“Right here.” He clarified by tapping his cheek.
There was scruff on the spot he was touching.
A kiss wouldn’t be so bad, and his request could’ve been worse than a quick peck. At least, that was what I told myself.
Preston stopped me when I moved to sit up.
“I want a sweet kiss, Little Bird, not a quick peck.” He cocked his head and smirked at me. “Pretend you actually like me.”
I glared up at him and gritted my teeth. Then I did the only thing I could. Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth to his cheek. The way his stubble abraded my lips was something I’d never forget. It pricked my skin like tiny little razor blades of death, reminding me of the deal I’d just made.
Preston groaned and jumped off the bed. “Be good, Marnie.”
I watched him head over to my window. This wasn’t the first time I traded my dignity to save Trina’s. This time though, it wouldn’t be an unwanted day of detention or lecture from our parents that I got. It’d be my soul that was taken. And I’d happily hand it over.
Before he slipped out the window, Preston paused and looked back at me. “I’ll be watching.”
I smiled back at him. He could have me, but he’d never touch her. Trina would stay safe while I plunged headfirst into hell to beat the devil at his own game.
There were many milestones in a child’s life—first steps, learning to talk, riding a bike…first punishment. Events that steered them in the right direction—unless that child was me. I didn’t care about my father’s lectures, the disappointment on his face, or the heavy swats to my ass. Those weren’t what brought tears to my eyes.
It was anger.
Why should I clean up the nanny’s blood? She was the one that spilled it. I just stuck the knife in her, which wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t hit Parker. So, the mess was her fault. Not mine.
Life was a series of decisions that brought you to an end. Whether that end involved me or not…well, that would depend on the choices one made.
For example, the head I was staring at currently. Some decision or action had brought him and me to this place. What it was, I had no idea and didn’t really give a shit. The only thing that mattered to me was the blood I’d spill all over the pew he was sitting on.
I’d been standing back here, tucked in the shadows of this old church, for about fifteen minutes. It wouldn’t take much for this guy to notice me, a simple glance over his shoulder, yet he continued to sit where he was. Staring up at the empty altar, oblivious to the danger behind him.
It wouldn’t save him even if he knew I was here. This night would end with my bullet in his skull. That was what happened when someone asked me for a favor. The someone, in this case, was Chase Mathers. That one surprised me a little.
Don’t get me wrong, even I was envious of the body count he’d racked up over the past couple of months, but his time in hiding made the guy soft. If Riley were my niece…that fact alone would’ve signed Micha Kessler’s death warrant.
Lillianna used to complain that her son was an emotionless void. That wasn’t true. I felt things. In third grade, one of my classmates was hit by a car, and I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see it.
I also felt great joy every time my parents took Parker to the hospital because he wasn’t eating. He was eating. They just weren’t the ones feeding him. My baby brother was too precious to suck off the vile teat of our mother.
So despite what everyone thought, I enjoyed life’s pleasures.
Right now, I was trying to decide if I’d have steak or chicken while I fingered the hilt of my Desert Eagle. It’d been a while since I had a decent steak. However, there were some pretty good chicken places in Miami.
Lou would argue that my thought process was fucked up. When I was a kid, he wasted his time asking me useless questions. How would I feel if my parents died? Or what if someone made fun of me? My answer was always a simple shrug because, aside from my siblings, I didn’t give a shit about anything.
Then I stuck that blade into the nanny’s leg.
That was my milestone moment.
Sometimes, I could still see her bright red blood coating my tiny hand. The way the thick sticky fluid warmed my skin stuck with me. That was the first time I got hard.
I was eleven at the time and didn’t understand my reaction. Was it the blood that got me off or how she looked at me when I stabbed her? Now, I knew the answer wasn’t as simple as picking one choice or the other.
Lindsay Manheim helped me figure that out. She was the first girl I took out on a date. Perfect little Lindsay, with a sweet smile. My parents even approved of her. I’d never forget the desperate gasps that left her pretty pink lips when I wrapped my hand around her neck and choked the life out of her. I came so hard that my knees buckled.
That was a good night. My father disagreed but still helped me get rid of the body. Did I feel guilty about what I’d done?
No.
