Page 96 of Crush (Deadly Hearts 1)

“You think my reach only goes as high as him?” I ask with a laugh. I pull my free hand out of my pocket and lean over him, grabbing his tie to pull him closer to me. Then I let go of his tie and walk my fingers up it, saying, “My reach goes allllll the way to the top of the city council and beyond.” I bop him on his nose, making him blink before he goes puce. “Now listen up, asshole. You will back off my business and my people or I will end you.”

He splutters while he gathers his bravado and then he gives me a disgusted look. “We’ll see about that. You are nothing but a filthy, little whore. When everyone sees that video of you, you will lose any respect you had around here.”

My blood runs cold, but I don’t react outwardly. I’m not sideswiped by the revelation that Giselle sent him that recording of me, but it’s not great news. I know what I have to do.

I whip the knife out of my pocket and press it against his throat, deep enough to make him bleed.

His beady eyes go wide, and he holds his hands up with a smirk. “Let’s see if you’ve got the balls, whore.”

Staring deep into his eyes, I slowly and deliberately draw the knife through the flesh of his neck, blinking as blood spurts into my face.

“What do you think about the size of my balls now?” I whisper in his ear as I slice his neck wide open.

His hands go up to the gaping wound, gurgling and choking on his own blood. I stick my tongue out and salaciously lick his face with a wicked smile.

I stand back and admire my handiwork, watching the life drain out of those insipid eyes, his pudgy face going gray as he dies in front of me.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I grab a napkin from the small buffet table at the side of the room and wipe the blade clean. I shove it in my secret pocket along with the knife and ignore the phone buzzing away in my other pocket. I know it will be Declan. Ramsey probably went straight to him to tell him what I said, but it’s too late. Jake didn’t do as I asked, and now he is dead and out of my way. That just leaves Scott to make an example out of. I grab another napkin and clean the blood off my face as best I can, using the Champagne as an aid. I take a big swig of it and swirl it around my mouth before I swallow and slip out of the door past the lackey. I hastily yet casually make my way out of the back exit where my cab is waiting for me.

“Where to?” an unfamiliar voice asks me, locking the doors and turning to look back over his shoulder at me.

I narrow my eyes. “Where’s Nathan?” I ask steadily.

“He won’t be able to drive you today,” the weird looking man says and then sprays something in my face which makes my vision go blurry.

I try to speak, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I struggle to get out of the car, but it’s locked, and I can’t open the door.

I slump and hit my head on the window and it’s the last thing I remember.

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