Page 29 of Tainted Wings of Failure

"The pleasure is all mine; may I know your name?"

My smile widens as I take a cautious step closer to him. "Evelyn King." His eyes light up the moment the last name rolls off my tongue. Using the name of a powerful but somewhat anonymous family, whose countless children's faces no one will get to see until they are useful to their father, has its advantages, and so far, it has worked every time. Mr. King knows I do it, I've done it dozens of times when he's hired me in the past. At this point, you could say that I am actually one of his daughters.

"Miss King, what a pleasure. That your father would allow one of his precious daughters to show her face at such an event?" He raises his eyebrows with suspicion, probably anticipating a business opportunity. "May I interest you in a glass of champagne and a little chat?"

I tilt my head and briefly observe the reaction of the women around us, gasping in shock and envy. "I would absolutely love to." I flash him another smile.

It took a while, but as the night went on, Mr. Lancaster became more and more comfortable around me. The more alcohol we consumed, and the more flirtatious and suggestive I became, the touchier he got, and now we're on our way to his suite. His arm is around my waist, his hand on my hip, fumbling with the fabric of my dress, tugging at it. I lean into him, stealing a glance at his bodyguards who are riding the elevator with us. Resting my head on his arm, I look up at him and purse my lips in a small pout. "These two aren't going to be watching us all night, are they?" I speak in a slurred voice, pretending to be drunk as I nod in the direction of his guards.

He turns to look at the two men and thinks for a moment. "No. You're all mine tonight." A broad smile spreads across his face. The familiar ping echoes through the small room before the sliding door of the elevator flies open and Mr. Lancaster escorts me down the hallway to a set of large doors. He unlocks the room with his key card and lets me in first. "Wait for me darling, I just need to talk to my men for a second." I nod and he closes the door behind me while he stays outside.

With hasty but calculated steps, I hurry across the room, spotting an ice bucket of champagne on the coffee table with two glasses already filled. With a few quick steps, I reach the table, take the auto-injector from my garter, and shoot it into one of the glasses. Then lift it up, place my lips on the rim, leaving behind a stain of lipstick as if I already took a sip of the drink.

The click of the lock announces his entrance, footsteps echo through the room and seconds later, a pair of long arms wrap around me from behind, one hand cupping one of my tits, squeezing the soft flesh while the other reaches for the glass of champagne and without hesitation the man empties it in one gulp.

Parting my lips, I let out a throaty moan and lean into the man's embrace. Turning around I slide my arms over his shoulders while his hands move to my ass, cupping my cheeks and pressing me flush against him, his already rock-hard cock digging into my stomach, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to flinch. As he leans in to kiss me, I tilt my head, exposing my neck, and he accepts the alternative invitation, running his tongue up the side of my throat. His grip on my ass tightens and he pushes me closer, guiding my hips as he grinds into me.

He drags me with him and slumps down on the bed, until I am lying on top of him, straddling his hips. The taste of bile crawls up my throat as his erection presses into my core. But the moment his hands cupping my ass start to tremble and I catch sight of his eyes start to dart from side to side, a wave of relief washes over me.

"Are you okay?" I ask in a breathy voice, running my hands over his chest, my fingers busy with the buttons of his shirt.

"I'm dizzy." He clears his throat.

"Maybe you had a little too much to drink." I let out a playful chuckle. "But don't worry, I'll take care of you." I continue the act, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside.

"Nonsense," he snaps.

Suddenly, a series of gunshots rip through the heavy door and both of our heads snap in the direction of the hallway leading into the room.

"What was that?" I ask, my voice pitched high as I pretend to be scared. Meanwhile, I'm fuming inside. I knew Kyle was not the subtle, elegant type like Noah, but did he have to be so blatant?

The moment the door to the room flies open and Kyle bursts in, my eyes widen. Mr. Lancaster shoves me off his lap and jumps to his feet, swaying from side to side. Kyle's eyes land on me, looking me up and down. "You okay?"

"What the hell is going on?" Mr. Lancaster asks, looking back at me. I rise to my feet, but he stumbles towards me, threatening to tackle me back into the bed but I don't give him the chance. Clenching my hand into a fist, I deliver a solid punch to his Adam's apple, sending him staggering backward into Kyle's waiting arms. He overpowers him, knocking him to the ground.

"I'm fine," I say, taking a deep breath and shaking my hand to ease the sting of the punch as I approach the two men. I reach for the knife in my garter before dropping to my knees in front of the two. Cupping his cheek in my hand, I flip the knife open with the other.

"What the hell do you want?" he yells. I raise my hand and smack him across the face with the handle of the knife, drawing a painful groan from him.

"That's what you get for talking like that to a lady." Kyle chuckles as he sits on top of him, holding him down.

"I think you can get off him, the poison should have immobilized him by now," I say.

"Sure, boss." Kyle nods and rises to his feet, flipping the limp man onto his back.

"What did you do?" Mr. Lancaster asks, his voice filled with panic and his eyes bloodshot. I step over the man, taking Kyle's place, and squat down, straddling his stomach.

"I've given you something really sweet; you will sleep well soon." I smile. "But first you have to answer a few questions."

"I’m not going to answer anything." He puckers his lips and then spits at me with what energy he has left.

At the sight of his saliva staining the fabric of my dress, I purse my lips into a pout. "You got my dress dirty, that's not nice." I pick up the knife and position the sharp edge over his ribs, pushing down slowly, slicing through his clothes before piercing his skin. "You're going to tell me where my man is, and maybe if you're really nice, I'll give you the antidote."

"Your man? I don't have your man!" he yells at me and I push harder, the knife sinking into his body. The poison acts like a narcotic, numbing the pain, but that doesn't matter; it will keep him quiet and that is important.

"You do. Think hard. What color am I wearing?" I ask, and soon the realization creeps onto his face as his eyes widen.

"You're the Dove Killer's bitch." Blood spurts from the man's mouth as he chokes from the knife piercing his lungs.

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