Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

11. Venom

Chapter 11

Venom

Four days later

Location: Terrain Construction

Operation: Kill Henley…?before Ronan does

I had a terrible nightmare last night.

Ronan found me, grabbed me and dragged me by the leg and all the way to his lair of demise. I was fucking petrified, I was screaming and clawing the ground, begging for him to release me. All he did was glare over his shoulder with bright brown eyes and continue until he threw me into a large black dungeon.

I woke up in horror and sweaty with fear. For the first time, it consumed me whole. Which is also how I knew it was a dream I would never allow myself to give into a begging tantrum, and I sure as shit won’t succumb to Ronan, out of all people.

You know what I think? I think he must’ve been hit in the head a few too many times in this business. If he thinks I’m going to sit idly by and let him tell me what to do or work with his league of weasels, then he’s very much mistaken.

Everything that he does makes me uneasy, especially learning his entire reasoning behind this. I won’t let it misguide me and change my mind, regardless of what he’s doing.

It’s also why I’m ducked behind a construction trailer with my gun in my hand. It’s a quarter past five, the sun is near its end, layering moody and dull clouds that hide the brightness. It’s fitting for the results to come.

Death.

Chunks of gravel shift and crunch beneath the sole of my combat boots, and my knees nearly go numb from the position. I waited until his crew members and employees left for the day, only leaving Henley behind to tend to manager duties. If only his staff knew the real man behind the scenes, the one that’s involved in callous acts and misconduct.

Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if Henley and his employees are a part of the corruption he’s involved in. Do I have to kill them too? Are they involved with a filth of a man that orchestrates kidnappings and steals money from the rich to meet their monthly salary?

Truth be told, I can care less if you steal from the rich. At least do it for a good cause, maybe to feed the less than, I don’t fucking know, but don’t take children in the midst and scar them for life. It’s cruel.

Don’t kill a brother—that meant more to someone than anything else.

Thinking about it fills the flames with the venom that burns my veins. I’ll leave the rest of my assumptions for later and stick to the now .

I lean my back against the metal. The wind blows against my neck, signaling to me that it’s time.

I glance around once more to get a feel of my surroundings. Metal scraps residing on the ground left unattended, an unattractive trailer with porta potties line awkwardly over the closed off site with a gate blocking the entrance. Machinery and forklifts parked neatly by the gate, blocking the view for anyone to glance in, including the hazards warning signs nailed to the various poles and the ‘Do not enter under construction’ sign plastered outside the gate.

I twist my body over a head, where metal stairs lead up to an even more unappealing shed container that’s seen every weather condition you can imagine. Three windows line down the sides of the storage shed, giving me a view of Henley.

Hi there.

I glisten with joy, spotting Henley walking past his window, phone to his ear and body shifting around to talk to whomever. From the way his mouth opens wide and other hand swipes and gestures out means his complaining about something.

I lean back against the small shed as my feet move forward, tiny pebbles scrap and filters in every glide to the end of the shed. The simple plan is to make it up the steps as quickly as possible before he plans to leave.

Once I’m almost past the trailer, I glance over again, only for my chest to grip me as if someone personally took the muscle and crushed it with their bare hands.

My eyes spread drastically with a rattle to my teeth that could crack the tooth. Ronan gradually walks up to the steps with his gun in his hand while the other is in his black jacket pocket, like he’s going to a restaurant.

Are we serious? My heart tumbles around like a boxing bag, every knock sends me into attack mode.

When did he get here? And how did I not catch it? Dammit, there’s no way he’s killing Henley before I do.

On a different mission now, I take the initiative to kneel while running over to the stairs, unseen by Henley. I hop over sharp tools and loose boxes on the way.

Ronan’s eyes slant at me from the footsteps of the gravel being munched and kicked. His brows lower with a squint in an amused surprise, and I swear on the planet of this universe that I spot a flicking grin on his lips.

I shoot a knowing glare at him as I arrive at the steps, same as he does, with an extra weight of animosity on my shoulders. I glower as my finger rests on the hilt of the gun that resides at my side, suddenly feeling trigger-happy. I could shoot him now and end it.

Another time.

“Glad to see you’ve arrived,” he says nonchalantly, turning to start his- myyyy journey.

I block the way with my arm, my gun hitting the rail, I squeeze past his wide frame to go before him, our bodies brushing together as I swivel in front.

“I’ll take it from here.” I begin transcending up the stairs with a skip until a hand is clasped over my elbow, pulling me back. My eyes bulge from the boldness that he takes in touching me. My head snaps back to him hard enough to rock off my shoulders. “You really are a termite.” I seethe through clenched teeth, leveling with his height due to the steps. I get uncomfortably close to his face that I can see the dilation in his honey specs. Or smell the musky wood scent he gives off.

He lets out a light breath that flows into my nose, with a chilling smirk that shouldn’t come off attractive. My shoulders tense as his body shifts up a step, towering over me on this much too small stair. The edge of his boot knocking against mine as he hovers above me like an ant to a human. I have to stretch my neck to look up at him.

“I’ve been referred to as worse. I’ll take the compliment,” he says smoothly, with a wider smirk that makes me want to uppercut him again. With his hand still on my elbow, he shifts me back behind him. Attempting to because I keep my hand locked tight on the rail. He tosses a warning look, using more force to wrench me off the stairs. I pinch my lips as he gets the best of me with his unholy strength, almost flinging me around back to the bottom steps.

“I got this,” he states in an authoritative tone that grinds my gears into overdrive.

I let out an aggravated groan, raising my gun to his back as he sets his foot on the next step. I cock it to get his attention.

“Did you forget the gun? I can shoot you right here,” I spat out, making my way back up the steps one foot at a time.

He stops, letting out a ragged breath with a tilt back of his head, like I’m the one stopping his plan. He fixes himself back straight, placing his gun into his back belt, then turning around and by the time he does, the barrel of my gun is right back where it started from the beginning. Aimed at his dome.

He tilts his head slightly, sending the loose strands of his hair to fall over his eye. “Make my day and try. I want you to,” he says precariously low, stepping back down to meet the gun halfway. His eyes flick into an ominous narrow, shifting the curl of his lip.

“You must be a fool to welcome your death this way.” My foot raises to the next level, now pressing the gun to his forehead.

“I welcome him every day. He and I are the best amigos .” Ronan grabs the gun and instead of yanking it from me, he jams the cold metal further into his skull, narrowing his gaze at me. “Go on, do it.”

My throat itches for only a second as I shift on my feet, glancing at the door overhead and to the stairs. His callousness is ill-fitting. I would rather catch him off guard or see fear in his eyes before I do something that should have my best ending result. Satisfaction. I don’t want to see him excited and encouraging me to go for it. Wanting me to kill him. Nothing about this is satisfying, if anything I’m uncomfortable.

Besides, what would I get out of killing him now, it’ll only alert Henley the idiot up there. “I won’t waste my precious bullet on you. It’s too important, and you just are not.”

I pull the gun from his tight grip, mushing him out of the way with my foreman to get to the source. He grunts from the hit but pulls me back by the wrist. Fury jolts up my stomach, stinging my legs.

I yank my hand from his hold; that’s the fourth time he’s touched me without my approval. “Boundaries aren’t your strong suit, is it?”

His lips fold in, stretching the slice over his mouth with an annoyed flare to his nostrils. “Not if it requires me to protect you. You don’t know what he has prepared in there—he could have a bomb for all we know.”

I’m not sure why his words churn my belly with resentment, polluting me with detest.

I shake my head. “It’s twelve years too late for your protection. I didn't need you then, and I damn sure do not need you now. And news flash asshole, I don’t need your help,” I snarl, wiggling my gun to give him that preview again. I’ve done well handling my own thus far. Why the hell do I need him out of all people to do that? Fucker .

“That won’t do you justice if you’re blown to pieces.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I rush out, bunching my shoulders and turning away to move on.

Ronan lets out a huff. “Anita.” He grabs me again. My arm swings back, aiming for his face, but he catches it swiftly like he’s been preparing since that night. He twists my arm back to my side, yanking me to his chest.

“Take your hands off me,” I grit through clenched teeth, squirming to be released from his hold, my gun nearly slipping from my grip. Maybe I should shoot him in the foot.

He shifts me down the steps; my resistance doesn’t seem to have much effect on him, and it’s unbearable as my body is rigid. “Need I remind you what happened last time you did this.”

He closes the gap, his foot on the step above, blocking me from moving. “And I’ll remind you I’m open to all your stunts and tricks. But do know this, I’ll win every time.” He retorts, shooting a narrowed gaze at me.

I growl in frustration, wiggling again. “I hate you so much.”

“I’ll take that.”

The door to his office opens and our attention snaps to it. Henley walks out with the light in the office off and papers in his hand. His focus is on the jingling of his keys until he perks up and notices the two people in all black with a gun each. Terror folds over his eyes and gaping mouth, the papers spill out, the wind catching it and flying them down toward us. Everything seems to go in slow motion and all we need is Mozart playing in the background. We both swipe the papers as Henley rushes back into his office and slams it shut.

“Fucking shit.” Ronan grits out, slapping the last, then shooting me a furious look like it’s my fault. Really!? Pushing off the rail, I jet up the steps to get to the door. Crap, crap, crap.

In such a hurry, Ronan glides his hands up my waist and grips to speed me up. “Stop touching me!” I screech, swiping him away. Once to the top, I swung open the door to find Mr. Henley here, grabbing for anything in his vicinity to swing at us, including a large pipe. I duck, hoping it hits Ronan instead. Lifting back up, my leg swoops up connecting with his arm, he hollers, his hand falling down. I backward kick him, and Mr. Ronan adds on kicking again , hitting him in the chest. Extremely hard.

“Shit!” He growls, crashing back into the window, the glass shattering behind him.

Ronan pulls out his gun to shoot, but I kick the gun out of his hand. You will not be killing him, I am!

Ronan glares at me. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Fuck off!” I scream, turning quick and aiming my gun at Henley, who’s now running around his desk grabbing a lamp.

“What the fuck do you want!?” He shouts, throwing the lamp. I duck, pulling the trigger, but he dodges it like a mouse. It hits the wall instead. He’s quick when he’s terrified. Good. Makes it more fun for me. He runs back over to the window, throwing across the desk and chairs. By that time, Ronan retrieves his gun and takes aim.

Henley ducks in time and leaps out the window.

My eyes widen, rushing to him. “What the?—”

Bam, bam splat!

I look over the frame and down below at a body laid crooked, and blood splatter from his skull. Idiot hit a dumpster before making it to the ground. It’s a two-story level, so he would’ve made it. But not if he got banged up along the way.

Ronan leans over me to scope out the scene, his body resting on my back and a manly aroma fumigating my nose. “Looks like he killed himself.”

My lips pinch with a sharp eye roll, my ears ringing from his deep voice and breath on my hair. I elbow him out of my way. Too close, too fucking close. “You think.” I storm off, swinging the door open and deliberately slamming it back. I stomp down the steps as the wind blows through my hair. What was the point if I couldn’t end his life?

Goddamn Ronan ruining everything. My boots hit the metal staircase like it’s my worst enemy; I march down each step, tapping my gun on the rails, shaking the unstableness in a shaft motion.

A second later, Ronan bust through the door as I make it down the last step and round the stairwell to get to Henley. I eye him with disgust, catching him already staring at me with this unsettling expression that ruptures teeny tiny pricks down my neck.

I arrive at a?—

Shit on rocks .

I curl my arm around my waist, resting the pointer and middle finger between my brows. I shut my eyes, not from the disgusting view of his dismantled body. But because my way of killing him would’ve left things less messy. Less bloody.

The other night with Joe, I’ll admit I got a little hyper and gory. But today was a straightforward day, uncomplicated and less grimy.

The scraps of pebbles and the crunch of rocks rips into my intrusive thoughts. I open my eyes, my fingers still on my head, glancing down at the man. His head hit the edge of the dumpster, causing it to split open and part like the Red Sea. His eyes are open, looking up to the sky as if he were praying to whatever is above to accept his soul.

“I’ve never seen anything like that. A man that jumps to his death.” From the corner of my eye, Ronan places his hands on his hip, shaking his head.

I roll my eyes. “He planned to escape. He must’ve forgotten the dumpster was right there.”

He continues to shake his head. “I’ll call sanitation. One less man down.”

I lower my hand, facing away from the sight of him. Ronan, I mean. He disturbs me. I stare off at the birds in flight with their flock. Soaring the skies, flowing through the clouds, free and all. So free.

“Next time, let’s not fight over who goes first. I could’ve killed him before you went all solo.”

My teeth grind over each other, my foot tapping from the baritone of his accent swarming in my ears. I swing around, my feet kicking up. “There won’t be a next time, Ronan,” I emphasize his name with an extra flick of my tongue.

“This can be so much easier if you put aside whatever issue that-.”

“Issue.” I scoff as he speaks, shifting my hips with a vigorous tap of my foot.

“You have with me,” he finishes, pointing to his chest with a cock to his head. “And give some thought to joining me. This will only continue happening until, next time, we both get killed because of your actions.”

My actions?

Steam rises in my chest like a volcano preparing for eruption. Heat overtakes my being, and my hand itches to slam my gun right into his nose.

I glance at the ground where the body lay. Don’t let them see you weak, Venom.

I release a lengthy breath, cooling the burn that gathered on my head. I send a tight smile. “Have fun cleaning up the mess from my actions. ” I walk backward, leaving him with a smirk and my middle finger directed at his clenched jaw and burning gaze. “And go ahead, track me with your silly little device all you want, you creep.”

“That’s not a tracker. Press the button and you’ll see. You know I’m right.” He yells out, stuffing his hands into his jacket.

I twist around, my middle finger still raised. Although I should feel like I’ve accomplished something from that, I’m delivered with something entirely different. Because a sick part of me wants to entertain his idea of joining forces.

And I can never do that.

“Are you sure it’s fine?” I ask Oliver, switching the phone from my hand to my shoulder while I unclip my magazine from the gun and place it onto the small table attached to the RV wall.

I stroll through the camp truck that squeaks each moment I take a step. It’s old, but inside it’s completely refurbished, with fairy lights lining over the walls and a small kitchen section with a flat stove burner and one square sink.

“Of course.” Oliver sings out in his husky voice. “What are friends for? What’s mine is always yours.” he says in mandarin, reminding me of that, although I don’t accept it. I went this far in this trade to keep my relationship at a minimum of none. No feelings, no friends, no L word.

I rock my head with a low smile because no one can see me. “Well, thank you. I’ll try my best to keep it tidy.”

He chuckles. “You better. Unless you want to leave some panties for me, that’s okay too.”

My mouth gapes. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

His laugh becomes louder, and I roll my eyes, clicking the end call. I tap the phone in my hand, glancing around the little home once more. I haven’t felt comfortable enough to even stay at the motel.

The invasion of my privacy is unsettling, and maybe now I can get some kind of good sleep. I won’t have to keep one eye open, thinking I’m going to wake up with Ronan hovering over me like a creep.

I slant through the narrow section past the bathroom door and up the one step to get to the small area. It resides a king-size bed in its cubby and a set of white towels, extra white blankets, pillows and a thicker cover above the shelf of the bed.

I get undressed, cleaned up in the small tube of a shower—washing away whatever filth and grime I experienced from today’s catastrophe.

Once I’m all clean, I dress in my oversized shirt and flannel pants, grabbing my old clothes to fold into my bag.

A blue flashing light flicker in my jean jacket, with a tiny beeping noise like it’s signaling a device. My heart pulsing in my throat, as I grab for what I know it is.

Dammit, Ronan. I pull out the black metal circle card, and that only sends my stomach tingling with an unknown flap. Of course, he slipped it in again. I can laugh at his bravery while crushing this thing again. But there’s that inkling again, transferring into this pulse that swarms into my mind.

It’s not a tracker; press the button.

You know I’m right.

We should be working together.

If I work with Ronan, that goes against everything. Everything . I have worked toward what my father wanted. What I nearly vowed before he took his last breath.

“Anita.”

My heart jolts from the voice of my father calling me by real name. A name he hasn’t called me in years. And yet on his deathbed he does. I’m not sure whether to be happy, sad, or angry.

I gaze up at my withering father, whose face is sunken and gray from lack of energy.

“I should’ve been a better f ? —”

“No,” I quiver out as I grip his cold, frail hand, placing it to his chest. My throat is tightening with pressure, my nose stinging to keep the emotion behind my eyes.

He sighs, closing his eyes, his breath weak like a whisper. “You know what to do then. Revenge will always prevail.”

My chest dents in with a hitched breath. “Yes, General. I will get them all.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t want to hear my father’s words. His apology. It would’ve created a larger hole in my chest. A void I could never fill. And with him dying, I would never have that chance.

I shake my head, blinking away what I know is easing up. The burn behind my eyes that I won’t spill.

I swallow the ache and stare back down at the metal card. Although it was never the plan to work with Ronan, of all people. He will only continue getting in my way, and he’s a stubborn man who won’t leave it alone and walk away. He’s more adamant than I realize, and I want to know what his play is in this. And why were they after him during the kidnapping? Why was Carter killed? The men who do the hostage attempts take rich people. Carter was on the brink of it, but not at a rich level.

Unless he was bait. I need answers. And the only way to get that is through the source.

Plus, I’m holding on to my vow that those men will die, even if I have to work alongside the enemy to get that done. Everything I have done was for this moment.

Shit. I can’t believe I am doing this.

Press the button and you’ll see.

I let out a heavy sigh, pressing into the circle button in the middle. “Here we go.”

A blue holographic ‘G’ symbol rises from the device. And the AI voice recognition begins to speak.

“If this card is in your possession, then you now have access to GenCre. Congratulations, you are now in the first recruitment stage to join one of the most prestigious forces in the world. Follow the coordinates to find your way to your new home.”

The hologram switches to a map, spinning slowly and marking the line to an X with pinpoints and the destination. I squint, narrowing into the blue light.

New home?

“Please note, you must never give out our location. Failure to do so will lead to your death. Failure to accept this invitation will also lead to death.”

I scoff in disbelief. “What? That’s absolutely absurd.”

“Welcome to GenCre. We will see you soon. Goodbye now.”