Page 12 of Overcast

She’s gagging.

Trying to spit on the remaining water from another bucket as I pour it over her prominent features. With each one of her inhales for air, it only sucks in the fabric covering the holes that she needs to obtain it.

I’d feel bad if I was normal.

I would give her leniency if I was a man with any sort of empathy residing in my soul.

But the woman lying before me tried to drown my sister in the lake that resides in front of Reagan’s house. Only yards away from my nephew, Huck, as he played with his toy tractor in the grass.

If I hadn’t gone up there that weekend, I wouldn’t have heard her screams for help.

She would’ve died.

Her husband, Wade, would’ve found her face down along the water’s calm edge when moments, minutes, or hours beforehand, my sister was struggling for her life.

My nephew could’ve been kidnapped, killed, possibly drowned himself with the merciless way Reagan’s head was held underwater. Her hands desperately trying to reach for her attacker, water sloshing all over but to no avail.

Her lungs would’ve held too much water with no hope of being revived by the time—

The little blonde leans up, using her stomach muscles to try and move the towel on her face by slinging her neck from side to side.

Too bad that’s not going to work.

Kyson has a hold of her head. The fabric’s wetness is sticking, making a suction cup effect on her olive skin.

Shit was so soft under my rough digits that I almost forgot why we were here for a moment.

Blue eyes that sucked me in when I got a clear view, rendering my ass speechless with how they glimmered. She had an effect on my dick alright, but not because she screamed.

Nah, this bitch is ruthless, and that would be too easy.

Even if they did gloss over with bogus innocence.

If she were vindicated, she wouldn’t have had Hollis knuckles deep inside her pussy.

The way her head lay back along the couch, letting him get them both off as a porno played off the TV.

The moment my foot busted through the lock of that front door, my immediate focus fastened onto her.

It didn’t stop the ideas traipsing through my mind, which clearly didn’t need to fucking be there.

I’ve never seen an angel—because that’s what she looks like—getting turned up by a fucker who belonged in the sewers. How Hollis was able to con this chick into spreading her legs for him is beyond my comprehension.

Not only did it crank up my curiosity, but it’s a playing thought in my brain while she’s under me.

How did she taste because she smells like a field of flowers and cigarette smoke? How soft is the rest of her because her face was like the silkiest skin I’ve ever touched or sliced into.

My mind quickly forgetting that this woman was a killer.

She was under me, alright.

Although I can’t say I don’t love my job. I do, maybe a little too much. My blade running down her cheek was the sexiest shit I’ve ever seen. No assignment has given me a hard dick or the urge to lick the column of someone’s neck.

Scratch that, I want to bite into it and listen to her scream, moan, cry—fuck, any sound she makes seems to get a reaction out of me.

But we’re talking about an enemy here, one that hit too close to home. And while she struts around taking on her own jobs, she met her match with this one.

Except I kill in the first round, and my methods are more bloody. A little more meticulous and sporadic, depending on how I’m feeling that day.

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