Rugger: The Huntress (The Grey List #3)

Prologue

“I’ve been such a naughty girl.”

“Bad behavior must not go unpunished,” Lionel claimed, sucking the skin of his teeth with a shake of the head.

An hour ago, he’d slid next to me at the bar top. Thirty minutes ago, we were thirty minutes into our conversation. Twelve minutes ago, we’d made it to his home.

And, six minutes ago, I’d discovered the bulge in his briefs was ninety percent scrotum and ten percent dick. Disappointment surged through my veins, but the night was too beautiful to waste and I’d come too far to disengage.

The allegations aren’t true for all thin men , I gathered as I sat atop his frame.

“Then, punish me,” I insisted, placing both wrists in front of me.

“Is it my occupation that fascinates you?”

With a hearty, confident smile, Lionel pushed the hair that had fallen into my face backward. I lifted my head and quickly lowered it. The nod confirmed his suspicions.

“Umm hmm.”

His brown eyes were captivating. They held my gaze as the next question surfaced.

“What is it that you like about it?”

At the sound of the word echoing in my head, my eyes brightened and my spine straightened. Saliva pooled in my mouth and my heart pumped wildly against my chest.

“Hm?”

My hesitation wasn’t solely due to confusion or the lack of a response. In fact, I wasn’t confused at all and the word was at the tip of my tongue.

“What is it?”

I cleared my throat, in no rush to speak. It wasn’t until I was ready that he’d hear a single syllable from me. And, quite frankly, I was too busy collecting myself.

Too busy regulating my heartbeat and my nervous system. Because at the mere thought of the object, I was in an uproar.

Finally, after a full ten seconds, I turned my lips upward into a smile and dropped my hands beside me. I leaned forward and placed my lips against his ear. What I was about to reveal was no secret to anyone who knew me well enough, but it was to Lionel.

“Guns,” I whispered.

“Guns?”

His neck shifted as his head pulled backward. With raised brows and a smile that matched mine, he waited for another response.

“Rhetorical.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Have you ever held one?”

I shook my head, “No.”

Flawlessly, the lie escaped me. Though repulsed by the idea of never feeling the steel between my fingers, I managed to keep my stomach’s contents down and my features from changing.

“Tonight, you’re in luck.”

Lionel’s hand slipped from my waist and onto the bed. He slid it across the fresh linen and then underneath the pillow behind him. When his fingers were visible again, they were wrapped around a Smith & Wesson.

S&W.

SD 2.0.

40 Caliber.

Market value of $350.

Weighs 22.7oz

A bitch’s gun.

Compact.

10 rounds of ammunition.

Polymer grip.

Polymer frame.

Disgusted, I accessed the short list of details about the amateur piece of steel.

Pathetic . I cringed, disappointed for the second time tonight.

There won’t be a third .

“Here,” Lionel insisted, replacing his fingers around the grip with mine.

Slowly, I adjusted to the feeling of the cheap piece of steel in my hand.

“Now you have.”

“Is this the one you use to catch the bad guys?”

My arousal began seeping from the seat of my panties. The scent was heavenly. From the flaring of Lionel’s nostrils, it was apparent he could smell it, too.

“No.” He shook his head.

I shoved the gun against his skin, pointing at his chest.

“Hands up,” softly, I demanded.

Both hands went in the air as his right cheek fattened from the smirk on his face.

“All I have is what you’re sitting on, officer. And, you can have that.”

It’s not enough .

“Fair enough.”

I moved the gun from his chest. Underneath his chin, I rested the muzzle. Contentment paraded around me. It took every ounce of strength I was in possession of not to close my eyes and rejoice.

Invigorating. This feeling was almost beyond explanation.

“What else do you have?”

I used my thumb to toggle the safety.

“What else do you want?” He chuckled.

I didn’t join him. I didn’t find humor in his question.

“Your life.”

Fow!

Brain matter splattered my face. Frustrated with the proximity, I rounded my shoulders and wiped what was possible with the back of my hand.

“Ugh.”

Carefully, I lifted my left leg over his body and climbed down from his bed. I slid back into my heels, hating I’d ever taken them off to begin with.

“A fucking waste of my— fucking time ,” I sneered as the Saint Laurent mules slid onto my feet with ease.

One after the other, they tapped against the wooden floor beneath me as I walked through Lionel’s bedroom to gather my belongings.

Skirt.

Top.

Trench.

And–

I dug a hand into the pocket of my black trenchcoat and retrieved the travel-sized bottle of delight. It was possibly the closest to heaven I’d ever come, and I was satisfied with that revelation. It had come to me the very first time I got a whiff of the fragrance. Since, I’d fallen victim to its mysterious, bold nature.

Lionel’s body was void of life. The smell of death had already begun to circulate. While it might have been too soon for the average person to recognize the stench, I could long before it officially announced itself. To conceal the aroma, I uncapped the glass tube and extracted my signature.

Once.

Twice.

The charmed one .

I placed the cap back onto the thin bottle with Huffington lining the side and shoved it into my pocket.

“There, there now.”

I was prepared to depart. My assignment had been completed. There was no need to linger. Though the night was fairly young, I had no interest in continuing mine.

I rounded the corner as a strikingly familiar face halted all movements. In a 10x14 frame was a glowing Egypt, nestled between three of her co-workers. The unresolved anger stemming from the uncovering of her true identity and occupation sped my heartbeat. My palms grew sweaty. My lungs drew in deeply, loaded breaths coming one after the other.

Snap.

Snap .

I twisted my neck and tilted my head as Chemistry’s voice lured me from the deep, dark pit I was headed for.

She means him well.

She meant him well.

All is well, Rugger .

A sigh pushed through my lips. Finally, the hooded darkness was lifted and I could see clearly again. A smile stretched my lips upward on my face. My cheeks swelled and so did my heart.

I’d accepted Egypt into my most precious folds where she belonged and where she’d remain. Though I hadn’t forgotten, I’d forgiven and I hardly forgave. That was God’s job, not mine.

I touched the cold glass and swiped my finger down the face of the tallest, thinnest person in the image. An invisible, adjacent swipe followed. A few inches down, I tapped my nail against the older gentleman with wild hair and horrible dental hygiene.

Soon.

Very soon .

The soundproof walls that had been part of the luxury highrise’s selling point proved beneficial. Lionel’s overpriced condo had been his resting place for quite some time now. Without a doubt, I knew he was comfortable, which made leaving him alone much easier.

Slowly, I stepped out into the hallway, sure to close the door behind me. My legs stretched continuously to reach the elevator in a matter of seconds. Moving hastily wasn’t a concern of mine. It was proven to be one of the first signs of guilt.

A specific cadence began in my head. Instead of belting the lyrics, I pushed air from the tiny hole I formed with my lips.

My lover’s got humor.

She’s the giggle at a funeral.

Knows everybody’s disapproval.

Should’ve worshiped her sooner .

When I reached the common area, I pressed the elevator button and took two steps backward. As I waited, I removed the outdated phone from my trench and pressed the number two. The call was connected, immediately.

“Listening.”

Range’s voice appeared on the line before the phone had the chance to ring. The hairs stood on the back of my neck. Calls to my siblings never went unanswered. Because of my occupation, I didn’t take a single pickup for granted.

Not every day was promised. If God hadn’t made that clear, seeing me would. Knowing they were all above ground and breathing raised my skin with fine, painful bumps.

“Clean up, Project 182,” I explained before ending the call.

She was near. Always was. And before I could get my feet into the car that had been staged for me, she’d be inside the home of one of the people responsible for the capture of my brother, our leader , and the only man who had my heart.

Richie was gone. The pieces he’d collected over the years had been given to a man just as great. Just as deserving. Just as respected.

Ding .

I stepped forward and onto the elevator where I was met by a woman with coffee in one hand and the leash for her dog in the other.

“Good evening,” cheerfully, she greeted me.

Her Chanel frames were darling, forcing me to contemplate removing them from her face or tasking myself with the online search for a pair just like them.

Rugger .

Behind my black Prada shades, I closed my eyes.

Snap. Snap.

Our family’s code of conduct quickly gathered me as the sound of Chem’s snapping fingers lured me back to the task at hand.

Focus, baby .

A tilt of my head led to the sound of popping bones. My neck was relieved instantly, and so was I. The weight of theft was lifted from my palette of very distinctive, very peculiar feelings. I pushed them all aside as confusion began to haunt me.

“Hi,” she spoke, again, this time with a nod. Her eyes never left me.

Maybe it was because I towered over her at least an entire foot.

Maybe it was because I was dressed in black from head to toe.

Maybe it was because my skin was as dark as tar.

Maybe it was because my scent was potent.

Maybe it was because my head was high.

Maybe it was because signs of the life I’d just taken still lingered.

Maybe it was because she was deathly afraid.

As she should be . I resolved in my head. Witnessing my presence could be the end of hers.

Still baffled by her desire to waste precious oxygen on a stranger, I stared back at her. My brows creased and my top lip pursed. What wouldn’t come out of my mouth was possibly written all over my face. When she turned around, I figured she’d gotten the memo one way or another.

At the back of the elevator, I took my rightful place. Back against the wall . It was a rule I’d followed religiously throughout my life and it had always worked in my favor.

Aaaaa–

Amen.

The whistling continued.

I removed the battery from the phone in my hand and located the small piece of plastic surrounding an even smaller chip.

Amen.

Amen.

Take me to churc h.

On the first floor, the elevator opened. Before my guest could gather themselves, I waltzed past. As our shoulders touched, I dropped the broken SIM card into her fresh, piping hot coffee knowing the data didn’t stand a chance.

“Hey!”

I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife.

Offer me that deathless dead.

Oh good God,

Let me give you my life .

I strolled through the lobby without haste, taking in the scenery while documenting everything I witnessed.

Every sound.

Every sighting.

Every face.

Every figure.

Every piece of furniture.

It all mattered. Even when one thought it didn’t. Everything mattered.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

When my strut ended, it was only to push open the door before me. Immediately after, it continued.

Click.

Clack.

“Take me to church,” I hummed lowly, knowing it was the very last place a being of my nature should step foot inside.

I was the furthest from holy, sanctified, or saved. Nevertheless, He hadn’t wiped his hands clear of me. Bizarrely, I believed God had me wrapped in his precious arms. It was the only way to explain my existence after I’d ended so many others.

Well, and Chem. And, Richie .

I stretched the door of the black Corvette and slid inside. The motor roared less than a second after my index finger collided with the START button. It lulled my heart.

Ooooh, my. She purrs .

Though I wouldn’t visit any car lot and choose the two-door beast from their fleet, it was suitable for the night and task at hand. The cheaper, less conspicuous vehicle was perfect for the setting and situation.

In complete silence, I changed the gear and pressed the gas pedal with my right foot. Burning rubber was a rather intolerable fragrance. It crept up my nose and caused the flaring of my nostrils. My perfume was consumed.

My spine nearly fused with the leather seat as I cruised down the boulevard at one hundred miles per hour. The fear of law enforcement slamming cuffs on my wrists evaded me just as I would an arrest.

I’d rounded far too many tracks alongside racers on every level one could imagine. Second place was far too close to last. And, anything other than first place meant you’d lost. Richie had taught us well.

Rome chose the stage. Chem chose the water. Royce chose the system. Range chose the courtroom. Roaman chose the operating room. Roulette chose the entertainment industry. Rather chose the office. I chose the laboratory, but the tracks were my guilty pleasure.

If my speed, knowledge of Clarke’s streets, and skill failed me, the gun clenched between my fingers wouldn’t. Even if they could outrun me, they couldn’t out- shoot me. I’d stand on that.

Streetlights flickered above me as I pushed past each of them in rapid motion. My lungs filled with oxygen. My heart swelled with contentment.

I unraveled my fingers from around the piece weighing on my thigh briefly. With only a few seconds to spare, I pushed the button to lower the top of the Vette. While in motion, though it was prohibited in most vehicles, the roof began to recline.

Home sweet home.

There was no place on earth like Huffington. There was no place on earth like Clarke. Everything it stood for was everything I was. Everything it had to offer was everything I needed. The time away was pleasurable but it was torture, simultaneously.

I breathed better in Huffington.

I felt better in Huffington.

I thought better in Huffington.

I lived better in Huffington.

Chemistry had created the greatest escape for those of us who wanted to escape. But, there was no escaping Huffington for me. Surviving it was my only option. Now that I was on Clarke’s soil, it was exactly what I planned to do.

The assigned checkpoint wasn’t my final destination, but I’d reached it nonetheless. My suppressed desire to smell the cedar and vanilla wax melts brewing in my candle warmer while decompressing led me out of the car and on both of my feet. I stood tall before taking the first step. Then, another. Then, another.

Until, finally, I tossed my foot over the matte black Ducati. The roaring of the bike made my lips turn upward. My adrenaline was upped a few notches as I silently thanked Lamborghini for the sick slice of heaven.

Momma’s home.

I slid the black helmet over my head. It was custom, making room for my extensive ponytail. When they were in the lab creating the ones that lined the store shelves, I refused to believe there was a Black person in the room with Black children. Because since I was a little girl, I couldn’t remember one accommodating the beautiful coils, curls, or volume of our hair.

Fuckers .

With a flick of the wrist, I revved my motorcycle’s engine. Gunner was his name and he was a beast.

I flipped the kickstand with my foot and flicked my wrist once more. This time, I was catapulted in the direction of my home. On one wheel, my bike stood tall, defying gravity as a result of my aggressive hold on the handle that controlled its speed.

Just as the front tire landed on the ground, I pressed the button on the small remote attached to the dash. The heat of the flames erupting from the beautiful set of wheels behind me warmed my entire body. Without taking a look over my shoulder, I allowed the Corvette to burn.

Vrrrrrrm.

Vrrrrrrrrrrrm.

It was all a blur.

The signs.

The lights.

The exits.

The streets.

The cars.

The driveway.

When my bike finally came to a screeching halt, just inches away from the garage door that led into my home, I balanced both feet on the cement. A swift kick placed it back on the stand as I removed the key and lowered my garage. With my Storm aimed and ready to shoot, I watched as it closed slowly.

My helmet slid off with ease, freeing me from the heat it tended to trap. The clothes I wore glided down my limbs without much guidance. I removed my shoes before stepping inside of my home.

Immediately, I was met with coolness. A chill caressed me as it ran up my spine.

On bare feet, I pushed through my residence until I reached the massive pile of stones. I flipped the switch and was greeted by a deep orange flame.

Fire warmed the space just in front of the fireplace. I stepped closer, but not to be comforted by the heat. The cold was my preference. However, my task couldn’t be completed without the elements before me.

I found the dotted slit just underneath my armpit. Slowly, I pulled downward until I began to peel like a snake ready to shed their next layer. The carefully engineered, ultra-thin sheet of artificial skin that housed untraceable DNA had been a labor of love.

It had taken me six long years to perfect the design. At the age of fifteen, when I was sworn into the family syndicate, I stepped into my carefully crafted suit and had worn one during every project since.

Still, it was my proudest piece of art. From the age of seven until the age of nine – when I began the journey to its completion – it consumed my thoughts.

One hundred and eighty two.

That’s how many tasks I’d been given and that’s how many tasks I’d completed. Unlike the others, these weren’t only business. They were personal. Very personal. Very different. Very rewarding. Very necessary. Long overdue.

I tossed the first piece into the fire and watched as it melted. The second piece came off with ease, finding its way into the fire as well. I unraveled the ponytail that sat atop my head.

In the center was the final row of dots. I pulled them apart and released my natural hair. I didn’t stop shedding until I removed the larger of the three components from around my toes. One by one.

Finally, I stood back, massaging my scalp with my free hand. Because I hated the smell of burning fabric, I decided against leaving the clothes I’d worn in the fire. Instead, I stalked toward the kitchen, through the pantry, and into the room where a large barrel sat with a lid covering every inch of its top.

Carefully, I pushed back the small plastic component covering the hole in the center, and began lowering one piece of clothing at a time. I didn’t stay to watch them disintegrate. I tiptoed through my home as my nipples hardened and fine bumps covered my skin. The air was brutal and inviting at once.

My bare bottom caught my attention in the oversized mirror in my bathroom, forcing me to pause momentarily. The island had done my body well. My skin was tanned two shades darker.

I had fallen in love with it even more than I was prior to St. Catana. I didn’t know that was possible, but I’d been proven wrong.

Maybe a monthly visit . I reasoned as I continued toward the shower. The sun was far too kind to me. With a few taps of the control panel, the water poured from the showerhead. I stepped inside, unable to wait another second to rid myself of the day’s deed.

Fine beads of warmth collected and rained down on the center of my head, flattening my hair. My lids were sealed, yet I could feel the expansion of my tresses before they twisted and twirled until reaching their natural state. The transition was always the most grounding.

Twelve .

Subconsciously, I solved the problem that appeared in my head.

Six-hundred-seventy-two divided by fifty-six is twelve .

It was the fourth one of the day.

Not awful . I tightened my lids, hoping to keep my intrusive thoughts at bay. Four problems weren’t much in comparison to the ten the previous day, but they were still reminders of the mental chaos. The perimeters they created allowed me to perform well, live well, eat well, and sleep as well as a woman who was born to hunt could.

According to Rather, I wasn’t fighting any more demons than the average human. Mine were just darker. Bigger. Bolder. And, were birthed from my fears. Though few, they were present.

The death of Chemistry.

The death of my mother.

The death of a sister.

The death of Jru.

I stumbled upon a conclusion just as I opened my eyes to reach for the white washcloth.

Fourth one of the day. The number of problems I’d solved made much more sense, now. I scrubbed the liquid soap between the towel to form a thick, creamy lather. Against my body, the cucumber-scented suds cleansed me of my sins.

In exactly twenty-two minutes I was on the plush mat, allowing it to soak up the beads of water that rolled down my legs. A thick, black bath robe hugged my slim frame. Gelled patches were underneath my eyes and my damp hair was wrapped in a towel on top of my head.

I circled the toothbrush around my teeth while staring at my reflection in the mirror. Richie’s eyes gave me something to remember him by. My mother’s brows, forehead, and nose contributed to my feminine features, but they were hardly a match for my father’s genes.

Puah .

I cleaned my mouth and made my way to the conjoined room that held my wardrobe. It was fairly new. So was the home I was in. A gift from Chem . Almost every large purchase in my life had been a gift from Chem.

Though we were given monthly allowances that were separate from payments we received for our deeds, we were prohibited to spend lump sums of money. It wasn’t a written rule, but Chem had made it very clear with his actions and chastising of anyone who dared to break the unofficial commandment.

A lace thong ran the length of my legs, ending at my bare pussy. The matching bra followed. Dressed for bed, I slid open the drawer closest to the door. Staring back at me was a small arsenal, but it didn’t house the average firearms.

With my eyes closed, I ran my fingers across the collection, blindly choosing a .22. It was compact, but packed a punch.

Elation led me to the bedroom where I dropped to my knees and began confessing my truth. Most times I wondered if the Man upstairs bothered listening. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop reaching out.