harvey took a sip from his coffee, and he leaned forward, resting an arm on his knee. “We talked about everything. Family, jobs, what we want out of life.”

“And what’d you tell her about your job?” Not that I cared about him saying he drove me around, but… he could embellish, say he’s a chauffeur or something. That sounded better than driver, didn’t it?

“I told her I’m a private contractor. Didn’t really elaborate beyond that. Anyone who knows what I do, they know. She… she doesn’t have to know I was with Bianca DeLuca, and she doesn’t have to know I’m with you now. Maybe it’s dumb, but I want to keep her separate from everything.”

“That’s not stupid. I get it.” I heaved a sigh, flexing my fingers. “When are you going to see her again? I’m assuming there’s another date, since you’re not all depressed.” I shot him a grin when he acted offended. “What? Don’t deny the fact that you’d be here, all mopey and sad, if she didn’t like you. You’re kind of giddy right now, actually.” I paused. “It’s a little gross.”

He chuckled. A soft sound. “It’s gross, huh? Sorry, can’t help it. I always thought I was bad when it came to dating, but last night was fun. Maybe I’m not so bad after all. And our next date is the day after tomorrow. She’s got some family thing going on right now.”

“Were you a gentleman?” I asked.

“I think so. I mean, I stood up when she came into the restaurant, and I pulled out her chair for her—” He stopped blabbering on when I waved a hand through the air.

“I don’t mean that. I mean, did you take her home? Or did she take you home? Did you let her put on the moves, or did you pressure her into fucking you?” At my blunt question, I could see his cheeks flush a pink color.

Oh, how awkward he was. I highly doubted he’d pressure any girl into sleeping with him, but you never knew. People tended to surprise you, men in the worst of ways. Not all surprises were good.

“I didn’t—we definitely didn’t—uh, I mean—”

I watched him, noted his body language, the flush still on his cheeks. “You’re a weird one, you know that, Harvey? For someone who used to work for the Bloody Princess, you get so squeamish when talking about certain things. Like sex. Someone like you, I imagine would’ve been hardened up.” Not that I was complaining; Harvey was the reason I was able to leave the house after ripping out Bianca’s throat all that time ago.

He laughed, a quiet sound. “Believe it or not, Bianca never, uh, had men over. She never made me drive her to dates or anything like that. I don’t think she cared about men at all, if you know what I mean.”

Huh. Up until that point, I had no idea what he was talking about, but now… now it made sense, why she’d never gotten married and had children of her own to take over the DeLuca mantle once her father died. All this time I never really put two and two together.

Bianca DeLuca had liked the softer persuasion. She liked that pussy.

“And I’m not, like, a hardened criminal or anything. I just drive. I know how to shoot, but I prefer not to,” Harvey was busy saying. He sipped from his coffee. “I really don’t even know why I took the job. My father pressured me into taking it—and I do enjoy driving. I guess it’s as safe as any job here, in the city, which is to say—”

“Not really safe at all,” I finished for him, and he nodded once. “Well, I’m glad your date went well, and I’m glad you’re gonna see her again. Now do me a favor and get the fuck out of here. Sylvester will blow his lid if he sees you here. You’re the whole reason he changed the locks.”

“Like I said before, I could’ve just given the key back.”

I shrugged. Whatever went on in Sylvester’s head, I obviously had no idea. I thought I knew, but recently I’d been proven wrong. So yeah. “I’ll see you later, Harvey. If I need you to drive me anywhere, I’ll let you know. But, uh, after your next date, feel free to text me and tell me how it went.” I winked at him, and then I laughed when he blushed harder.

Hey, a gal couldn’t help but be a little curious. Plus, I wanted him to find some happiness here. With the shitshow going on, we had to take every small victory where we could.

“Uh, okay, yeah, sure.” Harvey got to his feet. “I’ll… just go home, I guess?” He sounded so unsure of himself, which was kind of funny. After all this time, you’d think he’d be used to me and my way of doing things. Or not doing things. I had no idea what Bianca did before, how she’d used him.

Hey, as long as the coiffeurs didn’t run completely dry, I didn’t really give a shit. I didn’t care about meeting with people who could do favors for me, because I didn’t need anything done. I didn’t give a shit about blackmail or instilling respect into the criminal underbelly of this city. I’d leave all of that to Sylvester.

Me? I just wanted to live. Live and catch me a serial killer.

I watched Harvey go to his car, a shiny black thing. He threw me a glance before he got in, and then he started her up and was out of here. Of course, because it was Murphy’s Law or some shit, right when he was pulling out of the driveway was when Sylvester was trying to turn in—meaning he saw him.

Great. He’d try to lecture me on Harvey some more, but you know what? I didn’t want to hear it.

Harvey’s car pulled out, allowing Sylvester to pull in. He drove up to the house slowly, and I got to my feet, walking toward the car. I noticed Maddox in the front seat; he tagged along, but I’d bet anything that Sylvester hadn’t been happy about it.

So, I crawled into the back. Almost immediately, Sylvester turned his frame around in the driver’s seat, glaring. “What the fuck was that guy doing here so early?”

“Careful, brother,” Maddox spoke with a chuckle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“I am not—” Sylvester took a moment, calmed himself, and said in a much more even tone, “All I’m wondering is why he still hangs around. You don’t need him. None of us do. How do we know he isn’t spying for someone who wants to take you out? We can’t trust him.”

I settled in the middle of the backseat, lifting both arms on the empty leather seats beside me. “He’s the whole reason I own the house. He’s the whole reason I have the DeLuca fortune. I’m not saying we trust him with our secrets, but I don’t think he’s a liar.” I glared at Sylvester. “He’s an open book, unlike some people, who try to keep things to themselves because they think they know better than everyone else.”

Maddox looked at his brother. “I think she’s talking about you, man.”

All Sylvester could do was roll his eyes and start driving. As we pulled out onto the road, he muttered, “I’m sorry for keeping it from you for so long, Lola, but if I had the chance to do it over again, I’d do the exact same thing. You might be a serial killer too, but we don’t know who this guy is. We don’t know what he looks like, how strong he is. He’s an unknown variable. Even if you give him your best, he still might be better than you.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” I whispered. “Speaking of that—Maddox, did you know about this? And keep in mind, if you lie to me, I’m going to cut off one of your balls and leave you with just the one.”

“Okay, that’s a nice mental image,” he muttered. He threw me a dark-eyed look. “No, I had no idea, okay? This was all Sylvester, not me. He’s the one who’s been handling business since our father ran away like a fucking coward. If it were up to me, I would’ve set you after the serial killer a long time ago, let you fuck him up.”

“Thank you,” I said, to which Sylvester groaned. At least someone believed in me. Sylvester must just be used to this pretty face of mine, but to a man who didn’t see it every day? It was the best weapon of all.

The car grew quiet after that. I didn’t care enough to hold up the conversation, mostly because I was too busy wondering when the killer would strike again. How much time did I have to find him? It would help if we knew who these girls were, where he’d picked them up from, give us a starting point.

But we knew nothing. Nothing but what we could infer based on the state of the bodies. Hence the problem.

After a few minutes, Sylvester took out his phone and dialed someone. “Jimmy? Yeah, we’re about a minute away. Meet us out back.” He hung up after that.

The city morgue was right next to the police station, in the heart of downtown. The two buildings were some of the only buildings around that did not reach for the sky. They almost seemed out of place. Sylvester pulled us into a parking lot situated between the buildings, and together, we got out and headed for the smaller of the two. The morgue.

If shit wasn’t so sucky right now, I’d be a little excited. I’d never been in a morgue before.

Jimmy stood near a propped open door, hands in his pockets. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. A younger middle-aged man, I recognized him as the one who’d picked me up after I’d had my episode and killed two random people. I thought he might be involved with the Lucianos, but I never really asked. Didn’t care to. Most cops in this city were dirty, one way or another.

When we got closer to him, I saw the cigarette wasn’t lit; he was just sucking on it, I guess. Ew. Jimmy pulled it from his mouth, nodding at us. His face held no wrinkles, but his eyes looked tired. Very, very tired.

“You ready?” Jimmy asked, cutting to the chase.

Sylvester glanced at me. “As ready as we will ever be.”

Jimmy tucked the cigarette into the chest pocket of his dark blue uniform, turning to head inside the building. We followed him in. I walked in between Sylvester and Maddox, my nerves a mess. The girl I’d seen last night was the worst so far, according to Sylvester, but that didn’t negate or lessen what I felt right now.

None of these girls deserved this. That’s what made it so awful.

Through a dim back hall, we went deeper into the morgue. We didn’t pass anyone else. The whole place felt eerie, and a few degrees too cold. I knew that would change when we arrived at the room the body was being kept.

“City law says any unidentified bodies must be documented, a seventy-two-hour hold placed on them. After that, they’re typically cremated,” Jimmy rattled off. “Then the remains are held for another month. Had to pull some strings to keep her here, but… well, she’s here.” He turned into a room, and we followed.

The room was cold. So cold. Goosebumps immediately rose on my arms, and I fought the urge to shiver. Jimmy went to a box hanging on the wall, pulling out two rubber gloves. I turned my eyes away from him to look at the wall of steel on the other side of the room. They were numbered, big squares that contained the rollout platforms where the bodies were.

Were they all full? I wondered. This city did have a lot of crime. This Jane Doe wasn’t the first girl to be killed here, and that fact made me even more pissed off. Why couldn’t men stick to men? Why couldn’t they just kill themselves and leave us out of it?

I knew the answer. Anyone with a brain did. Again, it was all about pathetic men and their need to exert control and dominance over whoever they could, including random passersby who happened to be women. Or women they knew. Or their families.

Jimmy walked around me, going to one of the doors in the middle on the far right. “No touching the body without gloves.” He unlatched the door and pulled out the drawer, bringing out the body.

I couldn’t see anything right away; the corpse was covered in a light blue sheet, hiding her from us. I stepped closer to it, waiting for Jimmy to lift the sheet off her, and when he did… it was hard to describe.

It wasn’t like last night. Seeing this pale corpse was a different kind of shock. Whereas the one last night looked fresh, this one looked old. Sunken in. Skin almost blue with the light. Shriveled up lips, hair slicked back, not at all at peace.

Something in my body twisted—my heart? My guts? Whatever it was, it churned with unease when I saw her. She was young. Late teens, maybe. Early twenties. Light blond hair. There was no doubt in my mind she’d be pretty if she was still alive. But she wasn’t. She was deader than dead, her killer still out there, doing this to more girls.

The sheet, folded back, covered everything below her collarbone, but you could see where she’d been sliced on her neck. I leaned over her, peering into the wound, and as I did so, I discovered that her head had been completely severed; it only looked like it was still attached because someone had put it so close to the rest of her. I looked up at Jimmy.

He must’ve known what I was wondering, for he said, “Her head was hanging by a string when we found her. During the move, it, uh, separated completely.”

“Where did you find her?” I asked. Last night’s body had been left in the middle of nowhere, but maybe this one could give me some clue. I’d bug Sylvester about the others when we left; there had to be some kind of pattern. We’d map it out or something.

“Old Johnny found her in an alleyway on Ninth Street.” Jimmy seemed to catch himself, realizing we didn’t know who the fuck this Johnny was, so he added, “Johnny’s a regular here. His favorite pastime is urinating on city streets… or on our squad cars.”

“And he didn’t see anyone?” Sylvester asked.

“Not that I know of. From what it sounded like, Johnny was drunk as a skunk. I’m surprised he even called us about the body and didn’t just stumble by it.” Jimmy’s fingers rested on the edge of the metal drawer. He stood on the opposite side of it from us, and though he was looking at Sylvester, I could tell he wanted to look at me.

He remembered me, though I had a lot less blood on me right now compared to the first day we’d met.

“No fingerprints?” This question came from Maddox.

Jimmy spoke, “It’s an alley. Everything’s covered in fingerprints and dirt. We swept the place, but we didn’t find anything that led us to think whoever dumped her there left anything else. Nothing on her body, other than the bruises and the neck injury.” There was a pause, and his eyes flicked to me. “Autopsy showed pretty bad bruising in the, uh… lower areas, along with some other evidence.”

Because neither Maddox nor Sylvester seemed able to say it, I decided to: “She was raped before she was killed. Were you able to get any DNA from the jizz?” If there wasn’t a dead girl six inches from us, I was sure that would’ve elicited a chuckle from Maddox.

But there was, and we were talking about DNA from sperm that was only in her body because her killer had wanted to take full advantage of his control over her. The sick motherfucker.

Jimmy didn’t act too shocked at my choice of words. He didn’t even blink at me. “We were able to recover some. We ran it through every database we have. Nothing came up. Obviously, the prime suspect is whoever she was with right before she was killed, but we don’t know who it is. We can’t even I.D. her since she was naked in the alley. She could be an out of towner, not from here, and we’d never know.”

I lowered my gaze back to the body, to her face. Her cheeks were hollow. She looked like a corpse—and that’s because she was. But even though she didn’t have the extra smile carved into her face, it felt rawer. More real. Like everything finally had enough time to sink in and really hit me. Being here, in this cold room, staring at her, knowing she was only the first…

How was I supposed to feel? I used to mourn the old me, the little girl who’d lost her innocence too soon. I’d stopped mourning myself a long time ago, and I hadn’t mourned anything since.

Up until now.

In this moment, I mourned this girl, whoever she was. I mourned the one from last night, all the others Sylvester had taken care of. I mourned them all, who they were, what they wanted to be, their hopes and aspirations, the futures they would now never have.

I killed men, and I didn’t give a shit about what they’d do, what they wanted, if they’d ever turn a new leaf and regret what they’d done to the women in their lives. I didn’t fucking care about them. Call me a crazy bitch. Whatever. But these girls? I cared about them, because if I didn’t, no one else would.

That’s the shitty thing about being a girl these days. Fuck. That’s the shitty thing about being a girl no matter what year it was. We would never truly be seen as equals. Maybe by some, but not by everyone.

And that pissed me the fuck off.

I couldn’t say how long I stared at the body. I couldn’t say if Sylvester or Maddox asked Jimmy any more questions. It was like I stopped hearing the world, too lost in my own head, drowning in my desire to find this shithead and make him feel the same kind of pain he’d inflicted upon all of these girls.

You know how some people said being spiteful wasn’t worth it? I wasn’t one of them. I’d combine my spite with vengeance and make this man, whoever he was, wish he wasn’t born. I’d make him choke on his own blood, tie him up so he’d be helpless and know it. I’d cut off his fucking dick, roast it on a grill, and make him eat it in tiny, manageable, bite-size pieces. Maybe not in that order.

“Lola,” Sylvester’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Lola.” He only stopped saying my name when I turned my face towards him, pulling myself out of my bloody, revenge-fueled daydreams. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“No,” I said. “I’m good.” Lie. I wasn’t good, but I was as good as I could be while knowing someone was out there, hunting girls and delivering a fate like this to them. Whoever it was, his days were numbered. I was his grim reaper, and I would come for him.

“All right,” Sylvester said, his attention back on Jimmy. “If there’s anything else, I’ll give you another call.”

“Good.” Jimmy pushed the drawer back in after covering her head with the sheet once more. He latched the steel door and followed us to the exit, yanking off his gloves and tossing them in the trash. He pushed to the front, leading us out through the back door of the building. We stood in the parking lot in a semi-circle, and he folded his arms over his chest. “Look, I don’t know how much longer I can stall them. She’s going to have to be cremated sooner or later, even if we don’t find next of kin.”

Nodding, Sylvester said, “I understand. Thank you for this, Jimmy. I’ll be in touch.” He went for the car, Maddox and I going after him.

Jimmy stood near the door, and he waited a moment before saying to me, “And you, stay outta trouble, ya hear? No more walking around the city covered in blood.”

I shot him a smile and a wink, saying, “No promises, Jimmy boy.” I sauntered to the car, crawling into the backseat. Maddox had once again claimed the front seat, the jerk.

As we got going, Sylvester shot me a look in the rearview mirror. Though he didn’t say anything immediately, I could see it in his blue eyes: he was worried about me, about what I would do now.

“Well,” Maddox grumbled. “That was—”

I leaned forward, pushing my head between the two brothers. “Let’s go to the alleyway where she was found. I want to see where it’s at.” I didn’t know the city like the back of my hand; I couldn’t recall what street was what. Didn’t need to, since someone else always drove me, whether it was Sylvester or Viper or even Harvey.

Sylvester sighed, while Maddox tossed his brother a look. “We’re really going? What the fuck are we going to find? It’s an alley. Unless you’re looking for some used needles and broken bottles, I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”

“I don’t care,” I hissed. “I want to see it.”

And that was that. Neither of them argued with me again after I said that, probably because they both knew it would be a pointless argument that would get us nowhere. I leaned back, fidgeting, wishing I had someone to strangle—preferably this serial killer. This city wasn’t big enough for the both of us. I couldn’t see the future, but I knew how this was going to end.

One way or another, one of us was going to die.

Ninth street wasn’t too far from the morgue; ten minutes, most of it through the streets of downtown. Sylvester pulled his car onto the side of the street, parallel parking it a little ways down from the alleyway that was our destination.

I was the first to get out, the first to hustle down the sidewalk and turn into the alley. Nestled between two older brick buildings, there was about fifteen feet of space. Full of trash and dirt, the sun hardly touched the place. It smelled rank and old, the filth even in the air. I passed a dumpster, and I swore I saw a rat skitter underneath it to hide from me. This place was exactly what you’d picture in your head when you imagined a dark alley.

I stopped when I was halfway through it. You could see the street on the other side busy with cars. Both streets were, which led me to think that whoever it was had dropped off the body late at night, when the city streets were all but empty, save for people who were out doing their own thing: partying, drinking, getting high and hooking up—and the other criminals who didn’t care what the fuck you were up to as long as you didn’t interrupt their illegal activities.

The alley was big enough for a car to go through, if you pushed the dumpster all the way against the side of the building it was closest to. I didn’t see any cameras, and the buildings had no windows facing the alley.

Sylvester had walked with me, while Maddox had stopped near the dumpster. He pointed to something on the ground and asked, “Anyone want some hep-C?” When Sylvester only glared at him, he shrugged. Must be a needle.

To me, Sylvester asked, “What are you thinking?”

I looked both ways, taking it all in. Even the air down here smelled wrong, like death. Or maybe it was the dumpster. “I’m wondering why here. Why this alley? There have to be countless others in the city like it. Was it opportunity?” The other alleyways could’ve been busy that night with drug deals and other things going on, or it could’ve just been random.

But maybe it wasn’t. Hmm.

“I don’t know,” Sylvester muttered. “I have everyone on the lookout. If they see something, they’re supposed to come to me immediately. I haven’t heard anything. Whoever’s doing this, they’re either smart, or extremely lucky in that they weren’t caught dumping the bodies. Even the one that was left near the Beast’s territory—”

And then it hit me, what it could mean. Knowing what alleys were unused. Knowing when to drop bodies to avoid detection.

Turning toward Sylvester, I said, “Or they know how men like you operate. They know where to go to avoid your men. They knew when to drop the body at the warehouse to avoid the Beast’s men.”

“Shit,” Maddox said as he approached us. “You’re saying it might be an inside job. One of our guys?”

“Or one of the Beast’s,” Sylvester added.

“Or,” I paused, “someone loyal to the DeLucas. Maybe they’re pissed off their leaders are all dead and I’m sitting on the throne. Maybe this isn’t about these girls. Maybe… maybe it’s all about me.”

I didn’t know why it didn’t hit me sooner, because it made so much sense. Fuck, was I an idiot or what? What were the odds another serial killer would come here and start offing girls left and right? Out of all of the cities in the state, out of all the states in this country, what were the odds?

They avoided detection because they knew how we operated. The killer knew where to go, what to do, to stay out of our line of sight while simultaneously taunting us. If it wasn’t an inside job, I’d be shocked.

“No way,” Maddox spoke with a shake of his head. “No fucking way. Why would it be all about you? Besides, most everyone who was loyal to the DeLucas left when you killed the Bloody Princess because they knew we were behind you. That, or they’re dead. We took care of a lot of them after what they did to Big Mike and Roman’s girl. They lost their leader. That’s, like, one of the quickest fucking ways to lose a war.”

Sylvester scoffed, “What would you know about losing a war?”

“Hey! I went to school. Didn’t do well in it, but I had the same weird ass history teacher as you. The quickest ways to win a war, according to Mr. Tange: kill all, kill just the right number, kill their leader, and… fuck, there was one more, wasn’t there?”

“Capture the flag,” Sylvester whispered. As Maddox snapped his fingers and started saying how weird that teacher was, he turned to me. “Not everyone left the city, though, you’re right. Ever since you killed Bianca, I’ve been waiting for someone to make a move in retaliation, but what if they’re not going after you? What if they know you have a thing for killing men who take advantage of women, and they’re doing this to taunt you? Fuck. If that’s the case, this is worse than I thought.”

Me. If this was about me… then all those girls were dead because of me, and that made me feel a certain type of way.

“No,” Maddox cut in. “No. There’s no fucking way it’s about Lola. Stop acting like you two discovered the villain’s motive or some shit. That’s not it. It can’t be it. If he wanted to go after Lola, then why not just go after her? Why go and kill these girls? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes more sense than anything else,” I shot back. Who was Maddox to say what was possible and what wasn’t? People were fucked up. Just look at me. I was evidence enough of that, so I didn’t understand why Maddox thought someone would be logical in their revenge, their plot against me.

No, this was pure hatred. This was tit for tat. I guess I wasn’t the only spiteful person in this city.

“Let’s go around the block. I want to see what’s nearby.” I started for the car, toward the side of the alley we’d come from.

Maddox and Sylvester followed me, and I heard Maddox say, “You don’t seriously believe there’s a serial killer after her, do you?”

“At this point, I have no idea,” Sylvester answered him.

Well, it didn’t matter if Maddox agreed with the possibility or not. Although, frankly, I didn’t know what was worse: if they were doing this because of me, or if they were simply doing this because they were a special flavor of psychotic. Or maybe sociopathic? Eh, whatever. I was never clear what the distinction was.

I took the front seat this time, much to Maddox’s dismay. If I wasn’t determined before to find this serial killer and make him pay for his crimes, I was now. There was nothing more I wanted in this world. I could feel the need, the burning desire to get my hands on him, to sink my fingernails into his eyes so deeply I could pop them out.

Sylvester drove around the block, and I took in nearby businesses. Nothing was familiar to me. Nothing really screamed at me or nagged me, but then we made a right turn and rounded the block, heading to the other side of the alleyway. With another right, we were somewhere that I’d seen before. We passed the other mouth of the alley.

“Keep going,” I told Sylvester, and he kept driving, past the next main intersection. These sidewalks… I’d walked down them, wearing a dress. I’d gotten into a fight with a man somewhere near here. I…

“Slow down,” I said. “Stop here.”

He pulled the car over, causing the people behind us to honk as they drove passed. I pointed at something further down, and Sylvester followed the direction of my finger. In the backseat, Maddox quipped, “What? What is it? Do we see something? Tell me where the fuck I’m looking.”

Sylvester and I met eyes. “That’s the Gilded Rose, where I had to sing because your daddy wanted me to infiltrate one of the DeLuca hangouts.” Something in my gut told me it wasn’t a coincidence that the Gilded Rose was this close.

“So what?” Maddox wasn’t impressed. “You drive far enough, you’ll find the club we go to all the time, too. Downtown’s only so big. You really think the serial killer hangs out at the Gilded Rose?” He chuckled. “From what I hear, the kind of men who frequent that club aren’t exactly the ones who love to bathe in blood. They don’t like getting their suits dirty. Those guys are the ones who have goons to do their dirty work for them.”

Maybe Maddox was right. Maybe it was all one big coincidence, but either way, I was going to check it out. Follow the tiny lead. Tonight, I was going to the Gilded Rose. It’d been a long time since I’d graced the gentlemen’s club with my presence, and I think they needed a reminder that I wasn’t some pathetic girl that was going to cower at home and let this asshole keep killing.

I wouldn’t be reactive. I’d be proactive.

Sylvester was slow to say, “He’s right, you know. I don’t think any of the regulars will be our serial killer.”

“Then maybe it’s not a regular. Maybe it was someone just visiting the club, or maybe you’re both wrong and it’s someone who only lets out their darkness when they’re alone. Either way, I’m going there tonight.” If they tried to stop me… well, let’s just say a gal was immovable when it came to certain things, and this was definitely one of those things.

“Fine,” Sylvester relented. “But I’m going with you.”

“No. I’m going by myself.” I was certain people would be more susceptible to my charms without Sylvester and Maddox glaring at them over my shoulders. Plus, if this serial killer really was doing this because of me, might as well give him an opportunity to get me alone, if he saw me.

It’d be the last fucking thing he did, mark my words.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere alone from now on.”

“Excuse me? Have you forgotten I’m not your little pet anymore? Here’s a reminder: you don’t get to tell me what to do. I make my own decisions, and I’m going to the Gilded Rose tonight, alone, and if either of you have a problem with it, guess what? I don’t care.”

I could tell Sylvester was stewing, and he nearly got us into an accident as he pulled back into the rightmost driving lane. He ground his teeth. In the backseat, Maddox looked extra sour, his intense frown deepening at me.

Whatever. Again, I really didn’t care.

If Sylvester suggested Viper and Mike should go with me, I’d say no to that, too. If the serial killer happened to be there, I wanted to egg him into making a move. Or trying to. If he did, he’d find out I wasn’t a normal girl, by any means.

He thought he could inflict pain on me like he’d done to those other girls? We weren’t the same. I’d already lived through the worst of the worst, again and again, over and over, my soul slowly dying inside. I’d seen the worst mankind had to offer plenty of times. I wasn’t frightened. I wouldn’t be scared of pain.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” Sylvester muttered, making a sharp left turn on a yellow light. “I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but maybe you should have Harvey drive you. If you won’t let us come, at least bring the idiot. He could be bullet fodder if worse comes to worst.”

That wasn’t what I expected from him. Suggesting Harvey to drive me was a new one, because if Sylvester had his way, Harvey would be long gone by now.

“I’ll give him a call when we get back,” I whispered. Having Harvey drive was better than taking the bus, anyway.

The rest of the drive was an awkward silence, and I knew it was simply because I’d refused their help. Help was a strong word, though. It was more like their borderline crazy need to be with me at all times, just in case I ran into trouble. Like, they knew I got along fine before I found my way into their lives, right? Just because, at the time, I was waiting for the feds to find me and strap me to an electric chair didn’t mean anything. That was totally beside the point.

A part of me wondered if that was that, if Sylvester and Maddox would really let me go off on my own tonight, or if they’d stalk from the shadows, follow Harvey’s car from a distance. It bothered me to know they might, but I also knew I couldn’t stop them. As long as they didn’t bust into the Gilded Rose while I was looking into everyone, I didn’t care what they did.

What I did not look forward to was telling Viper. I knew he’d agree with Sylvester about this. It’d be three against one. Didn’t think Mike deserved a vote since he wasn’t graced with the amazingness that was my pussy.

If this serial killer really was out here doing this because of me, then it made sense for me to go out on my own to find him. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t strike when I was surrounded by my guys. I might draw him out of the shadows if I was alone.

A gal could hope.

Yeah, I know. It’s sad that’s what I hoped for, but growing up I was never one to want a pony or a pink car… although a pink sportscar would be sexy as hell, not going to lie.

We got back to the house, and Sylvester and Maddox came inside with me. It was as I thought: they instantly told Viper my plan, and Viper argued with me—though he got about as far as they had. I wouldn’t budge.

Mike, at least, stayed quiet, listening to the whole thing. The big guy knew he didn’t have a say in this. Really, none of them did; I was only being kind in letting them tell me what they thought. In reality, I didn’t fucking care.

I didn’t fucking care. I was going to find this motherfucker if it was the last thing I did.

Yes, I was well aware that was why Sylvester had decided to try to keep it from me in the beginning, but look at how that turned out.

After everything was out in the open, Viper scowled. We stood in the kitchen, all of us surrounding the island. Mike leaned against the main countertop, his arms folded over his chest, while the rest of us took to leaning on the island itself.

“Harvey?” Viper echoed. “Really? I’ll fucking drive.”

“No,” I said. “Harvey’s used to driving around Bianca, so he’s used to laying low. I can’t say the same about any of you.” I looked between Maddox, Sylvester, and Viper, noting the concern on their features.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew they only acted like this because they cared about me. But, fuck, I needed to do this. I needed to do this my way. They should understand that. If this motherfucker really was doing all of this because of me, it was my choice.

Ugh. Couldn’t they stick to being sweet and getting horned up by watching me kill? This overprotective shit just wasn’t my style. I needed room to breathe. I needed… well, a lot of things, as it turned out, but one thing at a time.

“Everything will be fine,” I told them.

“Famous last words,” Sylvester said. “How long will you be gone? What time are you leaving tonight? There’s something I need to do before you go, but I want to be back in time to see you off.” I knew what that meant: he’d be right here, waiting with the others, not moving until I got back and he knew I was safe.

“I’m not sure how long it’ll take. I’ll probably get out of here right after nightfall.”

Though I could tell he wanted to argue with me some more, Sylvester said, “All right.”

“All right?” Viper once again echoed him. “No, this isn’t all right. I ain’t okay with this.”

“Her mind’s made up,” Maddox said. “I don’t think any of us will be changing it. Let her go, and if something happens, then we can all be pissed.” His dark eyes flicked to me, narrowing. “I hope you’re prepared for three pissed off boyfriends.” As if telling me something was for sure going to go wrong. Puh-lease.

These guys acted like this was my first rodeo. It wasn’t, and it wouldn’t be my last if I had anything to say about it.

Chapter Seven – Lola

I’d curled my hair into tight curls and pinned the lengths to the back of my head. I was going all out for tonight; had to look the part. Couldn’t walk into the Gilded Rose wearing my blood-stained leather jacket now, could I?

I supposed I could, but no one would take me seriously. I had to look the role, just as I had to look when I’d been forced to put on a show in that same club.

Once my hair was done, I moved on to makeup. Usually I didn’t wear much, but sometimes the situation called for a bit of everything. My skin didn’t need concealer to hide any blemishes, so I focused on my eyes. I did a shiny silver and gray shadow, the lighter part near my nose and eyebrow, and the darker part around my eyes. The color made the blue in them stand out. I did some liquid eyeliner, ending each eye in a sharp point. I crimped my eyelashes, put on thick mascara that made them look almost doll-like. A little bit of blush and matte red lipstick to finish the look.

I left a mess in the bathroom, wearing nothing but a bra and garters as I went back to my room to get the dress.

A long, beautiful black dress, skin tight around the chest and waist. It fell to my ankles; I’d definitely need heels. The neckline came up past my collarbone, wrapping around the back of my neck with a short bow. The side of the gown had a sharp slit all the way up; you could see the pantyhose I wore, where it ended just above my knees and connected to a garter from my panties.

Had to look good. This was me we’re talking about.

The back of the dress exposed most of my upper back, the zipper on the side opposite the slit. I was able to get it up and on me without aid.

The guys were still upset they weren’t coming with me. Viper had been in a mood all day. Mike was… well, he was Mike. Never could get a great read on the guy, maybe because I wasn’t seeing his pecker on the reg. Maddox had stuck around, probably to piss and moan about my decision of going alone tonight to Viper. Hearing them talk about it made me roll my eyes more than once.

And as for Sylvester? He hadn’t come back yet. I knew he’d said he wanted to see me off, but time was running short. Harvey would be here in less than half an hour to drive me. I’d wait as long as I could for him, but not a second longer than that. He’d have to understand. He’d already kept this a secret from me for so long, I didn’t want to waste another night sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, while another serial killer was out there, serial-killing.

I didn’t know what to expect from tonight, frankly. Best case scenario, the Gilded Rose would be full of patrons who were very talkative, and all fingers would point to someone. I’d kill them, and we could all move on with our lives, no more girls dying at the hands of this mystery man. Worst case, I found out nothing, and by the time the night was over, I wouldn’t be any closer to finding out who it was.

Hell, I’d settle for something in the middle. Just give me something, ya know? A teeny clue. A bit of a lead. I couldn’t let this asshole keep killing on my watch.

I ran my hands down the dress’s sides, smoothing out the silky fabric. I didn’t have a floor-length mirror in the room, but I didn’t need one. I knew I looked gorgeous. Most men would be too busy checking me out to wonder why I was asking the questions I’d ask. Sometimes using your feminine wiles to get what you wanted was all too easy.

My heels sat in a heap near the hall, but I didn’t want to put them on just yet. Killer five-inch heels, they were sharp and thin. Could become a weapon, if I needed them to. Pretty and all black, closed-toe, simple in their design but elegant at the same time.

The whole outfit wasn’t really me, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I looked fucking hot.

My ears heard footsteps coming from the hall, and whoever it was came straight into my room. He didn’t shut the door. I turned to see who it was, and I spotted the blond man I hoped would show up before I went, if only to tease him with how good I looked.

Yeah, I was still pissed at him. How could I not be? Keeping something like that from me, knowing how strongly I’d care; it was an asshole move, through and through. I’d known all along Sylvester could be an ass—he was a Luciano, after all, but usually that asshole part of him was saved for other people, not me.

Not anymore.

“Sylvester,” I purred out his name, cocking my hip and pushing a leg out of the slit on my dress, letting him get a good peek at what he’d be missing tonight. “I was getting worried you weren’t going to make it before I left.”

Sylvester’s blue-eyed gaze dropped to my leg, drawing up it, taking in the pantyhose that ended on my lower thighs. And the garter. His jaw ground, and I knew, just like that, I’d gotten to him. It was too easy.

“It took longer than I thought it would,” he said, stepping toward me. I tried to match his step backward, to keep myself barely out of reach, but he was faster. One of his arms shot out, his fingers curling around my side, and he pulled me in close to him, slamming me against his chest. “You look way too good for that club.” His other hand went to cup my ass, but only for a split second, because then it fell to the slit on my dress, toying with it.

“Don’t wrinkle the dress,” I told him. “I don’t want to change again.”

“I think you should. You’re going to give every man in that club the wrong idea.” Sylvester’s eyes had glazed over, telling me exactly what he wanted to do to me. That smoldering expression was his I want to fuck you face. “I think you should change and let me watch.”

I chuckled at that. We both knew he wouldn’t stop at watching. In fact, I was pretty sure I already felt something hard, something growing in size, poking at my lower belly. Even though I was pissed at him, I couldn’t deny the way that hardening cock made me hungry.

Ugh. I should push him off me, tell him to go fuck himself. I shouldn’t even think about having him pin me against the wall and fuck me in this dress. He didn’t deserve this pussy after what he did, not for a while. I was still mad at him.

Could you be mad at someone and want to fuck them at the same time? Hmm.

“I’m not changing,” I told him, “now let me go, Sylvester. If you ruin this dress, I’ll—” Whatever else I was going to say was swept from my throat when his hand left the slit and lifted up, curling around my neck tightly, choking the words out. Ooh, rough, eh? My favorite.

“You’ll what?” Sylvester spoke with a smirk. He didn’t wait for me to reply, turning us and walking me backward, pushing me against the nearest wall. It seemed he had the same idea as me, though the steel cock in his pants was a dead giveaway. “What’ll you do, Lola?” He leaned his head down, his nose near my ear, his lips brushing against my cheek. “The only person who’s going to do something here is me, and you’re going to take it—and if that means you wearing cum-stained panties tonight to your little club, then so be it.”

His blunt, dirty talk made me shiver. That and the hand still possessively curled around my throat. I was a girl who could take care of herself, yes, but being reminded how much I enjoyed being dominated by these guys every now and then was fun.

It’s not like I was pissed at his dick, you know. At him, yes. At his cock? No. I could be mad at him and still take it like a champ.

“Then stop making me wait,” I purred out, “and give it to me.”

Sylvester released my neck so he could hurriedly take off his suit jacket, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. He loosened his tie but didn’t take it off completely. The next thing he went to undo was his belt, then the button and zipper on his pants. Everything was done in a rush, and as I watched him whip out his hard member, I couldn’t help but grow hotter and more desperate for it.

So long and veiny. It really was a beautiful cock. Sex used to be something I did to pass the time, something to make men delirious with pleasure so they’d be blinded to my true motives, but when it came to Sylvester and the others, I actually enjoyed it. This was what sex was supposed to be like, all carnal and hot and voracious.

He pushed my dress up a bit, since the slit on the side wasn’t enough to give access to my cunt. Bunching it up around my waist, his fingers undid the garters, and then went straight for my panties. He tugged them aside and grabbed hold of his length.

I inhaled a sharp breath the moment he pushed inside of me, practically making me see stars. A feminine moan left me, and I gripped his shoulders as he began to thrust those powerful hips, reminding me just why I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself after finding out he’d kept such a huge secret from me.

I loved him. I did. I loved them all. Crazy, right? A psychopath like me shouldn’t be able to love… but maybe I wasn’t as big of a psycho as I always thought. Maybe there was still some part of me, tucked away somewhere, that simply wanted to be a gal in love.

Yeah, fucking stupid, right? People like me never got happy endings, so I had to enjoy what time I had left.

With his cock buried inside of me, Sylvester’s hand once more found my throat, and he held onto me as he pumped in and out. His legs were spread to accommodate the difference in height, and now that the dress was hiked up, I could do the same. He grabbed one of my thighs with his free hand and hoisted it around his midsection, continuing to fuck me. I arched my back and closed my eyes, losing myself to the assault on my lower half and all the sensations therein.

Every part of me ran hot. My blood, my heart, my pussy. I couldn’t bite my lip, couldn’t do much of anything, lest I run the risk of ruining my makeup—and I did not have time to redo it all. I hoped I wouldn’t sweat through it.

Sylvester’s cock fit inside me perfectly, but when he pushed as deep as he could go, I swore, I could feel it in my stomach. Like he was scrambling my insides. If I wasn’t so turned on it might hurt, but then again, I was a glutton for some pain. Mix the pain with sex, and I was happy. I’d take whatever he gave me, and then some, and I’d do it with a smile on my face.

“Oh, God,” I murmured against the hand on my throat. I felt like I was on cloud nine, riding high, every part of me inching toward an orgasm. No better way to start the night, if you asked me.

“God has nothing to do with this,” he spoke, his voice low and ragged, husky in all the right ways. “This is all me.” He accompanied his words with a particularly rough thrust into my pussy, and I cried out, my head banging back on the wall.

For all I knew, we had a little audience in the hall. The door wasn’t shut, after all. But I was far too lost in the fucking to care, or even check. I needed a little bit more. Just a bit more…

“Harder,” I begged, and that single word made Sylvester morph into an animal. The grip around my neck tightened even more, constricting to the point where I could hardly breathe—but that only fueled the pleasure raging inside of me. He went at me harder, again and again and again, hitting something inside of me that made me groan.

Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, yeah. I couldn’t think of anything else, could do nothing but feel the way his cock joined with me. If I wasn’t complete with that cock in me, nothing could complete me. It just felt so fucking good.

I clung to him as an orgasm swept through me, my inner walls tightening as my muscles spasmed. Everything was too much; if he wasn’t holding onto me, I doubted I’d be able to stay standing. The orgasm was like a brick wall, thrown at me impossibly hard and fast, leaving every single part of me bruised and still wanting more.

“Fuck,” Sylvester murmured the word, his body lurching toward mine. My orgasm must’ve taunted his, because almost immediately after mine, his came in a rush. His strong body pinned mine against the wall, stiff, his cock twitching inside me with short, quick thrusts. He emptied himself in me, his cum coating me, marking me as his, and whatever leaked out after he would pull out would only stain my panties. In a way, he’d be with me the whole night—which was just what he wanted, I think.

He let out another moan, staying buried in me a few moments after the orgasm faded. The hand on my neck fell to hold onto the wall near me, and he labored to pull himself off me, his cock withdrawing from my wet cunt.

Sylvester didn’t go to put himself away first; he instead fixed my panties before any of his cum could leak out of me, and then he went to fix my garters. He stepped away after that, allowing me to get steady on my own two feet as he finally tucked that cock away and worked to fix himself.

I pulled down my dress, hoping the new wrinkles in it would get smoothed out with the help of gravity before Harvey got here. I didn’t think it looked too bad, but you could definitely tell something went on.

Sylvester bent to pick up his suit jacket, reaching into one of the pockets and pulling out a tiny white box. “I got this for you,” he said, turning back to me and offering me the box.

I didn’t take it right away. I only flicked my eyes between the box and him.

“Look, I know I fucked up by not telling you about the serial killer. I thought… I’d hoped to have him captured and dealt with by now, but he’s not just some schmuck on the street. He’s smart. He knows how to avoid detection. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I know that, now.”

Tilting my head at him, I asked, “Is this your way of apologizing to me, by giving me a present?” The only other present he’d ever got me was my mask—and that wouldn’t be coming tonight, unfortunately. I’d bring it with me in the car, just in case, but the Gilded Rose wasn’t that kind of club, sadly.

“It’s a start, right?” Those blue eyes of his were almost unblinking as they watched me, waiting for me to take the box from him. His dark gray tie was still loose, his shirt untucked. Seeing him undone like that made me realize just how lucky I was. He was not only sexy as hell, but he liked me for me. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep me from it. His intentions were good.

Still pissed off, but presents were the way to a girl’s heart.

It was a small, unassuming box. A plain white square. Nothing out of the ordinary about it at all. Based on the size, I’d say it had to be some kind of jewelry. Not my normal style, but sparkly things were always pretty.

I cautiously took the box, saying, “Just because I’m accepting it doesn’t mean you’re automatically forgiven. I’m still mad at you. Same goes with fucking you. Still mad.”

Sylvester chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. Just open it.”

I lifted the lid. My heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside. A pretty silver chain, attached to an even prettier pendant. What was it? Something that matched my mask. A skull, adorned with white, sparkling stones I knew weren’t cheap drugstore rhinestones. No, coming from Sylvester, it had to be diamonds. It was beautiful, and it was very me.

“It’s not a Fang specialty,” he explained. “He doesn’t do stonework, but I wanted to get you something, and I saw it and… it reminded me of you. I think you should wear it tonight.” Before I could argue, he plucked the silver piece out of the box, and the length of the chain told me it was a necklace.

Hmm. I guess the dress was a simple black one. I could wear it over the dress. I’d feel a little more like me with it on.

I sighed. “Fine, fine.” I turned around, giving Sylvester my back. He hooked the chain around my neck and clasped it just under my pinned hairdo. When I turned back to him, I held onto the box with one hand, and the other had gone up to the necklace, clutching the pendant and spinning it in the light, letting the diamonds catch and refract and sparkle. “It is gorgeous.”

“No, it’s pretty. You’re gorgeous,” he said.

“Sylvester, you know how to make a girl blush.”

Maddox appeared in the hall. “Heard the moans downstairs. Sorry I missed the party.” He always had a better attitude when talking about sex, and the moment he was finished speaking of it, his demeanor darkened. “Harvey’s here for you, by the way. The little shit came early. He heard you guys too, just so you know.”

Sylvester scowled, and then he looked at me, as if it was my fault Harvey had decided to come early. The dude had zero chill. We all knew that by now. It wasn’t a shock. Sylvester should be grateful Harvey didn’t come up here himself to find me. If I lived alone—and didn’t have three boyfriends—he probably would’ve.

But then again, if I didn’t have three boyfriends, I wouldn’t be caught fucking one.

Sylvester stepped away from me, letting Maddox get a full view of my outfit, and he shifted his weight, the same expression flashing in his eyes: lust. I had to be careful not to bend over, otherwise he was liable to hike my dress up and fuck me raw. “You don’t have to leave right now, do you?” He could hardly get the question out.

“I don’t have time for another round of fucking. Sorry, Maddox,” I quipped, sauntering over to my heels. I slipped them on, instantly gaining five inches, and still, Maddox could not stop looking at me like he was a wolf and I was a rare steak. He wanted to devour me.

“It ain’t like you have a meeting with anyone,” he said. “You don’t have to leave right now. You could make Harvey wait.” He took a step toward me, licking his lower lip as he eyed me up again. “You look so fucking good, Lola. I could eat you up.”

That got me to laugh. “I know.” I set a hand on his face, tapping it once, which he then pushed off. Without another word, I pushed past him, walking down the hall, knowing they would both follow.

It was always interesting, the first few steps after putting heels on. I could walk in heels no problem, but there were a few moments of adjustment. And steps were just a tad bit more difficult, but I managed to get downstairs without tripping and falling and breaking my cute little neck.

No dying until after this serial killer was dead, at the very soonest.

I met Viper and Mike in the living room. They were lounging around, but when they saw me, they hurried to get up. Viper could not hide the fact that his eyes practically popped out of his skull at the sight of me. Even Big Mike ogled me. I mean, that was the point of the dress and the very visible garters.

I gave them a little twirl. “Well, boys? What do you think? Am I going to kill it tonight, or what?” My voice was purposefully sultry, and I heard Maddox groan behind me. I bet it killed him to let me go and not slam me against the nearest surface and fuck me until I screamed his name.

There was a time and place for everything, including that. Tonight wasn’t it. Sylvester was lucky he got to me first.

Viper went to kiss my cheek, and when he pulled back, he spotted the necklace. “Pretty.”

“Isn’t it?” I threw a look back at Sylvester. “Old Sylvie got it for me. He feels bad for lying to me. Go figure.”

“Old Sylvie?” Sylvester echoed, frowning. “That’s a woman’s name.”

“Is it?” I asked.

“It is,” he reassured me. “And I didn’t lie to you. I simply hid the truth from you. It isn’t like you ever asked me point-blank about whether or not there’s another serial killer here. I didn’t lie.” The more he talked, the more it sounded like he believed himself.

Whatever helped him sleep at night.

I looked all around, not seeing the man who would be my driver tonight. “Where’s Harvey?”

“When we realized you two were going at it like rabbits—loud fucking rabbits—we made him wait outside,” Maddox harrumphed, still not happy about the whole Harvey thing, either. If scowls could kill, well, we’d all be goners by now. “He’s so used to making himself at home here. Bianca must’ve let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.”

I could see her not giving a shit about what he was doing in the house, as long as he was nearby when she needed him. She seemed like the type of woman who didn’t really care about privacy, too ruthless to really let anybody close.

Also someone who had a thing for the ladies. Now that I knew that, I couldn’t help but wonder if her offer for me to come work for her, to be on her side, would’ve been a little more involved than I’d thought.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be nice to Harvey? He’s harmless,” I pointed out. These guys… I wasn’t sure if they were jealous of Harvey or if they just didn’t like him. Jealousy and hatred had very similar reactions on them.

“Hey,” Maddox muttered, frowning, “for all we know, that asshole could be your serial killer. Did you ever think of that?”

I let out a laugh, but then I stopped. No, honestly, the thought not once crossed my mind, mostly because there was no way in hell it was Harvey. If it was him, why wouldn’t there have been bodies earlier? It didn’t make sense. Plus, he was out alone with me before; the perfect time to snatch me away and torture me and kill me.

No, it wasn’t Harvey.

“Stop it,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed out. Wish me luck.” I could tell none of them really wanted to wish me luck, because they all mumbled under their breaths. Oh, whatever. The party-poopers. With a sway to my hips, I left them ogling.

When I pushed outside, I took a moment to breathe deeply and gather myself. Tonight wasn’t a hunt in the way I was used to hunting, but it was damned close. I needed to find this motherfucker and put them in the ground. Or in the river. Whatever, wherever I had to, as long as they would never kill another girl again. Once I was ready, I walked down the few steps to the car waiting for me.

Harvey leaned against the hood of his vehicle. He wore all black tonight, a button-up shirt neatly tucked into his slacks. When he saw me, or my outfit, more specifically, his jaw dropped. “You look…” It took him a long time to think of the right words to say. “You look amazing. You really do.”

Anything could get Harvey to act all awkward and fumbling, but the dress definitely affected him. That was the point. I was no stylist, but I liked to think I hit the nail on the head with this one.

“Thank you, Harvey. Now, let’s go,” I said, moving toward the back. I was about to reach for the handle to get in, but Harvey got to the door first, pulling it open and holding it for me. I gave him a dramatic bow of my head before ducking inside, and he waited until I was safely in, dress and all, before closing it.

I leaned back on the leather seat, wondering if this was how Bianca felt when she went out on the town. Although I doubted she ever went out for fun. She seemed a business-only type of person. Very boring. Too busy constantly scheming to let loose and have a little fun.

Harvey got in the driver’s seat. We were on the road shortly after that. His hands tapped on the wheel as he drove, loud enough to fill the car’s air. When he noticed I stared at him, he stopped and asked, “Do you want me to turn the radio on? The DeLucas always preferred silence.”

“You can turn something on. Don’t care what.” Anything would be better than that tapping.

He hit a few things on the screen of the center console, and music filled my ears. I didn’t recognize the song, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t really listening to it. No, instead I stared at the back of Harvey’s head. Something in my gut told me I could trust him, but maybe it was only due to the fact he’d let me walk out after killing Bianca.

What if I was wrong? What if this awkward Harvey was just a show? As much as I didn’t want to give any heed to what Maddox had said, I couldn’t help but have a nagging feeling now that I thought about it.

So, I decided to ask him something and watch his reaction closely. His body language, see if he had any tells.

“Have you heard about all of the girls being murdered lately?”

Harvey’s head rocked a little. He took his eyes off the road, glancing back at me for a split second. I could see the worry in his gaze, how his lips had pulled taut. I noted the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What? What are you talking about? I haven’t heard anything. Have you?”

Duh, why else would I bring it up? But I didn’t say that. Instead, I went on, “Yeah, there’s been a lot. More than usual. And apparently done in a matter that leads me to think there’s a serial killer here. I hope you’re careful when you go out with Giulia. I don’t think he goes after men, but you never know.”

“I know there’s a lot of crime in this city, everyone and their brother is corrupt—crime brings in more money than no crime—but there’s a serial killer and it hasn’t been on the news? That’s a new level of low.”

Hmm. The way he reacted, how shocked he sounded, I really didn’t think he had anything to do with it. I couldn’t imagine Harvey kidnapping girls, beating them, raping them, and then sawing through their necks. I couldn’t picture him taking a knife to a girl’s face and making her smile permanent.

“Sylvester has been trying to contain it,” I muttered, lightly touching the skull pendant. “He didn’t want me to know. He thought I’d go off, half-cocked. Joke’s on him. I’m going fully cocked.” Was that a saying? If it wasn’t, it should be. I would make it one.

“How are you… I mean, sometimes even the cops don’t catch serial killers. How do you expect to find the person doing it?”

“There’s a possibility he’s doing this to get my attention. He has it now, and I’m not going to stop until I find him.” I cracked my knuckles, as if I was readying myself for a fistfight and not a gentlemen’s club.

Harvey stayed silent after that, which was fine. There wasn’t much left to say about it. But then, after another minute, he surprised me by saying, “Just be careful. You can go off full-cocked or whatever, but don’t go getting yourself killed. If you die, I can think of a few men who’ll blame me, somehow.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. My guys would love to get their hands on him and get rid of him for good.

“I’ll do my best.” That was all I could promise, after all.

We headed into the heart of downtown. Night had fallen, and the sidewalks were full of people going about their night lives, oblivious to the fact a serial killer walked among them.

Well, two if you counted me.

You could tell which ones were going clubbing, who was headed to the bars. We passed another nightclub, and the bouncers had a long line wrapped across the sidewalk and into the neighboring alleyway. Not the same one that the original body had been found in, but pretty damn close.

These people. So ignorant, and yet ignorance was bliss.

Harvey pulled to the side of the street near the Gilded Rose. He put the car in park, hurrying to get out and open my door for me, as if I was incapable of doing it myself. When I threw him a look as I got out, he shrugged it off and asked, “You sure you don’t want me going in there with you? I can.”

I shook my head. “No, no. I’m soloing this. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

Yeah, that’s probably all he did when Bianca was alive. I gave him a smile, said not another thing, and walked away, heading straight for the Gilded Rose’s main entrance. I hadn’t been inside this club since the night Newton had given me Tony as a present to gain my favor. If he wanted to keep my favor, he’d let me do a little investigating.

A big, bald man stood outside the club, wearing sunglasses even though it was nighttime. You know the kind: big and black, the lenses so dark you couldn’t see through them at all. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to let me in, but then he bowed his head to me and stepped aside, using one of his very muscular arms to prop the door open.

I strolled into the Gilded Rose, holding my head high. The moment I entered the place, I was met with low lights and the smooth, silky voice of a woman on the stage. She drew my attention immediately, and I had to stop and watch her, as did everyone else in the gentlemen's club.

She was gorgeous. Brown hair, curled in a way that threw back to the olden days, the way olden days, like gangsters and Tommy guns. She wore a tight dress with elbow-length gloves; not a revealing outfit, and yet it was the epitome of beauty. She was drop-dead stunning, and her voice… I understood why these people, these men, would want to sit, drink, and smoke while listening to her.

Was that how I’d sounded when I’d been up there? Was that how I’d looked? Oh, I’d fucking hated it above everything. There was nothing worse than putting on a show for a bunch of strangers with dicks, and yet, standing where I was near the main doors, I think I finally understood the appeal. Ironic.

Besides the new girl on the stage, the club was the same as it had been before. Leather booths on each side of the place, whereas small, circular tables sat directly in front of the stage, where patrons could get a closer view of the act. Waiters wearing all black weaved through the place, taking orders, bringing out drinks, and refilling glasses.

Not every seat was occupied, but most were, as I bet they usually were when the place was open. The men that frequented a club like this were the kind who’d spend all night here, as long as they wanted. And they’d drink and smoke the whole time. It’s why there wasn’t a cover charge to get in. Newton made his money on the alcohol, and I bet most of the waiters earned quite a lot in tips each night.

For a split second, I imagined my parents would’ve loved to come here. They loved putting on performances, masquerading about as a happily married couple with two adoring children. They loved to smile and put on an act, make friends with people they thought were their equals.

But then I realized these men and what wives were here were not like my parents. They lived here. The money they dealt in was probably dirty money, the kind they squeezed from someone else, through blackmail or fraud. I’d bet anything that these men profited off of the ridiculous crime rate. You didn’t get rich—like, wipe your ass in green on a gold toilet rich—without being opportunistic.

I walked deeper into the club, grabbing the elbow of a waiter as he walked by. He jerked to a stop, looking at me. He had to do a double-take, and I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable by my sudden grip, so I let him go.

I said, “I’m looking for your boss. Is Newton here tonight?” Oh, God, please say yes. If he wasn’t, then I’d have to explain to him what I was doing here, and I’d bet he wouldn’t be too happy about me interrogating his clientele. Bad for business.

“Uh, I believe he’s upstairs,” the waiter said.

“Thanks.” As the waiter scurried off, I turned my head toward the side door on the far back end of the place. What memories I had in the office upstairs weren’t good ones; I’d met Carl DeLuca there. I’d also had a little meeting with Tony there—if you wanted to call what he did to me a meeting.

Telling me he tricked me. Got me to poison Carl all because he was working for Bianca. Telling me some of the DeLuca loyalists shot up the Dollhouse, where Carter’s girl worked—Carter, who’d been my ‘manager’ for my stint here at the Gilded Rose. Using my shock at the whirlwind of events to remind me just how much I hated hands.

The only time I didn’t want to crawl out of my skin up there was when Newton gave me a little present in the name of Tony Torio, all tied up and helpless.

I didn’t want to go up there, but I had to. Newton seemed to be expanding his reach downtown, and so the last thing I wanted to do was get on his bad side by conducting business in one of his clubs without letting him know first.

I made a beeline for the door, passing a few tables and earning myself quizzical glances from the patrons. I paid them no mind; I wouldn’t deal with them until I spoke with Newton. This was a DeLuca loyalist club; no Luciano man or woman would be caught dead here. It was why Big Daddy had wanted me to infiltrate the place as the talent, see if I could hear anything of use and pass it along.

That felt like ages ago, but in reality, it hadn’t even been a year. So much had changed since then, it was unreal. The script had flipped, the DeLucas were gone, and I stood in their place. These patrons might hate me for my part in the game, but they knew better than to try to kill me. I wasn’t so easily vanquished.

I reached the door. A small plaque said employees only, but I ignored it, pushing through. A stairwell greeted me, nothing but the sight of black metal and dark gray walls. I picked up my dress a few inches so I wouldn’t trip on it, and I headed up. One step at a time, I steeled myself for whatever this conversation would hold.

He wouldn’t be thrilled with me interrogating his clientele, I knew that much. He’d probably ask me not to or ask something of me in return to make this a more even exchange. I had no idea what I could give him, besides money. But, being a businessman as he was, perhaps money was all I’d need, anyway.

I reached the door to his office, and I let go of my dress, smoothing it out. No mirrors nearby, so I couldn’t double check to make sure I looked good, but that would’ve been just me stalling for time, anyway. We all knew I looked fan-fucking-tastic.

I rapped my knuckles on the door. Waltzing in without knocking was a key way to get on some people’s nerves, and I wanted to start this night out right. So I knocked, was polite and all that shit. I know, I know, don’t get used to it. Polite wasn’t my jam.

“Come in,” a voice from inside the room spoke, and I grabbed the door handle and pushed inside.

The room was the same as it had been before. Dark walls, dim lighting. A desk where Newton did his work, a few velvet chairs opposite it, in case he had to have meetings. On the right side of the room sat a wall of windows, from the floor to the ceiling, where you could see out into the club below. That’s where Newton was.

Holding onto a glass with two ice cubes and some kind of alcohol, Newton’s gaze rested firmly on the club below, and I didn’t need more than one guess as to say who in particular he stared at. The girl singing. As I stepped deeper into his office, the door swinging shut behind me, I couldn’t help but notice just how hard he stared. Perhaps a bit too hard, if you know what I mean.

Newton didn’t turn to look at me. He said, “I figured you’d come straight here.” He took a sip from his drink. “You don’t frequent this place enough for me to imagine it a coincidence.” He wore a checkered suit, but the pattern fit him well.

I moved to the velvet seats, running my fingers along them. Eventually I meandered to his side, angling my head down to gaze at the singer with him. “Her voice is spectacular,” I whispered. There were speakers in the office—there had to be. You could still hear her up here. “Plus, she’s beautiful. That’s always a bonus, isn’t it? What good is a great voice without the face to match?”

When men made up most of the audience, there was only one answer to that.

Finally, he turned away from the window. His dark eyes settled on me for a few seconds, and then he went over to his desk. He hit something underneath it, and just like that, we could no longer hear the girl singing. He sat down in his leather chair, taking another sip of his drink. Was it just me, or did he seem to be in a bad mood?

“What?” I asked, sauntering over to his desk and taking up one of the velvet seats before him. “Don’t tell me I struck a nerve. You’re a businessman. Pretty acts must bring in more money for you.”

He set down his glass, and he stared straight at me. “What can I do for you tonight, Lola?”

Ah, okay. So, he didn’t want to talk about his new act at all. Wonder why. But, whatever, on to bigger and better things, AKA the reason I was here. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything, but there’s a killer out there—”

“There are lots of killers in this city. Two of them are in this room.”

“And I bet a few more of them are downstairs,” I quipped without missing a beat. “But this killer is a special one. He’s a serial killer, and he’s targeting pretty young girls… a lot like your act tonight. He takes them, beats them, rapes them, and then cuts their necks so deeply their heads are barely hanging on.”

That got him to stay quiet for a while. His blond brows furrowed, and he was measured in saying, “I haven’t heard anything about a serial killer. How many victims? How long has he been active? I haven’t heard jack shit about any of that.”

“We’ve been keeping it quiet. Well, Sylvester has. I’m trying to catch the motherfucker. The latest body was… in worse shape than the others. I don’t want to see that happen to any other girls here, and I hope you feel the same.” The image of that grotesque smile crept into my brain.

Newton gave me a tight, mirthless grin. “Of course.”

Newton was a businessman, first and foremost. I could already tell the wheels were turning in his head. He was wondering how this would affect him and his various places of business. If word got out about a serial killer stalking the streets, how would it affect his profits, if fewer people would come out and spend their hard-earned money? Or maybe he worried about his pretty little girl downstairs, if she’d be next.

I still wasn’t sure if Newton had a heart inside that chest. Jury was still out on him, but I didn’t think he was the killer. What would he have to gain? No, Newton being the bad guy just didn’t make sense. For someone like him, his businesses were everything to him. He’d built them up from nothing. He would never jeopardize them like that.

“I assume,” Newton spoke, “you’re not here to simply let me know this.”

I gave him a smile. My smile was much more sly and devious than his was. “Normally I’d say assuming makes an ass out of you and me, but in this case, you’re right. The first body was found just down the street, in one of the alleys. When I saw the Gilded Rose was so close, I thought maybe you might’ve seen or heard something, or maybe one of your patrons downstairs had.”

“I already told you I didn’t know we had a serial killer,” Newton remarked, leaning back in his chair and looking… not like he wanted to kill, but more like he was pissed off. Angry. Whether he was upset with me or the serial killer or something else entirely remained to be seen. I couldn’t read the guy well.

“We don’t have any identification on the girls,” I said. “Their corpses turn up naked after their ordeal. We don’t know how long they’re gone before their bodies turn up, so we don’t know when the first went missing, but we do know when she was found—a little over two weeks ago.”

His mouth thinned into a line. “Nothing remarkable pops up in my head. Two weeks ago, it was business as usual.”

“I was hoping I’d be able to talk to some people downstairs, see if they heard anything. Your patrons, the workers, maybe even your singer. It won’t take long.”

“I don’t think my clientele would enjoy their night being interrupted by this line of questioning,” Newton pointed out. “Why won’t you let the cops handle this? Why are you getting involved?”

I turned my head, glancing toward the wall of windows. Instead of answering, I got up and meandered over to them, gazing down at the girl still on the stage. I’d say she was young, younger than me, definitely. The ripe age for our serial killer: eighteen or nineteen. Who knew? She really could be next. I could tell she still belted her heart out, even though the office up here was soundproof with the speakers turned off.

Eventually, I whispered, “Are the cops in this city known for their abilities to catch criminals and put them behind bars?” When he said nothing, I tossed a look over my shoulder at him. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. They’re kind of useless. Just for show.” My attention returned to the singer downstairs. “They’re all corrupt. And besides, I learned young that men don’t care about catching the bad guys when all the bad guys do is go after girls. Until it affects them, they don’t care.”

Newton finished off his drink, setting the glass down a few notches above quietly. “I think the simplest answer is: you want to catch him so you can kill him. Let’s not pretend you’re doing this for a selfless reason.”

Hey, I took offense to that. I was… not selfless at all, but when it came to men hurting girls, what could I say? It woke a primal part of me that wanted to do one thing and one thing only: go on the hunt.

“Look, if you want to ask some of my clients, fine, but you’ll do it here, with me watching. I’ll have one of my guys bring them up one by one, and you’ll have five minutes with them at the most. Understood?”

That was more than I’d hoped for, actually. Turning away from the window, I set a hand on one of my hips and said, “Understood. And your workers, and the singer? Will I get to talk to them, too?”

Even as I asked the question, I could tell Newton wanted to say no. I could tell he wanted to say his workers and the singer—probably the singer especially—were off-limits to me. And yet, in the end, he gave in, “Yes, but not until after the club shuts down for the night.”

I couldn’t hide my smile at that—things were starting to turn around. I had a good feeling about this. But then Newton said something else, something I should’ve expected, given he was a businessman and never did anything selflessly, either.

“If I let you do this, I want something in return. I don’t know what, yet, but—”

“Whatever you want, Newton, I’ll give it. Or do it.”

He stopped, smirking. “You don’t even know what I’ll want, Lola. What if I ask for the whole DeLuca fortune you seem to have stumbled upon? What if I want your house? What if I want something you’re not willing to give?”

“Newton, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: I don’t care about the money or the house. I came from money. It doesn’t impress me one bit. And the house? It’s way too big for me, anyway. Take it from me, I don’t think you could ask for something I wasn’t willing to give. Even if you said you wanted a night with me—you wouldn’t be the first man to take advantage of me in that way, but I wouldn’t blame you. I blame society. I blame this shithole of a country. You just might be on my list after it’s all said and done.”

“I don’t want a night with you, so we’re both safe from that,” Newton remarked. “You are… not exactly my kind of woman. And besides, doing so would bring me the wrath of Sylvester and Maddox Luciano, let alone Vinny and Mike Milano.”

It had been such a long time since I’d heard someone use Viper’s real name. It took me a moment to realize that’s who he meant.

“I don’t know what I want from you, but I will call on you for something in the future. For now, it behooves us both for you to find this killer and take them out. If word were to spread that we have someone killing young, pretty girls, there would be panic in the streets like never before.”

“Serial killers have a way of making everyone on edge,” I spoke with a shrug.

“But not you?”

I flashed him my teeth. “I have some history with another serial killer.” I was one, but Newton didn’t need to know that. Telling him that, divulging my kills to him would give him leverage over me. He might threaten to go to the FBI or something. Even if he already had hints to my past… I didn’t know, but I knew enough not to trust him completely. “He doesn’t scare me. I’m going to find him and make him see just how vengeful a woman can be.”

That was my whole thing. Go home with a guy, make him realize just how badly he’d fucked up by thinking he’d get an easy fuck. They never seemed to think that maybe they were being played. They were always so cocky, so self-assured, but in the end, I proved every single one of them wrong, and I had fun doing it.

“If there really is a serial killer out there, I hope you do. Now, let me call Yosef and we’ll get the ball rolling. Take a seat.” He pulled his phone out of his suit and dialed Yosef, who I imagined was one of the waiters downstairs. Or maybe the bouncer, although it was kind of weird to imagine someone like that with the name Yosef.

I returned to the pair of velvet seats, and as Newton explained a little to Yosef—carefully avoiding the whole serial killer thing—I scooted my velvet chair away from its pair. Didn’t want to be too close to the men who’d be coming up here, one by one.

It was only a minute or two before someone else knocked on the door. Newton spoke, “Come in.” I turned my head to see the waiter from earlier, who must be Yosef, holding the door open for an older man. The waiter ducked out, and the man strolled over to Newton, who got up to shake his hand. “Mr. Blyde. How are you tonight?”

Mr. Blyde was a man in his fifties, with thick brown hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee. He smelled of smoke, and I resisted my urge to scrunch my face. “Great, my man. I love the new girl. She puts on quite the show.” He chuckled, and Newton only gave him a tight smile before sitting back down.

Hmm. Maybe my first instinct was right. Newton didn’t seem to like hearing things about the singer. A little jealous, perhaps? A little possessive?

Mr. Blyde was slow to sit, and only then did he realize they weren’t alone. He finally saw me, and his head whipped between us. “Newton, what’s this? What’s going on here? This another new girl?”

Funny, he didn’t recognize me. I supposed not everyone would.

To me, Newton said, “Mr. Blyde is one of my more frequent patrons here at the Gilded Rose. He joined the club about a month ago.” To him, he added, “Mr. Blyde, I am sure you’ve heard of Lola’s exploits in the city. It is because of her the power structure has changed.”

He seemed to get it then, because he blinked, and then appraised me in a new light. “Ah, you—you’re the one who ended the DeLuca line. You killed the Bloody Princess. My apologies. I didn’t realize you were so…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, apparently.

I decided to finish it for him: “Young and gorgeous? I know.”

And thus began the first.

I supposed it was a good thing Newton had stuck around to oversee the interrogations. He was able to smooth things over, get his clients relaxed while in my presence by telling them I was just following some leads. He didn’t tell them what my line of questioning was about, of course, and neither did I.

One after one, we got through the clients quickly. Newton even had the bouncer stop anyone from leaving if they tried to before talking to me. No one seemed suspicious to me, not in a serial killer way, though a few of them were uncomfortable with my presence.

A few of them even knew who I was without Newton having to introduce me. The one who killed the Bloody Princess. I told those folks I was the Bloody Queen, and a few of them chuckled while others nodded solemnly.

They were all higher-up businessmen. And their wives. Or their girlfriends. Or their mistresses? Whatever. What I meant by that was, none of them were the type to kill girls for fun. They might have tempers, might do other illegal things, but going around and killing girls would put their livelihoods at risk, and that was the biggest no-no of them all. To men and women like that, there was nothing they wouldn’t do to stop themselves from falling into ruin.

Money ran the world, and it definitely ran this city. It would continue to do so as long as the riches were in the hands of the black-market criminals. Call this Gotham 2.0.

When the club closed down for the night, I had a chat with every employee. They were much more nervous around me, which I found odd. If anything, they should be nervous around their usual clientele, not me.

But maybe they’d heard stories of how I’d killed Bianca. Tearing her throat out with my bare fucking hands, using nothing but my nails and brute force to do it. His workers didn’t seem like the kind of people who took joy in those kinds of things. Besides that bouncer guy. He was one big motherfucker, and I couldn’t read him for shit.

The last person I talked to was the girl. The singer. She had bundled up in a fur coat, hiding her dress from the world. She’d also taken off her heels and was barefoot when she came in. When she saw me, she froze and gulped, and then she looked at Newton.

“Who is she?” she asked, her voice much quieter when she wasn’t singing. You’d never know this girl was the same as the one on the stage. On stage, she had such an aura, but here? Here she seemed like nothing more than a meek, frightened girl. The switch was almost unbelievable.

Before Newton could say anything, I got up and greeted her. “My name is Lola. I saw you singing. You were amazing. I came here tonight to ask everyone a few questions. You’re the last one.”

She didn’t seem too sure. She looked between me and Newton, and I saw Newton nod his head, as if telling her it was okay to talk to me. She hugged the fur coat tighter around her. Her eyes were a vibrant green, a beautiful hue. She didn’t wear much makeup; she didn’t need to. Her beauty was natural.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Sera,” she whispered.

“Sera,” I repeated, offering her my hand. “Come sit with me. Let’s chat for a few minutes. Newton’s going to be here the whole time. I hope none of my questions are uncomfortable for you, but it’s important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

She didn’t take my hand, but she did walk with me to the velvet chair, slow to sit down.

“Sera, how long have you been on stage here, at the Gilded Rose?” I asked.

“Um, I’m here every Friday,” she said. “I’ve been here for a few weeks.” She shifted, crossing her ankles. She mainly stared at her lap, but every so often, she flicked those green eyes to Newton, who I noticed watched her intently—more intently than he’d ever watched me, even when I was on stage.

Yeah, I was definitely getting a vibe from these two.

“Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Around two weeks ago? Anyone acting suspicious, either in the club or when you were coming and going?”

Sera shook her head, her soft curls bouncing as she did so. “Not that I know of. I don’t really pay much attention to the crowd when I’m singing, otherwise I get stage fright. And when I’m in the city, I keep my head down. If you’re looking around, it’s only a matter of time before you see something you’re not supposed to.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. The same could be said of life, too.

“Don’t tell me you walk home after your set?” I asked the question, tossing a look at Newton. I hoped my glare told him enough. She shouldn’t be going anywhere by herself so late at night, especially with a serial killer on the loose.

“I don’t have a car, so… yes.”

“Well, from now on Newton’s going to have someone take you home. Someone he trusts. This city is too dangerous right now for you to be walking home alone.” I tossed him another glare. “Right?”

Newton was slow to say, “Right.”

“Good. You need to be careful, Sera. I’m looking for someone. I don’t know what he looks like. I don’t know how old he is, but he has a thing for pretty girls like you and me. I cannot overstate how important it is for you to always be aware of your surroundings and who’s nearby. If you see anything, anything that you think might be out of the ordinary, please tell Newton, and he’ll contact me.”

Well, my goal wasn’t to freak her out, but I’d say I pretty much did just that. File that one under oopsies. Oh, well. The last thing I wanted was for her to end up dead too, just like all those other girls. I’d be able to I.D. her, since I now had seen her, but that would be the only bright side.

No more girls. No more dead girls.

“Please wait for me downstairs, Sera,” Newton spoke, and Sera nodded once, getting to her feet and shuffling out. Once the door was closed, he let out a sigh.

I wasn’t quite done yet, though. “So, Newton. How long you been banging the talent?”

He glared at me. Such fury did not sit well on his face. He was a handsome man in his early forties, but he could pass for late thirties, I think. He knew how to charm people, how to get in their good graces. He was one scheming motherfucker, and yet he wasn’t the motherfucker I was looking for tonight.

“I will not dignify that with a response,” he growled out. He stood. “Now, if you’re done here, I suggest you leave—and remember, you owe me.”

“I do,” I agreed, getting to my feet. “But please, if you see or hear something, tell me. Like you said, we’re both better off without that serial killer stalking the streets.” I paused, glancing toward the door, where Sera had just disappeared. “As for the girl… she’s cute. Way too cute for you.” I laughed at his scowl, and then I left.

I passed Sera on the way out. She had changed into tennis shoes, holding onto her heels. The tennis shoes were filthy, holey things, and they made me wonder just where she came from, what her story was. Those tennis shoes were such a switch from the glowing gown she had on underneath that fur coat.

She looked at me as I walked by, but I didn’t stop and talk to her again. I’d probably only freak her out more. I bet she was the kind of girl who passed out at the sight of blood. Lucky her. Some of us were blessed with the opposite talent—we got off on it.

Hey, someone had to take out the trash, so it might as well be me.

I walked out of the Gilded Rose, into the cool night air. The wind blew, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms, and I tilted my head back to gaze up at the moon. It was almost full, not a cloud covering it. Usually the lights from the city dampened the night sky, but for some reason, tonight everything up there was bright and clear.

I heard a car pull up, and I lowered my gaze to the black car in front of me on the street. Harvey was waiting, as were all of my guys back at home. I guessed it was time to get back to them and tell them we were still at square one.

So much for a lead.

Chapter Eight – Viper

Lola was restless. She couldn’t stand not knowing who was out there killing girls. It ate her up inside, I think. I didn’t know what to do to make her feel better, short of stumbling upon a miracle and catching the fucker for her.

I’d never seen her so gung-ho about catching someone before. Yes, she was a killer herself, so I’d seen her go fucking Rambo when it came to getting her pint of blood from her enemies, but this was on a whole different level. The things she’d do to this serial killer would make all her other kills look like child’s play.

Except maybe her brother’s death. Though I hadn’t been there, I’d heard from Maddox how she’d killed him, how she’d relished in tearing the asshole apart piece by piece until his body was empty of organs.

Nothing I could do or say calmed her down. Nothing Maddox or Sylvester could do, either. I hated to describe any of us as helpless, but that’s exactly what we were in this situation.

Lola swore up and down the serial killer was killing girls for her, but I still wasn’t so sure. I mean, if you took a look at all of the serial killers in our nation’s history, you’d find serial killers who killed women, ones who killed men, others who preferred children. What were the odds they were doing this because of Lola? Trying to send her some kind of sick, twisted message? I wasn’t convinced, but I knew better than to try telling her that.

The days passed, and she grew stir crazy. She’d gone out to all the clubs, on watch, on constant high alert, all by herself. She had Harvey drive her around his dating schedule—for some reason, even though she was going psycho over this serial killer business, she still wanted him to continue pursuing this Giulia chick. Don’t ask me why she gave a shit about Harvey and his love life; I’d have no answers for you.

But eventually, she ran out of places to check. She’d gone to every club, every bar, on the strip near the alleyway the first body was found. She thought there was a connection; she thought he might be someone who knew how we operated, but maybe she was seeing a connection where there was none. It could be a coincidence. Just because she wanted there to be a connection, something, anything that would be a trail to lead her to the killer, didn’t mean there was one.

It killed me to see her like this. I’d gotten so used to her I don’t care attitude, her flippant way of dealing with things—more than that, I’d grown to love her for it. That was a part of her. I’d never seen her so focused, so serious on something before, other than the rare times she spoke of her past and her brother and everything that asshole did to her.

Only a few things got to Lola, and a serial killer targeting young, pretty girls in this city was one of them.

One night, Lola wanted to get all dolled up and walk the streets. She put on a short, skin-tight clubbing dress full of sequins, and tall heels most girls could only hope to walk in. She put makeup on her tattoo, hiding it from the world. A quick glance at her, and even if you knew the Bloody Queen’s face, you’d have to do a double-take to realize it was her and not some other blond girl simply looking for a good time.

I think she wanted the killer to try to go after her. To find her walking around, acting clueless downtown, and take her.

Maddox, Sylvester, and I were near the base of the stairwell, waiting for her to come down. None of us were happy. That much was obvious. None of us wanted her to go. Again, fucking obviously.

Sending her off like this, if that serial killer did go after her, it was a death sentence. Lola might think she could handle it on her own, but at the end of the day, she was a woman, and when it came to brute strength, a man usually won. The only reason she’d gotten so good at being the Night Slayer was due to her catching her prey unaware.

Harvey wasn’t coming tonight. He had another date, so Lola had decided to take the bus. Yes, the bus. She’d take the freaking bus downtown, get out, and start walking, meanwhile hoping, praying the killer was nearby.

“I don’t like this,” Sylvester muttered, frowning. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, looking a bit ruffled—not like his usual self. But I guess a situation like this called for it.

“Me fucking neither,” Maddox grumbled, his dark eyes fixated on a spot on the floor, as if his glare could catch it on fire. His arms were folded over his chest, his hands curled into fists. His shoulder leaned against a nearby wall, everything about him tense.

Sylvester glanced up the stairs, and it was only after he didn’t see Lola coming that he spoke again, this time in a whisper, “I think we need to beat her downtown. We know the route she’s taking. We know where she’s going to focus. We should each go. Blend in. Don’t let her see us.”

“And if she does?” I asked. What then? Lola would be pissed. No, more than that. She’d probably want to kill us, and as much as I thought this idea was stupid, I didn’t want those kinds of feelings between us.

“Then we take it from there,” Sylvester said. “Like hell am I going to let her stroll out of this house looking like a piece of meat, all so she can get the guy herself.” Under his breath, he added, “This is exactly why I tried keeping it to myself. I only wish we would’ve found the killer before she found out.”

Wishing for something like that was a moot point, now. Totally pointless. We all knew about the serial killer and there was no going back.

The whole crew was on the lookout. Sylvester had told the Beast to contact him should he or his men see anything else, same with Fang. Roman and Carter were also on the lookout while keeping their girl safe. Every man under us knew we wanted the killer—but they didn’t know how bad it had gotten. No one but us knew how many girls he’d killed or the state of the last body.

According to Sylvester, it was time we found another one, which was why Lola wanted to go out tonight so badly.

We’d all sat down and mapped it out. Where the girls were found, how many days apart. There was no rhyme or reason to the drop sites, it seemed. He didn’t keep a set schedule, either—they were usually a mere few days between, though there’d been as little as one before.

Although, who the fuck knew? That first body the police had found might not have been the true first. There might be other bodies, other victims out there, that none of us knew about. Just because we thought we knew his M.O. didn’t actually mean we did. We might be more in the dark than we knew.

“So, we’re taking separate cars,” Maddox said, “and beating her there? Any idea where we should each go?” Like Lola, he itched to get his hands on the killer—but not for some twisted kind of justice. He simply wanted it to be done with, I think. All of this, done with so things could get back to normal.

Sylvester pulled out his phone. Though I couldn’t see the screen, I imagined he had pulled up a map of the city and zoomed in on the street that Lola was putting her focus on tonight. All of the girls that had been found were younger, clubbing age, and they were all pretty—which meant they attracted attention while they were out. As much as I hated to admit it, Lola did make the perfect bait.

“Here,” Sylvester said, screenshotting his screen and then circling something on it. “Mads, you go here. Viper, here.”

My phone buzzed shortly after that, and I pulled it out of my pocket to see that he’d sent both Maddox and me the same picture, with two hand-drawn circles on it. Busy street corners. One circle was labeled with an M and the other with a V. Neither had very much parking near them, so we’d have to park the cars somewhere else and walk there.

But that was fine. I didn’t mind walking a bit, as long as it meant I’d help keep Lola safe tonight. Sylvester was right: she was the kind of person who didn’t give a shit about her own personal safety. She’d laugh in the face of death, try to kick it in the balls, and then laugh some more. When we’d found her in the beginning, before real feelings got involved, she’d been nothing more than a serial killer with a death wish.

Turned out, she still had a bit of a death wish. We needed to break her of that habit, after this.

Sylvester opened his mouth to say more, but right then something stopped him. He put his phone away, turning toward the stairwell. We all did the same, hiding the evidence of our conspiracy to follow Lola as she walked down the stairs, looking as beautiful as ever.

That was an understatement, I think. No one wore a dress like she did. Those hips, those tits… those legs that seemed to stretch on for days in those heels. The dress ended on her thighs, dangerously close to the curve of her ass. With one wrong move, she’d flash the world, and I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like the idea.

Her blond hair was wavy, her face totally done up. Her blue eyes were smoky and bright at the same time. Her full, luscious lips curled into a smile when she saw us, and she cocked her head. “Please tell me you guys weren’t coming up with a plan to follow me like stalkers tonight.” The skull necklace Sylvester had bought her sat on her neck. She’d taken to wearing it every day.

None of us said anything to that, which caused her to roll her eyes. “Look, as sweet and somewhat psycho as that is, I need to do this—and in order to do this, I can’t have you three following me around the city. It’ll be obvious I’m baiting the guy if he sees you.” She rubbed the side of her arm, her tattoo completely hidden to the world.

Lola noticed my brother was missing. “Where’s the big guy? He didn’t want to see me off tonight?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Sylvester said, stepping toward her. His back blocked my view of her, and I watched as the back of his head bent down. He must be kissing her or something—had to be, if the groan of annoyance from Maddox meant anything.

Where was my brother? Oh, he’d already gone to the bus stop to make sure Lola actually made it there and got downtown. It was something he and I had discussed prior to this plan of stalking with Sylvester. I’d let Maddox and Sylvester know once she left.

Hey, I wasn’t going to wait to see what the plan was. Mike had offered, and I didn’t see the harm in sending him. None of us wanted Lola to get hurt. Just because my brother wasn’t sleeping with her didn’t mean he didn’t care about her. He might claim she grated on his nerves, but I think the two of them got along pretty well.

“Be safe,” Sylvester was busy saying, “and by God, Lola, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid? Come on, who do you think I am?” Lola pushed past him. I could tell she was kind of annoyed at him, but at the same time, she loved the attention. “No promises on either count, lover, but I’ll do my best.” She was about to saunter past Maddox, but Maddox grabbed her hips and jerked her to him, slamming her against his chest.

He kissed her roughly, and he only stopped when she started to whine against his lips. Something about her lipstick, I think. Maddox begrudgingly let her go, scowling as he muttered, “If you get yourself killed, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Right,” she said. “That makes sense.” With a giggle, she pushed him away and resumed her pace, but she spotted me and stopped. “Well, since they laid one on me, what’s one more? We’ll see if this lipstick really is smudge-proof.” She swept toward me, tossed her arms around my neck, and kissed me, claiming my mouth as hers.

Lola had a way about her. When she kissed you, when she fucked you, she demanded all of your attention, all of your thoughts. Even if you tried, you couldn’t think about anything else. The only thought in my head during that kiss was how soft those lips were, how badly I wanted them to roam over every inch of my body, how I wanted to take her upstairs and tear this teeny, tiny dress off her.

It took every ounce of restraint in me to resist, and when the kiss was over and she pulled back, she wore a wide smile. “How does the lipstick look, Viper?” She could purr out my name like no one else. That sultry, sensual tone made my balls ache.

“It looks good,” I told her, and I meant it. She could be in fucking clown makeup and she’d still somehow make it look good. She’d told us that she’d been her parents’ angel, and I could see it. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if her childhood hadn’t been so awful, she’d still be in that life, already be some man’s trophy wife.

“Good, because if it didn’t, I’d have to kick all your asses.” With a wink, she sauntered off, leaving us there to both pine after her and plan our next move. She headed right to the front of the house, and then she left, the front door slamming shut.

A moment passed, and I looked at Sylvester. “Should we get going?”

“We gotta wait till she gets to the sidewalk, at least,” Maddox said. “Right? Although, I have to say, I’m not above tying her down to the bed. I have the rope ready. She might be pissed at us for a while, but better pissed and alive than dead because she couldn’t let this serial killer shit go.” He would get no argument about that. Alive was always better than dead.

“We’ll wait another minute, give her a head start, and then get out of here,” Sylvester said. “As much as I’d like to see her chained to the bed, I think she’d hate us for that.”

Maddox shrugged. “What’s hate mixed with love? A part of me still hates her for what she did to our brother. I don’t want to kill her anymore, but I’m still pissed—” He wasn’t used to feeling any emotion when it came to girls. He was always the partier, the one shirking his duties to his father, the one hooking up, drinking, doing drugs, because he didn’t care. He really did turn a new leaf for Lola, brother-killer or not.

“I should probably tell you two that Mike went out to scope out the bus stop,” I said, both pairs of eyes turning to me. “I didn’t know what the plan was for tonight, so if she saw him and asked about it, I’d tell her it was Mike’s idea, not mine.” I shrugged. I wasn’t better than pushing my brother under the bus. Only one of us was sleeping with her, and that was me.

“What? And you didn’t think to tell us this before?” Maddox huffed.

Sylvester, on the other hand, nodded thoughtfully. “Good. The more eyes on Lola tonight the better. I don’t want to take chances here. She’s convinced he’s doing this for her, because of her. Who knows? She might be right—and if she is, then it’s only a matter of time before he goes after her. Let’s not make tonight that night.”

“And if the fucker does show his face,” Maddox growled out, puffing himself up as he flexed his muscles, “we’ll make sure he doesn’t have much of a face left come sunrise.”

We waited a bit longer, and then we headed out. Sylvester and Maddox had driven over here together, so Sylvester had to drop off his brother at the spot he was to watch. I was alone, but that was fine. I hadn’t gone on a mission alone in a long time; my brother was always with me, it seemed. And when he wasn’t, it was only because he couldn’t be.

Like when he’d gotten shot by the DeLuca loyalists. Those motherfuckers had gotten what they deserved in the end, trust me. None of the men who’d attacked me and Mike or Roman and Carter’s girl survived to see this day. They were all dead, our justice hard, swift, and severe. Dead men couldn’t live to turn on you again.

I had to park in an old parking garage; the nearest place to my designated spot without parking in plain view on the street, where Lola would see and recognize my car. I’d grabbed a black hooded jacket before leaving the house, and I threw it on as I got out of the car. Hood up, hands in my pockets, you couldn’t see all of my serpent tattoos. You couldn’t see my face or my eyes. It was as good of a disguise as anything else.

I exited the parking garage, making a right. I’d have to check the bus schedule, but it shouldn’t take Lola too long to get here. Sylvester didn’t tell us where he was stationing himself, but I was pretty sure I was the first person she’d walk by. I wouldn’t be the one to blow it.

Once I got closer to the intersection, the night air grew full and bright. So many neon signs, flickering and blinding, enticing those on the sidewalk to come check out their businesses. This city’s nightlife was perhaps livelier than its daytime crowd.

Or maybe it was because a different breed of people walked the night streets as opposed to during the day. In the day, with the sun shining brightly overhead, the streets were full of cars, the sidewalks businessmen and women.

Now? Now these same sidewalks contained teenagers and young adults alike, all wanting to have a good time and let loose. A few older people, trying to fit in. Some drunk already, a few homeless because they had nowhere else to go. The streets were emptier, but the cars that did drive by were fancier, people trying to show off even though it might get them robbed.

But here, people didn’t give a shit about being robbed. And they definitely didn’t think about getting killed—it wouldn’t happen to them. Everyone was always so assured of that, it was almost ridiculous.

The businesses I passed were a variety of things. Bars and clubs of all kinds, obviously, but also other things. Shops that catered to the darker parts of you. Stores that sold all your BDSM needs. Tattoo parlors. Fortune tellers. Anything you could imagine, this city probably had—and it had a few of them.

The funny thing was, a lot of them were fronts for other businesses. The more illegal kinds. Drugs, money laundering, prostitution, smuggling. The Beast dealt in weapons, I think, but the most common would definitely be drugs. The percentage of clean people in this city was probably in the single digits, no joke.

Not everyone was cut out to live here, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lived somewhere else. I’d been born here, and I’d die here. I’d never run, no matter what happened.

I made it to the corner. There was a bit of a crowd hanging out around the door to nearby bar, so I hung out around there, pretending to find something entrancing in the window. And then I waited. I waited for a while. I waited for what felt like fucking hours.

I wasn’t good at this waiting game. I was the kind of man who liked getting things done.

Someone stumbled out of the bar, swearing up a storm at everyone still inside the bar, slurring his words.

No, he didn’t stumble out. He’d been thrown out.

A guy in his thirties, he looked totally wasted, his eyes glazed over. He could barely hold himself up. He gave a sleazy smile to the group of women hanging out near the streetlight, saying, “Hey, ladies. Got room for one more?” That’s what I thought he said, anyways. He was very, very drunk.

The women scoffed and closed their group circle, blocking him, and he hiccupped and flipped them off. He then turned around and came walking toward me. He tripped on nothing in particular, catching himself on my shoulders. I’d been busy watching for Lola, but the moment the guy touched me, I turned my glare his way.

“Hey, man,” he slurred. “You got a… you got—” Another hiccup. “—you got a light? I wanna smoke.” With one arm on my shoulder, he tapped his chest, then his side pocket. “Fuck me. You got a joint or something? Come on, give me the good stuff.”

I pushed him off me. “I don’t have anything.” He must’ve started to drink early to be this wasted already. I didn’t see Lola’s pretty blond head anywhere, but that could change at a moment’s notice, so I didn’t want to be preoccupied with this asshole.

“You look like—” He had enough wits about him to stop the moment my glare hardened in his direction. He threw up his hands, swaying on his feet, as if telling me he didn’t want to start a fight. He then walked off, turning the corner and catcalling some other women while doing so.

Ugh. It was men like that that made me think Lola might be onto something when it came to her Night Slayer antics. Some people were just disgusting, and someone like that probably made similar comments to women when he wasn’t drunk.

Men. As much as I enjoyed having a cock and being able to piss while standing up, I also knew we, as a whole, tended to suck ass. The bar wasn’t very high when it came to us, and that guy was a prime example why.

Still no Lola.

The guy didn’t leave, apparently. I heard his slurring yet boisterous voice on the corner of the block. He must’ve positioned himself there to ogle the women walking by. It was none of my business what a fucker like that did, but the more I listened to him, the more he grated on my nerves. Maybe Lola had rubbed off on me after all.

“Well, aren’t you just a pretty face,” he was busy saying. “Show me those tits.”

I glanced over to him, finding him leaning around the corner and talking to a woman who hadn’t even bothered to stop and listen to him. She was on the phone, dutifully ignoring him as if he didn’t exist. Good for her.

If that’s how he was talking to women, no wonder he’d been thrown out of the bar.

I checked my phone, finding a message in the group chat from Sylvester. He asked if anyone saw her yet. I texted Mike just to make sure she actually made it on the bus, and he responded promptly with a yes, and that meant she was headed my way any time now.

“Well, fuck me,” the guy had latched onto a different woman, from the sound of it. “Someone get me a glass because you’re a tall drink of water.” He whistled, though the whistle sounded a little too full of spit to be an actual whistle.

And then I heard the woman respond to him, and I knew it was the girl we were on the lookout for: “Buddy, fuck off.” Definitely Lola, given the venom in the voice. It was a voice that said she was ready to kick ass and take names, and if that guy kept it up with her, he might be her next victim.

But, no, that wasn’t what tonight was about.

I texted back the group chat, saying she was here, and then I ducked near the door to the bar, hiding near the glass. Pretending not to pay attention while also paying attention was harder than you might think.

“You got a mouth on you,” the man muttered. “I’d like to see you use it. How much for a blowie? Ten bucks?” As he propositioned the worst woman in this city to proposition, I shut my eyes, knowing instantly this wasn’t going to be good. Just because Lola was hunting for a serial killer didn’t mean she’d let that go.

She couldn’t. Hell, I felt my own hands clench into fists the moment he said that. If she wasn’t going to turn on him and make him regret saying that, I fucking would.

Through my peripherals, I finally saw Lola. She’d tried to walk past him, but when he said that bit about the blowjob, she’d stopped, freezing in her tracks. She was slow in turning around to face the guy, who’d followed her a bit, now standing less than two feet behind her. He was busy rubbing his cock over his pants.

Whether or not he was too drunk to think straight didn’t matter. He’d said what he’d said, he did what he did, and now he’d have to face the consequences.

Lola wouldn’t kill him in plain view of all of these people, would she? That might be a problem. I found myself inching toward them, still facing the bar’s front glass.

“You really think someone like you could get someone like me?” she asked, spewing venom. “Whether or not I’m a hooker doesn’t matter. Even if I was, I wouldn’t ever suck that cock of yours.” She took a step closer to him. “Because I don’t suck cocks that are the size of a toe.” Insulting dick size was the one way to piss off pretty much every single man alive.

“You little—” He took a swing at her, but he was drunk. He was drunk and she was Lola—and even though she wore five-inch heels, she was spry on her feet.

Lola ducked, dodging the punch. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait another second. Her fingers curled into a fist and she threw her own, landing it right on his jaw with such force it sent him flying. The fact he was drunk didn’t help him at all.

He landed on his back on the concrete, but she didn’t stop there. She dropped to kneel on his chest, making him wheeze, and then she hit him again. This time she got his nose, popped the cartilage, made him bleed almost instantaneously.

“You think your shit don’t stink? You think you’re the man or something?” Lola laughed. “You ain’t fucking no one.” Again, she punched him, getting her knuckles wet with the blood from his nose. The man couldn’t defend himself, too drunk and stunned by her attack. “No one, you hear me?” She pounded on him like she’d never pounded on anyone before, over and over again, to the point where she was starting to gain an audience.

Shit.

Even though I didn’t want to break up the fight, I knew I had to, because if I didn’t, then she’d keep going. She wouldn’t stop. She’d keep punching him again and again until he was unconscious, possibly dead, and where would that get her? What would that get us? Tonight was supposed to be about hunting a serial killer, not snapping at the first man who made inappropriate comments.

Now, I wasn’t saying he didn’t deserve her wrath, because he fucking did. What he said to her was uncalled for, and if she didn’t do it, he might only grow more ballsy until he tried something with someone, and maybe that girl would be too scared to say no.

I pushed through the small crowd that had gathered around Lola and the drunken man, and I said, “That’s enough.” I went for her, hooking my hands under her armpits and hauling her off him.

“No,” she fought me, struggling against me. “No, he fucking deserves more!” She must not have realized it was me, because the moment I let her go, she whirled around and punched me square in the jaw, much like her first punch to the guy currently on the cement—who currently wheezed in pain and spat up his own blood.

Except I didn’t stumble back and fall. My jaw hurt, and she tried to punch me again, but I was ready for her. I caught the second punch, curling my fingers around her small fist. “Stop,” I said, pulling down my hood with my other hand. “It’s me.”

She stopped struggling, her eyes widening. She then glanced down at the guy on the ground. “He does deserve worse.”

I looked at the crowd. “I know. Come on.” I took her bloodied hand in mine and pulled her away from the guy—he struggled to keep consciousness, but he was still awake. If there weren’t so many witnesses, I’d have told her to go for it.

No one stopped us. No one tried to say anything to us, just like no one offered to help the guy up. Indeed, he did deserve worse, and everybody who’d been hanging around that area knew it, too.

“I need to keep going,” Lola said after a while, trying to pull her hand from mine. I didn’t let her, though.

“After that fiasco? If all it takes to set you off is one asshole saying stupid things to you, I don’t think you’re in the right mindset to chase after a serial killer,” I hissed at her, still walking with her. I headed toward the garage where my car was parked. “We’ll call it a night.”

“Like hell we will! He’s out there, somewhere, and I’m going to get him—”

I stopped, whirling on her. I let go of her hand only to push her against the stone of the building we were near. Past the majority of the neon lights, we were away from the crowds, too. Whatever building we were near—a bank, I think—was currently closed. “Oh, yeah? Sylvester was right, Lola, you’re too blinded by your need for justice for those girls to think smart about this. Just look at what you did to that guy. If I wouldn’t have stopped you, what would you have done? Just kept going until you killed him? You had a dozen witnesses.”

She squirmed her body against mine, baring her teeth at me, but I didn’t let up the pressure. I kept my body against hers, much to her annoyance. Her squirming body gave me some ideas, even though it wasn’t exactly the best time to do any of that.

“I don’t care about witnesses,” she hissed out. “What good is it to own the fucking city and not be able to take matters into your own hands every once in a while? What’s the fucking point? I’ll tell you: there is none. You can’t just walk the walk. You need to talk the fucking talk, and right now, it feels like I’m the only one willing to do that.”

I closed my eyes, leaning my body harder against hers. My forehead met with hers, and we stayed like that for a while. Lola didn’t try to push me off her again. The only thing I could do was breathe, and she was much the same, too riled up after everything, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Together, we worked to calm down.

I didn’t have to open my eyes or pull myself off her right away. I stayed like that, even as I said, “I know it feels like your responsibility, Lola. I know it feels like he’s after you. Killing men who take advantage of women is your thing—it’s the whole reason you’re here, otherwise we never would’ve met. Everything you work for, everything you are… you just want to make the world a safer place for other girls.”

All she could do to that was sigh.

“But things are different now,” I reminded her. “You have us. You’re not going at this alone. You’re visiting the clubs every night with the intention of adding another notch. It’s different. You’re different. You made us different. You can’t go off the deep end like you used to.” I pulled my forehead off hers, slowly opening my eyes to see she already gazed steadily at me. Even in the darkness, those eyes were beautiful.

“What about us?” I asked. “What are we supposed to do if something happens to you, Lola? Do you have any idea how much you’ve changed us, the things you’ve made us all want? We want a life with you. We don’t want to have to bury you because you tried and failed to do things your way. We can’t lose you… I can’t lose you.”

I was never one for mushy-gushy shit, but if saying all that stuff would help make Lola understand, then I’d say it a dozen times. I’d say whatever I had to in order to get it through her thick skull. None of it was a lie. It was all very much true, and I had no idea why she couldn’t see that for herself.

Maybe she just wasn’t used to it. Having a person, let alone three, who would do anything for her. Three people who would put themselves in harm’s way just to make sure she was safe. Yes, we all knew Lola could take care of herself, but sometimes you needed help, and admitting that was not a flaw or a weakness.

Lola didn’t say anything for a while. She simply stared at me, her lips puckering somewhat. She then lifted a hand—the hand that had gotten some blood on it from beating that drunk man senseless—and brought it to my face, running it down the side.

I didn’t give a shit if she got blood on me. I didn’t care about any of that. We were creatures of darkness and pain, and blood was often our canvas. I wouldn’t be where I was today if blood bothered me.

“Who knew, Viper, you had such a way with words?” she spoke with a soft chuckle, that hand now trailing along my jaw. “You’re right, though. I’m not… sometimes I’m blinded by my need for vengeance, but I don’t know how to shut it off.” When those fingers reached my chin, she took hold of it and pulled my mouth down to hers.

She tasted sweet. Her soft lips on mine sent a shockwave through my system, and all I could do for a few moments was stand there and kiss her, her hand still on my chin. We didn’t often have sweet moments like this—although, since she had blood on that hand, maybe it wasn’t as sweet as I thought.

I pulled my mouth off hers, tearing her hand off my chin so that I could shower her neck with unobstructed kisses. “Let us help you,” I murmured against her skin. Must’ve been a sensitive spot, for she shivered against me. “You don’t need to do any of this alone. We’re better together.” I didn’t think I’d ever spoken a more truthful statement. I mean, wasn’t that why she was still here, alive instead of long dead, because she fit with us so fucking well?

“I think you need to remind me just how good together we are,” she whispered, and at the same time, I felt her hands go for the bottom hem of the hoodie, pulling it up so she could access my pants.

Here? Right now? Wasn’t she just going on about her need to find this serial killer no matter what? But then again, wasn’t I just telling her how we needed to be together in order to do that? A quick fuck might be just what we both need. And who the hell was I to say no to such a gorgeous, impressive, killer woman?

I let her undo the button and the zipper. I let her stroke me over my boxers. We might be in public, but it wasn’t like we were back in the crowd. The streets weren’t too full of cars, so anyone driving by would just get a look at my back; it wasn’t like my pants were down around my ankles.

My hand instinctively went to her throat, wrapping around it tightly. She gave me a wicked grin, no longer stroking my cock to instead pull up her dress enough to expose her panties. With my other hand, I got my length out, yanked her panties to the side, and plunged into that sweet, tight cunt.

I shuddered. We were both standing, so it wasn’t the easiest angle, but the angle made her core feel even tighter than usual. I couldn’t bury myself in her balls-deep, but that was okay. We would make do with what our standing positions allowed.

My body took on a quick rhythm. This was no easy, gentle fuck. Our previous kiss might’ve been sweet for our standards, but this union was not at all in the same vein. This fuck involved two needy, desperate animals who craved nothing more than the satisfaction they could only find in each other. Two animals needing to put a mark on their mate.

I never dated much before Lola. Had some girls, yes, but nothing long-term, and nothing compared to Maddox. Lola, though, made me want a long-term. She made me think of the future, want things I never dreamed I’d want.

Like sharing my girlfriend with two other men who were technically my bosses. Yeah, never really saw that one coming.

Her cunt was hot and tight in all the right ways, milking my cock for all it was worth. I let out a groan, my face buried in the side of her neck. I’d loosened my grip on her throat, unable to keep such a hard hold on it while fucking her. It was like all I could do was become a slave to my lower half, like my only current objective was finding my release.

Lola wrapped her arms around my neck, holding onto me. Based on the sounds that came from her, I’d say it felt fucking amazing for her. Such soft, gasping moans, accompanied by tugging my hoodie, my hair, whatever she could get ahold of.

“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me harder, Viper.”

I turned my face to look at the street corner we’d just left. Some people had turned their heads over our way, but they were far enough away that, at the most, all they saw were two shadows becoming one.

But, alas, the girl wanted me to fuck her harder, so I would. I had to. Couldn’t say no to a plea like that.

I couldn’t fuck her harder from our current position, though, so we’d have to switch it up. I took a step back, pulling my cock out of her. I grabbed her and spun her around. Lola braced herself with her hands on the building, sticking her ass out, and I hiked up her dress even more before retaking that pussy.

I plunged into her from behind, filling her up with one thrust of my hips. I must’ve hit something different this way, because she purred out, “Oh, fuck. Yeah, fuck me like that. Fuck me hard.” She didn’t seem to care that we were where anyone could watch, and if she didn’t care, I didn’t care.

As I fucked her, I had to hold onto her hips to keep myself steady. Her whole body swayed from the impact of my thrusts, but she not once complained. She liked it hard, loved it rough. Lola Harding didn’t do sweet love—and neither did I. Might have our moments, but when it came down to it, this was how we fucked.

My body was on fire. Every nerve in me sang with the urgent desire to come inside her cunt, my heart beating so fast it felt like it could pop right out of my chest. Sweat lined my brow even though the night air was a little chilly. That’s what fucking in clothes did to you. God, I wished we were naked… though if we were naked, we definitely wouldn’t be in public.

Her inner walls tightened a bit, and Lola let out another moan. This one told me she was getting close, so I kept up the pace. I fucked her hard and rough like she wanted. And maybe some of it was due to the fact that we might have a little audience in the distance. Maybe the sensual feeling was heightened because of that, but it didn’t take much more to drag an orgasm out of her.

Lola came with a biting vengeance, crying out a stifled sound as she unraveled on my cock. She just barely was able to keep herself upright after—which was good, because I didn’t stop. I kept riding her, needing to reach my own orgasm.

Her pussy felt so fucking good. I didn’t know how to explain it. It was like that cunt was the perfect fit. Tight in all the right places, always ready for me. Her body was made for me, and I never wanted to know a day without it, without her.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I slammed my hips against her ass, pumping my cock deep into her pussy. My eyelids shut, my body lurching forward as my cock emptied itself inside her. Each pump of cum went right into her cunt, again and again until I was all dried up, and when the orgasm had subsided, I didn’t want to pull out of her right away. I wanted to stay exactly where we were and relish in the feeling of her wet cunt, made wetter by the addition of my cum.

But we couldn’t stay like this forever. I had to text the others that I’d found her and taken her off the streets because she clearly wasn’t ready to go hunting for this serial killer.

And so, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do, I labored to step back, pulling my length out of her. I stuffed myself away quickly, zipping up my pants and doing the button as I watched Lola fix herself. She ran a hand through her hair once her dress and panties were fixed. I gave Sylvester a call.

He picked up on the second ring, and I said, “I have her. We’re going home.” Sylvester said he’d meet us there, so I hung up.

Together, we walked toward where I’d parked my car. I could tell Lola wasn’t too happy about tonight’s end, but at the same time, she understood she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I considered that a small victory, since it’d been my words that helped her see that.

We walked into the dark parking garage, heading right for my vehicle. We got in, and it was just after I’d started her up that my phone buzzed. I went to answer it, glancing at the caller-ID before picking it up. Sylvester’s name flashed on my screen, and Lola saw it as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What… didn’t you just talk to him?” She was puzzled. “Why is he calling back?”

“I don’t know.” Something in me knew this wasn’t right. Sylvester wouldn’t just call… which led me to think something had happened, and I couldn’t imagine what that was. I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear. “What’s going on?”

Sylvester was quiet for a second. “We need to go to the warehouse. There’s been… a development.” It was all he said before he hung up. Though he spoke no details, there was something heavy in his voice that didn’t sit right with me.

“Well?” Lola asked. “What is it?”

“We need to go to the warehouse,” I repeated what Sylvester had said. There was only one warehouse it could be, the one we frequented when Lola wanted to get her hands dirty. And that meant…

That meant someone was watching us. It meant someone had been watching us this whole time.

Chapter Nine – Lola

Viper didn’t know the details. I guess that was fine, since we would get there shortly. The streets weren’t too busy, so we didn’t get stuck by many red lights. Ever since that phone call, my stomach was in knots. And to think, I’d just calmed myself down with Viper. All that was apparently for nothing, since something had obviously happened.

What exactly happened, I didn’t know. I’d find out soon. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

We reached the edge of the city, the abandoned warehouse waterfront district, within ten minutes. A part of me assumed we were heading into the Beast’s territory, but we turned the opposite way and went towards a particular warehouse I’d gotten to know pretty well. Sylvester and Maddox were already there, talking to someone just outside the warehouse’s side door. He must’ve sped like a demon to beat us.

When we got out of the car and ventured closer to them, I could hear their conversation. The man was one of the same men who worked for the Beast, a tall, blond one. “I know this part is yours,” he was busy saying. “But the boss wanted to make sure there were no problems. I’ve been scoping the whole area every night with Caleb on his orders.”

They must’ve just got there, because that sounded like the beginning of an explanation. I went to stand beside Sylvester, Viper just behind me. “Tell me you got the guy doing this,” I said. Even if it meant another girl was dead… at least the motherfucker was found.

But, watching this guy’s expression, I didn’t think that was it. The same sinking feeling I’d had this whole time returned in full force.

The guy rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, um… well, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Did you tell your boss what you found?” Sylvester asked.

“Caleb went on ahead. I stayed back here for you. If you need help cleaning it up—”

“No,” Sylvester cut in with a shake of his head. “We can handle it on our own. Thank you for letting me know.”

The blond guy nodded. “Sure. I hope this is the last time we have to meet under these circumstances.” His eyes landed on me. “You look very nice tonight. Sorry to ruin your plans.” He walked away after that, my guess to return to his boss and his crew.

I wondered what the hell he was talking about, but then I glanced down and saw I was all dolled up. Right. During the tense drive here, I’d completely forgotten that I’d set out tonight to catch me a serial killer. Got all prettied up to play the bait—which was for nothing, but I hadn’t known it earlier.

Viper asked Maddox and Sylvester, “Have you gone in yet? Have you seen what he’s talking about?”

“Not yet,” Sylvester said. Those blue eyes of his seemed darker right now, more black than anything else. The moon above had been covered with clouds, no extra light to be seen, save for the light from the headlights of the cars that were still on. “We should go in together.”

He went for the door first, followed by Maddox, whose expression told me all I needed to know: Viper and Sylvester weren’t the only ones worried about me. Maddox was, too. Had I been that off the deep end to not even realize that Mad Maddox was worried about me?

I pushed in after them.

The air stank of stale, rotting flesh, and I immediately gagged. Flies buzzed around, filling the air with noise. A single dim light was already on, situated over the spot where I’d so recently tortured a guy because he gave off abuser vibes.

All I could see was the body underneath the lightbulb in the center of the warehouse. Viper left to go turn on more lights, leaving me to approach with Maddox and Sylvester. Maddox tripped on something in the darkness, but I didn’t look, too focused on the body.

It sat in an old chair, the same chair we used, only this body was different. This one was naked, just like the others. A young girl, by the look of it. Her skin was black and blue, what bits of it I could see. The rest was cut into ribbons, shredded like someone had taken a saw to her.

Oh, and her head was missing. Only an inch or so of her neck remained. The lack of blood on her body told me she’d already been dead when her body had been mutilated. The poor, poor girl. What kind of monster would do this?

Viper must’ve found the light switches, because suddenly more lights flickered on.

“Oh, my fuck,” Maddox whispered.

Though I didn’t want to turn away from the headless body on the chair, I did just that. The tone Maddox had just used didn’t sound right at all, and the moment I turned, I saw why.

The body on the chair wasn’t the only one. Other bodies were littered around the warehouse floor. A dozen of them, at least, arranged in a circle around the one in the chair. Flies going in and out of their mouths, all of them girls with bloated skin and cut necks. And what tied them together was the way their faces were cut into grotesque, ugly smiles.

All of them. Every single one of them.

“Shit,” Sylvester spoke, clearly in shock, “these girls… they’re the same ones I took care of before.” He pointed to one near my feet. “That one was the one the Beast’s men found.”

I leaned over her lifeless, hideous corpse. It was hard to tell if she was the same girl, her body had taken on so much water after being dumped so unceremoniously into the river. Her head had fallen off, completely severed, but the way her mouth was cut… yeah, I could see it in her face. It was the same girl.

As Maddox circled the warehouse, checking out each body, Sylvester went on, “Someone’s been fishing them out. Someone’s been watching, waiting to make an impression.” Not much could get to a man like that, but seeing all these bodies arranged like this had made him look quite pale.

I think… I think I was more in shock than anything else. This didn’t feel real. This… it was wrong. It was so fucking wrong. Seeing all these bodies together, knowing someone had taken the time to arrange them like this, in the same warehouse we used…

“You can’t say this isn’t about us anymore,” I muttered, turning back to face the headless one. “You can’t say it’s not because of me.” This motherfucker had been watching us the whole time.

“Uh, guys?” Maddox’s voice echoed in the wide-open space. He knelt beside a body on the far side of the circle of horror. “This one’s different. This one’s a man.”

Sylvester and I exchanged looks. We walked over to where Maddox was, Viper right behind us, and the very second I laid eyes on the man, I knew who he was. Damn near unrecognizable, but that was because of me. Sylvester wasn’t the only one putting bodies in the river.

This one was mine.

“Fuck,” Viper said. “Ain’t that the guy we took from the club?”

“It is,” Sylvester sounded grave. He glanced at me, and then back at the man. He saw that Maddox was about to touch the corpse’s left hand and demanded, “What are you doing?”

“He’s got something,” he said. And then, even though he didn’t have gloves or anything, he yanked whatever it was out. He was slow to stand, straightening himself out as he stared down at the small item, brows furrowing. “What in the fuck is this?” He held it up for all of us to see.

It took me a while to realize it myself. “That’s a tape player, I think. Give it to me.” Maddox handed it over, and I fiddled with the buttons on the side, trying to hit play. This was left here for a purpose, so if there’s a message from our killer…

I must’ve hit the open button, because the front of it slid open, revealing there was nothing inside of it.

Damn it.

“Why leave that without putting something in it?” Sylvester asked. “It doesn’t make sense.” He pointed to the body in the chair. “And where’s the head? He’s never left headless bodies before. They’ve always been left in one piece.”

I let out a shaky breath. “He’s evolving. He’s been watching us, learning what we do. He knows you were trying to bury his work, and I think it’s safe to say he knows I like killing douchebags.” I gestured to the lone male body beneath us. My hand clutched the tape player so hard it began to tremble.

Sylvester looked at Viper. “Why don’t you take Lola home? We’ll hang back to handle this. I’ll give Roman and Carter a call. All hands on deck.”

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay here with these girls. “What will you do with the bodies this time?” It was obvious throwing them into the river was a no-go. Any that were dumped would just be fished out later by whoever was watching us.

“No, but I know someone with an incinerator. Fang won’t be happy to let us use it, but at this point, I don’t know how else to get rid of these bodies.” Sylvester ran a hand along his cheek, stressed.

Viper reached for me, pulling me along. “Come on,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t stay here. Sylvester’s right.” We stepped carefully over the bodies, and not once did I ever loosen my grip on the tape player.

We left the warehouse and emerged into the clean night air. As clean as this city could get, anyway. As Viper pulled me along to his car, I looked all around, wondering if he was here, somewhere in the shadows, watching us. Or maybe he had a scope of some kind, binoculars or something, or cameras. We’d have to sweep the area. We had to do something.

“He’s been watching us,” I whispered. Viper helped me into the car, holding the door open for me. I looked at him. “We need to find him, Viper. We have to put an end to this.”

“I know” was all he said. And then he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, getting in. He started the car up.

All those bodies. I didn’t think I’d ever seen so many at once before. Not ones that I actually cared about. Not ones that I didn’t want to see. The bodies I’d seen in the past had been of my own making, not innocent victims caught in the crosshairs of this—whatever the fuck this was supposed to be. A civil war between serial killers? I didn’t know. I honest to God didn’t know what to call this.

Hell. This was hell. This was a different kind of hell than I was used to, but it was definitely hell. None of those girls deserved a fate like this, to have their corpses tossed around left and right, used to make a point.

I thought back to the body in the chair. Where the fuck was her head? What was he doing with it? I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my head, and it made me want to pull my hair out. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill something. By all that was unholy, I wanted to taste this man’s blood by ripping his throat out—not with my bare hands, but with my teeth. I wanted to annihilate him.

I hadn’t felt this bloodthirsty since my brother.

Viper was silent as he drove us home. He kept tossing me looks like he was worried I’d try to hop out of the moving car. No. I was too lost in my own thoughts. I couldn’t do shit besides sit there.

This was wrong. This was so very wrong, and yet I was clueless as to how to make it right.

It felt like it took an eternity to make it back to the house. Viper slowly pulled up the driveway, but instead of going to the garage, he flashed his brights toward the house. He leaned forward on the steering wheel. “I think there’s a box by the front door—”

I got out of the car, heading straight for the door. Viper followed, but he was ten steps behind. By the time he’d gotten to me, I already had the box in my hand. Viper had his phone to his ear, but I didn’t know what he was doing; I was too busy staring at the box.

I didn’t know how big it was, but it was a certain size. Not big enough to fit a basketball in, but close. A deep cube of a present, and when I’d picked it up, I’d heard something move, maybe roll. If my stomach was low before, it was double low now.

“You home? Yeah, we’re out front. Long story. Get your ass out here.” Viper hung up. “Mike’s inside. I’m guessing he didn’t hear anything. We must’ve just missed him. This wasn’t here when we left, and I doubt Mike would’ve ignored a box like that when he came home.”

I didn’t open the box, but I did toss my head over my shoulder to see if I could find someone watching us. The yard looked empty, though it was nighttime, so there were a lot of shadows. “Come on,” I said, taking the box and the tape player with me. “Let’s get inside.” I had a bad, bad feeling about this. In fact, I think I knew where that head was.

We met Mike coming down the stairs, and together we headed into the kitchen. Viper gave him a quick recap while I set the player and box down on the island. I didn’t hear much of what Viper said because I wasn’t listening. The only thing I could do was focus on the box and what I knew lay inside.

A white box, a cube wrapped in a bright red bow. It had a card on it, but I had to pull it open and see the inside, first.

Mike stood across from me, while Viper stood beside me. I swallowed hard, my hands hesitating. I wasn’t someone who wavered when it came to anything. I was as self-assured as a human could possibly be. I knew what I was, who I was, and what I was capable of—and that wasn’t hesitation.

I wasn’t someone who got scared, but this made me all sorts of anxious.

I undid the bow, setting it and the attached card aside. I lifted up the lid to the box, and it was exactly as I thought: the head of our missing girl. But when I laid eyes on her, I dropped the lid to the floor and took a step back.

Oh my God.

“Well, shit,” Viper whispered. “There’s the head. I need to tell Sylvester—” He reached into his pocket for his phone, but he stopped when my hand shot out and grabbed his arm. I squeezed him, and he looked at me, then back to the head. “What is it?”

She was in rough shape. Obviously. It was a severed fucking head.

But it was more than that. Her face wasn’t just cut into a smile. No. Her lips, her cheeks… it was like they were ripped off her head. She wasn’t wearing a smile in death. She wore her bloodied, red teeth like a skull.

Like my mask.

It wasn’t the shock of seeing the state of her face that made me stumble back. Not seeing a macabre version of my mask. No, it was because I recognized her, even with her face this horrifically torn up.

“That’s Tina,” I whispered.

“Tina?” Mike echoed. “Who the fuck is Tina?”

Even Viper didn’t seem to remember, so I said, “I helped her at a club. Her boyfriend was angry. He looked abusive. She said he only gets angry at her when he’s stressed out—I killed him that night. I took her home to her dorm room and then I killed him.” Only now his body was back, as was hers.

This girl was dead because of me. Because I’d gotten involved with her. Because I’d tried to save her. I didn’t think I’d ever hurt this much inside before. It was like I’d lost my innocence all over again, like I was forced to reckon with the truth, and the truth was this world was the cruelest of them all.

This really was my fault.

“Did you read the card?” Mike asked. “Might be a clue in there.”

I couldn’t move, so Viper grabbed the card for me, opening it up. I’d neglected to realize that it was thicker than it should’ve been, and that was because a small tape was lodged inside, not a card. He handed that tape to me, and I moved like I was in a trance, taking the tape and putting it into the player. My fingers shut it, and then I hit play.

For a few seconds, all we heard was breathing. Rough, hard, labored breathing. The sound almost mirrored my heartbeat. In and out, like whoever it was had to really focus to keep himself alive.

And then he spoke, his voice a dark, dangerous whisper, “I have a speech I’m supposed to give you, but I find myself bored with it, and with this little game.” He coughed. He didn’t sound particularly well or healthy. “I’m growing bored of you, Night Slayer.” The way he said it, with such vehemence and disdain, made my skin crawl.

Something was strangely familiar about this voice, but it was too low, too rough and scratchy, like he was hiding his voice on purpose, not talking regularly.

“Did you like my presents? They were all for you. I didn’t know how long Sylvester would hide me from you, but it was longer than I thought. Congrats to him for lying to you.” He laughed at that, though I didn’t see what was funny about it. “You can’t save anyone when you’re a killer, Lola. Don’t you know that by now? Everything you touch gets destroyed. Everything you touch dies.”

He sucked in a hard breath before whispering, “I hate you. I hate you so much. I fucking hate you and every girl like you. You think you’re better than everyone else, but you’re not, and I’m going to show you that you’re not. This game between us will end soon, but for now, I hope you enjoy the bodies I’ll leave you.” He then went back to his labored breathing.

I thought the message was over, but he spoke again, this time in an even lower volume, “Know that everything I do to them I’m going to do to you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be nothing.” Something near the recorder scraped, the sound of metal on metal, and even though it was on a tape, I still cringed at the God-awful sound. “None of your men will save you from me. Your days are numbered. Oh, and you should know little Tina screamed so hard she broke her voice box before she died. What a fun day that was. I can’t wait to do that to you.”

The tape stopped at that, but in my head, I was already replaying what he’d said. The taunting, the hatred. This man really did hate me and everything I stood for.

Viper set a hand on my back, trying to comfort me. “It’s okay, Lola. We’re not going to let anyone hurt you like that. Whoever this guy is, we’ll catch him.”

“Tina,” I whispered out the girl’s name, bringing my eyes back to the box, where her head was.

“I know, but you can’t save everyone,” Viper added. He looked at his brother, who nodded along with him. “You can try all you want, but you’ll never be able to, and you can’t blame yourself for it. Nothing this guy did was your fault. None of it.”

He sounded like he believed it, but it was a lie. A sweet lie, but a lie all the same.

This was my fault. This was the Night Slayer’s fault. Deep down, I’d known that from the beginning, but this… there was no denying it now, no deniability whatsoever. It was like I’d been stabbed in the heart that I’d only recently rediscovered, like everything I’d been working for had been taken from me.

If I was in a murderous rage before… I was fucking hellbent now, and I said the only thing I could: “I’m going to find this motherfucker and castrate him. I’m going to rip out his heart while it’s still beating and squeeze it until it stops. I’m going to make him regret the day he was born. What I did to my brother will be nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to him.”

Oh, Mr. Serial Killer, I’m gonna kill you like I’ve never killed anyone before.

So, how ‘bout the first chapter to Lola’s second outing? I know, I know, it’s super different than A Death so Sweet, but what can I say? I’ve always had a thing for serial killers. My first-ever contemporary series dealt with them, and while Lola is one, it just hits a little different when they’re the villain. I think it’s because you never know what they’re going to do; they’re capable of anything.

Also, poor Tina.

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You can find the next book in the Born to Die trilogy here: here.

Table of Contents

Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Maddox

Chapter Three – Lola

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Sylvester

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Lola

Chapter Eight – Viper

Chapter Nine – Lola