Rugger: The Huntress (The Grey List #3)

2

Dear God,

Forgive me for my sins, but I have no intention to stop sinning. That is no surprise to You. Neither is the inclination that I am doing work that was assigned to me by something greater. Someone greater. By You, perhaps. Though this prayer might be pointless, my moral compass keeps leading me to my knees. So, here I am, again. Hoping my pleas are worthwhile. Regardless of their relevance in Your Kingdom, may the bodies pile.

Amen.

Invisible weights fell onto the floor as I climbed in bed, feeling light as a feather. I pulled back the first layer of linen and then slid underneath the black sheets beneath it. The panties I’d just covered my pussy with, I pushed down my thighs. My legs parted as the throbbing between them began. Anticipation hiked my breath in my chest.

I placed the .22 at my center, closing my eyes in the process. Four pounds of pressure awakened the motor. Vibration stiffened my limbs and caused me to freeze in place before I finally relaxed against my sheets.

Lionel Bradford .

He was supposed to bring my body the pleasure it was yearning for. Since he hadn’t, images of his corpse would take me to that faraway place.

Four.

My eyes popped open.

Fifty-five.

The numbers caused them to widen. In exactly one hour, my presence would be required and I couldn’t miss the meeting with my peers. I wouldn’t miss it.

As I rose from the pillow, the alarm clock beside me sounded. I placed a hand over it to silence the noise.

4:55pm.

Though it was unnecessary, the alarm was an added precaution. My body had acclimated itself with the changes of the day according to every hour in the twenty-four hour cycle. My internal clock was always accurate.

I was up and in the bathroom relieving my bladder within seconds. My wardrobe was the next stop. I pondered for a few minutes, unsure of what to wear.

Bzzzz.

Bzzzz.

Vibration erupted, causing me to freeze in place. I wasn’t sure where I’d last had my cell, but I was certain it was near. In my opinion, it was a fucking nuisance, but for my family’s sake I kept one around.

Slowly, I trekked through the room full of clothes and into my bathroom where the phone buzzed on the counter. One look at the screen and I contemplated picking up. The video call was full of the women who made my world continue revolving. And, if there was any harm ever done to either of them, the second I found out would be the last time anyone’s world revolved. Right on its axis, it would stop and life would cease to exist.

I dragged my finger across the screen before picking the phone up and heading back into the closet. The women would certainly be a distraction, but a good one, nonetheless.

“Wednesday, say something. We see you picked up!” Roulette wouldn’t let my presence go unnoticed.

“Wednesday is still getting her panties wet. That’s an insult. Morticia is more of my speed.”

I propped the phone up on the shelf and continued my search.

“Hey,” Rome greeted me.

Gentle, Rugger .

“Hey, baby,” I responded, never looking up or turning around to face the camera.

She brought something out of us all we didn’t understand or try to understand. Rome was the baby of the bunch in every sense of the word.

“Not you looking at the funeral section like you can’t find anything to wear. Girl, if you don’t pick one of the same hundred shirts and some pants, I’m going to drop kick your ass through this fucking phone.”

With every piece in my closet being black, the choice should’ve been easy to make. But, it wasn’t.

“Roaman, can you pull bullet fragments from her mouth if I let some lead fly?” I questioned our oldest sister.

She sucked her teeth, “Rugger–”

“Don’t forget I was once your tutor,” Roulette reminded me.

“Classmate.”

“Tutor,” she claimed, “We had the same teacher.”

I turned to face the camera.

“Never the same lesson. Don’t forget that part. There was nothing standard about my lesson. You can’t hang, Roulette. You know it and so do the rest of us.”

“Next subject!” Royce belted.

“Please,” Range agreed.

“Thank God,” Rather chimed in, filing her already perfect nails.

“The fourth shirt from the left and the bottoms in your hand,” Egypt called out, making the decision for me.

“Which hand?”

I pulled both up and closer to the camera.

“Your right hand,” she clarified.

“Yeah, those,” Roulette assured me.

“Thank you.”

With my right index finger, I ended the call. There was no time for chatting. I had about forty-five minutes to get dressed and across town.

Texts vibrated my cell. They were expected. Range was the only person who was aware of my next assignment and what it entailed because it was her duty to clean up after me.

I would bet my last dollar she’d advised them not to add me to the call and not to send messages following my swift departure. But, surely, no one listened. They hardly ever listened.

Their persistence curled my lips upward. I imagined I was every name in the book from everyone except Rome and Roaman. They were the only level-headed humans of the bunch. I was looking forward to reading the foul rhetoric from the otherwise sophisticated women of my family.

But, not now. Later.

My lips formed an O as a very distinctive melody began. Lyrics roamed my head as I made each note with the twisting of my mouth.

Yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah

Girl I love it

Love it…

Tell me cause,

Tell me cause I need to know if it’s really going to be you

Who’ll be around and stay around, yeah…

“Five-thirty-five.”

I toyed with the new ponytail. This one was lower and accompanied by curtain bangs I had feathered with my fingers until they fit perfectly over my eyes. They were a great addition to the simple style, and my go-to on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

I stood a few inches away from the full mirror in my bedroom. Egypt was right. The pair complimented each other well. Dressed to perfection, I peeped at the clock to confirm my suspicions.

5:35pm

I tipped my head in its direction. We were on the same page. Always were.

The black backpack dangled from my hand as I exited through the garage. The midnight blue Honda Civic had been in the same stall of the four-car garage since the previous Thursday. I climbed inside with the length of my body and the car’s capacity in mind. Though it felt like I was stuffing myself in a box every Tuesday and Thursday, the size of the sedan was comforting. Everything was within reach.

In under a minute, I was out of the garage and at the first stop sign in my neighborhood. Silence accompanied me during the drive. Just as the six o’clock hour approached, I changed gears and pushed open the door.

The setting of the sun was near. There was a tint cast over the sky, warning us all that darkness would soon comb the city’s streets for bright yellow hues.

“Five-fifty-four.”

I strutted through the parking lot with both thumbs underneath the backpack straps that were now on my shoulders. Young, ambitious adults roamed the campus, desperate for knowledge that the ones before them claimed would land them a career. Their determination was written all over their youthful faces.

Every time I pushed open the door of the classroom, it reminded me of a time when my belly rumbled with hunger for the same knowledge. I had barely reached puberty. My breasts hadn’t budded and I was still trying to figure out how to properly use a flat iron.

By the time my classmates were graduating high school, I was seeking my second college degree. Still, I sat beside them and tossed my cap in the air when the year ended and our lives were set to begin. Mine was already off to a decent start.

I pushed the spectacles up the bridge of my nose as I rested my body in the cold, plastic chair at the back of the classroom. Right in the center, I was able to see everything that moved –as well the things that were stationary.

“Settle in. Settle in. Let’s get started.”

Project 184.

“Professor Jack!”

A hand flew in the air. The collar shirt Jamie wore wrinkled as he waved, beckoning for the professor’s attention.

“Yes, Jamie, is it?”

How could one forget Jamie’s name?

He wouldn’t allow it. His need for constant attention was painful to witness.

“Yes. Yes, sir. I haven’t heard back about our last assignment. I checked the dashboard and didn’t see the grades listed, either. I’m just curious.”

“No worries, Jamie. The grades will be posted before the end of the week.”

“Thank you, professor.”

“You’re welcome. Does anyone else have a question before we get started this evening?”

Have you kissed your wife lately? Your mother? Your grandchildren? Because you should. It’ll make parting much easier for them all.

Silence.

“Alright then,” he continued, “Let’s get on with the lesson. Open your books to chapter six where we left off last week.”

I opened the massive publication to the page I’d bookmarked Thursday before the end of class. Though I had gone through the book twice, and studied each chapter weeks prior to the start of the semester, my third review was based on the progression of the course in real time.

Two hours later, the class was nearly empty. I stuffed my laptop and book inside my backpack as a lingering presence captured my attention. Without looking up from my bag, I squeezed the butt of the compact .40. My nostrils widened. Death was in the air.

Enticing .

Momentarily, I closed my eyes to savor the aroma.

Beautiful .

“Ms– White ?”

“Proje– Professor.”

I zipped my bag and pulled it over my shoulders.

“Your assignment,” he paused to nod.

Once.

Twice.

A conversation, in any capacity, with the man responsible for my brother’s incarceration filled me with unbearable rage. The hammering of my heart couldn’t be managed, slowed, or halted. Thankfully, concealment was my superpower.

“It was the most interesting, well-written, and informative of all the papers I’ve received since taking on this course. For the first time in three years, I learned something from a student. I’m impressed. And, this isn’t the first assignment you’ve turned in that has left me in awe.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t hold you up, but I wanted to tell you to keep up the good work. Law enforcement needs sharp investigators like you on our team. Your attention to detail is– stellar . Hell, if I’d had you on my team just a few years ago, I would’ve cau–”

“Goodnight, Professor.”

The fifteen hundred words we’d been tasked with writing about the supposedly anonymous, infamous case against Chemistry Childers ended with over five thousand words. Information was redacted and names were replaced with aliases’ but I was no fool. They were silently hunting the names on The Grey List and secretly requesting the help of students to give them insight into their next steps.

Fresh eyes.

Sharp minds.

If there was any truth to the words Project 184 had just spoken, he was aware of his impending death. In more words than necessary, I explained why their interest in the case was comical because the people they were hunting had become the hunters the second they were made aware of the government’s intentions. The day they rejoiced for dismantling an empire, or so they believed, was the day they became prey.

“You should sit in the front. Participate in class more. We could use your insight.”

“The only insight of mine that matters is when a grade is involved. I won’t do your job for you, Professor. That’s not why I’m here. Besides, I’m not being paid.”

Not by your agency, at least .

He nodded as I passed him. Words threatened to spill from the folds of my lips. There weren’t many things in life worse than the swallowing of words for someone who barely had any to share. Anxiously, I took the first step up the aisle that led to the door.

Don’t. I chastised.

Rugger!

I turned around, facing Project 184 . His eyes were trained on me. His brows were raised in anticipation. He was intrigued. He was enamored. He was aroused .

“And, of course, that which was shared in the assignment. Take heed.”

“Noted.”

Hard head. Soft soil.

Breaking ground with Range would be pleasurable. I made a mental note to remind her an additional shovel was needed and my company wasn’t up for debate when the digging began.

“See you Thursday, Ms. White.”

I kept my eyes trained on the door as I exited.

Impressive. His words stuck with me.

My resistance. My strength. The breath in your lungs. That’s what the fuck is impressive .

Crimson-colored blood blurred my vision. Saliva pooled in my mouth. My thirst had announced its presence and water wasn’t thick enough or pigmented enough to quench it.

Soon, Rugger .

I stretched my legs one in front of the other on the way out of the hall that held five other classes. When I reached the parking lot and the night air brushed against my skin, I released the breath I’d been holding.

I flipped open the newest mobile phone and pressed the number one. Ringing began on the other end as my shoes tapped the pavement.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

“Speak.”

“Project 183. The list– It needs alterations.”

“Patience, baby.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, frustrated with the voice of reasoning on the other end. His answer wasn’t one I wanted to hear or accept. I closed the phone as a sigh rushed out of my mouth. Hermen Jack was a splinter in my index finger and I wanted him out, immediately. The pain was agonizing and I needed that particular finger to wrap around the trigger.

Until I freed the world of his presence, I wouldn’t rest well. Eat well. Drink well. Think well. Function to the best of my ability.

The weight of it all pushed me closer to my car. Inside, I lost myself in my head. I didn’t realize I’d made it to the secluded loft on top of the storefront that was illegally acquired by my family. Inside the spacious plot, I busied my hands with the cupboard. I removed the single glass and sat it on top of the counter.

Beneath the sink was a lone bottle of aged malt whiskey that Richie handcrafted and fermented over a period of time. There were bottles just like it all over Clarke, in the crevices of the city where we frequented. The hideaways. The shadows. The places that kept our operation afloat without drawing any unwanted attention to us. The places that hid us in plain sight.

The glasses clinked as I poured a double shot into the smallest of the two in my hands. I capped the whiskey and placed it back underneath the sink. Against my lips, I rested the cool rim and closed my eyes. Slowly, I allowed the liquid to ease into my mouth, setting my tastebuds ablaze.

The burn was celestial. Richie’s smile caused my chest to tighten. I squeezed my eyelids to the point of pain. It didn’t matter how much time passed, life seemed to remain at a standstill. Though we were making strides, without him, life didn’t feel progressive.

Nothing will ever be the same .

My nostrils flared as the vision faded to black. The intangible kept me up at night. I craved Richie’s presence more than my next kill. And, since the first day I’d claimed a life, nothing had ever satisfied my appetite for blood like taking another.

Except him .

He’d left us much sooner than I’d anticipated. Much sooner than I was prepared for. And, though my mother was still alive and well, she was the mildest presence in our lives. We belonged to Richie. From the moment we were off our mother’s breasts, Richie became our source of life.

Rome and Roaman were the only girls who stuck to our mother like Velcro. Because of it, they’d inherited her meekness. They were soft by nature. They were prey. Range, Rather, Roulette, Royce, and I were predators by nature .

Darkness surrounded me when I opened my eyes. Street lights peered through the blinds and into the empty space. I gripped the back of the wooden chair and dragged it from the kitchen into the room carved for a sofa and coffee table. When my bottom landed, so did what was left of my heart.

I tipped the glass up a second time, clearing its contents. Life was unfair. So was death. However, they were the only two things promised to us as humans. Everything else was circumstantial.

“Three hundred and sixty,” I whispered in sheer defeat.

Seventy two is twenty percent of three hundred and sixty .

I rubbed a finger across the top row of my teeth as thoughts ran rampant in my head. Though the ground was dry and the clouds weren’t low, every day was a rainy one for me. The heaviness in my heart and the pain in my chest wouldn’t leave me alone.

My karma .

Lives were so easily ended by my hands. To think cancer had taken my father’s was repulsive. I’d rather him had succumbed to his injuries after a gunshot to the head or the chest. I’d rather him not have suffered.

I’d rather have someone to be upset with. Someone to go after. Someone to hunt. But, there was nothing. His life had run its course and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.

Snap. Snap .

I shook my head from one side to the other. There was little time to wade in my sorrows. A night on the town sounded better. The double shot I’d consumed was a decent start.

Up on my feet, I tossed the glass toward the exposed brick. Before the pieces all came crashing down, I was pulling the door’s handle. I took the steps one after the other until I reached the bottom.

The keypad of the garage lit when I lifted the cover. Two zeros. Three fives and the automated door cracked open to reveal a black Lexus with out-of-state tags. I rounded the front of the car and lowered my long legs just beside the tire on the driver’s side. My thumb print caused the digital lockbox to chirp. I flattened my hand to receive the key it released.

Leather seats caressed me as I put exit after exit behind me. The autumn night was enchanting. The temperature was perfect. Crisp air made it clear that winter wasn’t very far away. But, the slow winds reminded you that summer had just drawn to a close.

Solar-powered string lights guided me toward the vibrant strip that was only a mile from the expressway. Though ducked off in the suburbs of Clarke, The Hemingway Strip was a social experiment for almost everyone in the top ten percent at one point of their lives or another.

Privilege oozed from the seams that held the restaurants and bars together. Quietly, I crept through the parking lot in search of the perfect spot. It wasn’t long before I found it. I fought the urge to back into the space and settled for pulling in.

The peanut butter leather I’d warmed underneath me had heated my bottom to the point of discomfort. I lowered the seat’s temperature as I surveyed the area. Before my fingers curled around the handle of the door, I swept the bang from my face. Effortlessly, it blended with the rest of the hair that clustered to make a ponytail with a little encouragement from my palms.

I patted the side of my calf. The strap was still secure. Still tight. I lifted the armrest to retrieve a second handgun.

Two zeros. Three fives .

The secret compartment was exposed, revealing my options. Taking a peek at the bag on the passenger seat, I knew they were slim. The two larger ones were automatically disqualified due to their size alone. Blindly, I chose one of the smaller ones. The wavering of my attention was the least of my interests.

Romantic , I cringed, watching the couple passing the car with their hands interlocked.

Disgusting . The cigarette between the young girl’s fingers a few feet away was mortifying.

Impress– Hermen Jack and his logic invaded my space, again.

Sitting in the car was no longer an interest of mine, either. The black case that sat on the seat next to the matching bag revealed a pair of sleek black frames.

Oh, baby.

I removed the designer shades and pushed them behind my ears. They darkened everything around me. I secured the compact .22 in the small YSL shoulder bag and pushed open the car door. Immediately, I regretted the swiftness of my movements.

WHAM .

My car door hit the door of the car next to mine.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

The heat from underneath the car was evidence the engine was still running although it was silent. However, I didn’t need clarification. My observation prior to exiting had already assured me of the presence beside me. Tinted windows on both vehicles shielded our identities.

The miscalculated distance between the cars forced a labored breath from my lungs. Discontentment plagued me. This wasn’t the start of the night I was anticipating. Still, I shut my door and stood next to the car, examining the damage to the BMW next to me.

Piece of shit . I huffed, upset they were even still making the road hazards. They aged like milk. So did everything underneath their hood.

With folded arms, I waited for the angered driver to open their door.

Please don’t get popped , I warned in waiting. Too much attitude, too much bass, or too much volume could be the end of their life. I had no intention of putting anyone on the pavement. At least not this early in my night.

Ten seconds elapsed and I was still waiting with folded arms, staring into the pitch black tint that was illegal in every aspect of the word.

Rebellious .

Maybe I won’t. I softened my resolve. Their disregard for the law raised my brows slightly.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

I stepped away, headed in the direction of Slope . I wouldn’t wait another second to reconcile and offer a few hundred dollars to remove the small scratch on the driver’s door.

Beep!

Beep!

The honking of horns was meaningless during my pursuit of the dim blue lights of the building ahead of me. Traffic had stopped and rightfully so.

Pedestrians have the right of way.

I slid past the short line and toward the door of Slope . I dug into my bag and retrieved the crisp hundreds. Folded against my palms, I slid them into the hand of the security guard dressed in a black three-piece suit.

“Good evening– Nathan .”

Though he’d attempted to clean up the mess he’d made of his past by changing his name and assuming a new identity, there wasn’t a detail about his life I hadn’t been able to dig up through a simple search in Royce’s system.

Crinkled brows led me to a smile. With a tilted head, I nodded toward the door. His eyes stalked my bag.

“Don’t let it be you, tonight, Nathan,” quietly, I chuckled.

Yet, there was absolutely nothing humorous about my claim. It was true. I knew it. And though Nathan didn’t know me, he knew it as well.

Wherever I went, so did my friends. And, tonight, we were drinking at Slope .

“Have a good night, Miss–”

“Miss,” I replied with a shake of the head. It was best he put an end to his suspicions. “Well, enough.”

I strolled into the dark, moody establishment. Bodies filled almost every inch of the space. The variety of men who frequented the bar was a single woman’s dream. Without a doubt, one of them would soothe the thud my center had developed. I wouldn’t rest until I was sweeping my pussy across a lucky man’s face or his bone was buried in my garden. Either would suffice.

The main bar stretched the length of the building. That was only one of them. There were two levels and four more bars. The intention was to get everyone inside plastered and Slope was doing a damn good job keeping their promise.

My finger tapped against the treated wood. Discomfort clouded my thoughts, but didn’t tamper with my judgment. I slid a hand into the bag on my shoulder and removed the flat, black mirror. My survey was incomplete.

I opened the mirror and propped it up on the small patch of leather it was partially made of. The Kenzington Cosmetics gloss felt like butter on my lips. Though it quickly brought life to them, that was hardly its purpose. I roamed the crowd far beyond my reflection.

Two hundred and twelve . People surrounded me.

Easily.

Twelve minutes. To fully evacuate in the event of an emergency was cutting it close. Everyone was intoxicated.

There were more people than I had bullets in my possession. The custom strap of my leg holster only held four magazines with each magazine at their capacity of thirty rounds. With the seventeen rounds in the gun near my calf and the ten in the .22 inside my purse, I was short sixty-five.

I grew ill at the thought of my bullets being outnumbered. There wasn’t a time that should be the case. Never. Repulsed, I closed the mirror and dropped it into my bag. I didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, to retreat. I headed for the door. A trip to the car and a slightly bigger bag was necessary. They were both obtainable.

As the cool breeze trailed me out of the toasty bar and into the parking lot, comfort found me once more. I cut between the valet section of the pavement to shorten my journey. However, I didn’t make it very far after laying my eyes on the matte AMG GT 63. It reminded me of someone. Someone special.

Of him.

Teddy .

My feet would no longer move. Neither would anything around me. Everything halted as the corners of my lips curved into a smile. I dug around the purse in search of the bane of my existence. Hating modern cellular devices shouldn’t have felt so damn natural or easy, but it did. They were invasive in every way known to man.

Nevertheless, there were a few women who needed access to me at all hours of the day and I didn’t have the heart to make them worry. The untraceable line sufficed. But, if it were my choice, the flip phone or none at all would be enough.

My fingertips grazed the thick piece of matter. I maneuvered it out and into the air. I struggled to comprehend exactly what to do when the screen lit up in bright, vibrant hues. The swirly design on the screen nearly made me stuff it back in my purse, but I refrained. Instead, I tried tapping the screen and was immediately prompted to enter a code.

Two zeros. Four fives . I remembered the extra number Royce had programmed in my head against my will. Overwhelmed with the options that appeared on the screen, I closed my eyes briefly. The lump that swiftly formed in my throat was swallowed just as quickly.

When I reopened my eyes, I discovered the small gray camera next to a host of other applications. The car in front of me appeared on the screen.

Well, then .

Rather proud of myself, I stepped back slightly, trying to capture the entire car in the frame.

BEEP!

Snap.

Fuck.

A bright flash confirmed the image had been captured. Simultaneously, a blaring horn revealed I’d stepped too far into the street.

“They say images last a lifetime, but experiences– they’re the cream of the crop.”

I jolted my head in the direction of the voice, completely forgetting I was holding up traffic or that my camera was still in the air.

BEEP!

I reached into my purse, preparing to amputate the hand of the honker and put us all out of our misery. However, the same vocals that had intensified the heartbeat between my thighs had begun again. Only this time, it had raised a few notches and the words it spewed weren’t directed toward me.

“Either you’re waiting until she’s finished with the fucking picture or getting your fucking face embossed in the leather of your seats. Your choice motherfucker.”

It was then I noticed the lowered window. Not because it was obvious in the dark of the night but because arms reached right inside.

“Alright. Alright. I– My bad, man.”

“You’re right. Your fucking bad, nigga. Have some patience.”

“You’re right. You’re right. You–”

Uninterested in anything else the driver had to say, the unsolicited hero released his hold and pulled away. I lost my train of thought when his eyes found mine.

Broad shoulders silenced me.

Six feet of meatiness intrigued me.

Pearly white, straight teeth captivated me.

Perfectly tattooed, melanin skin aroused me.

“Eric.”

He extended a hand. His baritone was like a silk sheet on a warm day.

“Fair enough.”

It was then I realized I hadn’t returned the gesture and completely ignored his.

“Experiences– as I was saying.”

“Um hm.” I nodded.

“Have you ever driven one?”

Yes .

“No.”

“Then, tonight is the night.”

The keyring that was supposed to be at the valet stand was airborne before it landed in my hands.

“You want me to drive your car?” I chuckled, genuinely amused.

“It’s not that I want you to. You want to. It seems as though you like what you see. A quick lesson is nothing in comparison to–”

“Experiencing it.”

“You learn fast.”