Page 29 of Sweet Touch of Venom

Death.

Chunks of gravel shift and crunch beneath the sole of my combat boots, and my knees nearly go numb from the position. I waited until his crew members and employees left for the day, only leaving Henley behind to tend to manager duties. If only his staff knew the real man behind the scenes, the one that’s involved in callous acts and misconduct.

Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if Henley and his employees are a part of the corruption he’s involved in. Do I have to kill them too? Are they involved with a filth of a man that orchestrates kidnappings and steals money from the rich to meet their monthly salary?

Truth be told, I can care less if you steal from the rich. At least do it for a good cause, maybe to feed the less than, I don’t fucking know, but don’t take children in the midst and scar them for life.It’s cruel.

Don’t kill a brother—that meant more to someone than anything else.

Thinking about it fills the flames with the venom that burns my veins. I’ll leave the rest of my assumptions for later and stick to thenow.

I lean my back against the metal. The wind blows against my neck, signaling to me that it’s time.

I glance around once more to get a feel of my surroundings. Metal scraps residing on the ground left unattended, an unattractive trailer with porta potties line awkwardly over theclosed off site with a gate blocking the entrance. Machinery and forklifts parked neatly by the gate, blocking the view for anyone to glance in, including the hazards warning signs nailed to the various poles and the ‘Do not enter under construction’ sign plastered outside the gate.

I twist my body over a head, where metal stairs lead up to an even more unappealing shed container that’s seen every weather condition you can imagine. Three windows line down the sides of the storage shed, giving me a view of Henley.

Hi there.

I glisten with joy, spotting Henley walking past his window, phone to his ear and body shifting around to talk to whomever. From the way his mouth opens wide and other hand swipes and gestures out means his complaining about something.

I lean back against the small shed as my feet move forward, tiny pebbles scrap and filters in every glide to the end of the shed. The simple plan is to make it up the steps as quickly as possible before he plans to leave.

Once I’m almost past the trailer, I glance over again, only for my chest to grip me as if someone personally took the muscle and crushed it with their bare hands.

My eyes spread drastically with a rattle to my teeth that could crack the tooth. Ronan gradually walks up to the steps with his gun in his hand while the other is in his black jacket pocket, like he’s going to a restaurant.

Are we serious? My heart tumbles around like a boxing bag, every knock sends me into attack mode.

When did he get here? And how did I not catch it? Dammit, there’s no way he’s killing Henley before I do.

On a different mission now, I take the initiative to kneel while running over to the stairs, unseen by Henley. I hop over sharp tools and loose boxes on the way.

Ronan’s eyes slant at me from the footsteps of the gravel being munched and kicked. His brows lower with a squint in an amused surprise, and I swear on the planet of this universe that I spot a flicking grin on his lips.

I shoot a knowing glare at him as I arrive at the steps, same as he does, with an extra weight of animosity on my shoulders. I glower as my finger rests on the hilt of the gun that resides at my side, suddenly feeling trigger-happy. I could shoot him now and end it.

Another time.

“Glad to see you’ve arrived,” he says nonchalantly, turning to start his-myyyyjourney.

I block the way with my arm, my gun hitting the rail, I squeeze past his wide frame to go before him, our bodies brushing together as I swivel in front.

“I’ll take it from here.” I begin transcending up the stairs with a skip until a hand is clasped over my elbow, pulling me back. My eyes bulge from the boldness that he takes in touching me. My head snaps back to him hard enough to rock off my shoulders. “You really are a termite.” I seethe through clenched teeth, leveling with his height due to the steps. I get uncomfortably close to his face that I can see the dilation in his honey specs. Or smell the musky wood scent he gives off.

He lets out a light breath that flows into my nose, with a chilling smirk that shouldn’t come off attractive. My shoulders tense as his body shifts up a step, towering over me on this much too small stair. The edge of his boot knocking against mine as he hovers above me like an ant to a human. I have to stretch my neck to look up at him.

“I’ve been referred to as worse. I’ll take the compliment,” he says smoothly, with a wider smirk that makes me want to uppercut him again. With his hand still on my elbow, he shifts me back behind him. Attempting to because I keep my handlocked tight on the rail. He tosses a warning look, using more force to wrench me off the stairs. I pinch my lips as he gets the best of me with his unholy strength, almost flinging me around back to the bottom steps.

“I got this,” he states in an authoritative tone that grinds my gears into overdrive.

I let out an aggravated groan, raising my gun to his back as he sets his foot on the next step. I cock it to get his attention.

“Did you forget the gun? I can shoot you right here,” I spat out, making my way back up the steps one foot at a time.

He stops, letting out a ragged breath with a tilt back of his head, likeI’mthe one stopping his plan. He fixes himself back straight, placing his gun into his back belt, then turning around and by the time he does, the barrel of my gun is right back where it started from the beginning. Aimed at his dome.

He tilts his head slightly, sending the loose strands of his hair to fall over his eye. “Make my day and try. I want you to,” he says precariously low, stepping back down to meet the gun halfway. His eyes flick into an ominous narrow, shifting the curl of his lip.

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