Karma

Chapter 9

Idon’t know who it is, but I don’t care.

I stand in front of their house, on the border of the rich and poor sides. Kids come and go, no doubt running drugs, and they have guards with guns patrolling the perimeter. I watch it all.

They aren’t expecting one woman.

I could kill all of them, but I don’t need to. I just need to cut the head off the snake and get Taylor out of there safely. Everyone else can suffer later.

No, this will be a reminder, but first, I’ll get my family to safety.

As I run my eyes over the perimeter again, a plan forms. Hopping down from the roof of the abandoned house next door, I wait for the guards to turn away and speak to the new batch of teenagers heading inside, and then I make my move.

Rushing across the paved driveway, I duck under one of the cars and strap on a homemade device before rolling out the other side near the wall.

When there are no alarms or shouts, I hurry to the bushes and wait.

Exactly thirty seconds later, the car goes up in flames in a massive explosion. The guards race toward it, their guns raised, and I use the chaos to my advantage. I slip through their masses completely unseen and walk through the front door.

I keep my head ducked and walk into the first room.

Once there are no more footsteps, I shut the front door and lock it.

It will buy me a little time. I head upstairs, where most of the guards came from.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess where he is hiding, but I check every room as I pass just in case.

There’s a closed door at the end of the hallway, with indents from guards’ boots on either side of it. They are gone now, the morons.

Whistling happily, I kick in the door, announcing myself as it slams shut behind me. I step into the carpeted office and look around, but the idiot doesn’t even have any guards up here with him. Either he’s underestimating me or he’s dumb.

Either way, one of us should be offended.

“What the fuck?” he roars as he climbs to his feet, and I finally focus on him.

“What? I got your invitation, and this is me accepting,” I reply sweetly. He isn’t a player I recognize, which is surprising. He either must be new or good at hiding. Whichever, it doesn’t matter, not after what he did.

He went after a neutral.

He touched my family.

Pulling my gun out, I scratch my head with it as he sits, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He’s a big guy—not fat, just big. He fills out the chair behind his desk, his shaved head shining under the light.

He has to be at least fifty, and judging by the diamonds on his fat fingers, he’s probably new money. Only they show off like that.

I stroll around his office as he watches me from his chair, fear and anger in his eyes. He isn’t used to being outplayed. He isn’t used to people not fearing him. He thought I was an easy target.

He’s an idiot, and he’ll pay for it.

“You sent all those people to kill me . . . Well, I’m right here in front of you.” I spread my arms as I grin. “Kill me! Oh, wait, I forgot. You’re too much of a pussy so you make others do your dirty work—teenagers and easily led men. You can’t do it, can you?” I smirk as his nostrils flare.

“What do you want?” he demands, his face turning red as I continue to wander around his office before stopping at the edge of his desk.

“What do I want?” I muse as I run my fingers over his desk to a chessboard.

“I wanted a simple, quiet life, but you ruined it.” Picking up some of the pieces, I make him wait.

“You stole that from me.” I place the king down as I lift my eyes to his.

“So now I’m going to do the same to you.

” I flick the king over, and it hits the board, making him jump.

“If I can’t have the life I want, then neither can you. ”

He glances at the computer on his desk, and I see his shoulders slump in relief. It gives me the second I need to react.

I turn as the door bursts open and fire, killing the men coming to rescue him.

Turning back to him, I grin. “Tell me where she is and I won’t shoot you.”

He looks from his dead men to me, and I arch my eyebrow. “She’s downstairs in the kitchen,” he snaps.

“Good boy,” I praise as I step around his desk.

Once there, I set my gun on the top, and he glances at it.

I wag my finger in warning as I reach over and undo his tie, then I use it to bind his feet to his chair before grabbing my gun and looking at the tray of liquor behind him.

Smirking, I reach over and grab a bottle.

“Good year.” I nod in appreciation. “Must have cost you a few million.” Uncorking it with my teeth, I meet his eyes as I take a big gulp, and when he doesn’t react, I roll my eyes.

“Boring.” Tipping the bottle over, I pour it over him and then throw it across the office, covering the carpet as he sputters and gasps.

I prowl around the desk, stopping next to the chessboard once more.

Picking up the queen, I pocket it with a wink and walk toward the door, pulling my lighter out and dropping it to the floor as I go.

“You said you wouldn’t!” he roars as he fights to get to his feet as the liquor ignites, whooshing across the carpet and straight for him.

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you,” I reply as I lay my hand on the door and turn to look at him. “I never said anything about not killing you. I would stay to watch, but I have to get home. Enjoy the fire you started.”

I shut the door and walk down the corridor, his screams filling the air as he burns to death.

Descending the stairs, I head back into a corridor as flames consume the second story, and I find Taylor in a wooden kitchen chair, her eyes wide and mouth gagged. Two men hesitate on either side of her. Rolling my eyes, I aim at them. “Go, before I kill you. Last chance.”

They share a look, but both lift their guns. “I guess that’s a no. See, Tay, this is what I get for being nice.”

Her eyes narrow as she yells something behind her gag, but I can’t hear her, so I focus on the two men.

“Friends?” I offer instead, and they share a look, confused and unsure. I have that effect on people.

Lifting my arm, I shoot, but the mag’s empty.

“Oops,” I say with a grin. “Guess I got carried away. How about we talk instead?” I drop to the floor as they fire and leap at the first man, knocking him back to the kitchen counter.

“I guess not,” I mutter, slamming his hand into the marble.

He releases the gun, so I grab it and pull him up in front of me as a shield as his friend swings around to us.

He hesitates.

I don’t.

I shoot, but he darts to the side, the bullet cutting through his shoulder when the man I’m holding elbows me, making me double over with a grunt. I kick out, and he stumbles, falling over the kitchen rug before righting himself.

He kicks as well, though, and catches my hand, causing me to drop the pistol, which spins across the room and under a counter. How fucking annoying. I hear the flames growing closer and know I need to end this.

His fist slams into my jaw, and I spin before turning and spitting blood across his face. He roars as he wipes it away. “You bitch!”

“Nope, my mamma didn’t raise no bitch. Well, technically, she didn’t raise me at all, but you get the point,” I joke, ducking under his punch. “Damn, you don’t like dead parent jokes? Yeah, we wouldn’t be good friends.”

Tay struggles in the chair, and she falls to the floor with a crash, wiggling on her side.

I kick out, and the man stumbles over her and plummets to his ass on the other side as his bleeding friend comes at me with a kitchen knife.

Leaping back, I duck and weave to avoid the blade until I spot my opening.

Grabbing a kitchen towel, I stretch it between my hands and wrap it around his wrist on his next upward swing, twist, and turn.

The knife goes flying, and I whip the fabric across his face.

He howls as he steps back, covering his eyes.

“Damn,” I whisper as I look at the towel. “Who knew?”

There’s a grumble, and I glance up in time to see them both heading toward me once more. “You really don’t give up, huh? Does he pay well? Good benefits? I’m curious what the going rate for hired idiots is.”

“You’re dead,” the one I shot snarls.

“And you need a thesaurus or a dictionary. Come on, where’s the verbal repartee? The sassy comebacks? Spice it up a bit, you know?” I sigh as the heat in the kitchen starts to creep up from the fire.

I grab a pan and throw it at the blockheaded idiot. It smacks him dead in the face, bursting his nose, and his friend comes at me when I’m distracted.

He grabs me from behind, lifting me into the air. I use it to my advantage as his friend comes at me and lift both legs, kicking his chest and sending him to his ass.

He lifts me higher, and I throw my weight back so we both fall backwards.

He hits the ground hard, and I make sure to elbow his junk on the way down so his hold loosens.

Flipping over, I grab his head and snap his neck.

It’s a quicker death than I’d like, but it’s getting hot in here, and I don’t want to be a Bexley kebab.

Sliding across the floor, I grab the towel and wrap it around the other guy’s neck as he struggles to his feet.

Leaping up, I press one foot to his shoulder and the other to the floor, then I heave with all my strength.

He slaps at me, his face turning purple, and when he stops, I let go.

His lifeless body falls to the floor.

“Should have taken my offer of being friends.” I sigh as I drop the towel and hurry over to Taylor, yanking her gag down. “Miss me?”

“Idiot, free me now!” she yells, her eyes red from tears.

“So mean to me, even after I saved you,” I mutter as I untie her. “Did you see me? Was I badass? Like a female John Wick? You could be my dog.” I sit back, and she throws her arms around me. Grunting under her weight, I pat her back awkwardly. “You’re fine. You knew I would come.”

“I know,” she whispers, sniffling. “I just don’t like the interior design of this house. That’s why I’m crying.”

“Don’t worry, it will burn down soon, which reminds me. We should definitely go.” After I help her to her feet, we head to the door, but I stop and hurry back to the kitchen.

“Bex!” Taylor hisses, but I grab my towel and throw it over my shoulder as she gapes at me.

“What? It came in handy. I might start a new weapon line and call it ‘Cooking with Murder.’”

I hear her sigh even over the flames.

I help Taylor into our house, but she freezes at the door.

“Ignore the mess and bodies,” I mutter as I sit her down on the couch and hurry to the bathroom.

I grab one of the many first-aid kits we keep scattered around the house.

Kneeling in front of her, I lift her hands.

Her wrists are bruised, but not bad, thank goodness.

I carefully apply some bruise gel as she looks around, her eyes narrowed.

She’s pissed. I’m definitely going to get screamed at, so I stay quiet as I clean the cut on her head where they knocked her out and cover it.

I sit back when I’m done, waiting to be scolded, but she surprises me when she covers my hand.

“Thank you, Bex, for coming for me,” she says softly, staring into my eyes.

“Always. We’re family,” I reply like it’s obvious, which, to me, it is. I will always protect her. We’re sisters. I can’t help but smile as I look around though. “I love you, but I’m not cleaning this up.”

She laughs, which in turns sets me off until we are sprawled on the messy sofa. “So who were they?” she asks as we quiet down. “They didn’t say much. It was obvious I was just bait.”

“Nobody important.” I don’t want to worry her, and it’s been dealt with anyway. I try to keep her from this life as much as I can. It isn’t working well, but I really am trying my best. “Lauren is fine, by the way. I made sure. She’ll be back tomorrow, so I guess we should move the bodies.”

“I’m tired,” Taylor whines, “and it’s your turn for grave duty.”

“Nuh-uh, I did it last time with that idiot who followed you home, remember?” I grouse as I glare at her, and she sits up.

“I was taken prisoner this evening, Bexley.” Her eyes narrow, and I glare back.

“I had to save you. I hurt my wrist,” I retort.

“They knocked me out.”

“I had to kill people.”

We both glare, neither of us winning the usual game. “Rock, paper, scissors?” she finally suggests, and I nod. We both yell it before revealing our hand, and I groan when she wins.

Smirking, she stands. “Make sure to scrub all the floors. We can’t have Lauren seeing even a drop of blood. The mop is in the hallway closet. I’m going to bed. Have fun.” Chuckling to herself, she heads upstairs as I look around at the mess.

“I save a bitch and still have to clean.” I look at my new best friend, the towel.

“You wouldn’t make me do this. I wonder if I could pay someone.

They should start a body removal service.

Hell, I should as well, and now I’m just talking to myself.

” I haul myself to my feet and prop my hands on my hips.

“Okay, which one of you assholes is farting, though, because it stinks in here?”

No one answers.