Page 3 of Power Surge

“She's just a pawn. A no one.”

“Your lover?”

A haughty laugh tries to escape his trembling throat. “No.”

“If she’s no one and not involved, why is she so special you're willing to risk your right nut being splattered all over this chair?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. Fuck, the tranquilizer is wearing off more than I’d like. This needs to end soon. I could take him, but if I leave any mark on the body, they’ll know it wasn’t a suicide.

I tug the ugly-ass tie I stole from his closet last week from the clear plastic baggie in my cargo pant pocket and dangle it across my thigh.

“Tell me,” I demand a little louder than I should.

“Do it.” Calm settles over his ragged features. This stage always happens, the mark thinking they've come to terms with death. And some have until death is a hairbreadth away. That undiluted terror will roar back the moment I slip this silk around his neck.

A minuscule amount of respect pulses through my veins for the man in front of me. With his death imminent, he continues to protect this mystery woman.

“Just tell me one thing.” Vacant eyes stare back into my own. “Why are you protecting her?”

Something like sadness leaks through his ice blue eyes. Confusion sets in. I purse my lips in pure annoyance. If I wasn’t required to make this look like a suicide, I'd make him talk.

Without another word spoken between us, I slip the tie around his neck, double-checking the slip knot so it’ll tighten with a simple tug. Scanning the side table, my gaze rests on a medium-sized iron sculpture. It’s hideous. Rich people and their shitty art. Blue eyes track each of my movements as I secure the opposite end of the tie to the sculpture. I cradle the sculpture in one hand, pressing the other against the top of the chair beside his head, allowing me to hover over him.

“Any last words?” I never ask that; this fucking night is messing with my mind. A part of me wants to allow him one more opportunity to identify this mystery woman and explain why in the hell he's willing to let the secret die with him.

This curiosity, it's a new, uncomfortable emotion.

“This ends with me. I hold the evidence. I'm the proof.”

The weight slips from my fingers, the knot tightening as the sculpture lowers to the floor. Soft gasps fill the room as I watch the light leave his eyes, making memories of each second, each ragged breath for later.

It's not until I'm on the balcony ready to shimmy back down the wall that his last words resonate. Turning back to the glass doors, I track the iron sculpture swaying back and forth along the back of the chair. From this vantage point, I’m unable to see where the body of a once powerful man lies still and nonbreathing, but I know it's there.

“I hold the evidence. I'm the proof.”

To anyone else, it would sound like a confession, a last testimonial. But I know better.

It's a diversion.

* * *

Quietly closing the back door, I don't bother to flick the dead bolt. I’m the scariest thing on this block; only an idiot would try to break in here. The dark hardwood floors creak under each footstep as I stalk through the townhouse. The soft glow of light from the streetlamps slices through the slats of the plantation shutters covering each of the windows in the formal living room. The stairs pop and crack under my weight with each step toward the master bedroom. At the landing, I tug the black long-sleeve T-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor as I continue on my route to the shower. With my pants hanging open, my cock resting against the teeth of the zipper, I pull my phone free from the back pocket and dial the number directed in the initial instructions for tonight’s contract.

“Is it done?” says the weak voice on the other end of the line. I've never seen a single client face-to-face, but this person's voice is unforgettable, one I've heard a few times before. Gotta love returning customers.

“Yes.” I eye the shower and gently stroke my cock, readying it for the fun we're about to have.

“And the answers to the questions.”

“He said the lawyers don’t know anything yet and that she didn't know.” I pinch the head of my dick, focusing on the pain to keep me from asking who the fuck “she” is and why everyone's so interested in this cunt.

“Did you believe him?”

I sigh as I release my hold, the earlier bite of pain morphing into delicious pleasure.

“Yes to the lawyer portion. His answer was quick. No to the part about the woman.” I stroke myself, impatience rising as the silence stretches. “Unless you want to create another contract for this mystery woman, we're done here. Wire me the final amount tonight as promised. I've got shit to do.”

“It's not just some woman. She's untouchable.”

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