Page 6 of Retaliation
“I plan to scare the shit out of the local drunk, pump him for information, kill him, then let out my frustration at missing my date with Dev by singing at the club.” Those last words escaped my traitorous mouth before I even knew what happened as I shoved open my window and slid down the fire escape.
Tibby’s typing stopped short. “Your what now? Date? With Dev?”
“Did I not mention that?” I smirked, straddling my bike and grateful she couldn’t see my burning cheeks. “He sort of asked me out last night. And I figured it would be a good chance to do some recon.”
Tibby scoffed. “Recon, yeah? Will you be reconning on his dick or…?”
I barked a laugh, and my stomach dropped. “If I have to take one for the team, I will.”
“And what a chore that would be. It’s a damn shame I couldn’t find a single dick pic of that man on the internet. What a prude.”
I snorted a laugh. “Like he could even give me an actual orgasm. You know it’s all for show.”
Tibby mumbled something unintelligible, and I knew she didn’t believe me. I rolled my eyes, starting the ignition on my bike and moving down the alley, away from the bar.
Tibby was a tech-savvy queen and found all the dirt on the four men I planned to murder for the crimes against my family. Dev was squeaky clean other than a few arrests for fighting. The charges were always dropped, though, and we figured The Obscuritas were behind that, even if Dev wasn’t an active member.
“So, this guy Jackson is a member.” Tibby snorted, typing away. “He’s a lowlife. A cheater. I’ve caught him on cameras leaving casinos and clubs with new girls on the reg. His wife is honestly just as bad. Also a cheater. Sleeping with one of the other mechanics at his shop.”
I gagged. “They can both rot for all I care. Maybe I can get some information out of her too.”
“She spends a lot of time sending nudes to other men. Doesn’t look like she’s got any meaningful tattoos. I don’t think she’s a member.”
I sped through the city, ignoring traffic lights, and parked my bike a block down from Jackson’s garage. “Guess I better make this count then.”
“Have fun. See you later, Nova.”
“Save me a seat at the bar.”
I ended the call and stayed in the shadows as I walked to the garage. I didn’t need Tibby for this particular mission but I kept the earpiece in, just in case. The lights were off inside. I knew he was alone.
Jackson only had two cameras in the shop, and Tibby had already tapped into them to make sure his employees were long gone. I checked my phone. I had forty-five minutes before I had to be at the club, which meant I had approximately seventeen minutes to fuck with this prick. I opened the front door, unlocked of course. What an idiot. I slipped inside and crept toward the Chevelle Jackson had tucked in the back. I said a silent prayer to the muscle car gods asking forgiveness for what I was about to do. Poor thing wouldn’t make it out of this unscathed, but that was Jackson’s fault.
I climbed onto the hood of the car and tossed my leather jacket on a toolbox. Jackson stumbled around in his office, making a ruckus as he ran into everything. I adjusted my black corset top, pushing up my cleavage, and leaned back on the cool metal. Beauty was a weapon, one I could use easily against vile men like the one I had in my sights.
“Oh, Jackson!” I sang out the words with a smile. “Time to come out and play.”
He stumbled toward the back of the garage, knocking over tools as his steps faltered, likely trashed. He staggered into view, his eyes going wide and ogling my body. I fought the urge to vomit.
“Hello, blue birdie,” Jackson slurred, leaning on the hood and staring directly at my tits.
I slid off the hood and cocked my hip, eying him with a shy smile. “Want to play a game?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I grinned, batting my lashes and licking my lips. “Close your eyes, big boy.”
Jackson leaned back against the passenger side of the car and closed his eyes. His hands moved to his pants, unbuckling his belt and dropping the dad jeans to his feet. I grabbed a pair of handcuffs and slid one around his wrist, attaching the other to the side mirror of the car.
“You’re a wild bitch, ain’t ya?” Jackson grunted, his eyes still closed.
“Can’t help it. You got me all hot and bothered.” I whispered the words, dropping my tone and trying not to laugh.
Was he really buying this shit? I noted his lack of a hard-on and figured too much whiskey was a regular issue. No wonder his wife was looking elsewhere to get hers.
“Tell me a secret, Jackson,” I whispered as I pulled out my blade, the metal glittering in the dark.
I grabbed a piece of rope, tied it to Jackson’s other wrist, and yanked. His eyes popped open, and he yelped.
