Page 8 of Wicked Little Nightmare

“What?”

“Well from scratch it takes three hours.” She looked around in a panic. “I fucked up, didn’t I? Oh, Cam. I’m sorry. Damnit.”

I grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. “Hey, no sweat. Skeets, how long on that info I needed?”

“Uh, a while. So uh, yeah, three hours sounds good.” He was sweating again, eyeing Lakey up and down.

Moving to block his view of her just as she zeroed in on him and that maniacal look started to cloud her vision, I tugged on her long hair. “See? Don’t sweat it. Have a beer and put on your favorite songs. We will just be over on the balcony, doing some shit. Love you, lil psycho.”

She huffed, “Love you, too.”

And with that, I dragged a reluctant Skeeter onto the balcony of our high-rise apartment, closing the balcony door behind us.

“Welcome to the office. Now. You better get to work, fuckhead. Don’t look at my girl like that. I won’t even need to carve your eyes out of your head because she will do it for me, then she’ll scoop your nuts out of your sack and put them in your eye sockets.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

“Many things.” Grabbing him by the back of the neck, I shoved his nose onto his keyboard. “Work. Now.”

As he worked, I rummaged around in the beer fridge we kept on the deck. Handing one to Skeeter, I cracked mine and leaned over the railing, watching the addicts do their dance on the street below looking for their next fix. That was one thing I always prided myself on. Never stooping so low. I’d always kept my nose clean and my blood cleaner. I had to. Lakey’s life depended on me keeping my head clear.

We had a good thing going, Lakes and me. We fucked, we loved, we did whatever the fuck we wanted. I took on odd jobs for old friends now and then, brought in some money when we needed it. She danced at the club around the corner when she wanted an outlet for her frustration. Men knew not to touch her after a few ended up with more than a broken jaw and the inability to walk for a month. But we loved our life.

I was just growing tired of the same tune. I wanted more. The bloodlust was returning, and the feeling of revenge was simmering just below the surface. Lakes got her fill killing the women who sat on my dick, but she didn’t understand I could hardly get it up for them anymore. Most of them wanted me to make love to them and the few that wanted my brand of violence didn’t want it when they caught a glimpse of what crawled under my skin.

Then she killed them and satiated the monster under hers.

It should have been enough, and it was for years.

So, when had it changed?

When had the burning need for more started to itch and claw its way into my bloodstream? As much as this hit list was going to make Lakey squeal with joy, it was also going to free me. I’d spent years picturing how I would kill these fucks and now I would finally get my chance.

Downing the monkey piss at the bottom of the can in one gulp, I grabbed another, cracking it and sipping.

Shit was about to get real, real interesting around here. This present could change everything. It would change everything.

Lakey screeched before screaming expletives from the kitchen and the smell of burning hit my nostrils, even through the closed door. I held back a chuckle.

That’s my girl.

“Boss got a hit. We got an Edward Jones living not far from here, with a Carmen and William listed as direct relatives. They’re not in town though, both listed as living out of jurisdiction.”

I took the laptop and scrolled through the information he had dug up. “Damn, Skeeter, you're a fucking miracle worker. See? I knew you had it in you. Send that to my phone and I’ll wire you 500.”

“That’s it man? You said a grand.”

Eyeing him, I grinned. “You know what, you’re right. I did say a grand. Tell you what. If you make it through dinner with my woman, I’ll give you the other 500.”

He turned white as a ghost. “Ah, na, s’all good man, 500 is good.”

Placing my hand over my heart, I gasped in mock offense. “Really, Skeets. That hurts. You don’t want the food Lakey has been preparing for you?”

“No offence, Cam, but I’m good. I’ll just—”

I opened the balcony door and whistled. His eyes widened like deer in headlights. “Lakes, get your ass out here! Skeeter has something he’d like to say.”

His mouth opened and closed before thinning into a straight line. “Cam… please…”

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