13. Laura
laura
. . .
I had seen my fair share of dead bodies. Both in and out of the courtroom.
But there was nothing more shocking than waking up to the pictures of the assassin I hired plastered all over my kitchen island, serving as some sort of twisted tablecloth upon which a takeout box from Veronica’s Café was placed.
They were worse than any crime scene pictures I'd seen. During the trials, I was able to distance myself. Yes, some of them were really awful, but I was able to see most as victims of a crime and nothing more.
But this one was different. I had been the one to send him to his death. I had called the number the woman gave me, and I had set a killer after Harley.
However, I didn't see the clusterfuck at her movie set coming.
I expected something a little bit more… discreet . Ramming a fucking trailer into her really wasn't that. Still, I thought to give them one more day, especially since I paid a great deal of fucking money for it.
But seeing the pictures scattered all over my kitchen island meant something else. And it made the hair rise on the back of my neck as a chill ran through me.
She was here. She knows it was me. She could've ended me at any moment.
She didn't, though. And the assassin’s words ran through my mind.
She’ll be excited.
I moved closer, my breath catching in my throat as I took it all in. The man had just been killed. His body was propped up for the pictures, hung, and his blood was all over the walls.
She hadn’t simply wanted to kill him.
She’d enjoyed it. Immensely .
My eyes caught on the bloodied words written on the picture closest to me.
Thanks for the present, my love.
The writing looked far too elegant to be written in blood.
She was saying it like I had somehow sent her the best thing in this world—other than myself, I imagined.
Which meant killing her was out of the question, unfortunately.
I couldn’t see any other options. I knew what this was.
I had seen things like this over and over again in trials.
A dangerous person gets their sights on someone they have no business being with, and for some reason they’re unable to let them go.
They become obsessed. Everything in their life becomes about that person.
Harley would be willing to go to lengths that I could not even fathom to get me tied to her.
I didn't want my life to implode in front of my very eyes because I’d somehow caught the attention of a serial killer. I had worked far too hard and long to let it end.
At the same time, I couldn't forget what she had on me. I couldn’t draw the attention of the cops.
Not now. Some of my clients had heard about my run-in with the law and were already pissed.
None of them were threatening to pull their contracts yet, but it would only be a matter of time if she kept this up.
So I was afraid . Not of what she could do to me , but of what she could do to my life. And how easily she had caused it to spin out of my control.
The harsh vibrating of my phone in my hand caused me to snap out of my spiral. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.
I’m a grown fucking woman, a powerful one, and this little tactic won’t scare me.
And then my heart jumped when I caught sight of the caller ID on my phone. Instead of blocking it, I’d saved her number because as much as I would've liked to believe that my assassin would be successful, I had a gut feeling Harley wouldn’t go down so easily.
Maybe part of me was hoping she’d make it out alive. I would have to smother that part for sure if I were to survive this.
I clicked accept but stayed silent.
“Good morning, my love. Did you get my present?” Her voice was rough as it filtered through the speaker. It caused my heart to jump and a tingling to run up my spine.
“You already know the answer to that, or you wouldn’t be calling me,” I said, briefly wondering if I’d missed any cameras and thinking about hiring someone to do a full sweep.
When Harley laughed in response, it unleashed something in my belly.
I refused to call it butterflies.
“I think it’s time to finalize the contract,” she said. “I’ll have my assistant pick you up. This time I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Of course you’re not. Maybe you’re finally done playing around.
“Having someone else do your dirty work again?” I said as I pushed the photos aside and opened the takeout box of goodies. My mouth watered when I saw the blueberry pancakes.
She’s thoughtful… for a serial killer.
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I’m merely giving you your space. And I had to come back before my manager threw a fit. An assassination attempt will do that to people.”
“Fine,” I spat out and grabbed the carefully placed fork on the side of the box, cutting off a piece and shoving it in my mouth. Maybe the pictures of the man’s body should have made me lose my appetite, but they didn’t. Not after I got over the first shock.
“So do we have a deal?” she asked. “Come see me and let’s talk contracts. No more of those silly assassination attempts.”
She said it like she should have been angry, but there was no hint of it in her tone.
“You liked it,” I said with a huff. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you took it as flirting.”
“Are you saying it wasn’t?” she asked, teasingly. “I plan to show you my gratitude in full. After all, you saved me the work of having to go out and find someone.”
Her words caused me to pause.
“So how often do you?—”
“I’m taking that as a yes.” Her tone suddenly turned businesslike. “Since you’re coming, anything else I can do to make your trip more comfortable?”
I swallowed thickly, unable to find the words to relay how ridiculous I thought this all was.
“Cognac. Expensive .”
She let out a laugh that warmed my skin.
“You got it, darling.”