Page 25 of Rawest Venom

As his lids lower, he gets a hungry look as he asks, “So…if I was interested in nailing you, do you have any pointers?”

My breath catches until I think I may need some medical assistance. His words make me wetter than I’ve ever felt before, the intensity of his penetrating gaze a force wilting any of my reserves. “Uh…um. Ha. Bring some hardwood?”Bring some hardwood?!Oh my god, did I just say that?

Trying to contain his mocking grin, he bites his lower lip, but his snickers escape the sides of his tight lips. My cheeks become infernos of embarrassment as I try to giggle my way out of my faux pas.

“I willdefinitelybring that,” he says with a twinkle in the corner of his eyes. Swallowing, he seems to decide to change the subject with a slight head tilt. “How was your date?”

My grin falters. “Um. Not good. I won’t be going out with him again. Like I said, nothing in common.”

His brow thickens, causing the sparkle in his irises to fade to a matte moss. “What happened?”

As I open my mouth to respond, the same two officers who presented themselves two weeks prior step inside with a loud jingle of the door chime. The sight of their broad smiles without any eye involvement makes my pulse pound inside my wrists, then shoot up to my throat. If I wanted to speak, I couldn’t. “Well, well. Miss Ersatz! I’m surprised you haven’t fled the country yet. Hello, Mr. Von Dovish.”

My heart stops beating for a moment, then quickly hastens to catch up in a rhythm. Before I can even think, Cal slides next to me, pressing into my side with a sculpted arm around my waist, tugging me tightly under his shelter.

“I told you, if you wanted to speak with my employee, you’ll need to speak with?—”

“Youremployee?” The policeman eyes Cal’s hand clutching me in a less than professional manner. “I’m doing my duty. Sworn to protect and all.”

“What’s this about?” Barely at a whisper, my voice wavers out, but the man heard me somehow. The blood rushing through my ears makes it difficult to understand what he’s saying.

“Rainier Badeaux. You were last seen with him on Friday evening at the Crimson Angel.”

Shaking my head, I protest, “Yes, but I left there early.”

Half of the officer’s lips curl into a smirk. “Of course. We have that on camera. But we do our diligence and question everyone who may have seen him in his last forty-eight hours.”

“Last…” Air stops moving in my lungs as the taut arm around me suddenly feels like a prison instead of protection.

“We found him in his apartment this morning. Stiff as a board. Also, his fingers and his dick had been removed.” I must have gasped because he continues. “Oh, sorry. His penis.” Correcting himself, he tilts his head as if his dirty word was the problem with what he just said. Cal puts me behind his back. “It’s interesting,Miss Ersatz, that you’ve had two dates now to show up mutilated. Maybe it’s a sign to remain single.” His partner chuckles with this annoying pig laugh. Cringing at the sound, I feel sorry for whomever has to spend time with him and listen to it.

“Are you done?” Cal snaps at the two of them, reaching for his phone in his pocket. Pointing it around the room, he says, “This entire conversation is being recorded on several cameras.”

“Mr. Von Dovish! We also find it interesting that both corpses have been recent associates of yours.”

Cal’s right shoulder shrugs. “Almost everyone on West Side is. What’s your point?”

“Strauss may send in more people to look around. If this moves anywhere close to the North, he won’t be happy. Andno onewants to see him unhappy.” The officers turn toward the door. “No need to call the lawyers. We’ll be in touch if we need you.”

As soon as they leave, Cal spins around to face me, placing his hands on my shoulders, his fingers gripping my bones firmly. “Are you okay?” A wild look in his eyes flashes as a small smile quirks the corners of his mouth.

“No. I’m not.” Will he let me go? “I-I need to take a sick day.”

“I’m so sorry. Can I do anything for you?” The heat from his grasp sears through my sweatshirt and pinches me into a state of utter panic. It’s not an excuse any longer. If I stay here another minute, Iwillget sick. All over his shoes…

Shaking my head, I whisper, “Just, please. Let me go home.”Please… Sweat floods my back as he stares me down, with an odd look on his face. Something unreadable. Or maybe it is and if so, I’m absolutely terrified of what I see.

I escape his snare by vaulting left and right, then snatch my bag from the drawer beneath the counter. As I grab my coat from the hooks near the back wall, I hear him telling me to take a few days off and he’ll manage. My focus is so resolute on getting out of the store alive, his words barely register.

Sprinting to my car, I throw it in drive and into full speed as fast as the shitty engine will go until I make it to a gas station three stops down the highway from Gnarled Pine. Pulling in, I dart inside and quickly purchase a cell phone and data card. Within three minutes, I have it set up. In the nasty bathroom, I sit on the toilet and text in the emergency code, waiting for a reply while sipping a bottle of water. My foot won’t stop tapping, the echoes of it off the tiles making me confused as to what is the sound of fidgets or fear in my heart.

So much time passes, I have to re-enter the store and look around, just to keep my mind occupied, as if all my squishy brain matter may literally unwind if I sit by myself for too much longer. A different clerk stands behind the register, which is good, so I don’t arouse more suspicion, but I head back to the bathroom stall to wait with some bubble gum to keep my chattering teeth preoccupied.

In a few hours, the afternoon sun fades, and I’m finally sent some coordinates. Heading out to the open field behind the store, I wander until hitting a thicket oftrees. A two-lane country road rests two miles away. Eventually, I find a fallen tree bench to rest on until evening.

By dusk, I hear the engine coming before I see it. The blue-hued headlights flash three times, and I step out from hiding with a sigh of relief. A blacked-out Mercedes kicks up gravel as it parks next to me on the side of the road. Opening the door, I slide in and buckle up as the car darts down the lane, almost spinning out the back tires.

“It’s too early,” Dash says in his patronizing tone. He won’t even turn his face to me, my eyes scanning his set jaw, the muscle in the back of it flickering as he grinds his molars. Should have gone to get that mouth guard like I told him. Probably still does it in his sleep.

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