The city is too loud for anyone to put a thought to the occasional gunshot. And everyone in the party is already occupied. They don’t care about the outside world.
“Goodbye, Fitz.” I squeeze the trigger, but a loud movement to my side makes me turn.
Langston.
I frown as I realize what he’s done. The gun is battled out of my hand. Fitz holds the gun to my head.
I’m the hunter who never kills.
Because Langston is the killer.
That much will never change.
6
Langston
Liesel was actually going to kill this shithead.
She would have killed him.
I couldn’t let her kill—not a low life like him. When she kills, it needs to be worth it. Her first kill will stay with her forever, as will each kill after that. I don’t want her thinking about this bastard one second longer than she has to.
Liesel’s fuming at me as Fitz grips her around the neck with one arm and holds the gun at her temple. She’s not scared; she doesn’t fear for her life. She knows that I won’t let anyone hurt her, but her red cheeks, teeth biting down on her lip, and daggers for eyes let me know how pissed she is.
“You couldn’t let me have him,” she spits out as she pulls from Fitz’s grasp, almost getting away on her own without my help.
I stand still as a statue, hoping that if I let her think about this a minute, she’ll calm down. As long as she’s in Fitz’s hold, she has time to realize she shouldn’t be fighting me. I already know how she’ll feel in my arms.
As much as I yearn for that, and hate to see her in another man’s, I can’t have what I want. I never get what I want.
Yet, it won’t stop me from demanding it, from eventually getting it. I’m tired of being patient when it comes to Liesel. Our story has lingered on for far too long. It’s time to end it.
“You’re the huntress,” I say.
She shakes her head, her anger pulsing off her in waves. “You’re the killer.”
Fitz’s eyes narrow as he takes me in, trying to understand who I am and what I’m doing here. Unlike Liesel, though, I won’t be asking any questions.
“Don’t take a step forward, or I’ll kill her,” Fitz says.
I smirk. If he killed her, it would make my life a lot easier.
Liesel notices my smirk, and her glare intensifies, as if to say, I’ll kill you and haunt you from the grave if you let me die.
I give one look to Liesel, letting her read my thoughts like we used to be able to do as kids. She slams her elbow into Fitz’s groin.
It’s enough to get him to release her.
I take slow steps forward as Fitz hunches over in pain. I grab his gun that he so carelessly let Liesel take from him. He almost let her kill him. I pocket it from Liesel, and then I snap his neck. His body falls to the ground in one crumple.
Liesel gasps. Even though she’s seen death hundreds of times. Even though she’s seen me kill—it still takes her breath away every time.
After a moment, she composes herself and stares at me with such a harshness in her eyes as she folds her arms across her chest.
“I knew I should have found someone else,” Liesel says.
I don’t answer her. She should have found someone else. But she found me. She always finds me. That’s why our lives keep intertwining.
I step closer to her. I expect her to slap me. To try and knee me in the balls. For her to try and steal my gun.
She does none of those things. She just lets me get close to her.
“If you need to kill someone, you call me. You don’t do it yourself,” I growl my command at her.
She scoffs. “Since when do I take orders from you?”
I grab her hips and jerk her to me until her chest is flush against mine.
“Never.” But you will soon, my huntress. You will soon. You won’t have a choice.
The music carries from the ballroom, making me want to dance now that Liesel is in my arms. So that’s what I do. I sink my fingers into her lush hips, and we sway together.
It’s wrong for so many reasons.
There is a dead man on the floor next to us.
We aren’t together.
We will never be together.
She’s with Waylon.
And I’m—well, my situation is complicated.
And yet, I can’t not touch her. I can’t not have her. It’s always been this way with us. Even when she was in love with my best friend. Even when she finally set her eyes on me, we both knew that we could never be.
We just never speak the reasons out loud. The reasons would all be lies anyway. That’s the one thing we share—lies.
We both grew up lying to survive, and it’s stayed with us.
“What are you doing with Waylon Brown?” I ask.
She tilts her head as she looks up at me, her long throat revealed to me, and if I dip my head lower, I can see her glorious tits staring up at me. But it’s her pulse in her neck that has my attention. I can see how fast her heart is racing.
Liesel wasn’t scared of the man who held a gun to her head. She’s scared of me. She knows I’m no longer on her side—and she knows I’m far more dangerous than Fitz was. I could harm her, kill her.
“He’s rich and good looking, why wouldn’t I be with him?” she answers back, tilting her head all the way back as I dip her over the ledge, knowing the danger makes her conflicted between desire and terrified. It also gives me the view of her elated face, and of course, I take the moment to run both my hand and eyes down the front of her dress. Her skin melts like hot silk beneath my fingers.
“Liar. You don’t care about money. Or good looks.”
I pull her back up, whipping her hard into my body. The movement takes her breath away.
“Power then?” she says it like a question.
I shake my head. That’s a lie too. Everything the woman says is a lie. I haven’t figured out what she’s doing with that man yet, but I will.
I just have to read between the lines, do some investigating. There is always a reason with Liesel, and it’s never the obvious. She would never let herself fall in love. Even though she doesn’t supply love as an answer, I know that’s not why she’s with him.
“I didn’t think you owned a tux,” she says, her eyes suffocating my body with her stare.
“I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes, calling out my lie, before her eyes flick to the dead man on the floor, and suddenly she’s sober.
“Why did you want him dead?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I found the security video of her reading the blackmail, the threat against her family.
“Stop asking questions you already know the answer to.”
She pushes away until she’s no longer in my arms.
My arms hang at my side like dead weights, no longer having a purpose.
“I’ll wire you the money I owe,” she says, still staring at Fitz.
“I already told you, I don’t want your money.”
Liesel finally looks at me, her face unreadable. But I know she’s scheming, trying to come up with a way to hurt me.
Just like I’m conniving ways to hurt her.
“You’ll take care of the body?” she asks, already knowing I will. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed a man. I work in security for the Black family, a crime family who rules the seas. I’ve disposed of plenty of bodies and killed more times than most people make new acquaintances.