11
Gabe consumes my thoughts as I slide on the orange dress up to my thighs and then wiggle my ass to get over my hips. I bought this dress at a reduction sale, tried it on once, and threw it into the back of my closet for a day when I have an opportunity to wear it. Gabe consumes my thoughts as I stroke each long eyelash black with mascara, and Gabe consumes my thoughts as I let my golden hair tumble down my back and comb my fingers through it.
Gabe consumes my thoughts as I climb inside my yellow Corolla to go out on a date with his son.
I don’t want a romantic relationship because that would require me to open up and have physical intimacy with a man after two years of avoiding them. Unfortunately…there are those awful things called hormones that sing an annoying song when I find myself physically attracted to someone like Gabe…and his son, Cormac, and, okay, I may as well confess, Blake. Three men. Kill me now.
But let’s focus on the important things. Murder. I will see my target tonight, and hopefully, I’ll be in good view of him to scrutinize his behavior with women. The conversation I overheard in the Olympic pool locker room alerted me to other women being a victim of his roaming hand. This reminds me that Izzie–Isabelle Nelson still hasn’t replied, although I see she has read the message. Suppose she doesn’t want to return to her past by communicating with me. That’s fine. I understand that turning over rocks can be difficult for some people, or maybe she doesn’t care.
The dinner was held at Hargrove Hall on campus, and I took my car to make a quick escape afterward rather than relying on Cormac to bring me back home. This is to avoid an awkward situation, such as him asking me to stay over at his place. I don’t know if Cormac is that type of guy, but it’s always good to have an escape plan.
Pulling up outside the hall, my nerves pummel nauseatingly, and I take a couple of deep breaths to cool the intensity of my fire before climbing out of my car. I’m nervous not just because I’m so out of practice with dating but because I’ll be seeing the Lion again in a completely different scenario.
I spot the impressive frame of my date standing by the door, hands in his black pant pockets, white button shirt tucked into his pants, dressed like his father. I half expected him to wear a suit and tie, so now I feel overdressed in this orange dress that sits low but not too low above my breasts, and the skirt stops just above the knee. The remarkable feature of this dress is the orange color, whereas the design itself is plain. I’m wearing black pumps, the only heels I own, and since my date is 6ft4 at a guess, I can wear them without worrying about being taller than him.
As soon as he spots me walking towards him, his head shoots up, his back straightens, and he steps towards me to take my hand and kiss my cheek. “Wow. You look hot, Rae,” he smiles, eyes twinkling as they run up and down my body.
“You look great, too,” I exclaim as he laces his fingers in mine, and my body tenses a little at his affection. I wonder if Gabe told him about me, but it’s unwise to bring the subject up because then I’ll have to explain how I know his father.
“You seem nervous,” he states as he leads me through the entrance and into the hall lit in golden lights. Several round tables are set, and the alluring scent of salty cooked meat and gravy infiltrates my senses and relaxes my body a little.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out to a fancy dinner,” I tell him, dangerously close to using the word ‘date’ instead of dinner because I am unsure if he views this as a date. Get real, Rae. He’s holding my hand and gazing at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Or maybe, he’s just horny.
As Cormac leads me to our table, I notice three men deep in conversation two tables over, but his cruel eyes follow me as I take my seat. I bet he didn’t think this would happen. I bet he didn’t think I’d return to haunt him. I stab him a look, imagining holding my handgun at his head and squeezing the trig-
“Rae. Rae,” Cormac says, placing his hand over mine and following my stare.
“Huh?” dragging my eyes away from the dead man. “Sorry?”
“I want to introduce you to a couple of my friends,” he points across the table to a handsome man with slight acne-pocked cheeks that make him seem edgier and more masculine. “This is a couple of my teammates, Josh and Lu.”
“Lu?” I repeat as a memory of the girls in the changing room floods my mind. This is the girl that Lyons asked to do one-on-one late-night training alone, which is a massive red flag that he was planning something. I’ve got to talk to her.
“Yeah,” her smile is tight as she looks me over, “short for Lucy.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucy,” I say to her, quickly noticing that her hair color is similar to mine, and her features are also remarkably similar. We’re not close enough to be twins, but I imagine he might look at her and see me. That thought turns my stomach, and I glance at Lyons’ table again to find his eyes locked on me, watching my every move. I take a deep breath and turn to my date, focusing my attention on him.
“Josh is the only man who has ever beaten me in the 200-meter freestyle,” Cormac states proudly. “That was only once and never again.”
“We’ll see,” Josh mocks, raising his glass to take a sip.
“I’ve seen you at the pool,” Lu leans forward to address me.
I wave my hand dismissively. “I’m only a casual swimmer.”
She nods towards Cormac, “Cormac said you once on the Keele team.”
“That was a couple of years ago. I found the training hard,” I lie, glancing over at Lyons’ table again to find that he’s gone and the two other men are left talking to each other.
“You could always try out again,” Lu encourages.
I’m aware of how rude I am by looking all around the room while talking to her, but I need to find out where the dead man has gone. “No. I think those days are over for me, but maybe we could talk later about training techniques. You might be able to give me some advice?”
Cormac interjects, grunting, “I can do that. I can give you some advice on technique. Like, not trying to drown yourself would be a good place to start.”
I shoot him a fake scowl while smiling, and he graces me with a grin as his big hand finds my thigh and squeezes it, and I tense up a little. Okay, if that hand travels further up my leg, I’ll stab him with the table knife.
“Did you try to drown yourself?” Lucy cocks her head to the side to examine our body language.
“No,” I answer, chuckling to lighten the dark topic. “Ignore Cormac, he’s joking.”
“Oh, good.” This time, it’s a genuine smile, which means I’m gaining trust. Maybe she’ll open up to me if I ask her about Lyons.
I glance again at Lyons’ table to find that he has not returned, but a dark-haired woman catches my eye, sitting alone and ignored by the other people at that table. There’s an empty seat next to her where Lyons was, and I wonder if she is his wife. She seems of a similar age to him, but the sadness on her face slightly moves me.
This is starting to get real. My utter hatred for this man softens a little when I see who will suffer because of my objective. Thanks to me, she’ll receive a pretty payout if she has life insurance on him.
Cormac and Josh are talking about another swimmer, and I drag my eyes away from Lyons’ sad wife to Lucy, who is watching someone over my shoulder.
“Good evening, ladies and gents,” a man’s voice radiates over us, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s standing directly behind me and greeting everyone at my table.
Cormac glances up at him and nods, “Sir,” while I drop my head down. My instincts run on high alert, sensing his body language. I cannot see him, but I can feel his body right behind my chair. If he touches me, I’ll bite his fucking hand off.
There’s an awkward conversation around me, and I glance up to meet Lucy”s gaze, who’s watching me closely. Immediately, I sense that I’m giving myself away and straightening my back, but I can’t drop my guard and pretend to be nice when the man who ruined my life is right behind me. I might need to get better at acting.
I catch Lucy’s gaze again, and there’s an unspoken exchange between us as if she understands how uncomfortable I am with him right behind me. She would’ve put two and two together that if I once trained in elite swimming at Keele Uni two years ago, I’d not only know who Mr. Lyons is but may have trained under him.
Lyons finally moves away from the table, and I sigh in relief as I watch him return to the empty seat. Judging by the dutybound exchange between him and the dark-haired lady, I say that’s definitely his wife. Damn. The saddest woman in the world is the wife of the man I’m going to kill soon. This is not the encouragement I was hoping for.
Lucy’s voice rings, and I pull my eyes away from Lyons and his wife.
“I’m sorry?” I say to Lucy. “Were you talking to me?”
Lucy glances behind her, leaning forward and whispering, “We call him Octopus.”
“Why?” I ask, acting dumb.
She makes squishy movements with her hands as if squeezing her breasts. “That’s why.”
“Has he touched you?” I ask. This is the evidence I need to build a case against him.
“Not seriously, but he doesn’t keep his hands to himself,” she explains.
“Who?” Cormac chimes in. The chat he was having with Josh ends just as Lucy states, “hands to himself.”
“Never mind,” Lucy states and immediately shuts down.
Josh pipes up. “They’re talking about Lyons,” he informs Cormac, pointing his thumb behind him. “Randy ol’ Lyons.”
This is new news to Cormac as he hones in on Lyons and watches him briefly as if hoping to catch him in the act before Cormac drops his gaze onto me. His face’s an interesting expression as if the pieces of a complicated puzzle had just fallen into place. This realization of his is confusing because I didn’t think he viewed me as a puzzle with missing pieces in the first place. But I have already seen great insight come out of this man of my age, and perhaps I shouldn’t assume he’s just another jock.
He leans in close to speak privately to me when his phone beeps with a notification, and to my astonishment, the name BLAKE flashes across the screen.
Cormac’s big hand quickly seized his phone, covering the name that flashed up, and I immediately doubted what I saw. Maybe it was BLACK, not BLAKE. Even if it was Blake that I saw, there must be hundreds of Blake’s around, including the surname. There’s no way in hell that Blake would be the same as Z”s gun dealer friend.
I’m tempted to grab my phone and type a question into Google’s search engine: How many people have the name Blake on Torres Island?
This night is only getting stranger the longer I sit here.
Cormac’s thumbs tap on his phone screen as I lean back in my chair, trying to glimpse his message. But he’s too quick and sends it, then slips his phone into his pant pocket out of reach.
“Oh great,” Lucy exclaims as a plate of food is placed before her. “I’m so hungry.”
“We had to preorder,” Cormac states, “and I ordered roast chicken and vegetables on your behalf. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I answer, then add under my breath, “don’t do that again.”
“What?” his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
I didn’t mean for him to hear that. “I”m not a fan of men ordering for me,” I tell him as a large plate of roast chicken breast, covered in gravy, potato, sweet potato, yams, peas, and carrots, is placed before me. My stomach rumbles in hunger as I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But I’ll let you off this time.”
“Point taken and lesson learned,” he says flatly. “I remember what female mantises do.”
“What did you order me for dessert?” I ask, picking up the chicken breast with my fingers and taking a bite with as much gracefulness as a ten-ton gorilla.
Warm gravy dribbles down my chin as I catch a look of utter delight on Cormac’s face. “Here, let me,” he says, cleaning the gravy off my chin with his thumb, then licking it off. “First, it was green insect sludge, now gravy. What next?”
“Blood,” I whisper just as his phone beeps, and I don’t think he heard me. “But not mine.”
He reads the message, and his face drops. “I need to make a phone call,” he tells me sternly as he pushes his chair back.
“I hope everything is okay,” I said, my eyes glued to his phone, hoping to glimpse Blake’s name to see if I had imagined it.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he assures me as he strides away, and I watch him disappear out the exit.
“Must be important and confidential if he needs to leave the building to call someone,” I mumble, as the sensation of someone watching me makes me look up. The narrowed eyes of Lyons drill holes into my skull as my heart does a triple somersault against my ribcage.
First, I glance about the room to see if anyone is looking in my direction before I boldly hold my stare. Without blinking, I place two fingers against my temple to represent a gun, then imitate the trigger being pulled. There’s a flash of something in his eyes—not fear or surprise, but arrogance and disgust that I would dare do such a thing to someone as powerful as he. His greatest mistake is that he assumes that I’m fooling around with an empty threat.
When a second pair of eyes land on my face, I quickly drop my hand away, dive back into my roast chicken, and pretend it didn’t happen. Calm on the outside, while a tornado is twisting on the inside.
As everything becomes more apparent, I realize that was a dumb move because now I’ve exposed myself not only to the man I plan to kill but to his wife, who just saw me mimic his demise.