Page 7 of Bloody Seven

He thinks meeting me somehow made his day better, but that couldn't be any further from the truth. Meeting me sealed his fate. He won't live past Valentine's Day.

Strangely, I find myself hesitating because he hasn't done anything that would warrant being my next victim. Can I kill an innocent person? Will that make me any better than the stranger who killed Drew?

With how flirty the guy is, it will only be a matter of time before he puts his hands on me without my permission. That’s what I allow myself to believe in order to justify saying yes to meeting him at the party.

Doubt begins to consume me, though. Deep down, there’s a part of me that only wants to kill him because he makes me feel something for the first time in years. That thought alone makes this so much more complicated.

Chapter 3

Corbin

By the time I walk into the bar, the party is in full swing. If I had to guess, some of these people likely came directly after work to start their nightly binge. Tito’s has become one of the more popular spots in the neighborhood because of all the events they host.

Mondays are ladies’ night, followed by a Tuesday gentleman's evening, a monthly speed dating event, karaoke, and really just any possible reason to bring people in to spend money. I glance around at the tacky decor, full of black hearts and red roses, trying to hold back a laugh. My buddy really outdid himself, but he knows how to run a business.

Trent’s been trying to get me to come to his 'I hate Valentine's Day' party for years now, but I always tell him no. Unlike most places, he hosts his annual gathering the day before the holiday because, according to him, "It's the best way to find a date for Valentine's Day." A fool-proof method that he's had a one hundred percent success rate with.

I hate to admit it, but the fucker is clever. Most people who attend these kinds of parties are here under the false guise thatthey hate the entire concept of the day. In reality, they’re just looking for someone to connect with, even if they say they aren't. Human connection is the one thing we all naturally crave.

After a few drinks, most of these people will find their way to the dance floor, and by the end of the night, they will pair off to head to their tiny-ass apartments and fuck like rabbits for maybe an hour before passing out.

This is the kind of party I would have been all over in my early twenties. I used to be exactly like all of them, especially if there was a chance for a meaningless hookup. I can't even begin to guess the number of women I've woken up to in the morning after a bar night with no idea who they are.

That's just not who I am anymore. Life and age have caught up to me, not that I'm old by any means. Thirty is still young enough to hit the party scene, but I've started to really wonder if things would be different with a partner by my side.

The sandwich shop has kept me busy enough that I don’t usually think about how I’ve been alone for years now. I have to pour my time into something, though.

As I walk up to the bar, I'm met with a look of surprise on my buddy Trent's face. It's brief before it turns into a smug smile.

"Tired of staying home and jacking off when someone else can do it for you?"

"You're disgusting, you know that?" I roll my eyes.

"Wish I could say that was the first time I've been told that."

"Maybe you should take it under advisement then," I suggest, and he shakes his head.

"Boss!" one of the bartenders calls out, and he waves her off.

"You two can figure it out yourselves for a few minutes. That's why I pay you, isn't it? I'm having a conversation." He dismisses them.

"You should be nicer to your staff," I chuckle because Trent is and has always been a dick.

He nudges his head toward the packed bar. "Have you at least checked out the crowd? There are some bombshells here tonight."

I turn and look to appease him. The place is full of women in black and red outfits, some of them putting more effort into their looks than others. A few are wearing what looks to be lingerie while others took the more casual route.

One woman locks eyes with me, and I watch her deliberately eye fuck me. She gives me a half smile and waves the tips of her fingers, making me shake my head as I turn back to Trent. There's only one woman I'm interested in seeing tonight, and from the looks of it, she's not here yet.

I hope she doesn't stand me up. I’m not stupid. Asking her to come here made her uncomfortable, but even if she doesn't show up, at least Trent will get off my back about a night out.

"Give me a whiskey on the rocks, and don't worry about me," I say with a sharp undertone.

He eyes me wearily as he moves to the bottles on the wall behind him. He knows what I like, and there's nothing wrong with having a little liquid courage while I wait. I told her to be here at eight but figured I would come earlier to make sure there was no possible way I would miss her.

A glass is placed in front of me as Trent crosses his arms over his chest. "Okay, why are you really here?"

"I can't party?" I suggest making him roll his eyes.

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