Page 34 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

“Diece—”

“No. If I ever get between those thighs, it’s because you asked me to be there. And that’s not today. So you’ll have to excuse me while I go take a breather and a cold shower.”

Then I leave, and I don’t turn around to see her reaction. Because if there’s any lust there, I’ll be a goner. She’s not ready for that.

And if there’s only disgust? I’ll be wrecked.

12

Sei

Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I light another cigarette. The smoke fills my lungs and calms my nerves as I find the motherfucker at Johnson’s house. What the hell is Dex doing here? And with one of Kingston’s men? Do my eyes deceive me?

Little turncoat. I smirk.

Once I find my Peach, I’ll deal with him and his betrayal. But for now, I have my eyes on my prize. My car is parked a few houses down. But I can still see it all. They’re not very discreet. The white sheet is stained. But I guess it does the job of covering up the corpse. Still. You’d be a fool not to piece together that the two men in suits are up to no good.

People see what they want to see, though. I don’t know why I’m surprised. So for Dex and his little friend here, they’re just a couple of suave bastards moving a piece of antique furniture.

But I know better.

And I’m pissed they got here first. Now, I can’t have a chat with Johnson to see if he knows where my little Peach is. After they pull away from the curb, I check the time on the radio.

I don’t have much time before the clean-up crew will get here. With a flick, the cigarette butt soars out the driver’s side window. Then I jog inside. The first floor is left untouched, but a spot of blood stains the cream carpet on the stairs. I follow it to the crime scene. They’re gonna have a hell of a time cleaning this up. A blood splotch the size of a basketball is at the foot of the bed in the master suite. Interesting. When I spot a laptop on a dark table, I grin. Then I step around the mess and sit in the office chair. Johnson’s computer is password protected. Figures. I glance over my shoulder and inspect the murder scene one more time.

The clean-up crew will be here any minute. I don’t have much time.

Fucking passwords.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a few stabs in the dark. But a bloodcurdling scream makes me pause. I turn around and find the culprit. With a wicked grin, I take in the little boy. His backpack falls at his feet as his wide eyes look like they’re seconds from popping out of his head.

“Hello,” I greet him. “Perfect timing. Is your mother home too? Or is it just you?”

His feet stay planted in the same place for a split second. Then he’s racing down the stairs as fast as his little legs can carry him.

The chase is on.

My laughter echoes throughout the eerily silent house as I latch on to his shoulder at the bottom of the steps. Dragging him back up the stairs, those same little legs kick at nothing but air. He’s a feisty little fella. I shove him toward the computer.

“What’s the password?” I demand.

“W-what?” the little bastard squeaks. The scent of piss accompanies his confusion.

Annoyed, I lift my chin toward the computer and repeat, “What’s the password?”

“I-I don’t know it.”

I pull the knife from my pocket and let the light glint off the sharp blade. “Better think of something, little boy. I’d hate to have to persuade you.”

“P-please—” he starts.

My lips stretch into a wide grin. He snaps his mouth shut.

Waving my hand through the air, I quip, “Please. Continue. I love to hear people beg.”

The sound of an engine rumbles down the street and cuts our conversation short. I cock my head to the side then add, “But not right now. Make a sound, and I cut your tongue out. Understood?”

He nods.

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