Page 57 of Wicked Little Nightmare

Cam squeezed my hand. “Anything for you, baby girl.”

My mind wouldn’t slow. Wondering everything about her. Moreover, wondering where she was. For some reason, I just couldn’t let her go. Couldn’t push her from my mind. It was like she was a part of me, a piece of metal, sliding under my skin, forever imprinted on me.

As we approached the operative's house, a quaint little thing with a white picket fence, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. Cam's stride was confident, purposeful. I had to fight to keep from running beside him just to keep up.

We paused at the gate, and Cam turned to me. His face held that half-smile I adored. "Ready?"

I grinned, punching him in the arm, excitement coursing through me. "Born ready, baby."

As we walked up the path, I conjured images of all the fun we were about to have. This asshole had no idea what was coming. Poor bastard.

Cam knocked on the door, his posture relaxed but alert. I bounced on my toes, smacking my hands together until Cam reached down and grabbed one, pulling downward until I stood. Guess it would look weird to see such a well-dressed suburban woman bouncing around like a speed demon.

As we waited, I caught Cam watching me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Calm down, tiger," he murmured. "Save it for our friend."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to still. Cam was right, as always. I needed to keep my cool, at least until we got inside. Then, well... all bets were off.

The door creaked open, and I plastered on my sweetest smile.Time to play.Cam pulled me tightly to his side, my hand outstretched with the pie. Looking up at Cam, his face had eased into his award-winning charming smile. The one women couldn’t resist, and made men feel at ease.

The operative's face appeared, a mix of confusion and suspicion etched across his features. I held up the store-bought pie, my smile widening.

"Hi there, neighbor!" I chirped, channeling my best suburban housewife impression. I couldn’t tell if I was hitting the mark or if I just looked like a psychopath with how hard I was grinning. "We just moved in down the street and wanted to say hello!"

Cam chimed in, his voice smooth, "Hope we're not interrupting anything."

The guy hesitated, his eyes darting between us. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out if we were a threat.Oh, honey, if only you knew.

Before he could respond, Cam smoothly pushed past him, that charming yet menacing smile firmly in place. "Don't mind us, we'll just set this down in the kitchen."

I followed close behind, my eyes scanning the room hungrily. So many potential toys, so little time. The living room was cozy,filled with mundane knick-knacks that could become so much more interesting with a little creativity. Gazing off to the side, a door was ajar, the room lit with the blue of computer screens. I leaned forward ever so slightly to see three screens running some kind of coding program.

As Cam engaged the guy in small talk, keeping him distracted, I wandered around. A letter opener on the side table, bills underneath it, caught my eye, its blade glinting in the afternoon light. My fingers itched to grab it, to feel its weight in my hand, but I couldn’t cheat on my karambits like that. These girls werethirsty.

I turned back to our host, my eyes wide and innocent. "What a lovely home you have," I cooed, sidling up to Cam. "Don't you think so, darling?"

Cam's arm snaked around my waist, possessive and warm. "Absolutely stunning," he agreed, but his eyes never left the operative's face. “I don’t think you introduced yourself, love. This is Steven. Steven, my wife, Daisy.”

I could feel the tension in the room, thick and delicious. “Steven” was on edge, his body language screaming discomfort. Good. Let him squirm. He mumbled a hello, shuffling his feet.

I was bored. This conversation was boring, and I resisted the urge to bounce on my toes. Instead, I twirled my hair and pretended to be engrossed in whatever the fuck this slimeball was saying.

The moment Cam's hand tightened on my waist; I knew it was showtime. In one fluid motion, he released me and lunged at the guy. I watched, mesmerized, as Cam's fist connected with the guy's jaw. The crack echoed through the room. Boom! In another life, he could have been a boxer. Probably something to do with the fighting ring he fucked around in for a while. I was half-shocked the guy’s neck didn’t break from the impact of that hit.

"Fuck, that never gets old," I whispered, my pulse quickening as the operative crumpled to the floor with a loud thud.

Cam dragged the unconscious body to a nearby chair, his movements practiced and efficient. I grabbed some zip ties from my purse, tossing them his way. "Here, babe. Make it tight."

As he secured our new plaything, I circled the room again, going through it more thoroughly, humming softly. My fingers trailed over various objects – a picture frame with stock people in it, a vase holding dead flowers, that tempting letter opener. Each one a potential instrument of pain.

"You're getting that look, Lakes," Cam warned. "Remember, we need information first."

I pouted but nodded. "I know, I know. But after?"

He smirked, dark eyes glinting. "Then he's all yours, sweetheart."

“Good. You took Skeeter and that really hurt me, Cam.”

Good ole Steve started to stir, groaning as consciousness returned. I skipped over, crouching down to peer into his face. "Wakey, wakey," I sing-songed, tapping his cheek. "Sorry, there’s no eggs and bakey."

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