Page 52 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

I have to give it to Lilah.

She’s amazing at choosing people to kill.

Though Jebson street is a short dead-end with eleven houses on it, she picked the best victim possible. The internet and me aren’t the best of friends. I know how to look for the basics, but Lilah knows how to dig for the good stuff.

Neil Razzoni’s house is halfway up the street but pushed toward the back of the property and surrounded by tall trees, while the rest of the houses are closer to the road. This means I don’t have to worry about neighbors looking through the windows. Which means I get to have more fun and take my time. If I want my brother to take notice, I have to make this messy. Ihave to pull out all my best tricks to get his attention and show him how truly amazing I am.

The house is dark when we reach it, and I already know breaking into houses while the potential victim is sleeping is going to get old. I love seeing the shock on their faces when they see me. Though, I suppose I could wake them up before going right for the kill. Now isn’t the time to be creative. In fact, keeping things the same would make more sense. This way the police can put together that it’s the same person doing the murders, which is what I want.

I wonder, not for the first time, if my brother knows about me at all. If he knows he has another half who was given up while he got to stay. It wouldn’t change anything for me. He has the means to find me, had he wanted to. And if he didn’t know about me, well, he’s still an asshole.

This moron, Neil, leaves his back door unlocked. In this city? He’s asking to be murdered.

As Lilah and I step into the house that smells like rotten food and mold, shouting starts behind us and Lilah grabs onto my arm, blowing out a slow breath.

“Shh,” I tell her softly, shutting the door. The people outside, in the yard enclosed in a tall fence behind this one, keep arguing. We aren’t far from my brother’s fancy gated community, but you’d think we were in another city with the way it’s day and night. His neighborhood is safe. This one… you don’t want to walk alone down the street during the day light, never mind once the sun goes down.

The kitchen we walk into is small, dishes piled to the ceiling, and old food on the table. Down the hall, light flickers from a TV. Trash is all over the floor, as if no one has ever cleaned.

The cops are going to have a hell of a time checking this place for evidence and prints, which works in my favor.

I give Lilah a soft kiss on the head then peel her hand off my arm and gesture for her to stay behind me. She gives me a firm nod, all nerves gone.

I watch where I step as I move down the short hall and into the living room. So many of these houses out here have the same layouts, it makes breaking into a house less appealing.

There’s a man on the couch, in nothing but a pair of ripped and stained boxers. His beer gut has red crumbs on it, a bag of chips on his side, and his hair has enough grease to start a fire. Porn plays on the TV, and I do a double take when I see it’s some step daughter bullshit. Wouldn’t have a problem with it if the girl didn’t look like she was in middle school. Sick fucks.

There’s a coffee table in front of him. It’s made of wood, with burn marks and scratch marks. On it, sits a tall bong, a handgun, a bag of weed, and a cell phone. Typical Boston douchebag.

I pick up the gun, not intending to use it, but wanting to have some fun with it. I check that it’s loaded before moving to stand in front of Neil and aiming it right at his forehead.

“Hello, Neil,” I say.

His eyes pop open and he jerks away. There’s nowhere to go, since he’s sitting on the couch.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?” he bellows.

“Atticus St. Claire,” I tell him. What’s the harm? He’ll be dead in a few minutes

“Atti-what? Get the fuck out of my house, prick!” he growls. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with!”

Ah, the threats. I love those. Of all the people I’ve killed, not a single person has come after me for it.

I tsk, shaking my head. “Rude way to speak to guests.”

“You’re no fucking guest,” he spits out, lunging forward but I cock the gun, and he freezes. “You won’t fucking do it.”

“You’re right,” I say with a smile. “I won’t do it. Guns are stupid. I’m going to kill you with my bare hands so I can feel your blood drip down my palms.”

“You sick motherfuc—”

I give him a quick jab in the nose, which causes him to shut up. At least, stop speaking words because now he’s whining in pain. I roll my eyes. Fucking pussy.

“That was so hot,” Lilah says.

I glance over my shoulder to find her standing in the hall watching me with hearts in her eyes.Good girl.

“If you were a good person, I may be sorry about this,” I say as I pick up a belt I spot on the floor. I loop it, then put it around Neil’s head and slap his hand away from his nose.

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