Page 57 of What Doesn't Kill Us

I hear her before I see her. What others might find to be genuine laughter, I hear as false. For someone who doesn’t know her very well, they would think she was having a spectacular time, but when I glance over, all I see is the disdain outlining her smiling face.

I should have insisted on getting more of the backstory, but we were too busy fucking each other to worry about business. I even let her take a little video of us reveling in our post-orgasmic bliss. It was cute to watch her watching it, her cheeks blushing and a satisfied smile on her face. I smile to myself just thinking about it.

The woman across from me says my name sharply, and I glance up to see she’s giving me a dirty look. I don’t even bother pretending to give a shit. I toss some bills onto the table, then give her a mock salute as I depart.

I know. I’m an asshole. And I can’t find the energy to search for one fuck at this point.

I walk toward the main entrance, then take a quick right, looping around to the far corner of the restaurant where Antoinette and her jackoff date are sitting. I take a seat off by the wall, ignoring the reserved sign on the table.

I have an excellent view of the two of them, but I also see the dirty look the waitress is giving me as she makes her way to the table. I pull out a couple of hundred-dollar bills. “I just need to borrow it for a bit, Dee. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

She gives me a skeptical look, then takes the money with a quick nod. “Sazerac?”

“Please. That would be lovely.”

She rolls her eyes at me, then gives me a half-smile as she walks away. I turn my focus back on Antoinette, and she’s motioning toward the back of the restaurant as she stands up. She grabs her bag, then walks toward the restrooms.

Once she is out of sight, I turn my attention back to jackoff. That smarmy fucker is sitting there with this incredibly superior look on his face. He glances over his shoulder a few times before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small bottle, opens it quickly, and pours something out into his hand.

Jackoff returns the bottle to his pocket, then grabs two spoons, crushing whatever he got from the bottle between them. He glances around once more, then taps the spoon over her drink.

That is one dead motherfucker.

I move to get up, but then stop myself. I can’t go over there and confront him because that could put her at risk. And this is where I’m kicking myself for not getting all the information before now, because this means I’ll have to bide my time and grab him where there are fewer witnesses.

Antoinette returns to her seat and sits down, sipping her drink. He laughs, blatantly flirting with her. She smiles, laughing along with him, but I see the distant look in her eyes. Still, she picks up her drink and chugs it down like a good sport, completely unaware of the danger.

They both rise from the table. She gathers her bag and proceeds him toward the back exit. I move to follow them, but then Dee is back with my drink, standing in my way. I throw more money on the table, pushing her to the side as I stride quickly across the room to the hallway. I hear the door click and rush the rest of the way to the exit, opening it quietly so as not to draw attention to myself. I figure I can grab him in the parking lot, then take care of him later once I know Antoinette is okay.

But when I walk into the parking lot, no one’s there. I look to the right just in time to see the tail end of a black SUV turning down the street. I run toward it, but by the time I reach the street, it has turned the corner and is already gone.

Fuck.

I walk back toward the restaurant entrance, taking out my burner phone and dialing Antoinette’s number. It goes directly to voicemail. I pull out my personal phone and bring up my tracking app, but she’s not there.

Now, my heart is pounding in my chest, the beast inside me vibrating, demanding we go find her. My stomach is in my throat, so I call her number again, but it still goes directly to voicemail.

I pull up Matt’s number and call him, but he doesn’t answer, so I send him a 911 text message and the corresponding code for our rendezvous point.

I consider attempting to locate the vehicle, but the number of black SUVs in New York City is insurmountable. Instead, I rush to my car, falling into the driver’s seat, and hurriedly leaving the parking lot, heading toward the warehouse to meet Matt. I’m trying to keep it together, to not let the beast take over.

I send a message to Tony, knowing it will probably remain unread for a while because he gives no fucks about the tail I may be chasing.

It’s best if I get to Matt first, since he knows more of the backstory than Tony does. I contemplated telling Tony about my recent revelations about Antoinette, but recognized it would be a mistake. He would consider her a weakness, a liability, and he would have zero problem eliminating her.

Matt pulls into the warehouse at the same time I do, and he meets me at the door, asking, “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I ran into Antoinette tonight when she was out with some jackoff she dates sometimes.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, giving me a skeptical look. “Just happened to, or you were spying?”

“Is this relevant?”

He shrugs. “Not really, but I still want you to admit it.”

“Fine, I was spying. But it’s a good fucking thing I was because I watched him drug her drink.”

His eyes widen. “And you let him live?”

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