Page 46 of His Lovebug

Stalking up behind the guard, I smirked as I raised the gun to the back of his head. One bullet was all it took, his head flying forward under the force. He collapsed, but I grabbed him before he could hit the ground. I dragged his body into the same shadows I’d hidden in. The blood spatter across the cement would alert the other guards, so I needed to move quickly.

The next two guards stalked through the door a few moments later. I raised the gun to blow the brains out of the first one, but the second saw me before I could. He tackled me around the middle, and we barreled to the ground, his heavy weight on top of me.

He landed a punch to my gut and tried to knock my Beretta out of my hand. I managed to avoid him by swinging my hand away and back down, right against his forehead, using enough strength to send him rolling off me with an agonized yowl.

The first guard came at me with his gun, but I aimed my Beretta and shot him twice—in the chest and face. He tumbled to the ground. Dead.

Harsh breaths slipped from between my lips as I rose shakily, the pain from my stomach an ache I could mostly ignore, even though it winded me. I stared down at the second guard as he pressed the heel of his palm to his temple. He raised his other hand when he saw me above him.

“Please. Let me live.” His voice verged on hysterical.

The human part of me—however small it was—hesitated, giving him enough time to go for his gun. I was quicker, though.

I put three bullets in his head.

Silence reigned over the garage.

I rubbed my stomach and sighed before I grabbed a body, hauling him toward the other I’d hidden. I did the same for the second until I was sure all three were well disguised in the darkest area of the garage.

I leaned back against the wall and checked the magazine. Nine bullets left. More than enough to finish Topher off for good.

I didn’t know how long I’d waited before a door to my left opened, but I didn’t have to look to know who it was this time. Every instinct in my body hummed with the sensation of revenge. The hair on my arms stood up and pleasure simmered low in my stomach with the thrill of a soon-to-be kill.

“Monica, I don’t fucking care if it’s midnight. Get the job done.” The sound of him tapping his phone angrily, probably to end a call, filled the quiet space of the garage. “Fucking assistants. Women. They’re good for nothing but their pussies.” The low mutter made me smirk, and I opened my eyes to see him heading toward his car. “Where are those fucking guards? Lazy bastards.”

Amateur hour.

He was too busy on his phone to notice the blood.

I shadowed him from behind. “That’s no way to talk about a lady, Topher. Or the recently deceased.”

He spun, a gun in his hand I assumed he’d pulled from his suit jacket, but I was too quick for him, knocking it out of his grasp. The Glock went flying and clattered to the ground, too far away for him to reach.

His eyes widened and his mouth pursed. “You don’t want to do this. You don’t know the kind of men I’m allies with.” He stood taller—or tried to. He was much shorter than me, barely coming to my shoulders, and it seemed he had a wrinkle somewhere on his face for every year he’d been alive, well into his sixties. His gray hair was short, and yet, in a strange way, he looked just as I remembered him.

“Hmm.” I raised the Beretta to his forehead, and he froze. “You know who I’m second in charge to.”

He frowned, mouth twitching. “Derek Uhlig.”

“Uhlig, yes.” I smirked. “See, you were quick to make me your enemy, Topher, and you grew overconfident. You thought you were unstoppable. You started a predictable routine and why? Because you thought your hired guards would protect you.” I laughed and waved in the direction of the bodies. “One against three. I won. You were stupid for taking me on.”

I pressed the muzzle of the gun tighter against his forehead, and he was caught between trembling and trying to raise his chin in defiance. The terror defeated his pride. The smell of piss rose, and I crinkled my nose, not surprised. All the “tough” men were the first to panic. They thought they were untouchable. Until they weren’t.

“I would’ve let it go, you know. All the threats. I would’ve forgotten about them, but then you had to go and shoot up my wife’s car. Throw Tyler’s dead body on it. But you weren’t done, you set our house on fire and tried to kidnap Jackson.” Itsked. “Not a smart move.”

“There are cameras here,” Topher blurted out, searching for the security tech. “They’ll know it was you.”

I laughed. “See, I have men, too, but instead of sending them to do the real job, I get them to wipe the footage for me while I finish you off.”

“I have money.” Sweat beaded at his temples and his hands shook. Of course he was a coward. If I didn’t hate him so much, I might’ve sent him to one of Derek’s survival games as a punishment, but I wanted to end this here and now. “I’ll apologize to your wife. She was gorgeous. That brunette woman, right?”

I laughed. “No. That was Morgan, my wife’s best friend. My wife is the man.”

He froze, and I could see the calculations happening in his eyes. His face twisted and his mouth opened, no doubt to say something awful.

I squeezed the trigger, and Topher’s head cracked back. Blood splattered across his red Cadillac and his body collapsed to the ground. I raised my chin. “My wife is ten times the man you are.”

With that, I turned on my heel. All I had to do now was pick up my gear and War, then go back to the Courtesan.

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