Page 3 of F*ck Steal Kill

“Joy’s in room 504 for stealing, you have room 230 for killing, and I’m in 110 for fucking,” I said, reading off the clipboard.

Lacey rubbed her hands together in excitement, a rare smile gracing her face. “Yes! I have some energy I need to expend. What am I killing this time?”

The game was simple. You selected three people and put them on your list to either fuck, marry, or kill. Since the three of us were opposed to marriage, we’d altered it to steal—Fuck, Steal, Kill.

In the beginning, it was all hypothetical. We’d list people around town, guests at the Inn, or the occasional celebrity. It was stupid, yet a fun way to pass the time and break up the boredom.

Over time, it evolved into three kinds of lists. The first was hypothetical, like earlier in the lobby, where we threw out three randoms and made a snap judgment. They were usually funny and entirely fantasy.

The second type was like a wish list. That one consisted of people we held a grudge against, wanted to fuck, or prove a point to. If the opportunity to fulfill those desires ever presented itself, then the three of us were obligated to help make it happen.

For instance, I was still waiting on the chance to fuck my childhood celebrity crush. It was unlikely that Joshua Jackson would ever grace the streets of Foolshope, but if he did, I had no doubt that Lacey and Joy would be there going along with whatever plan I’d concocted.

Which led us to the third type of list. This one evolved after a fatal night when one of the men I’d gone home with had become a little too handsy, forcing himself on me, and not taking no for an answer.

As I lay there, trying to figure out how to get away from him, I missed the fact that he was having an allergic reaction until he collapsed on top of me, gasping. I’d barely managed to crawl out from under him before he suffocated me, and I knew I had a decision to make. To help him, or let him suffer.

It was my hesitation, my need to see him hurt, that killed my first victim.

I was so tired of men using me, of taking what they wanted without any thought to what I needed. So, I stood there, watching him struggle to breathe, his hands scrambling as he searched for relief and salvation.

And I felt powerful.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I could actually change my course. And that was an addictive feeling.

Blinking, I pulled out of the memory and looked up at the girls, remembering Lacey had asked a question.

“Just his career,” I said, placing the clipboard onto the cart. “The request asked for photos of him naked, with drugs and alcohol present. He’s some religious leader who’s been preaching one thing and doing the other. The requester wants his congregation to know the real man behind the cloth.”

Lacey’s grin widened as she tied the trash bag, heading out of the room with Joy and me following behind.

“My favorite type of killing,” she said, locking the room and doing a little shimmy.

After that fatal night, I knew we needed to move the game from hypothetical to reality. I never wanted to feel powerless again.

Since I was the brains of our trio, I saw an opportunity to not only take matters into my own hands but help others find that same hit of power and justice. It started with just Joy and Lacey, but I soon saw the far-reaching aspects of our endeavors. In doing so, we finally found a way out of this town that didn’t include marriage.

My mother always said I was the enterprising type. Though, I doubt this was what she had in mind—God Bless her soul.

Working in the hospitality industry as maids, we had access to personal details of guests' lives and entry into their rooms.

By day, we met their needs with a smile. (Okay, Joy met them with a smile. For Lacey and I, it was dependent on a very precise formula that consisted of the time of day, the amount of coffee, and the number of complaints received. Simple, really.)

And by night, we snuck into rooms, fulfilling the desires of strangers and ourselves.

Not every person on the list was a job, and not every kill ended in murder. Despite what it sounded like, we did have a code and vetted each request that came through our app.

Fucking was for pleasure, stealing for gain, and killing for sport.

We took turns, covered our bases, and always ensured we wouldn’t get caught.

Between the sweetheart, the rebel, and the brains, we made one badass killer.

As we turned the corner to head to the elevator, Lacey spoke up, pointing at Joy. “Your turn. Who does Holland have to FSK?”

Joy grinned, turning to look out into the lobby as we passed. Instantly, I spotted three men who made my insides go haywire. They were new, each mysterious in their own right. Something about them drew me to them, and I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

One of the men glanced up as the elevator door started to close, locking eyes with me. His light blue, almost gray in color, orbs held mine captive, and in that few second's flash, I felt them sear across my soul like a brand. I didn’t know who that man was, but he made me feel dangerous things—things I didn’t know how to handle.

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