Page 40 of Ash and Poison

He put my bag back in place, folded my underwear, and pushed it into the bag, burying it under layers of clothes. After a quick look around the room, he left.

I opened the tracking app and saw him moving in the opposite direction from the sanatorium.

He must be going to meet Hannigan. Getting my purse ready, I stared at myself in the mirror. I already looked like I was ready for a party. I pulled out the mask from inside the bag and put it on.

I just need a willing man to get me into the club, and I’d be all set.

“Let’s play then, Ash.”

10

THE GATES

ASHER

The urge to barge into Vincent’s house, drag Diya Sharma by her hair, and make her kneel in front of me, was so strong I nearly tripped on air. Just the thought of Vincent’s body pressed against hers... Vincent’s hands touching what should be...

What should be?

Mine?

God, I need to get a grip. This is becoming ridiculous.

I didn’t even know what was wrong with me anymore. Every time I thought about that woman, a little part of my brain died.

Cursing, I walked out of her room and reached the parking lot.

I pulled my helmet on with a grunt, running my hand along the black, sleek body of the motorcycle.

Swinging my leg over the bike, I settled into the seat. My fingers tightened around the handlebars and the bike roared to life, vibrating beneath me with a throaty rumble. Familiar. Nothing in my life was familiar anymore, but this was. This had always been.

I revved the engine, feeling the surge of power. I felt the same as the motorcycle—full of pent-up energy that needed to be unleashed.

“Wait for me, Hannigan.” With one last glance at Diya’s room, cursing the woman for everything she was, I eased the bike into gear and tore down the road to say hello and goodbye to my next prey.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Diya right now, not when I was walking straight into the lion’s den. There were a hundred ways this could go wrong, but all I could do was hope Hannigan had fully bought into my alternate persona, no questions asked. My entire plan rested on his stupidity—and my own, too.

The club was just outside Hollow Heights, and they catered to wealthy men who had too much time on their hands. I had already checked the club and hacked into the only two cameras inside The Gates. When the time came, they would see only what I wanted to see.

I parked the bike just outside the eyeline of the guard, behind an alley. I removed my helmet and jacket, secured them to my motorcycle, and adjusted my jacket and wig. I looked creepy enough to fit in.

I walked toward the club, hoping this would go better than my second kill.

Killing Doctor Tomlinson was easy until Diya stumbled upon it. I thought I had a perfect plan, but now there was a witness—an unhinged, psychotic witness. If she was normal, I could have…

No distractions.

Shaking my head, I walked toward the entrance. The guard’s eyes narrowed when he saw me. I reached into my suit pocket and pulled out a gold-embossed card—Hannigan had delivered it to my old P.O. box as promised—holding it up for him to see. His expression shifted, clearly not expecting me to have access, especially not a gold one.

“Welcome, sir.”

“Thank you.” Giving him a nod, I strolled in. The inside looked completely different from the outside. The air carried a faint scent of leather, tobacco, and whiskey, and the sound of hushed whispers.

“Whiskey, sir?” the bartender asked.

It had been a while since I’d indulged in alcohol, and after Diya Sharma and her lacy underwear, I needed a stiff drink. But…

I shook my head.