Killer Bargain (The Kings and Queens of the Apocalypse #8)

Prologue

HUNTER

Months Ago

I am a killer.

And no, the apocalypse didn’t make me one.

Long before the dead rose, I reveled in my victim’s blood. It’s actually how I’d found out that the rumor of the dead rising was true. I’d snuck away from CP duty to finish off my latest victim. They were in a bathtub and my hand was around their throat, holding them under water.

Don’t judge me for the method I used. I prefer making a big, splashy scene, painting the walls with my victim’s blood, but I didn’t want to get my CP gear dirty.

I enjoyed their struggles, watching the air bubbles come up through the water, feeling their body still.

Afterward, I kept my hand on their throat for several minutes, watching the light go out from their eyes, seeing them turn to human marble.

Then, something unexpected happened. Just as I’d released them, they lunged upward, their eyes wild.

Confused, I’d assumed I’d been sloppy and moved to finish the job.

But something wasn’t right.

A crushed windpipe did nothing to abate them, and the longer they remained in their after-drowning state, the more I realized they weren’t necessarily alive or dead. They were somewhere in-between.

There’d been whispers flying around the Keep of such creatures, but that was the first time I’d ever seen one.

I’d wondered if perhaps I hadn’t survived the encounter, and instead of going to heaven, I was in hell.

But that wasn’t the case. There was a reason Saber saved me from the pen, and that was because he knew people like me thrived in chaos.

Red light pours down from second floor balconies to the street below. It’s no surprise that one of the first areas to rebuild would be a red-light district. Humans are base creatures, giving into darkness rather than basking in light.

I should know.

I enter a building and am immediately greeted by a woman in her mid-50s. She’s dressed well, her hair perfectly styled in a tight bun atop her head.

I pull off my hood, because discretion is no longer necessary.

“Do I smell gasoline?” she says, taking a long pull from the fancy pipe she’s holding.

I hold up the gas can. “There’s a carton of cigarettes in my bag as well. And a bottle of whisky.”

“Sounds like you want a tumble with our finest.”

“Actually, I was looking for something different.”

“How different?”

“I want to snuff the life out of the sweetest, most innocent girl you have.”

Her eyes grow round as she regards my request.

“And if this helps my cause, it’s yours.” I lift my handgun from the bag so she can see it.

“You know, a girl like that is worth an awful lot during times like these.”

“I also know she’s a liability to you. A man falls too hard in love, feels too bad for her, and he might turn into some kind of white knight. You could end up dead or find yourself replaced.”

That struck a chord.

“Well, Fiona does give me hassle. Follow me.” She starts up a staircase, pausing a few steps up. “By the way, my name is Madam Levy.”

She leads me to the second floor, into a room that’s bare except for a twin-sized bed against the wall and a chair off to the side. There’s a girl sprawled out on the bed who doesn’t even bother to look at me.

She’s wearing a lacy blue cami with silk panties that are too small for her round bottom.

“The gas and booze and cigarettes?” Madam Levy holds out her hand.

I hand her the bag.

“When will you be done?”

“It won’t take long, but I do require one more thing.”

“It’ll cost you.”

I pull the chair up to the bed. “Sit.”

Her face contorts in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I require an audience.” My eyes dart over to the girl on the bed. “It’ll be worth your while.”

She huffs but takes a seat. “Get on with it, then.”

I walk over to the bed, and the girl stirs, a frown forming on her flawless face.

Red hair, green eyes, and a cute, upturned nose.

“How old are you?” I ask.

When she doesn’t answer, Madam Levy says, “She’s nineteen.”

“You have a beautiful name, Fiona.”

She draws her legs up and scoots further back on the bed. I can see why Madam Levy chose her. She’s angry and unaccommodating.

Good for her.

“Do you know why you were picked?” I continue in a deadpan tone.

“Because you wanted to fuck someone young?” she returns.

“I didn’t come here to fuck anything,” I confess. “Although I might need relief before leaving.”

Her brow furrows.

“I came here to torture and kill someone.”

A look of panic lights her pretty green eyes, but she makes no move to defend herself.

This girl is so deeply wounded, she’s not going to fight me.

Which will make what I have to do easier.

“Will it hurt?” she finally asks, refusing to look at me.

“My victims’ suffering is immeasurable.”

I walk slowly to the back of the chair that Madam Levy is seated in, thrilled that my patience has paid off.

“Just be quick about it,” the girl says, desperation needling her voice.

“Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want me to be.

” I take out the knife I have hidden at my waist and clamp one hand around Madam Levy’s neck.

She startles, bringing her hands up to fight me off, but I’m in complete control, from the moment I immobilize her, to when I pull her tongue from her mouth and dismember it with one clean stroke.

FIONA

What the fuck is happening?

I look on as blood spurts from Madam Levy’s mouth, mesmerized by the sight of my captor’s suffering.

First, he removes her tongue, then her ears, nose, and even the lids from her eyes, leaving her looking grotesque.

Her screams are strangely quiet, and I wonder if that’s why the man removed her tongue.

It should have been me who’d killed her. I’d been planning her demise for so long, waiting for the perfect moment. It wasn’t until a week ago that I got my hands on a knife, and that only happened because one of my clients was drunk.

My hand is wrapped around the hilt right now because I was waiting for the man to attack me. I’m not stupid enough to think I could win against his brute strength, but I was determined to do some damage on the way out and figured he’d be so pissed, he might kill Madam Levy afterward.

The man shoves a rag into Madam Levy’s mouth, pulls a length of rope from his bag, and ties her to the chair.

Then, he looks at me, his dark eyes devoid of emotion.

“I’d like to fuck you,” he says as though he were asking about the weather.

I blink back at him, unsure of what to say. He’s handsome, strong of body, with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow.

His calmness is absolutely terrifying. It’s one thing to kill someone. It’s quite another to do so while remaining so composed, without even the slightest indication of heart escalation.

“That knife won’t do you much good,” he says.

I look down at my hand, then back up at him. He’s right. He’s faster, stronger, and bigger than me. I’m at his mercy.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.

He shakes his head from side to side, and I believe him, though I have no good reason to.

I drop the knife and slide my panties off. He pulls out his cock, which is monstrous, and sits on the edge of the bed.

I scoot towards him. “How do you want it?”

“Did she hurt you?” he asks.

I look over at Madam Levy, whose chest is rising and falling in rushed bursts.

“Yes.”

“I would enjoy it if you looked on at her while we did it.”

I would enjoy that too.

With my back to his chest, he lifts me, placing his cock at my entrance. Somehow, I’m wet, which doesn’t happen too often.

For the next minute, he pushes me up and down his length as we watch Madam Levy suffer. I don’t come. I never have. But it’s the closest to aroused I’ve ever been.

After he releases, he puts his cock away and collects his things, cleaning his knife before putting it back in its sheath.

He was honest when he said he wasn’t going to kill me, though a small part of me wishes he had, because there are far too many Madam Levys in this world.

As he’s about to leave, I blurt out, “Take me with you!”

The look he casts me makes me feel like a monster. Like he can’t understand how someone like me exists.

I can’t say I blame him. I just watched him kill a woman. No—not just kill: torture. I watched as he tore flesh from bone. I watched as she struggled to breathe as blood clogged her throat. I watched her die as he fucked me.

And I asked the killer to take me with him.

Truly I cannot be blamed for my desperation. I can’t stay here. I can’t defend myself on the streets and there’s no safe place to run to.

The hesitation in his eyes makes me say, “I’ll die if you don’t.”

His face turns expressionless as he contemplates my words.

“I’ll fuck you every day, if you’d like. I don’t eat much.”

“You realize I just tortured that woman.” He gestures to Madam Levy.

“A better word would be monster. You tortured a monster.”

He exhales a terse breath, and I worry that I’ve angered him.

“If you like killing monsters, there are a lot more on Salem Street.”

“I’d like to hear about them,” he says.

“So…can I go with you? I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Do you have clothes?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that I was naked.

“There’s a closet out in the hallway with some things I can wear.”

“Hurry and get dressed.”

“Can…can I have your name?”

“It’s Hunter.”

HUNTER

The girl rushes to keep up with me; her strides half that of mine. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with her. I can’t bring her to the Keep. Not after what she saw me do.

We arrive at the safe house and I bring her up five flights of stairs to the apartment I’ve been occupying. She stands in the entryway, shaking violently.

Which is fucking awkward. I don’t know what to do. Bringing her here was a mistake.

I let her in and toss my bag in a corner.

“Are you hungry?”

She nods eagerly.

“Take a seat.” I gesture to the small table.

I heat her up some chili and watch as she scarfs it down. Then I get her a pack of Little Debbie pastries, some jerky, and Spam.