Page 16 of Wicked Little Nightmare

“Yeah, you’re right. Fuck, you’re so sexy. I love you, baby girl.”

I leaned up, kissing his lips gently, “I love you too.”

He set me down and stood before grabbing our empty wine glasses, placing them in the sink before washing his hands. “I need a smoke. Coming?”

“Yeah, I just need to get changed,” I said.

“Nu uh uh. Remember the deal?”

“You really want me to kill someone with my tits out? Really Cam?”

“Yeah, you right. You can put a shirt on, but the underwear stays off, just change into leggings or whatever the fuck those things are called. Tights. I dunno. I just wanna see you all wet.” He grabbed his pack of smokes.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that right?” I smiled, forcing my legs to move towards the bedroom to grab some proper killing clothes.

“Yeah, but I’m your sick fuck.”

Seven: Cam

Once we were on our bikes, we were cruisin’ towards Oakland. Lakey was in her element. Her beautiful, long hair flowing behind her as she revved, that sexy ass leaving me in the dust. She was one with her machine.

I bought the bikes for us on my 20th. For whatever reason, the guy sold them to me for dirt cheap and it just felt wrong to leave them in that dusty garage. We’d been out, selling some drugs for petty cash so we could rent the apartment we’re currently living in. It sucked and we both hated it, but it was easy cash. Lotta addicts around these parts.

When she saw the bikes, and her eyes went big as saucers, I knew I had to grab them. Unfortunately, it took everything we’d earned to pay for them. But it didn’t matter, I’d made my girl happy. Pretty sick fucking birthday present for me too. The guy who sold it to us was the one manufacturing the drugs. The lasttime we went back there to make some cash, he’d had his tongue cut out and shoved down his throat, his eyes pulled from their sockets.

We decided not to dabble in dealing again. So, Lakes got a job at that fucking greasy strip bar and I did minor things here and there like being the muscle for shake downs. We were both over the prison life. Didn’t need me going back to it. These odd jobs were enough. And so long as we were careful, we’d never get caught killing people and we could continue on our merry ways.

Lakey was waiting for me at the stop sign. She always looked so damn good in those black tights, her long, muscled legs propped up on the bike, her hand resting idly in her lap. She revved the engine once, that sick grin I knew all too well gracing her cherubic features. “What, you miss me already?” I teased as I pulled up beside her.

She pouted playfully before raising her middle finger at me. “Fuck off,” she quipped. “We’re close.” She pointed down to the right and moved her finger in a 90-degree angle.

“So… down this road and then left?”

Nodding, she tore off, only slowing when she had to turn left. Goddamn, you’d think she would slow the fuck down considering we didn’t need to alert the Almine’s to our presence, but then, Lakey wasn’t really the best at thinking ahead. She had a thought and acted on it. It’s what I loved about her. Well, one of the things. But it’s also what made her so dangerous.

She parked and was examining her phone before looking back at the piece of paper clutched in her hand. Then she looked through the window at the house where the Almine’s supposedly lived with their foster kid. Letting out a small growl, she threw her hands up in frustration, accidentally letting go of her phone in the process. It smashed to the pavement with a loud clack.

“Hey, hey, what’s up, buttercup? Something wrong?” I got off my bike and grabbed her phone.Shit. The screen’s cracked.Themap came into view before the phone descended into darkness.Well, that’s shot.

“Yes, Cameron. Something is wrong. Look in the window.”

I followed where she was pointing and saw someone who was definitely not John L. Almine. Or his wife, Janine. Fucking Skeeter. Gave us the wrong address. Tsk tsk. He was gonna pay for that. “Shit.”

She screamed in frustration and hopped on her bike, but before she started the engine, I grabbed her hand. “Baby, it’s okay. Edward Jones is near our place, okay? We will just switch targets, and I’ll figure this out with Skeeter.”

“No, Cameron.” She replied, eerily calm. “Iwill figure this out with Skeeter.”

We all knew what that meant. But hey, I didn’t blame her. Skeeter left unscathed the first time and now he’d done my woman wrong. He was going to pay, one way or the other. Might as well let my little harbinger of death have her shot, play ball with his balls, if you get what I mean.

“Sure, baby girl. You can have Skeeter. But what do you say we go hit up ole Eddy boy? He did quite the number on you if I remember correctly. I have a few… words, I’d like to have with him.”

A slow, dangerous smirk graced her features as she placed her helmet on and revved the engine. “Well, if you put it that way,” she purred. “I’d love to play with Eddy.”

“Lead the way, doll.” I walked back to my bike and started the engine, waiting for Lakey to head down the road towards our place. Eddy’s crib was just down the way a bit. Big green house, white fence. According to Skeeter, we wouldn’t find the rest of the Jones’ there, but Edward would do.

He’d been a perpetrator against Lakey mainly, but not the worst one, which was saying something. At first, Carmen hadbeen kind to us. She’d made us feel like we had a home. Like we belonged.

Then slowly, over time, the cruelty surfaced. After our social worker, Sarah, was happy with how things were going, shit changed. Carmen started drinking more and her temper was quite something. Then she let her sons move into the basement. Billy and Eddy, as she called them affectionately. Now Bill and Ed were much, much older than us. At the time, I’d been nine and Lakey had been seven.

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