Page 4 of Bloody Savage God
Benny’s eyes land on mine when he looks up from his key fob. Behind me, the car lets out a beep, ready for its driver to open the door and drive off.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
“Hello?” He makes it sound like a question, but he doesn’t look concerned. Instead, he’s more intrigued. “Can I help you?”
Idiot.He doesn’t even recognize who I am. Probably because I’m wearing casual clothes rather than the fancy business wear I’m usually photographed in.
Well, that’ll make things even easier.
I have to suppress the urge to shake my head at his naivety. He obviously had no idea what he walked into when he showed up at last week’s poker tourney. Had his father not told him anything about the kind of people that operated in this city?
Well, not my problem.
The tights and shirt I’m wearing are simple and black, but they are skin tight. Intentionally so. Some of the old guys in my father’s ranks might not appreciate what advantages there are to sending a woman out for this kind of job, but I know better. I’ve honed the skill to bring men down to their knees, and a bit of skin-tight clothing is an easy way to get anyone with a dick into the right frame of mind.
“Is this your car?” I purr, ignoring his question.
I push off the vehicle and turn as if to admire his luxury car. Adopting the persona of a twenty-something, bright eyed groupie is easy enough. The silver LX 600 admittedly looks like I wouldn’t mind test driving it, though my actual focus remains on the dip shit who’s doing exactly what I’d hoped, stepping closer and into the space between the cars that is shielded from unwanted eyes.
Behind him, I see Eric move into position, blocking the way back to the country club. From where he’s standing, he can also give me a heads up if anyone should come our way. Exactly why I’ve brought him along, even though a mere lookout job is technically below his rank.
The fact of the matter is that I don’t give a shit. There are few people I’m willing to tolerate, and Eric is one of them, which is enough of a reason for him to stand exactly where I want him right now.
Unaware that I’m not busy fawning over him and his vehicle, Benny looks at me with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, baby, that’s my car. Want to take a ride?”
The double entendre is so lame I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Does this guy think he’s eighteen?
To be fair, he’s only in his early twenties, from what his social media profile told me. Not that the line would have worked on me even when I was that young. But he doesn’t need to know that. Instead, I give him my best sultry smile and close the distance between us, stepping closer to him. A quick swipe of my tongue over my upper lip ensures he is keeping his eyes focused on my face, and doesn’t notice the switchblade in my hand.
When they say men are easy, they really mean men are easy. At least inexperienced boy scouts like Benny Ronaldo.
It’s almost too easy. He’s like a deer in headlights, all his attention on me, in total disbelief over how lucky he’s getting.
My blade is only four inches long, but that’s enough to do some serious damage. I’m not here to kill the guy–that would be unwise given the power his father holds–, but that doesn’t mean the message shouldn’t come with enough pain to convince him he messed with the wrong people.
And to give me a pleasant rush.
As I take the last step towards him, I lick my lips to ensure he’s fully caught up in what he thinks is a stroke of luck. Seriously, how can anyone be this naïve?
When my hand slams forward, I aim for his liver. The trick is to manage a hit between the second and third, or third and fourth ribs, but luckily the vain bastard is wearing a tight shirt under his open suit jacket, making my life a lot easier.
When my blade sinks deep, I don’t contain my smile. The feel of his flesh giving way to my blade makes my heart beat faster with excitement, but I refuse to lose focus. I don’t get to do this often, so I savor every second.
Of course, the problem with a knife attack is that your opponent isn’t immediately down and might just fight back. In this case, I can at least be certain that my blade met its target, hot liquid now seeping through his shirt. He might not be down completely, but he’s going to bleed like a stuck pig, which is going to serve as a pretty vivid memory for the next time he thinks about stepping into one of our operations.
As his mouth opens in shock, I pull my blade and stab him twice more in the gut, this time with a little less finesse. His hand flies forward, trying to punch me, but I expect it. He’s obviously not trained, and it’s easy to evade him.
Elation courses through me, giving me a rush that’s been absent from my life for too long. It’s like I’ve been cooped up like a bird, and I’m finally able to stretch my wings a bit.
Perhaps I should have held out for a worthier opponent to request my father’s permission for this. Someone with at least abitof fight in them. But that’s water under the bridge now, anyway. Or rather, blood on the asphalt, I suppose.
When a groan escapes Benny, my mind snaps back into the moment, and I don’t hold my smile back. “Greetings from Leonardo Bruno. I recommend you get yourself to the closest hospital, and then stay the fuck away from our games.”
Boy scout tries to lunge for me one more time. The adrenaline is probably keeping him from feeling the pain just yet, but I won’t let him mess with tonight’s success. I kick his groin with as much force as I can muster. My daily training and additional workouts on the weekends mean that it’s nothing to sneeze at, not to mention I have an easy target to aim at.
He goes down like a sack of potatoes.
I sigh.Weakling.
