Page 13 of Ravaged By the Dark (The Righteous 2)
Tonight’s top story: the independently wealthy Steve Roberts was found butchered this evening in his L.A. mansion. Sources are saying he was the anonymous leader of the white supremacist group, the Imperial Mafia. Police are not releasing a statement at this time, but it looks like this might be a retaliation murder.
Arek poured himself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen table as Trev turned the television off. “Did you have any issues?”
Arek shook his head, not in the mood to hash out all the details of his kills. Normally he’d be all over retelling the thrill of the hunt and kill, but he couldn’t get Bambi out of his head. The fact that he now knew where she lived only made the drive to see her again more intense.
“What’s the matter? Did something go wrong with the plan?”
“No, man, I’m just not in the mood. As expected, he had a half dozen guards around the property, but they were easy enough to take out. I did have to kill his wife as well. There was no way around it. She walked in on me, slicing up her husband. But all cameras were disabled. No witnesses were left, and as far as anyone knows, it was as they said on the news, a retaliation murder for him being a perpetual prick.”
“And you left the evidence I asked you to leave?” Arek raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Fair enough, that was a stupid question. You just don’t seem yourself,” Trev pushed.
“Fuck man, just let me sip my coffee.” Trev took the hint and lifted his tablet to read. Arek resumed staring into his cup as if it might magically hold the answers he was searching for about Bambi. How the hell was he going to see her again and not come off all stalkerish?
As it was, he showed up at the club for all her dances, which might not be news. But on more than one occasion, he’d offered a lot of money to speak to her privately, and she’d always declined.
She would be dancing tonight. Saturday was always the busiest night of the week. He had a few hours to figure out a plan, but until then, he needed food, a shower, and a workout, not necessarily in that order.
After breakfast, he’d had a damn good workout, but on the whole, his day had been agonizingly boring. Most would think that laying around an expensive L.A. home with all the bells and whistles would be a perfect way to pass the time. Arek, on the other hand, hated being idle. Trev said he had ADHD on steroids, but he felt like Trev was exaggerating greatly.
The truth was Trev was the money man, and Arek was the brawn. He hadn’t worked a single nine-to-five day since they returned from overseas. However, he’d managed to learn six languages, how to build just about anything out of wood, and how to take apart a lawnmower engine and put it back together again, blindfolded. He’d even gone so far as to see if the shit on the McGyver show could actually be done, much to Trev’s dismay. Surprisingly, some of that stuff was super cool. But there was only so much he could build or read. There were times like this when he felt he was wasting what time he had left to be productive with his life, do something like Trev, and make a real difference that didn’t involve blowing someone’s head off.
He could take up golf, become a pro on the circuit. Okay, he couldn’t picture playing golf, but he needed to find his own thing. A passion he could call his own or a job of some sort. He’d always like to work with cars. He could get his mechanics license, really anything, so he didn’t end up living off his brother forever.
Arek bopped his head to the beat pounding through Princess’s speakers and winked at the girls in the car beside him while waiting at the stoplight. They waved and laughed, as they fluffed their hair, making him smile. He found the flirting ritual much like a peacock dance, and of course he knew how to shake a good tail feather.
The club already looked busy based on the parking lot, but luckily he’d been thinking ahead and called in and requested a VIP spot by the back entrance. Arek pulled the Porsche into the parking space the club owner had instructed him to use, but after he got out of the car, he paced back and forth outside the club. For the first time in his life, he was nervous about speaking to a woman.
So this is how other guys felt.
The back entrance creaked as it was pushed open, the music and cheering flowing out into the night as Bambi stepped outside into the night air. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, and he could tell she was getting ready to either fight or scream. Her body was tense, and her jaw locked as her hand fisted around the strap of her black backpack.
“Hey, before you freak out, I just wanted to explain who I am—”
“I know who you are. You’re the guy that always takes the corner booth, but you’re usually dressed—” She looked him up and down, taking in his black jeans and matching T-shirt, “…different.”
“My name is Arek, and I thought this would make you feel more comfortable.”
The look she gave had him wanting to fidget. Those amazingly sexy aqua eyes narrowed into an unnerving glare as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And what makes you think I would be comfortable with this, no matter what you’re wearing?”
“In that case, I could rip this off and get naked.”
Her lip curled up in a sassy smirk that made his mind race. “What do you want?”
“I want to walk you home.” Now that the words had left his mouth, he realized just how stupid they sounded, but they were out there, and it was too late to take them back.
“Walk me home? Do I look like I need a babysitter?” Bambi’s voice was even, but her eyes flared.
“No, but I’d like to nonetheless.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Bambi walked away from him, and he’d never been so turned on by a rejection in his life. Actually, he couldn’t remember a time he’d been rejected.
“Well, I’m going to follow you anyway.” Arek started to do just that when Bambi whipped around to face him, one hand balled tight in a fist and her other hand in her purse. Arek held up his hands, unsure if she had a gun and did not want to get shot anytime soon.
“What the fuck is your problem? I said I don’t want you to follow me, so take the hint before I call the cops.”
“You can call the cops. They’ll just leave.”
“Why, cause I’m the poor black girl, and you’re the rich white guy?” Her voice raised as her anger simmered.
