Page 48 of F*ck Steal Kill

Out of instinct, I twisted, barely avoiding his grip. Slashing back at him, I nicked his arm, blood spraying outward.

“Bitch,” he cursed, reaching to grab me.

Lacey jumped on his back, her arms wrapped around his throat to cut off his oxygen. While he fought her, I stabbed him in the gut, slashing a few times across his legs. I didn’t stop until he quit moving, his body limp as he gave up the fight. Lacey fell backward, panting from the effort.

“Fuck. That was close. I hate messy kills,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just need a second. He almost broke my arm,” she said.

Blood pooled around him, quickly moving over the plastic. Cursing, I stood and rolled him up from one end, holding it tightly while Lacey came over with the duct tape. Once we had him secured, we cleaned up the areas where blood had sprayed and picked up the broken table. I checked outside, finding it empty, so I pulled the mask down and opened the door.

“Geez, he’s a heavy fucker,” Lacey cursed, zipping him into the black body bag.

“Right? Like, why couldn’t the broker be a scrawny, short guy?”

“Probably because no one would take him seriously. Open the van, and I’ll drive around until we have the next one, so they don’t get suspicious.”

Nodding, I hurried out and opened the van, using a cleaning cart to block the view. Together, we lifted the bag into the back of the van, huffing once we had the door closed. She saluted me and jumped into the driver’s side as I repositioned the cart and closed the door.

I’d only been back in the room for a few minutes when someone knocked on the door. With a deep breath, I opened the door from behind it and let them enter.

Time to die, pervert.

CHAPTER 18

GRADY

I slammed out of the Inn, fury filling every cell in my body. This woman already had her claws in my men, and it had only been one day. The director wasn’t going to like this. If I reported it, then he might pull us from the field, stating we weren’t stable enough to go up against the Savages. But if he did that, then the last few years would’ve meant nothing.

That Camila had meant nothing.

I tugged at my hair, lacing my fingers over the top of my head as I paced back and forth. The sun was high in the sky, shining down on me as I tried to calm myself. Somehow, I had to get it together, or I’d lose everything. I couldn’t go through that again. I wouldn’t.

Falling back on my training, I cleared my mind and focused on the things around me.

A broken park bench.

A bird poop-covered light pole.

Litter scattered across the alley.

Graffiti marking the brick.

This town was a shithole, slowly driving me insane with its weird attractions and insanely attractive maids.

Fuck.

There it was. The thing I was trying to avoid but failing miserably at.

The hateful words I’d spoken ran through my head, and the feel of her hand slapping my face tingled in my memory. It had been well deserved, and part of me had relished in the pain.

My phone rang, and I grabbed it out of my pocket, answering before I looked.

“What?” I barked, assuming it was the director.

“Uncle G?” a small voice asked, my eyes shuttering in more self-loathing.

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