Ghostface Killer ~ M. Never

by Never, M.

  Fucked, fucked, fucked, fucked, fuckity, fuck, fucked.

  I watch as he walks away, checking out his ass the whole damn time, all firm and tight in his snug, stone-washed jeans.

  Maybe playing with my prey wasn’t such a good idea. I was expecting Benjamin Sabatino to be a douchebag. Like the usual sacks of shit I deal with, but I’m coming to find out he’s not.

  “Can I get next?” Someone encroaches on my personal space. I glance over my shoulder to find the dickhead from earlier, and it smells like he was flushed down a toilet bowl full of whiskey.

  “Next game’s taken. Piss off.” I gave him one pass, he won’t get another.

  “Well, maybe I can get a giggle out of you the same way scruffy did.” He places his hands uninvitingly on my hips, and I grip the pool stick tightly. So tightly the wood creaks audibly.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I peer at him calmly through the corner of my eye.

  “Anything, baby.”

  “What grade did you get in comprehension?”

  “What?” The confusion is clear in his response. “I don’t think comprehension was a subject.”

  “It was where I’m from.” I take a split second look around the room then even faster flick the pool stick up between his legs. I hear an oomph as the air is sucked out of his lungs right before I swipe his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and I put my hand over my mouth like an innocent bystander. The table is far enough removed from the bar and most of the patrons. I bend over like I’m going to help him up, but instead take the tip of the cue stick and jam it into his balls. “Let me school you. I said I wasn’t fucking interested. Capisce? Now, go slither back into whatever hole you came from unless you’re looking for a pierced testicle.”

  “Fuck! You’re a crazy bitch.”

  I smile sweetly. “So I’ve been told.” I add some more pressure to his nut, and the prick turns a brilliant shade of red.

  “Is everything okay here?” Baz approaches us, and I immediately straighten up. I bat my big doe eyes as guilelessly as possible before I assure him, “Everything’s fine. I think someone just had too much to drink.” The guy is already crawling away by the time I glance back down in his direction. If Baz wasn’t here, I’d kick him in the ass for good measure.

  But I have to remain sweet and innocent and unsuspecting.

  I hope it’s working, because the way Baz is looking at me right now is questionable.

  “I’m definitely ready for that drink now.” I grab for the short glass with light amber liquid and a cherry floating on top, hopefully distracting him from what just happened, but he pulls it away before my fingertips even get close.

  “Ah, about drink number two. I know number one had no expectations, but I think this one should come with a price.” He hit me with a roguish smile.

  “What kind of price?” I place my hand on my hip and cock my head.

  “The consideration of sleeping with me.”

  Why is it when other men try to be cute I see them as total assholes, but when Baz does it I completely succumb?

  I eye him flirtatiously.

  “Everything you want has a price, I guess.” I give in willingly. I don’t even need another drink to consider sleeping with him. I’d do it for gratis. I haven’t stopped imagining what those big hands and irresistible mouth are capable of.

  “It is the sad, but in my case favorable, truth.” He doesn’t sound disappointed by that fact one bit as he hands over my drink. I take a long, hard pull of the sweet libation through the straw, knowing every second that passes in Benjamin fucking Sabatino’s presence is detrimental to my mission. But at the moment, I just don’t give a damn.

  Two more games of pool and several strong drinks later, I have mentally undressed Baz a dozen times, and I think he knows it. We have become way too comfortable, way too fast. Touching, brushing, flirting to the point ad nauseam. The sexual tension we have managed to conjure could propel a wind turbine.

  I watch as Baz sinks his first eight ball. I let him win the third game. No one can ever accuse me of being merciless—all the time.

  “You just kicked my ass.” I toy, licking my lips to drive him crazy.

  Baz stalks over to me with a that’s complete bullshit and I know it look.

  “You let me win.” He crowds me against the wall as he places his pool stick back on the rack. I guess we’re done playing.

  “Maybe.” I eye him from under my lashes.

  “No maybe about it. You let me win.” He traps my chin between his fingers and forces my face up. He’s a good foot taller than me, twice my width, and solid muscle. I swallow thickly. By the way he’s looking at me, I know for sure we are definitely done playing. I inhale his opiate-like, earthy scent as he presses his body dominantly against mine. All my internal functions are working on overdrive as my rationale and sensibility fly right out the window.

  Baz leans in and I swear I petrify. I can count on half a hand the number of times a man has had the ability to incapacitate me, but Baz does so in such a quiet yet compelling way I barely realize it’s happening. I believe in walking softly and carrying a big stick, but Baz embodies it.

  I never take my eyes off his face as he inches closer and closer. Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, his path diverts and his lips land on my ear. The touch is faint, but it’s effect is resounding. I feel it everywhere. Trickling over my skin, seeping into my pores and coursing through my veins until the sensation settles in my bones.

  “Come home with me,” he whispers commandingly, his tone speaking to an intrinsic part of me.

  I lock my knees together to keep from falling into his arms.

  Come home with me. A cycle of unwanted thoughts start to violate my mind. Violate the moment. I remember why I’m here and the assignment I’m supposed to execute.

  I place my hands on Baz’s neck solemnly. I want to trail my fingers up and tangle them into his hair. I want to kiss him like no woman has ever kissed him before. I want to be the one he remembers. Who he compares all future kisses to. But the tragic truth is Baz doesn’t have a future, because I’m here to kill him.

  “I can’t,” I regretfully tell him.

  He jerks his head back and looks at me bewildered. “Why not?”

  Because if I come home with you, it will be your very last night on this Earth.

  And for some reason, that notion breaks my heart.

  I have never thought twice about ending someone’s life. About what I do or who I am. But staring into the green, vital force of Baz’s eyes, the world suddenly seems like an alien place.

  “I think it’s time for me to go.” I slip away from him with a disenchanting ease.

  “Stevie.” Baz grabs for my arm. The fight is there. The want. The demand. It makes me feel alive inside. But I can’t stay. And I can’t give in.

  “Baz, please.” I jerk my arm away with more force than I mean. God, the disappointment on his face. When did I sprout feelings? They were never there before. “I have to go.”

  I fly to the bar to retrieve my jacket and don’t even bother to slide it on until I get outside. The clean night air helps me to breathe. To find some clarity. The gravel parking lot crunches under my boots as I hurry to my truck. I know he’s behind me before I even reach the handle. The guy is persistent. I’ll give him that.

  “Stevie.” Jesus, my name on his lips, it’s like kryptonite. Too bad I’m no Supergirl. I turn to face him, knowing I’m in store for a world of regret. “Were you serious about hiking to a spring?”

  Um, okay. I wasn’t expecting that.

  “Yes.” My lie is shaky.

  “Can I take you to one? Tomorrow? It’s not on any maps. Locals only.”

  Ho-lyyyy shit. That was like an invitation to his own funeral. Me and Baz, alone, in the woods?

  “I don’t think—”

  “C’mon,” he presses. “I’m not a serial killer, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It takes all my restraint to stop fro
m screaming but I am! “I really want to see you again.” He flattens both hands against the sleek black truck, trapping me in. “I need to see you again.”

  Say no, say no, say no! Get your ass in the truck and drive away!

  “What time do you want to go hiking?” I crumble like freaking pie crust.

  The triumph in his eyes tells me he thinks he just scored a second chance.

  Too bad what he really scored was a front row seat to a bullet between the eyes.

  “Is seven a.m. too early?” Excruciatingly. “The sunrise over the mountains is killer.”

  Killer. Right. He has no idea. “Seven a.m. I’ll be ready.” I smile sweetly.

  “So will I,” Baz promises fiercely. My entire torso burns from his response. It’s so hot it feels as if someone doused me in lighter fluid from my neck to my navel.

  There’s also a throb. A throb between my thighs I’ve been trying desperately to ignore. But when Baz is this close, begging to be intimate, the sensation synthesizes.

  “Where are you staying?” he asks as I maneuver into the truck. I need to escape. Now.

  “The Viewpoint.” I slide into the driver’s seat and turn on the engine.

  “What room?” He hijacks the door so I can’t shut it.

  “Ah, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “Don’t trust me yet?”

  I pout my lip. He thinks I’m being cute, but I’m being anything but. He has no idea. It’s me he can’t trust.

  “See you in the morning.” I lean over misleadingly, and the excitement in his eyes ignite. He lets his guard down just enough for me to push him out of the way and shut the door.

  Patience, lover boy. Your kiss of death will come.

  I DIDN’T SLEEP one wink last night.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Baz’s cold, dead, bleeding body. It nauseated me.

  I have never been judge nor jury when it comes to my victims. I’m ordered and I execute. That’s my job. My purpose. Whether they deserved to die or not, it made no matter to me. Wait, correction, it was not meant to matter to me.

  Why Baz has a price on his head should be inconsequential, but for some reason it’s not. I have wrestled with this conflict all night.

  I’ve watched the life drain from every type of scumsucker imaginable. Thieves, killers, snitches. I know evil when I see it. It reflects back at me every time I look in the mirror. And I think therein lies the problem. Baz doesn’t share one single trait as me.

  He has no blood on his hands or death in his eyes. He isn’t one of the bad guys. I am.

  And this bad guy has been tasked to take the life of an unsuspecting innocent. For the first time, I’m questioning the reason. The motive. My own damn morals. Who knew I still had any of those?

  The alarm buzzes, alerting me to leave. Not that I need the reminder. I’ve been dressed and packed since five a.m. But my mind is cloudy and wandering. Not a good combination for an assassin who’s about to get lost in the woods with her mark.

  The store attached to the hotel is conveniently open twenty-four hours, so I toss the backpack I bought last night over my shoulder and leave the room. I figure Baz is going to expect me to be prepared to go hiking, so I bought a ton of shit to take on the trek. A water bottle, towel, trail mix, compass, etc. I also packed an extra phone charger, the red lipstick, and my .22—silencer included.

  Baz is already waiting in the lobby by the time I get down there, and I idly wonder exactly how long he’s been here.

  His big white smile, sparkly green eyes, and affable demeanor tells me he’d wait for days if he had to. I’m momentarily flattered, but I don’t deserve the esteem. Not one bit of it.

  “Morning. All ready?” Baz reaches for my backpack, and I instinctively jerk it away.

  “I got it, thanks.” Shit, way to not throw up any red flags. Who knew he’d try to be a gentleman and carry my bag? Who knew there were any gentlemen left in the world? I thought they were extinct.

  “Okayyyy.” He backs off.

  “Sorry,” I try to recover. “I haven’t had coffee yet.”

  “Not a morning person. Noted.” We head out of the lobby. I’ll admit Baz owns the mountain man look. He’s to die for in hiking boots, jeans, and fur-lined jacket. I love his skully the most and how the ends of his long hair wisp out from underneath it.

  He just screams masculinity in every sense of the word. “There’s a great coffee place on the way. We’ll stop.” He unlocks the doors to a muddied-out F-150.

  “Someone likes to go off-roading,” I comment as I climb in. The potent scent of pine assails my senses as I recognize the same earthy scent that lingered on Baz last night. Whatever his cologne or aftershave is, it’s fucking addicting. I could get high on it for hours.

  “Shit, yeah,” Baz confirms vivaciously as he turns on the truck. The engine roars as he throws it into drive, and we peel out of the parking lot. It’s still dark, and the country roads are quiet as we head out of town.

  “So where exactly are you taking me?” I ask suspiciously.

  “A secret spot.” Baz doesn’t offer up much information.

  “That’s all I get?”

  “For now.” He grins like a shifty charlatan.

  I take one look at an unsuspecting Baz and have to remind myself I am neither judge nor jury, just a low-level civil servant here to do a job.

  We pull up to what looks like a little house in the middle of nowhere. Baz drives around the small establishment until we come to an intercom and lit up menu.

  “Coffee,” he proclaims victoriously. He seems to be very proud of his find.

  “So I see.” I peruse the menu. For a shitty little shack, it has some fancy choices. “I think I’ll do the peppermint mocha with an extra shot. And extra whipped.”

  “Sounds good.” Baz nods his head. When a woman’s voice comes over the speaker, he orders my drink and a French roast for himself with only a splash of organic cream.

  Minutes later, I’m sipping on what might be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had as we head east on the highway.

  “So . . .” Baz begins. Here comes the small talk. “Where are you from?”

  Lie. Lie. Lie. “East coast.”

  “Oh, yeah, what part?”

  “New York.” I feed him as little info as possible.

  “All of New York, or is there a specific part?” He gets smart, trying to draw more out of me.

  “The city, mostly.” I look down at my coffee cup. “I grew up in foster care so I moved around. A lot.” There. There’s your nugget of information.

  “Wow. That must have been rough.”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t pleasant.” I look out the front window into the vast darkness before me. “My past fucking sucks.” I don’t know why I said that. Holy shit. Where did that even come from? I’ve never admitted that to anyone besides Claudia before, and even then, it took months for me to tell her.

  Baz clears his throat as a blanket of comfortable silence covers the car.

  Ugh, maybe I should just put us both out of our misery and shoot him now.

  Some static over the radio draws my attention away from the window and my dark thoughts.

  “I think we need a little music.” Baz plays with the dial until he finds a clear station. “Nice.” He turns it up as a male voice sings about being the highway and the night and the lightning.

  “Who is this?”

  “Seriously?” Baz’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “Yeah, who’s singing?” I don’t recognize the song.

  “Only one of my favorite bands ever. Audioslave.” Baz opens his mouth and belts out the lyrics as if he’s on stage. Hitting the high octaves and low tenors with no strain and zero insecurities. I think I actually blush as he blatantly serenades me.

  “You like music, I take it.”

  “Love it. It’s life.” He turns the radio down so we can talk.

  “Are you a musician or something?”

  “No, not at all.” He laughs
. “I just appreciate it. Sometimes life gets a little too loud for me.” He sighs thoughtfully as he peers out the window. “Music helps me focus.”

  “I understand life getting too loud.” I drop my head back on the seat.

  Baz passes me a solemn look. Wow. What a pair of downers we are.

  “Have you always lived here?” I attempt a subject change. Just because I’m a killer doesn’t mean I have to attend a funeral.

  “No. Not always.”

  “How long then?” I pry. Fair is fair.

  “Long enough to know I like it,” he offers vaguely.

  “Fair enough.” I won’t push. We all have secrets. It’s the reason I’m here.

  The front window starts to brighten and once again my attention is pulled in a different direction. When I turn my head away from Baz, an early-morning light show is unfolding before me.

  “Wow.” I unconsciously scoot forward in my seat as a brilliant, golden hue illuminates from behind the mountain range. “How beautiful,” I muse as the black sky is chased away by a surge of fiery oranges, blazing pinks, and flaming reds.

  “Told you it was killer.”

  Dear Lord, I wish he would stop using that word.

  We drive a little while longer until we come to the base of a pass by the mountain. Baz pulls off the road and parks on the dirt path beneath some evergreens. At least I think they’re evergreens. Pines, maybe. Who knows.

  “Ready to do this?” Baz excitedly reaches into the back seat and grabs his bookbag.

  As I’ll ever be.

  We climb out, he locks the truck, and we begin our climb up the trail. The morning air is chilly, and as we hike, the clear sky starts to roll over with grey clouds.

  “Most of the trail is pretty easy,” Baz informs me as we navigate under the vibrant green, towering trees. The color of the needles is reminiscent of Baz’s keen eyes. “The hardest part is the last half mile. We’ll have to climb a few rocks to get to the spring, but it will be totally worthwhile. You good with that?” he asks with his hands clutching the straps of his backpack.

  “I’m up for the challenge,” I assure him.