Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

7. Ronan

Chapter 7

Ronan

Death finds you easily.

I found them.

And it’s a she.

She is Venom.

The devil in black that has invaded my mission and branded my thoughts. Every minute, every day, I’m staring at her photo; my mind making up its own description of what’s under the hood. The fascination with her is becoming sickening, but I won’t stop until I see who she is.

My pen taps on my desk, hitting papers and maps that’s not holding my interest. Then I lean back into the chair, squeaking as the pen falls to my lips. Flashbacks of her bashing me in the nose and escaping with no fear in her step, it lit a different kind of flame in my chest. I reach over onto my desk, grabbing the cold metal. Her dagger fits in my hand like a personal souvenir. I swirl it around in my vision, admiring the design and embedded letter as I think back on the other night.

I smirk at the thought. The bloody scene and dead body likely took her aback when she arrived in the apartment—not as fucked up as her mess, but I’m sure the same results. Frustrated, wondering who got to him before she did.

My only problem is: She can become the problem, and that’s why no matter how intrigued I am, she has to go. I didn’t wait this long and map out my poison just for it to be drained right from under me. I don’t know what her smoke is, all I know is she’s after these men too. And I want to find out why.

After that, I’ll get rid of her, dump her body in a river somewhere, and then I can finish the job. I wonder if she’ll scream and beg me to stop when I’m carving her own letter on her body, or if she’ll smile while she faces her death. I’ll find that out soon.

Hence, why I spent the other night figuring out her moves. I decided not to go after Henley, who’s next on the list. Okay, technically I did, but not the way I planned. My generosity took hold, allowing her to keep the one up on him.

I watched her scope out my guy. Same bar as before with Joe. See, I knew she was going to end up there, and she’s going in order—just like me.

She’s vigilant, not making herself known, hiding behind the dust and carved shadows. The whisper that makes no sound. It intrigues me even more, itching at my sleeve. That itch behind your neck that doesn’t leave. I need to see what this mystery woman is doing. She wants them dead, and it’s clear she’s on the prowl for them.

My blood is pumped, feeding the adrenaline to watch her in action, to witness her kill more ruthlessly than me? I won’t forget the art piece she left behind that night. I swear I dream of it over the nightmares I already have.

Unfortunately, she didn’t kill Henley, and I won’t deny my disappointment—I was looking forward to it. Instead, she waltzed off in the wretched shadows, ducking through people that walked the sidewalks. Blending in well with the dark and the hooded ensemble that most of the Hollow City residents wear.

I continued following her. Not making it obvious, of course, like walking behind her. That’d be stupid. It’s not like in a movie, where people don’t know when you are following them; they can sense you, causing them to panic and possibly run off.

I don’t want that. No.

She goes past the small brown café that’s closing the gate. Her head stayed down, with her hands tucked into her hoodie pockets. She headed toward a well-lit corner store, and I hoped she would’ve turned her head once she passed the store—just to get a glimpse of her.

She didn’t. Wishful thinking.

My car rode slowly, gliding up, turning the corner. She walked at least ten blocks, and it makes me wonder if she has a car. If so, then why is she walking by choice?

She ended up at an old three-story apartment and slipped in. It’s not like the one from Tractor’s place. No, this had life to it, with well-kept people and no signs of crackheads lurked in the pathways. I parked far across the street, shutting my car off. My eyes squinted, and I grazed my chin.

I narrowed in on the building, minutes passing as I raked my eyes up the windows, guessing which light may flick?—

On .

A grin spreads across my face because now I saw you little, venomous snake. I watch her silhouette moved past the covered white curtains, shielding me from discovering the menace. I could’ve gone inside. Scared the fuck out of her, strangled her until near unconsciousness, then killed her.

I shifted in my seat. I won’t. I needed to see her face. She’s clearly skilled from the way she walks and conducts herself. And let’s not forget the bloodshed she left at that fucker’s house. But this is better than anything else because now I know where she stays.

I flop out from the memory as my fingers fly to my keyboard, typing in my code and scanning my thumbprint. Security is a must with our devices. I look at the three large screens in front of me. Henley pops up, and I lean back, making an arch with my hands and bringing them to my lips.

I’m going back to the bar because I may be insane, but I have an inkling she’ll be there again. I stand, stuffing her dagger into my pocket to head out.

I bust through the doors toward Boone. “I’m going alone tonight.”

Boone straightens up, his stance stiff with a furrowed brow, before nodding. He doesn’t talk much out in the open, and I don’t force him to. I’ll rather him not try to talk me out of doing a stake out alone.

“If I don’t come back. You know what to do.” If shit goes left, Boone takes over. Mal refuses to partake in it and believes I’ll never die. I’d like to think that in this business you can pretend to be God all you want. But you’ll be seeing that motherfucker sooner than not still thinking you’re invincible.

Without much talk, I leave. Hoping to avoid Mal because she will want to join, and I do not need her to.

Time to find you, Minha cobra venenosa. My venomous snake.