The knife sinks deeper into his stomach, and his face twists in agony. “Please,” he begs, his voice trembling. “Do…don’t kill…”
“Please…please, don’t kill me,”I mock, my voice rising. “No amount of begging will save you, motherfucker. How many women have you done this to?”
I don’t really need to know the answer.
Arabelle definitely isn’t the first woman he’s done this to. There’s no telling how many single women he’s lured to this bar from that hotel. However, she will be the last.
“Anyone else involved in this?” I ask.
I’m not sure how he was able to spike her drink, but if anyone else is involved, they will end up just like him.
“I…I didn’t do anything,” he says, stammering over his words. “You have no idea who I am, but if you let me go, you won’t get into any trouble.”
“Of course you did something, Pierre,” I say, ignoring his comment about who he is because I don’t give a fuck. “You drugged her. You were in the middle of taking something she wasn’t going to give to you willingly. And one thing I do not tolerate is anyone fucking with her. You picked the wrong woman. I’ll see you in hell, motherfucker.”
With a swift motion, I remove the knife from his gut and drive it back in, over and over. The noise of the surrounding city drowns out his screams, grunts, and pleas for mercy. Pleas for me to stop. However, no one will hear him, just like no one would have heard her desperate cries for help if Hugo and I hadn’t shown up. He deserves this and so much more.
I stab him until he’s no longer a threat to her. Until he’s no longer a threat to anyone. With a final gasp, his eyes roll, then close before he collapses, his body crumpling to the filth-ridden alleyway. I wish I could piss on his body, but I have to make sure not to leave any evidence behind.
I pull my white handkerchief from the inside of my coat and try my best to get most of his blood off my hands and the knife I used. Once I’ve gotten rid of his body, I’ll ensure that there’s no trace of evidence left behind.
I pull out my phone and dial my driver. Once he answers, I instruct him to bring the car into the alley. I wanted to make himsuffer more for what he did to her, but his quick death will have to do for now.
As my driver pulls into the alley, I make a plan on how to dispose of his body. I have to be careful since he is the son of a high-ranking diplomat, as Hugo warned.
This isn’t how I thought my day would go, but at least she’s safe, and he’s no longer a threat to her.
6
Arabelle
The strong, distinct odor of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and bleach immediately filters into my nostrils. Slowly, I peel my eyes open and squint as the overhead fluorescent light blinds me, while the incessant beeping sounds and constant humming grate on my nerves. I’ve never in my entire life had a headache this bad.
“Shit,” I groan, grasping my head. “Shut it off.”
“Thank God. Arabelle.”
I face the familiar voice, although I don’t understand his concern. My brows dip in confusion. “Dale…”
“You’re all right.” He tightly grips my hand like if he lets go of it, I will disappear. “You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart.”
Along with his appearance, the relief in his voice is confusing for me. What the hell happened?
“Dale, what are you doing here?”
The last thing I remember, I was at the bar with Pierre having a few drinks. Then, I started feeling queasy and dizzy after having a couple glasses of wine. Then my memory fades to black. I remember absolutely nothing.
“Where am I?” I ask. “Where’s Pierre?”
“You’re in the hospital in Chicago, honey.”
My eyes widen as I look around the room. The room is filled with the smell of antiseptic, bright lights overhead, and the sterile feeling of medical equipment surrounding the bed where I lay and the chair where Dale sits.
“That explains the smell and all the noise. What am I doing here?”
“Someone dropped you off at the emergency room because they believed someone drugged you. Thank God whoever it was found you.”
“Drugged?”
