Chapter 7
I don’t believe in fate or destiny. If either of those things were real, I would need to get into a proper fist fight with them.
Because… What the hell did I ever do to them?
Life has not treated me fairly for a long time. Any goodness I’ve seen has come from earning its place in my life.
But in the moment that Racquelle told me that I’d be meeting with Vert to organize a plan for our trip next week, I knew my smile was genuine.
One of those bitches, finally threw me a bone.
It didn’t take me too much time to look for something that could get me an edge over the head of security.
Researching was a part of my attack plan. Throughout whatever business Racquelle was working on, I found exactly what I was looking for.
Getting into the sleek sedan that I remember from my apartment the other day, I can’t help but be excited. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” I ask, clicking my seatbelt into place and placing my pink fur bag on top of the cupholder in between us.
He picks up my purse, with disdain mind you, and sets it into my lap before shifting into drive and pulling away from Blue’s estate. “Nothin’ lovely about it,” he grunts.
“Oh come on, Vertiz,” I emphasize his government name, too proud of myself for my discovery. “There has to be something lovely about it.” I bat my lashes while looking over at him.
His head swivels, dark eyes boring into me as we pull up to a stoplight. “What did you say?”
“Since we’re partners, I think we should lay everything on the table? Don’t you?”
“No.” He turns back to the road when the light changes and I can breathe a little easier. “Don’t call me by my name again.”
“Are you embarrassed?” I smile, the corners of my lips spreading high as I taunt, “Vertiz Marten is a sexy name. I must admit—”
The breath that I thought I caught, disappears when his large hand grips my thigh.
It’s a firm hold. One meant to get my attention but in a different way than it has.
On my thighs, his hand is huge. I can’t see where the fingers disappear around the back but it does something to me.
My thighs press together which only makes him grip me tighter.
“Nina,” he growls, the vibrations on my name on his tongue, only doing more nonsense to my lower belly. “Doxxin’ me is not your smartest work. For Dupont, that’s a life or death circumstance. You prepared to die for it?”
“I would never. It’s our little secret. A closeness between partners,” I wink, holding my smile in place despite how my blood is rushing through my veins.
He finally removes his hand from my thigh after realizing that I won’t be backing down and the chill from the separation is immediate. “Don’t play a game you can’t win. You bluffin’, but I don’t.”
I ignore his threat, changing the subject and crossing my legs to replace the warmth I once felt. “Do vampires eat bar food?”
“Why would I know?”
“I think we both know why…” I mimic biting dramatically, trying to show that it’s him sinking his teeth into someone’s neck.
He scoffs and it’s the last sound he makes for the rest of the drive. As I sit in the passenger seat, waiting to go to the bar that I consequently had picked for tonight, the silence is not unwelcome. It gives me an opportunity to catch up on one of the games on my phone in the meantime.
I already had plans for tonight, and though Vert didn't want to play with me earlier, I got exactly what I needed to have a clear mind for what I'm doing. I'm happy that he's ignoring what went down because it means he's complicit, and I think I like a complicit, Vert.
He was in my way, but tonight he's going to be… my alibi of sorts. Not that I really need one, because no one's going to find this motherfucker when I’m done with him.
I said I'd be at the bar tonight. He doesn't know that I'll be there with Vert, but I don't think it will be difficult to get done what I need to get done. Pulling up to one of the nicer sports bars in this town, I feel assured that I will accomplish exactly what I set out to do today.
Plus, I'll have the benefit of Vert on my side.
At least I'm pretty sure I will.
He might be Dupont–and doing all types of shit that he very well could be locked up for—he's gonna help a woman in need.
He's gonna help me in need.
Vert might suspect that I'm doing something and strongly have a desire to tattle on me, but look at me—I'm so small and helpless.
Especially if I've been attacked, right?
It’s nice to have a backup when I usually don't.
So, we sit in a booth that keeps me hidden from sight, but I still have a great view of the people coming in and out of the space.
"You buy your ticket?" Vert asks after the bartender rounds the smaller opening to the bar top to make the drinks we’ve requested. He asked for a pale beer while I asked for a Shirley Temple with extra cherries.
"My what now?" I question absently as I check the forum I first found my target on. The private messaging hadn’t updated but his confirmation that he’d be here tonight is still there.
"Did you buy your ticket?" He enunciates slowly, pressing a finger to my phone so that it sits on the table.
I give him a curt smile that he doesn’t return. I don’t lift my phone again. "Oh, no! I asked Lidia… and she got it for me."
His head tilts as those brows scrunch inward. "Why is it that you couldn't get it for yourself?"
"I told you,” I say, twirling a loose, pink curl around my finger, “I'm just a girl, and that shit sucks. I don't want to do that."
"Yea, but you're an adult, so could have done it yourself."
"Okay, but I don't like to do it, and Lidia didn't mind. So what's the difference?"
"Whatever," he says. "Which flight is it?"
I give him the flight information that was emailed to me. After comparing it with his own, he seems relieved that we won't be sharing the same flight to Atlanta. I'm also relieved. It means that I'll have an opportunity to sleep and relax without having this man breathing down my neck.
What made him my keeper, anyway?
We're supposed to be working together. He's not, like, my boss or something.
The bartender comes back to the table with the drinks much quicker than I expected given how busy it is in the space, but when he doesn't make eye contact with Vert—I can deduce what’s happening.
Vert is not unknown and even if he were, his scary ass face would put a pep in your step.
He is scary in an I’ll beat your ass if you don’t back away from me kind of way, but not like a bite you and drain you of all your blood kind of way.
That's an important distinction. Vamp is an inaccurate description for him.
"You're getting there before me, so are you gonna pick me up from the airport?" I try, knowing that he won’t.
He gives me an incredulous look. "Isn't Atlanta yo’ city?"
I shrug. "Of course. Home of Pam's Diner and the number one place to get milkshakes as far as I’m concerned."
He rolls his eyes, ignoring my diner recommendation. "Don't you have a car in yo’ city?"
"No, my car's here..."
"You're not sendin’ your car there?"
I think for a moment on his question. "Well, I didn't set that up, so no."
"So how do you expect to get around in Atlanta?"
Widening my eyes, I lean forward, allowing him to put the pieces together.
He jerks back, face twisted in disdain. "Do I look like a fuckin’ chauffeur service?"
"I mean, you're always driving around everybody else in Dupont. Why the hell can't I park my ass in your passenger seat? Don’t I look pretty there?"
He shakes his head twice. "Because we're not gonna be workin’ together twenty-four seven. I’m not responsible for you gettin’ to and ‘fro. How the fuck are you gonna get food and, like, do other shit besides work?"
What’s it matter to him if I’m getting any of those things?
Doesn’t he know that you can get almost anything delivered to your front door? Especially food. I raise an eyebrow and ask, "What makes you think I do other things besides working?"
"Are we doin’ this?" he asks and I choose to believe that he thinks I still work at the Chrome Flame when I’m back home. Sure, I dance when I feel like it. But I’m rarely on stage anymore. It was a part of my trap when I needed it. It’s fun too. Gotta fill my praise quota somehow.
My right eyebrow rises even higher.
Now we're getting somewhere good.
"What exactly do you mean by this? And does it involve you tying me up, telling me how good a girl I am?"
His mouth is a harsh slash of a line before he monotones, "You're not a good girl."
I fake wounded, pouting my lips and holding my chest. "Ouch. Okay, fine. I like a little bit of degradation too."
"No, that's not what I meant."
Licking the syrupy sweet soda from my cherry before popping it into my mouth, I attempt getting back on track here. "Well, help me out. I'm fucking lost again."
He drinks from his own beer, eyes never leaving my mouth as I play with another cherry on my tongue. "You need to figure out how you're gonna get your car to Atlanta. Don't know how long we'll be there."
"Okay, fine,” I huff, “I'll just ask Lidia."
Setting his beer on the table, "No. You'll do it yourself."
"But I don't want to."
"Okay?” His phone vibrates on the table once and he looks down at it. “But, you're gonna."
Crossing my arms, I ask, "Who put you in charge?" in my most annoyed tone.
"I'm ranked higher than you in both families, so I put me in charge."
He just pulled out his big dick and let it lay across the table. My thighs press together, but I don’t get a chance to respond because his phone starts ringing now. Vert swipes it from the table and excuses himself from the bar.
I’m tempted to follow him but as soon as he’s through the front door, Matt comes in behind him.
Target, acquired.
“Oh man. I cannot believe you ruined these! Blood doesn’t come out of faux leather cut-outs easily. Pink is my favorite and now it’s all seeping in the stitching.”
He gurgles on the ground, spitting more blood up as the liquid fills his throat and airways. It's as much as he deserves and I refuse to take his pleas to “not do this” from him seriously. He’s a goner.
“Ugh,” I scoff, moving his body to the side with my foot as I look for a paper towel in my bag. “Could you not hear me? These boots are difficult to clean. Try coughing over here instead.”
I hear the backdoor click before I see the man who has been on my tail for the past few months. The alley is dark, but the look on his face is, somehow, darker.
“If it isn’t Ver-Tease,” I let my lisp roll a little longer only because I know he hates that I know his government name now. It’s a pun that I’m going to be quite fond of–I can tell.
If he weren’t such a tease, then I wouldn’t have to call him out on it.
He looks down at the man taking his last few breaths and then back up at me.
“Nina, what are you doin’?” He rumbles out.
The sound is low, likely so that no one is alerted, but his disapproval still feels cold over my skin.
I don’t know why. I don’t get a chance to explore why because he adds, “I let you out of my sight for ten minutes to take a call.”
It was longer than ten minutes.
I just checked my phone only a minute ago and it had been twenty-seven. A fact that worked out in my favor because it gave me enough time to accomplish what I needed to.
A half-truth is better than the full-truth as I smooth the goosebumps on my skin, smearing a few streaks of blood there. “I was bored. You left me alone and this guy put his hand on my thigh.”
Crouching down to check the man’s pulse, he presses a couple fingers to the inside of the man’s wrist. After a minute or two of trying and failing to find a pulse, “You know many ways to apprehend a man without takin' his life. That’s somethin’ Fayes are trained to do.”
I put a hand on my hip, annoyed that he’s trying to tell me about my own family. He’s defending this… this pervert? What the fuck? “Why does he deserve that? He’s icky.”
“Icky?” He questions, with renewed incredulity.
“Uh-huh,” I say, never removing my hand from my hip.
Took me no time to see he was a pedophile. He thought I was underaged the entire time we interacted online and I didn’t correct him. Let’s be honest, he would have preferred it regardless.
Vert seems to consider what I’ve said and I take that as a good thing. He’s back to being backup. Good. “Help me get him into the car?” I ask, grabbing the body on the ground by the ankles. “I have to hurry so I can soak my shoes. The blood will stain.”
“Least of your worries,” he bites out. “I’m not fuckin’ here to clean up your–”
Cutting him off before he says what I think it will, “It was self defense.”
“You’re playin’ with your food,” he states plainly and I drop the ankles so that I can scratch my head.
“What an odd thing to say?” I lean against the wall and straighten my outfit as best I can though there are a few sprays of blood I’ll need to address when I soak my shoes. “If you gave me something else to play with then I’d be much busier and happier.”
He stands and checks his phone, noticing blood on his hands. Giving me a droll look while holding up his hand, he says, “You wouldn’t.”
I ignore his accurate assessment and unforgiving tone. “Is it small or what?” I bend over, squinting at his crotch. “Doesn’t look it, but I’ve gotten a little out of practice with my grading. You seem like a C or D cup.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“You know? Like bra sizes, but for dicks. I’d be happy with a C cup but a D would be hitting the jackpot, you know?”
“Just stay here, so I can go get your murder car.” He holds out his hand for what I assume is my keys and I fish them off my bedazzled phone case’s charm holder.
“Okay, I’ll stay here,” I repeat as he stalks over to my car after snatching them from where they dangle on my finger.