Page 1 of Spiteful Heart

Chapter One – Lola

The music of the nightclub pounded in my body, keeping pace with my heart. In the past, I’d stalked nightclubs like this to find my next victim, the next Joe Schmoe who happened to get a little too handsy with fake drunk me… the next victim of the Night Slayer.

Tonight was different.

I sat with my mask on, the half-skull curled around the lower half of my face, on a balcony overlooking one of the busier nightclubs in the city. Viper was out hitting the pavement with Big Mike, while Sylvester and Maddox were each stationed in different parts of the club. I wore my mask because I wanted everyone to know it was me—because I was hoping for someone else to show his face tonight.

The serial killer following me, killing girls in my name. The one who’d fished out multiple bodies from the water. The one who’d sent me Tina’s head in a box with her lips and cheeks cut off and a tape telling me there’d be more.

Of course there’d be more. There always was.

Sylvester had put every single man he had on the case, and Maddox had called in some favors from the people he used to go out and party with. We had nearly every Luciano loyal man and woman on the lookout for this serial killer, including most of the police force. Nobody wanted this to get out; if it spread to national news and the FBI strolled into town, more than one criminal empire would be put at risk.

I wore a tight black dress that showed off my legs and my cleavage, along with the tattoo on my arm. Anyone who glanced at me, sitting like a queen above her kingdom, would know I was someone important, and anyone who was worth knowing would know it was me.

Lola fucking Harding. The Night Slayer extraordinaire. The Bloody Queen. A gal with that many names wouldn’t be taken down by some nameless asshole who thought he could stick it to me by murdering young women. No, I wouldn’t let him get away with it.

That was why my heart pounded so much anytime I left the house. The anticipation was killing me, the dread that filled me anytime I imagined that faceless fucker mutilating those girls… and raping them before he killed them. I was the monster I was today because of a rapist, so this particular serial killer instilled me with the rage and fire of a thousand suns.

I was going to find him, and I was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him helpless. Make him starve. Cut off his dick and his balls and serve them to him on a silver platter. I’d make his life miserable before I ended him for good, mark my words. Someone like that deserved nothing less.

That wasn’t to say I hadn’t made mistakes. That wasn’t to say everyone I’d killed had deserved what I’d given them… but I tried. I tried to keep my wrath focused on men who thought they could take advantage of women, the abusers, the rapists, the ones who reminded me of my stupid brother.

I cleaned the streets, because if I didn’t do it, no one else would.

But the nights had been quiet, almost as if this fucker was biding his time, waiting for something. I’d gone nearly crazy these last two weeks, my need to find him and kill him overwhelming in every sense of the word. I knew I was crazy, but damn, this whole thing was making me feel even crazier.

I’d interviewed everyone with their own eyes on the streets. Anyone who was in business for themselves. I’d frequented the Gilded Rose, as much as Newton hated it, and I’d even talked with the Beast. Beyond that, Fang himself was also on the lookout. The two brothers might be as insane as I was, but even they didn’t want another serial killer in this city.

Like I’d said, though: it was quiet. Too quiet. The more days and nights that passed without incident, the more on edge I became. It was like he was taunting me, laughing at me from the shadows, at my inability to find him. Like the bastard wanted me to know there was nothing I could do to stop him from hunting my girls.

Mine.

Every girl he’d killed was mine, and each one he’d kill until I found him was mine, too. They all were. Every single girl in this city was mine. I’d make that asshole see that soon enough.

My eyes surveyed the crowd dancing, then flicked over to the groups huddling around the bar area of the club. Every girl was meticulously done up, wearing heaps of makeup, high heels, and dresses that flashed a hell of a lot of skin when they danced. They looked smoking hot, the perfect target for our baddie.

And the guys in the club… they weren’t nearly as dressed up. Hell, I didn’t think some of them were dressed up at all, wearing t-shirts and jeans. Guys really did have it easy, huh?

One of these guys might be my killer. The possibility was always there, but still, none of their faces were familiar, and a part of me still believed whoever it was knew the inner workings of the Luciano empire. They knew me, knew what I did. Not everyone was privy to that information, which narrowed down our pool of suspects from everyone with a dick to a select few.

But whoever it was was obviously smart. He knew how to avoid us. He knew the entire fucking city was on the lookout for him, and he made no slip-ups.

Or maybe he was tired of getting random girls. Maybe he wanted me, now. To that, I’d say,come and get me, big boy.

Maddox was near the bar, able to see the door to the outside world from where he was at. He had a drink in his hand and girls around him. His black hair was messy with sweat, and when he ran his hand through it, its lengths stuck straight up. Any girl that tried to get his attention was met with the cold shoulder, for he was too busy watching the club, like I was.

And because he was mine. Maddox Luciano was my crazy lover, let’s not forget, so no girl would be able to pick him up, but that didn’t stop them from trying, unfortunately.

Someone walked up the metal steps to the second floor of the club—which consisted of empty booths, since I’d kicked everyone else out when I’d arrived. I sat on the one nearest the balcony, able to see down through the glass railing, but when I saw someone approaching, I tore my gaze off the crowd.

A drop-dead gorgeous blond man in a suit strolled over to me, sitting beside me with a sigh. Sylvester loosened his tie, looking annoyed. It was a look he often wore when we went out in search of this serial killer. Such work was often for the grunts, but he knew I wouldn’t rest until we found him, so he held in his pride and helped when he could.

I was still a little pissed at him for trying to keep this whole thing a secret from me, but in retrospect, his reasoning was sound. This did drive me nuts. Knowing someone was out there, murdering girls and raping them like the sick fucker he was, pushed me over the edge.

I never really cared about my life. It was only when I found myself in the arms of my mafia men that I realized life didn’t have to be awful. Now… it was kind of like I’d pressed rewind on my need for total destruction. If I had to die in order for this serial killer to be put to rest, well, it’d be selfish of me not to give my life to the cause, wouldn’t it? I wasn’t selfish. I might be a murdering psychopath myself, but when it came to sticking it to the man, I was all for it.

Fuck that guy. Fuck all the guys, except my three and Big Mike.

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