Page 1 of Killing Emma

Chapter One

Luca

I’ve waited over well over six months for this. Why? I don’t fuckin’ know. I don’t make the rules, and I was taught a long time ago not to question the man who calls in the order. So, when he put a hold on my target, I waited. When he said it’s go-time…I went.

And now here I am with gnarly, thorned bushes tearing my black denim and scraping my skin. It’s uncomfortable, but the view into Emma Nightingale’s bedroom window?

Impeccable.

The glow of the setting sun gleams right into the room, illuminating the white walls of the pristine space with an orangish-pink hue. The cast of light is nearly the same color as her fiery hair, cascading down her bare back as she faces away from me.

Emma Marie Nightingale’s pictures don’t do her justice.

No, not in the slightest. Her porcelain skin is a constellation of freckles, covering her body like the night sky dotted with stars. My eyes strain to get a clearer view of her as she drops her black dress to the floor. Her curves are soft, beckoning me to run my calloused fingers along them and press my olive skin against hers—what a contrast that would be. I imagine my body against hers, wrapping around her five-foot-six frame with ease, while I slide my fingers beneath the front of her violet underwear. I grit my teeth, warring with the unwanted lustful thoughts.

I don’t intend to defile her. I’ll steal the light from her eyes, but only out of obligation. I wouldn’t choose to kill a woman like Emma, but then again, for all I know, she deserves what she has coming. Even women can be demons, after all. And Emma is beautiful enough to be a siren, that’s for sure.

But I’ve killed pretty women before, and Emma will be no different. They fight. They cry. They beg and plead…until they don’t. I bring them to silence. I lead them to the next life. It’s nothing personal at all. It’s just my job, and it’s one I do well. Call me the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man—or the Devil’s. I’m friends with both.

“Are you going in anytime soon, or are you just gonna spend the night in the woods?” Manny’s gritty voice chirps in my earbud, breaking the fixation of my thoughts.

I blow out a breath and keep my voice low. “I don’t know. It’s only six-thirty. I still have some time.” My gaze continues to follow Emma as she bends over, giving me the kind of view that makes my jeans feel constrictive. I adjust myself. I rarely have this problem when I’m stalking my prey—no matter how beautiful the target is. However, Emma, while not necessarily conventionally pretty to the world’s standards, is strangely intriguing to me.

Well, and that ass of hers…Damn.

“If you give it another hour, it’ll be dark. I’ve already disabled the cameras, but she doesn’t know. She hasn’t even checked them since I started keeping tabs on her…months ago.” Manny’s voice sounds bland and unenthused. We’re equally unhinged, and he doesn’t get into it until the real chase begins. All the backstory, tracking, stalking is uneventful at best. I haven’t even bothered with it. I have other priorities that come first. Besides, I have a feeling this one is going to be too easy. Emma has made it that way.

In the two days I’ve been here, I’ve realized she lives in oblivion, and I can’t decide if it’s a blatant disregard for her own safety or if it’s because she doesn’t care. Regardless of the answer, I could creep around here in broad daylight, and she wouldn’t break from her meaningless, empty stares. I intend to change that though. I might not violate her body in a way that would satisfy my darker side, but I still like to have my own fun. Her sanity will slip before she leaves this world—if it hasn’t already.

“When we get back to LA, Ivan wants to meet up with us,” Manny’s voice cuts in again. He’s getting bored, and I don’t blame him, but the mention of his mentor has my stomach immediately sinking with grief.

I lean against the rough bark of an old oak. “I’d rather skip it.”

“He hates it when you skip.”

“He hates me regardless,” I grumble as Emma disappears from the bedroom, now wearing a pair of light wash denim shorts and T-shirt. She’s probably headed downstairs to the kitchen—and then to one of the many bottles of wine she hides out of sight. She’s done it the last two nights in a row.

Damnit, don’t get drunk again, Emma. It’ll make this much less exciting.

I breathe in deep and start to shift my position, staying in the woods that surround her three-story manor. The walls of her castle are elegant white brick, accented with black and speckled red in some places. Its historic façade is fitting for this part of Georgia, though I know the house was built less than ten years ago. However, her wealth is anything but new. She’s old money—and has no living relatives. The fortune is all hers.

“Wonder if Jared is going to call her again tonight,” Manny muses in my ear, and I shrug at the mention of the name. I’m not worried about her accountant husband. He’s not really in the picture, but if he calls again, that could mean she drinks extra.

I frown. “I’ll have to put it off if she’s unconscious.”

“Depends on what kind of fun you wanna have.”

I curl my lip as I skate through the deep, shaded brush. “I prefer my women to be of sound mind.”

“Yeah, right,” he laughs. “You make yourself out to be some fucking deviant playboy, but I don’t know the last time you even had that kind of fun.”

“You do enough for the both of us,” I quip as I settle in with the view of the kitchen window, stationed about one-hundred-feet away. There’s a large line of oak trees giving me cover, the woods circling her manicured lawn. Her estate isn’t far from the Blue Ridge Mountain Range, and I have to admit, it’s a picturesque location. She has good taste—in that way. Her neighbors have equally enchanting homes, though they’re all separated by tall fences and woods.

Another advantage for me. No one will hear her scream.

I run my tongue along my chapped bottom lip as I watch Emma open a new bottle of red wine. I can't make out the label from where I stand and I don’t know if this is how she unwinds, but a bottle a night is a little excessive.

It’ll slow her down when she runs.

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