Chapter 17 – Kylie Hollingsworth
Chapter Seventeen
Kylie Hollingsworth
My brother enjoys playing with my life. He hates to see a woman giving sassy Texas sweetheart with a little bit of trouble.
I might have almost accidentally helped Tylee, but I’m loyal and I’m not stupid.
Tonight, I have to get to work on club business.
Can you believe it? Dad would have never let me do shit for the club.
I always wanted to ride when I was a little girl.
Cody wants me to track down that man who got away tonight and send him to Jesus.
I’ve only ever shot a buck before – and I had Tanner’s help doing the worst part of it.
When I asked Cody what he expected me to do with the body, he looked me up and down and said that I looked plenty capable of carrying a grown man.
That’s his so-called nice way of calling me fat.
I’m not fat. It’s not my fault the beauty standards in our part of Texas were partially shaped by oxycodone.
My drug of choice has always been pastries.
I’m not the size of a grown man, however, despite my brother’s insulting words.
I look good. I’m five-foot-ten, curvy, and I know how to dress in a way that pushes my boobs together.
Works just fine – and all I have to do tonight is flirt with some stupid redneck until I convince him that I’m going to blow him.
Killing him should be easy from there. Getting his body out of the way might be a little tougher. If he has backup, Cody told me to call it off.
Cody: Arrived in Oklahoma. See him yet?
Kylie: As expected. He’s drinking at The Beer Co.
Even towns that seemingly have nothing going on have a shitty millennial bar.
Toothpick wasn’t as hard to track as my brother thinks.
It helps that he looks like he blundered through town from somewhere else.
I can’t place it, he just doesn’t look like he’s from around here.
I can tell. I can use that against him to trick him out back and… do my job.
I’m not going to end up locked up in Montana like Tylee. Crazy bitch.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I say, sidling up to my target. He smells like tobacco and sweat. I grimace to hide my nausea. He grins at me, like he actually believes there’s a chance in hell that a girl like me would approach a man who looks like several toads joined together.
“Hi there. What are we drinking, red?”
“Whatever you’re drinking. I’m not picky.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Neither am I… Well… not about my liquor. Pretty picky about my women.”
“You like them red?”
“Spicy,” he says, giving me a corny, stupid wink. I can’t wait for the drink to slide across the bar to make it easier to flirt with this man. Shit, I think taking his life will be easier than getting through this conversation.
I’ll do my best to get back in my brother’s good graces but… I hope he knows this is worse than hell for me.