Then I spotted the figure doing the brushing. About the right size and height. Similar profile and build. I just needed confirmation. I couldn’t take out a civilian for the hell of it. It was too messy. And the second shadow confirmed there was a civilian in that room with him. Likely a female or a small male. Someone who couldn’t walk on their own and was probably dragged up into that room after having their drink spiked like mine had been.
He tossed whoever it was onto the bed and switched the lamp on. Lighting up the window like it was Christmas morning and I was the kid coming down the stairs to get the first look at all the presents. I adjusted my scope again, and he shoved the glass open and grinned. A rifle propped on his shoulder by the time I’d registered that he’d grabbed it. And then I heard the familiar click at the same time I gradually pressed down with a finger. Once, twice.
He missed. I didn’t.
“Gotcha, fucker.”
I preferred a good headshot, but two to the chest worked just as well when I was on a time crunch. I watched the body drop, already packing up my gear and tossing it onto my shoulder before heading back down the way I came.
I quickly hopped from one fire escape to the next, landing on the street with a near silent thump of boots meeting concrete. I had thirty minutes to clear the scene. On a good night, I could do it in fifteen. I’d gotten enough practice.
But apparently tonight wasn’t a good night.
I’d just made it halfway up the metal fence that separated the alleyway from my bike when a hand was wrapping around my ankle and tugging me down again.
I kicked out a foot and peered over a shoulder. That same stupid grin from the window lit up the darkness behind me.
“Hey, sugar tits,” he hummed, his glare hinged on where my chest was popping out of my leather jacket before he tapped two fingers against his vest. “Next time, aim for the head.”
He yanked harder and my grip on the fence gave out. I slid down, cringing when I felt my pump graze against one of the links. I landed chest to chest, my ankle twisting and causing me to topple forward. He caught me by the waist and walked me backwards until I was pressed up against the closest building.
Then he lowered his mouth to my cheek and whispered, “Five…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CASPER
Imoved my head to the side and licked along the shell of her ear, my free hand jabbing the pointy end of the needle into the meat of her thigh and pressing on the plunger until it was empty. The roofies didn’t seem to work on her, so I made another pit stop to the drug closet and found something stronger. Probably the same something Lambo used on me.
She winced and attempted to bring her knee up. It didn’t work so well, considering the way she’d landed on that ankle. Instead, she lost her balance and stumbled. I caught her before she could topple over and kiss the concrete. Keeping her pinned to the brick wall with an arm while making another deposit into the junkie drawer when I tossed the used needle behind us and yanked her pants and underwear down around her knees.
She tried to fight me, kicking and clawing and biting wherever she could make contact, but all that did was quicken the effects of the drugs. Trust me, I knew from experience. Fighting didn’t get you anywhere. It just increased your blood flow and tired you out faster. Sometimes not fighting was just asbad, though. Being painfully aware that there was nowhere for you to go. Nothing for you to do but wait it out.
Which was fine for some people. People who had those friends in their head to keep 'em busy. People like Donnie before they took the voices away. For me, it was torture.
I’d spent the last seven days slowly going nuts. Madness replacing the boredom, then boredom coming back full swing again as I counted the cracks in the paint, the dead insects collecting in the overhead light, and the tiles in the ceiling. And when I was done, I twirled the straps around my wrist, cutting off circulation and watching my hands and fingers turn different colors—red, white, and finally a purplish hue—before I unraveled them and watched it do the same thing in reverse.
Couldn’t even whack off. Andthathad me more worked up than the empty soda bottle some methhead had dropped and left to explode all over the side of the building, as my littlemyshkacontinued to squirm beneath me.
If she was trying to get me to fuck her quicker, she sure was doing a good job of it.
Keeping her chest locked in place with a forearm, I parted her pussy lips with two fingers. Those cheap shots had her all worked up, and I had to admit it did the same to me. There was just something about a girl aiming a gun to your chest that had blood flowing to all the right spots. Those spots being my cock and balls.
Unfortunately, I only had a few minutes to act on it before the drugs took effect and I was left fucking a corpse. Or at least someone who was corpse-adjacent. Like Franks’s girl.
I shook the image of Franks fucking anyone from my head—because again,gross—dropped my zipper, and pulled my cock free. Barely giving the poor, neglected fucker a breather before shoving him into the first tight, wet hole I could find. Whichhappened to be her pussy. Her mouth was too busy doing something else.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Bellatrix hissed. It was hard to take her threats serious when she was doing a shit job at following through on them.
“You keep saying that…” I grinned, using the leverage I had on the wall to thrust up into her two more times. I grunted and she cursed. I would say angry sex was the best sex but only one of us was angry. I was just amused. “Doesn’t seem like you mean it, though.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, and I shoved two fingers inside to stop her. Pushing them as far back as they would go before she gagged. She snapped her jaw shut, giving me another love bite to match the one she left on my cock, and I shoved my fingers farther down her throat. Tickling that little skin sack that hung back there like a lady ball.
She made a retching sound, and I pulled them up a little and laughed.
“Keep talking dirty to me…” I lowered my face to hers, the back side of my knuckles preventing me from making contact as my breath bristled over her cheek. Pumping my hips faster as I got closer to busting a nut. “…and I’m gonna come all up inside this pretty pussy of yours. Unless that’s what you want,myshka? You wanna call me Daddy?”
Some days she was a kitten, her claws too dull to do much damage. And other times, times like now, she was a little mouse that accidentally wandered too close to the cat. Not realizing until it was too late that its tail was caught up in a trap.
