Page 1 of House of Lies

Chapter 1

The Devil

A breeze toys with her hair as the woman hurries down the sidewalk in her red-soled stilettos. Purple twilight above promises a bright, star-studded sky later tonight, the warm air perfect for a night of revelry.

She snuggles deeper into her dark brown knee-length mink coat, tottering as the sidewalk becomes a little more uneven.

No one should be out here alone.

Especially not an easy target like her.

From the Hermès Kelly purse, to the four-inch Christian Louboutin shoes, everything about her screams opulence and luxury.

Entitlement.

There are a few nightclubs in this area, some within walking distance. But she should have chosen a brighter, busier route. One with more foot traffic.

Less dark alleyways.

Instead, she’s alone.

Uneasiness wafts off her, mingling with the jasmine and amber notes of her Chanel perfume.

The click-clack of her red-soled pumps is the only sound until she nears another dark alley. Then another sound emerges.

Footsteps.

These have a longer stride.

A harder strike.

Someone taller, heavier, wearing boots.

She stiffens and then walks a little faster. Her ankles wobble precariously in her shoes, a perfectly styled section of her hair lifted by the breeze before settling against her fur coat.

The woman clutches her purse tighter.

Wraps her mink coat around her like a shield.

But there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. As soon as she set foot on this sidewalk, she became fair game.

As the entrance of the alleyway looms ahead, she dares to look back to see if her imagination is playing tricks on her.

Her red lips form a wide O as her eyes travel up, up, up.

Our eyes lock.

She screams. She runs.

But I catch her before she can take more than three steps in her silly shoes.

I grab her around the waist, lifting her bodily and dragging her into the alleyway as she struggles and yells. She loses one shoe, then another, her soft little feet doing no damage to my shins despite how hard she kicks.

There’s no need to take her deep into the alleyway. I know this place like the back of my hand…it’ll be one hell of a coincidence if someone walks past while I’m busy with her.

But I always like to give them a little hope.

Hope keeps them pliable, agreeable, sometimes even…docile.

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