Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

6. Venom

Chapter 6

Venom

Location:

Joe’s house

Operation: Kill

I leave my marks on most of my victims. But each one of them will get my mark.

‘V.’

So even if they find out what’s happening to their men, and they attempt to flee with my scar, I will always find them. The next night, after scoping him out at the bar, the night before, I attacked. I could’ve done at that moment, but something felt off.

I spotted two similar black trucks, which are odd to have in the same parking lot. Same color, yes. Same type of truck. No.

And two, he also had some lady with him tucked around his slimy arms. I don’t need witnesses, and I’ll rather not catch him getting his rocks off.

So, I silently invited myself into his house, which was gray but surprisingly clean. The only thing out of place was a plethora of cigarette buds in an ashtray on the coffee table. Which is a shame because he’s killing himself from the inside out, when I’ll be the one taking care of that for him. It won’t be cancer-ridden sticks destroying him, but me.

The couch showed signs of wear and was positioned in a way that made it obvious it was where he laid. Soon as he walked into his house, I throat punched him, when he fell to the ground, I took that moment to press my boot into his back as he gagged and gurgled, desperate for air.

Before he could get any air out or any relief of breath, I whipped out my knife, slicing him from his nape and all the way to his low lumbar. His death screams roared out. Maybe he should’ve chosen to live in a neighborhood and not on empty land. Then everyone would hear his cries for help. But the best part is knowing that you’re crying for a mercy that will never be granted.

It works in my favor.

“Enjoy your journey to hell.” I kicked him over, then plunged my knife into his throat. The crimson splattered up and hit my face, the warm goo dripped down my cheeks, eyes, and above my upper lip. My stomach twisted with nausea. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to stop the gag.

It was right at the base where the acid lay, making its way up.

I may be a killer, but I’ll never get used to the feel of someone else’s blood on me. Unless it’s mine, of course.

I swallowed it down. I hate it, but I did love seeing his eyes widen, probably wondering ‘why me?’ His hands flew to his throat as my venom stung and invaded his artery, infesting itself into his streams.

Now he was truly being eaten from the inside out. The idiot continues to writhe and squirm like a fish craving a bit of air, but instead I placed my hand onto his cold, sweaty cheek soothingly.

“Shhh. It's okay, you’re just dying. That’s all.”

That's when I went to work, grinning the entire time as I carved my symbol into his back. My smile was genuine as I glanced down at my handy work outlining his puffed skin. “‘V’ marks the spot.”

The last word he gets after stringing him to his tree in his backyard upside down. My blade is so sharp, it was easy to stencil in another letter in the front. If I’m honest, I’ll say it added a bit of life to him over the ugly ass tattoo on his chest. A symbol that I didn’t bother looking further at.

I’ll say that wasn’t easy, and my back ached from tying his feet to the ropes, then pulling it up from the tree branch. His disgusting, dark red blood spilled to the ground, draining from him like molasses. A pool of blackened crimson formed underneath, almost sending him off to hell’s home.

No matter how much my muscles burned, it was so Goddamn worth it.

After that wonderful achievement, the next night I move on to my next victim. Tractor. He lives in the slums of Hollow City, tucked into the dark pits where all the crime and drug dealers hang out. Worn out buildings with broken shades and barbed windows resemble the true meaning of rundown. It’s ridiculous that he retrieved this money from taking people to still resort to living like this?

The wind brushes under and through my thick hoodie, the material not giving the warmth that I need. I stuff my hands inside the opening pocket, cupping my fingers together to heat them. Winter is my favorite season, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy the cold air that comes with it.

I round the corner, avoiding the cracks and fresh gum sticking on the pavements. I move out of the way as a kid on a skateboard swoops past, brushing an extra gust of air by me.

I keep my head lowered and my ears open. The neighborhood is silent—which is odd, free of humans, only awakened by the passing cars and blaring horns.

I make my way up the deformed stairs as a man on his phone jogs down, not bothering to look at his face. I can tell it’s a man by his large boots and how his legs open as he goes down each step. He takes up half the radius of the staircase, and it’s not wide. I attempt to squeeze by, but he runs right into me. The strength from him moves my shoulder back, almost making me stumble into the rail.

Walking with your phone to your eyes in a sketchy neighborhood is not smart. He’s going to get robbed. Poor thing. I truly don’t wish that on anyone, but he can learn that lesson the hard way.

I straighten up, my focus still on the prowl to upstairs. I fix my hoodie as I walk up.

“Apologies,” a deep and rough voice speaks out. I don’t turn around because I don’t care for his atone, only for him to leave me alone.

“Watch where you’re going.” Asshole . I roll my eyes as I thread the curls through the hoodie after tightening the drawstring. Now, back to where I’m going. What floor does Tractor live on again?

“I’m not sure if you got the notice, but the building is closed.” He has an accent. It’s not difficult to detect he’s of Spanish descent with his slurred words, but the English is understandable. And the notice?

The pebbles under his foot skeet in a way, letting me know he’s shifted toward me.

“Not for me.” My hand wraps around the handle to open the door. I am not concerned with upholding any laws and policies for that. This man upstairs is about to meet death and there is nothing, not even a city work-order, could do to stop his fate.

He lets out an annoyed breath, his boots scraping up the stairs. “Look, lady, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” And before I know it, his large hand wraps around my arm, bringing me back.

What the fuck?

My heart shoots to my throat as I go into red alert defense mode. I twist around rapidly, breaking from his grasp and aiming for his nose. Not letting it break, but enough to make it bleed out.

He stumbles back, growling so loud that it’s enough to send a tingle up my spine. “What the?—”

I cringe to myself, tucking my lips between my teeth. Crap. Reflex. I don’t stop to check on him. He shouldn’t have touched me. You don’t touch someone you don’t know, and plus, nobody puts their hands on me unless I allow them to. I stroll to the elevator. Thankfully, the door is already open, so I didn’t need to wait and eventually going head-to-head with this caveman. I don’t have the energy to kill two people in one night.

Another bark rings out, loud and vicious. “Are you crazy!?”

I smile to myself. Kind of.

Okay, where did he live again? Oh yes, third floor. I press the number button, then I lean on the wall to get comfortable. I gaze up at the flickering light and dead flies lying inside the dirty covering.

Until this hulk of a man burst through the doors. I flinch, a jolt racking my body, similar to being a part of a horror movie. My heart swells in my esophagus, cutting my eyes to him. Due to the crappy lighting, I don’t get a great view of him yet, but he’s bestial and now stalking to the elevator unhinged. Oh, my hell.

His strides are long and powerful, his stature tall and strong—enough to break through a brick wall. As he gets closer, I see fury on his face, the clench in his jaw and blood trickling down to his mouth. The rage is so intense, it’s making me enthused.

I smirk, my heart rate picking up from the turmoil burning from him. He stills for a second, as if he’s trying to map me out and see who's the person who fucked up his nose. I could scream like a normal woman would when seeing a dark and crazed figure launch toward them, but instead, I raised a hand, waving bye to him. I can tell that irks him, grinding his fucking gears because he charges at me blazing with rage. Oh! He’s a crazy one.

I love it.

I get one last look at him, tawny brown skin and deep honey eyes. I scrunch my brow, the name popping into my mind. Something distinctive pulls at the pit of my stomach. The door shuts before he can smash into it, and I finally let out a breath. The doors begin to part slightly, and I jolt back into the elevator wall. “What the hell.” I mutter. Then it slams closed. I release a sigh of relief, rubbing my chest and frowning. “Fucking maniac.”

Two loud bangs travels up to the elevator shaft. Maybe he kicked the door. I don’t blame his aggression. I mean, he did get his ass handed to him by a woman. But I’m not just any type of lady—I’m trained, and I’ll slice your throat in the blink of an eye. However, that doesn't mean it didn't send some unease up my spine. I relax again, swallowing the dryness away, thinking back on the lunatic.

Honey eyes. I glance down at nothing, the connection setting in. I jump off the wall, heat flaming my neck. No. He’s not in Hollow City anymore. I’m sure of it.

I’m so bent on killing Ronan, I think every guy is him. I relax, letting out a thick sigh, resting back on the wall that I’m sure someone pissed on.

What if it is him?

No, of course, that’s not him. Anyone can have honey-colored eyes. And the last time I checked, Ronan had very short, faded hair—this man’s hair was fuller and wavy.

But the same color. I throw off my hood; the fabric making it turn into an inferno. It’s been twelve years, and anything can change.

I shake my head. No. I’m going crazy.

The elevator doors expand, stopping on a floor with dirty green carpet and terrible lighting. Damp air, mildew, and the stench of urine combined set in my nose. Bile rises in my throat from the terrible blend. I swallow it down, covering my nose with my hoodie sleeve, finding the number to the apartment. Forgetting about the altercation and my paranoia, I walk past several doors until I’m at the spot. He’s probably not here since the building was evacuated. If so, I can stay until he gets back. From the sight of it, there is not a soul in the apartment.

Expecting the door to be locked, I still twist it, only to find it open and ready for me to go in. I wait a second, frowning deeper as I glance over my shoulder and down the hall.

Why would it be open? More than accessible for me to stroll in a slice off his face. Speaking of slicing, I reach for my hip, noticing the weight is lighter than usual. My hand touches an empty holster.

“Shit,” I grit through my teeth. I look down, sure I’m touching the wrong spot.

Empty.

My legs stiffen, taking in notice that my dagger is, in fact, gone. Son of a bitch. It was just on me. Where did it go?

I peered back down the hall, hoping to see a gold and black blade. My eyes spread wide, not catching anything. Dammit . I let out a frustrated groan. I’ll have to check downstairs before some kid gets to it and dies from poison.

Oh God, that’s a horrible outcome.

But fuck me, what if that disaster is still awaiting me downstairs like an axe murderer, hiding next to the elevator shaft, ready to snap my body in half?

I can fight. My fist can hold its own, just like my dagger.

With my decision, I lean onto the door to push off, but it opens slightly, knocking into something hard, blocking the entrance.

My eyes squint. I push it again, and I’m met with the same resistance. I skate my view around, the door ajar, and I can get a glimpse of the inside.

Blood trails as if someone dragged a body. I push my weight harder into the door with a small grunt and stick my head inside. Oh, hell. My eyes grow wider.

Tractors’s body lies flat across the foyer with his legs splayed. Blood spills out from the bullet wedged right in between the crease of his forehead. His eyes are still open, and his face is slack, like he died pleading for his life.

This is not right. My breath comes out harder as I slam the door shut. I back away, looking around. This should not have happened. My throat becomes dry as I piece in the puzzles. Was he murdered before the city called in the water repair? I scurry off, speeding to the elevator.

Who the hell killed him? I jab onto the dirty elevator button at least twelve times before it opens with a ding. It could be some enemies he's been dealing with. Who really knows what he's gotten himself into with other people. Then again…

I think harder. That was fresh blood. This just happened not too long ago. At least ten to fifteen minutes before I arrived, and the only person who comes to mind is the random man jogging down the steps. Nothing seemed out of place with him, yet apparently the city called for water leakage, so what was Tractor doing here if that was the case, and why was the mysterious crazy man here if no one should’ve been here?

I blink, catching my breathing as I play out options, reasons, and fucking ponder why .

I’m going to figure this shit out because if someone has it out for my victims, then that’s a huge damn problem.

The elevator door swings open, and I don’t think of the man that may be skulking, waiting for me.

Part of me hopes he is, so I can kill him just for being annoying and me not getting the actual person I came for. I fold in my lips, stalking to the front doors, praying to the sky that my dagger is still there.

I get outside, and I’m hit with a gush of chilly air and no dagger. A chill runs down my arms and legs as I scream internally.

Shit .

This is all just going to utter shit. I would say a kid got it, but a twisted and logical part of me knows that man took it. And if he took it, then he better hope and pray that I don’t find him.

I glance back up at the apartment building, rolling my eyes. Looks like someone’s replaced with Tractor here and is now added to my kill list.