Page 2 of No Mercy In Red

But that pride was always tangled with resentment because I hated that it had to be me. I hated that he wasn’t still here, wasn’t still fighting for the justice the system refused to give. I wasn’t supposed to be the one doing this. He was.

Craig had held out longer than the ones before him had, I’d give him that. Despite the shattered kneecaps and the blow torch I had pressed to his most sensitive parts, he had grit. Or maybe just a sick tolerance for sin after years of leaving bruises on women who fought back. The scratches from his last victim were still visible on his neck. They were deep, angry marks where she had tried to stop him. The same marks I had studied in his case file, the one that landed on my desk, stampedCase Dismissed.The DNA under her nails, the rape kit proving everything she said was true, but none of it mattered. His money and status outweighed the truth, a semi-pro football player with a bright future, they said. Why ruin his life?

Why indeed? They wouldn’t do it. So, I did.

I had taken his file to the photocopier after the office closed, alone as always. The office trusted me to handle these things, to neatly file away the cases where justice never came. Nobody knew that each time I was handed a file stamped with those words, I was seeing a man’s fate. Thattheir case wasn’tclosed, just unfinished – until I got to them. And Craig Smiths countdown started the second his name hit the paper tray on my desk. I had watched him for weeks, waiting for my moment. He was careful, sticking to a routine that consisted of going straight home after games, rarely going out alone. It was frustrating, I couldn’t lure him from his house, and I refused to be reckless.

But then, luck. A victory. A celebration.

His team finally won a game, and he was about to go celebrate with the boys, this was the perfect opportunity to strike.

I sat at the bar, swirling what looked like a fancy cocktail but was just juice, watching him over the rim of my glass. I had done this enough times to know the exact moment a man like him was drunk enough to make a mistake. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar—long jet-black hair framing my heart shaped face, with full lips painted a blood red that compliment my dark brown eyes. I wrapped my curves in a tight black dress, that showed a little cleavage and hugged my ass in a spectacular way. I looked like the perfect distraction, a walking, breathing invitation to his downfall. The thing is, men were very simple creatures, a little sway of my hips, a playful bite of my lower lip, a flicker of feigned interest in my eyes and they came running.

He bit the bait instantly.

“Hey sexy,” he breathed against my ear. “I haven’t seen you around before, but I saw you watching me. Not like I can fault you, I am the best-looking guy in here.”

He slid an arm around my waist without hesitation, fingers gripping me like I was something he already owned. I fought off the instinct to recoil. The night had just begun, and I needed him to believe he was in total control, that I was totally into this.

With a giggle, I fluttered my lashes whilst trailing my fingers down his chest. “I’m new in town, so I figured I’d see what this place has to offer.”

His grin widened “Oh, I can show you what it has to offer.”

God, they truly were all the same.

“Well, Mr. Handsome,” I purred, pressing closer. “That’s your name, right?”

He chuckled, “Craig. Remember it, you’ll be screaming it later.”

I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, what was it with these men and their god complex? It was insufferable.

Instead, I leaned in, whispering against his ear, “I only have one rule.”

He stiffened slightly. “Yeah?”

“I like being in my own bed.” I ran my fingers down to the waistband of his jeans, feeling his breathing hitch ever so slightly, “Just a safety thing, you understand right?”

I needed him in my space, they always wanted to take me somewhere they had planned—probably a dark alley knowing this sick fuck—but this wasn’t how this worked. I had inherited my fathers house for a reason, because it was the one place I could control every variable. He had left me the house in his will, and with it, a legacy I had only discovered after his death. My dad had been doing it long before me, uniting the men who thought they were untouchable through death. Every time I took a life, I walked in his footsteps, continued on his work, carried his torch.

Craigs breath was hot against my skin as he chuckled, “I can work with that.”

I flashed him my sweetest smile, taking him by the hand to lead him out of the club.

Another dead man walking.

Chapter 2

Max

The ride back to my fathers’ house was quiet, aside from Craig’s drunk ramblings about how great of an athlete he was. He slurred his words, stumbling over self-absorbed stories about his so-calledglory days—as if being a semi-pro football player excused the horrors he had committed. His voice was thick with alcohol, the kind of intoxication that made men like him reckless, sloppy, which made my job so much easier.

I let him talk, laughing when it was expected, tilting my head like I was also a little too drunk, perfectly playing the part. He mistook my silence for awe, as they always did, they never did see the noose that tightening around their throats.

As we arrived at the house, he barely took in his surroundings. He was too busy staring at me, pupils blown wide with the lust and arrogance. I thanked the driver, Tony with a subtle nod.

I had never met Tony until after my dad’s death, the day I stood inside the basement, taking everything in, Tony appeared. He had asked me if I had any questions, telling me that he understood how it was all probably a lot to take in. I had been terrified of Tony when he first descended those basement stairs, yelling at him to get the fuck out, and who the hell did he think he was coming into my father’s house. He had just smiled at me, the way now I’d grown so familiar with. He’dexplained how he was my dad’s driver, that he helped him with getting the bodies in here, and out of here. He helped me connect the dots on who my father truly was, giving me reassuring words and pulling me into hugs each time new tears threatened to fall down my cheeks. We had sat for hours on that cold basement floor, talking about how incredible my father was, how brave and strong. Tony helped me feel lighter, he helped me view my father’s death in a whole new light, and he helped me become who I was today. I’d told him that I wanted to continue my fathers work, I’ll never forget the look on his face when those words came out of my mouth. The poor bastard looked like he was going to have a heart attack, the way he paced up and down, running his fingers through his scrappy grey hair. He refused at first, but after telling him I would do it without or without his help, he reluctantly agreed, telling me that my father would come back and haunt his ass if he let me do this alone. He had told me how my dad had gotten his victims from all over the country, that there was a network of men and women working together to bring these sick fucks to justice. I didn’t want to work on such a large scale, so I told him my plan, on how I would get my own victims, and to my surprise, he told me it was a great idea. So now, he picked me up no questions asked, and always told me to be safe, often adding in the ‘dial if you need me kid.’ Using cabs was too risky when bringing them here, I couldn’t risk anyone knowing I was the last one with them when they were flagged as missing. I was always careful when leaving the club, often leaving a few steps ahead, and always climbing into the car in an area me and Tony knew no cameras hit. After getting us here, Tony would always wait outside, waiting for the text to come and help strap them down, or that the job was done, and it was time to get rid of them. So, when I text Tony to come collect me and Craig, he was there within five minutes, and that’s how we ended up here.

I pretended to fumble with my keys, letting my fingers brush against his chest as I leaned in to unlock the door. He grinned at me, his teeth flashing in the dim porch light, completely unaware he was stepping intohis final place as a living, breathing man. I led him inside, locking the door behind us.

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