Page 40 of Merciful Lies

But I want more from Anna than her body. And I don’t want to rush her.

I just had Angel update all my home security, and I notice something funny when I go to check that everything is running smoothly.

“Angel!” I roar.

“What’s up?” my cousin asks as he comes storming into my office.

“Who the fuck is this clown?” I growl, turning my monitor towards him.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead,” my cousin answers.

It’s a good answer.

I stand up and head for the door. My blood is fucking boiling. We’re fifteen minutes away from my condo, and I can hardly wait.

“I fucking vetted him.”

This is Angel’s apology. I know he’s angry. Possibly as angry as I am.

But maybe not quite.

“Not close enough,” I snap.

I don’t normally wear a holster in the office, and the only gun on me is a Glock 45 I have tucked into the back of my pants. I don’t want to shoot him, though.

This is a personal offense, and it requires something more up close and confrontational than a bullet to the brain.

“I’ll take care of this, Nico,” Angel promises, but I shake my head.

“No. I’ll take care of this. You clean it up and you’ll be on guard duty till I approve someone else,” I snarl, and he nods.

Cleaning isn’t for a man in his position. But then again, he’s the one responsible for this fuck up and this is how he’ll pay for it.

The inside of the SUV is frigid, just how I fucking like it and Tommy is speeding, taking side streets and alleys while I plan exactly what I’m going to do to the motherfucker who’s working as my wife’s security today.

I close my eyes and let rage fill me.

About seventeen minutes later, the elevator doors open, and that motherfucker stumbles, trying to zip up his pants.

His hands go for the mouse on his computer monitor, like he thinks I don’t know he’s been sitting here, jerking off, while watching my wife swim in her pool.

The affront this man has done to me fuels my already overblown need for revenge.

“Boss! No, no, pleas?—”

But that’s as far as he gets. I grab a pen from the cup on the small security desk right outside my condo and ram it into his throat.

I stab him again. And again. He gurgles. His hands clutch my shoulders, but I don’t stop.

I keep stabbing, wiggling the pen around trying to pierce every vein I can. Then I use the writing implement to pop his eyeballs out of his fucking head. Next, I cram them down his useless throat.

The pen really is mightier than the sword. I grin before I look at the man’s limp form. Then I frown.

“Motherfucker,” I snarl, and spit on his fucking face before letting him drop to the floor.

“Put him with the rest,” I tell Angel, and he’s already in action.

Angel is nothing if not prepared. He places the case he brought with him onto the marble floor. The first thing he removes is a thick black body bag.

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