Vengeful Lies

I feel the blood drain from my face the moment the text comes through from my employer.

No. No. No.

One week. Seven days.

I look around frantically, cursing under my breath. Of all the times for this message to come through, right now is the worst. Eli has been gone for over an hour, and I’ve only removed two shirts from my box. Am I actually doing this? Moving in? With my target?

Fuck.

I stand up and start pacing. Dread begins to fill my stomach at the thought of finally pulling the trigger on Eli. It would be easy. I could do it the moment he steps into his apartment, and then I could vanish in the dead of night.

I start biting the skin around my nails, considering the things he said tonight. “Tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way.” I scoff but want to cry at the same time. I don’t deserve some fairytale romance. I don’t want it. But neither did I ever think I’d willingly give up on a hit.

Dammit.

I jolt as the front door opens. I rush out of the bedroom to find Eli with a bloody face.

“Why is your lip busted?” I demand, closing the distance between us to assess his injuries. He averts his gaze as I grab his chin. Whoever did this did a good fucking job.

He vanished, and now he’s back, obviously having been in a fight, and whatever rampage he was on doesn’t seem over yet. He looks wild.

“You’re coming with me. I have something to show you.” He grabs my hand.

“Eli, you’re bleeding. Are you going to explain this to me?” I demand, taking back my hand. My heart is beating rapidly as he stares at me with eyes that are shades darker than usual. He’s not himself. Or maybe this is the crazed version of him that those who see it don’t often live to regret the experience.

“Trust me, okay?”

If only he knew the irony of the text message I’d received. “Trust me.” Isn’t that a joke now? How can I trust him when he shouldn’t trust me?

I sink into myself, perplexed by what to do.

It’s just one hit.noveldrama

One man.

One job.

I look at him again.

No, it’s not just any man; it’s Eli Monti.

Fuck. Guilt twists in my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tempted to put my hand on his cheek to pull him back into the bedroom because this unhinged version of him is surely looking for an escape. I can tell by the way his knuckles are white, and he’s grinding his jaw. He needs a release, and I’m certain not even the sexual kind will put his beast at ease. He needs blood.

I want to bring him back to the now instead of leaving him to drown in whatever rioting thoughts he’s having. I don’t have that right, but what’s another few hours of playing house? Maybe even a few more days? Can’t I give myself that much time to decide?

I want to slap myself. What is there to decide on?

I’ve never failed on a hit, let alone run away from one.

“We need to talk about your father and what he said,” I say, ripping the Band-Aid off. His family is protecting him, and rightly so. But this idiot isn’t thinking clearly. Neither am I. I shouldn’t be convincing him to turn against me, but I don’t want to be the cause of him creating rifts with those who care for him.

Fuck, Jewel, when did you start growing a conscience?

“We’ll talk about that later.” He doesn’t listen to me; just waits at the door. “And bring your gun.”

“My gun?” I ask incredulously. But I understand the need for primal release through the barrel of a gun. Or maybe he’s finally taking me out to meet my maker. Though in my heart, I very much doubt that’s the case.

I throw my hands in the air because arguing with this man when he’s determined about something is like hitting my head against a wall. “Fine. But I’m not wearing the leather pants you like so much.”

He’s smirking as he holds open the door. “Do you really think sweatpants deter me from wanting to devour you, Jewel Diamond?”

“I think my gun might act as a deterrent enough,” I snap as I pocket said gun inside my jacket. The buzz begins the moment I feel its weight. It feels right and puts me at ease despite the text message I received. A subtle excitement fills me at the thought of where we might be going because I like adventures where my guns are required. But I don’t like this energy around Eli. I don’t understand it, and I’m not sure if I can tame it.

I follow him to the car, already feeling exhausted from the day. What a wild weekend. From wedding dress shopping to an engagement party I didn’t want, and now to a surprise destination that requires a gun. And knowing Eli Monti, the latter is probably going to be some kind of blood bath.

But the part that torments me the most isn’t even all this fake wedding shit. It’s the text message that now feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket.

Seven days to kill the man who has made my life hell and made me feel alive in equal measure. Who has held captive the only possessions that have meaning to me. And the only man who has seen me for the carnal, reckless woman I am, and instead of shunning it, he encourages it.

I have a feeling tonight is going to be one of those nights.