Page 19 of Vengeful Lies

My hitwoman has turned into the perfect little distraction.

CHAPTER 10

Jewel

My hands run down my short, brown leather skirt as I stand in front of the building, staring up at the sign that reads Lucy’s.

I shouldn’t have come.

Any sane person would’ve packed their shit and left town by now, but I live by the motto better the devil, you know, than the one you don’t. I have no intention of pissing off my client or having my first failed hit.

So here I am, walking into the mafia heir’s den as if I’m a welcomed guest when I know I’m anything but.

A sliver of my midriff is on display between the hem of my tight white shirt and the waist of my skirt. The brown leather boots might be cute, but they also have a small knife hidden inside, just in case… Well, just in case shit happens.

Knowing I only have the bare minimum to protect myself with doesn’t make me feel any more secure.

The security guard glances at me but says nothing as I stand there, looking like I’m building up the courage to go inside. In truth, I’m looking for any obvious escape routes other than the front door.

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this fucking hit.

Play with the target.

Yeah, it seems he’s playing with me now.

“How long have you been standing here?” I turn to see Dutton approaching from the parking lot and pressing his key fob to lock his car. I make a point to remember which car is his and the license plate number.

He’s dressed more casually than the last time I saw him, but make no mistake, he oozes money. And I’m not fooled by his charming, pretty-boy exterior. If anything, other than Eli, he’s the one I’m most wary of. Turning back toward the club, I take in the impressively long line waiting to gain entry.

“I don’t want to stand in that line,” I reply, which is partially the truth.

“Your name is on the list,” he says, stopping behind me. I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s staring at me as if trying to figure out some complicated math. “Why did you come here?”

“Because I was asked,” I say, thoughaskedmight not be the right word, more like commanded.

“I can’t argue that my cousin always gets what he wants, but even you should have more caution. Hewillkill you, so why don’t you explain to me who sent you, and maybe we can offer some form of protection?”

I shoot him a wicked grin. “Don’t you think if I knew my client’s name, I would’ve given it to you after you knocked me out and had me tied to a chair? No hard feelings, by the way.”

“In all fairness, you threw a knife into my cousin’s leg, so I think we’re even.”

“But let’s not make it sound like we’re coming to a truce, right?” I angle my head with a provoking smile. His eyebrows furrow only slightly. I can tell that, much like the other men around Eli, he’s not sure what to do with a woman like me, and that in itself is satisfying.

Before he answers, I start for the door and security guard. “Raise your arms so I can pat you down,” the man orders suspiciously. Most likely because of how long I’ve been staring at the building. I sigh and do as he says, but Dutton steps up behind me and pushes one of my arms down.

“If you want to live past tonight, I suggest you don’t touch Eli’s guest.” His voice is firm, and the security guard straightens and turns a noticeable shade paler. He’s quick to step to the side and unhook the red rope.

On the plus side, it’s nice to know Dutton’s not only an ass to me but to everyone. Dutton walks behind me—more like guides me—into the devil’s lair.

The moment the music hits my ears, I’m overstimulated by the number of naked women dancing on what appears to be hovering neon cubes. Clumps of wildly drunk people bounce and cheer, pour alcohol into one another’s mouths straight from the bottle, and are basically fucking on couches.

It’s not the “gentleman’s club” style I was expecting at all. This is mafia on crack. I thought I dressed appropriately for this club, but it seems I’m wearing more clothing than most of the other women.

A woman walks past me with a tray full of various drugs. Two guys in a booth call her over and fish out some cash.

Dutton’s hand finds my lower back, his touch feather-light, as if touching me will scorch him, but it brings me back into the room instead of being swallowed whole by its chaos.

“Move. He’s already watching you,” Dutton says, and I follow his gaze to the second level that overlooks the crowd. Eli is leaning over the railing with a drink in his hand. I see only a few people behind him, and they blur in the background, my attention drawn solely to his unearthly eyes.

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