Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

19. Venom

Chapter 19

Venom

Operation: Get ready.

S o much for never seeing me bleed. It’s been days and my hand has begun to heal already. After the ointments Dr. Rio amped me up with, I’ll give another week to see the scar tissue mending back together.

Once I wrapped my hand, I step out of the bathroom, sliding my blade into its rightful place, then I look in the large mirror that resides right by the bay window. I check myself out, making sure I feel good. I decided to wear a tight black turtleneck shirt and underneath a black tank, just in case I got too hot. Fighting takes a lot of energy, and that means sweat.

Plus, black cargo pants were already in the closet with the basic GenCre combat attire. It’s practically a row of them, which is off-putting. I choose to wear it because it makes my ass look fantastic. I twist around, checking myself out in the mirror.

“Hmph. Nice.”

Lowering down, I tie the loose string on my combat boots, securing it. There’s also an array of their combat boots which I will not be wearing, and it makes me wonder, how the hell does he know my shoe size?

So strange, that man.

I straighten up, my green nails shining through the mirror. I did my nails late last night since I couldn’t sleep. The memory of Ronan wrapping my hand with a wrath of a ticking time bomb is unsettling, and kept playing in my mind all night. I have the faintest idea of what pissed him off so much; he still handled my hand with such care, like he was dealing with a bomb.

As I’m making my way out of the door, my mask that sits on top of the dresser stands out, the spikes glistening, luring me to take it. I gnaw on the side of my mouth. I always wear my mask when I’m doing solo missions. But when I was out with the girls, I never did. I don’t see why I should now.

“Another time.” I release a breath before walking out.

I make my way out the door, a sigh of relief escapes my chest. Thanking whatever entity is up above because it looks like Ronan left out while I was showering.

I head down the creaking steps and towards the hall. After bumping into a few loose strays (students), I finally make it down to the steps where Wicked, Boone, and Ronan stand, locked and loaded. Earpieces are in and guns by their side. Ronan is placing his gun behind him when he looks up at me coming down the steps. My stomach does a filthy spin and twist before flopping to the floor, his eyes scaling down me like I’m freaking Cinderella awaiting her prince. I take my eyes off him, swallowing the log in my pipes.

I am not Cinderella, and he is definitely not my prince.

“Took you long enough, princess,” Mal sneers, rolling her eyes before going to the door to gather the gear. I ignore her because I’m really over her shit.

“How's your hand?” Ronan strolls towards me, finally getting his gun in the holster. He’s wearing a black turtleneck like me; it fits his chest marvelously, and it shows all the curves in his broad plates and muscular shoulders. Black cargos and black combats, making him dark and dire.

I inspect his entire face. He has the smoothest tawny skin, even under the tiny scars and laceration on his cheek and lip. His normally wavy hair neatly swooped back, the faded scruff looks freshly shaved, showing his squared and chiseled jaw.

No one should look so damn hot going on a mission to murder people. I want to pinch myself, so I don’t have to feel the heat rising to my neck.

“It's fine.” I look away from his gorgeousness and glance over to the side, watching Mal place a hand grenade into her duffel bag. Ronan doesn’t respond, he only watches me as he puts another gun on his waist. I’m so unnerved, my palms are sweating already, and I haven’t even done anything. He grabs a pair of black cut off gloves from his back pockets and puts them on. Once he’s done, he reaches into his pocket again.

“This is for you,” he says, lowering his voice; his accent is so thick sometimes his words slur to make the terms out. He pulls out an earbud from his pocket. It’s small, not bulky and awkward.

“Chris, my other main guy, speaks into these. He scopes out the building from the outside, making sure nothing goes haywire. If it does, we have a full backup team. All we need to do is say ‘kite on flight.’” He lifts his brow, passing me the earbud. “Plan A and Z, right?”

My heart shouldn’t tingle with baby flutters, but it does. I don’t smile. I won’t give him that. But I do appreciate him listening to me and taking my advice.

“Yes. Exactly.” I brush my hair over to place the ear bud, but my hair keeps catching it. I knew I should’ve gelled it down and put it in a ponytail.

“Here. I’ll help.”

I tense up, He raises his hands to my face and stills before glancing at me.

“May I touch you?” He shouldn’t sound so sexy when it’s a simple question. That lump is forming again, stunting my breathing. I vaguely recall telling to never touch me again. I was upset. He called me a liability, and that shouldn’t have affected me, but it did. It stung like a bee poking me with its stinger. I told him his words pack no punch, but I was wrong. Very wrong.

“Sure. You only have a minute.”

He steps closer, standing over me like a tower, and I’m the miniature human down below. Wood and citrus fill my space. It’s light and subtle, not overbearing to the point where my nostril hairs catch flame.

He smells so good.

No he doesn't, shut up. Shut your trifling brain.

His eyes move across my face and my hair. He brushes his fingers over the side of my strands gently, the tips of the pads touching my skin, sending electric shocks down my cheek to neck. My heart now thunders against my ribs, causing it to rattle.

After gathering as much hair behind my ear, Ronan looks down at where I’m holding the device, and he dips his fingers into my palms. He glances at me, placing the bud softly into my ear—his carefulness is obvious, like he’s avoiding hurting me. Once it’s secure, the pad of his thumb trails my ear tenderly. My throat goes dry with a shiver down my thigh. I watch his jaw flex and his Adam’s apple bulge out. This shouldn’t be anything, but it seems like it.

I peek at his lips, curved, plump, and dented at the top. It’s a perfect juiciness. I’m only stating the obvious—it doesn’t mean I want to kiss him.

“I should’ve put it in a ponytail,” I blurt out, trying to distract my thoughts while rubbing my sweaty palms on the back of my cargos.

He shakes his head lightly. “Don’t.” His fingers play in my curly strands.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I flick my eyes to his lips, and he catches sight of it. My chest tightens and I quickly play it off, peering behind him instead. His hand slightly tightens around my hair like he’s trying to compose himself. I look back.

“No mask?” His eyes slice back to mine.

“No.”

A second passes, which feels like minutes, with us looking at each other, but I can’t take it anymore; his gaze is searing into my soul like he’s hearing my lustful thoughts.

I gaze away finally, diverting my eyes to the ground. “I believe that minute has passed.” I manage to get out even though my throat is drier than sandpaper.

He lowers his hand. I gaze back up to see him clench his jaw and a dilation to his eyes as he steps away from me like I’m poisonous. “Your earpiece is secure.” His tone is back to authority.

“Great, now that is over with, can we go?” Mal asks, irritated. I look around to see Boone is gone, the door is wide open, and Mal just looks pissed, as usual.

Ronan backs up, grabbing the last two duffle bags from the foyer, then walks out. Heat is skating up my back and I need air for a second. I make my way outside where it’s brisk but Wicked places her hand up, pushing me back.

Reflex kicks in and I slap her hand away. “What?”

She steps in front of me, fury clearly running through her like a hellfire. “You pull any funny shit, you’re gone. You may have Ro swindled and fooled, but I’m not.” Then she spins around, her wavy short ponytail flinging along with her.

Such a bitch.

What strikes me as odd is why would she think I have Ronan fooled?

Location: Outskirts of Hollow City

Operation: Kill everyone.

We pull up to the same spot we scoped out last week. It’s on top of the hill that hovers down towards the compound or mansion? I’ll make sure to watch my footing as I walk along the path, but I don’t see a speck of rock anymore. There’s not even a tiny pebble you can step on.

Where the hell did they go? My brows furrow as I adjust my bulletproof vest, searching the dark tinted area.

Okay?…

At least I don’t have to trip on my ass again and make Ronan pissed.

We each check ourselves, making sure we left nothing out. I grab a few bombs, my knife, my gun, and extra ammo.

“Mal, you go around the back and see if that door is locked like we hope,” Ronan speaks, walking to the edge of the hill. Our plan is to lock everyone in. No one runs free.

“On it.” Mal hops off the ledge of the hill, making her way down the rocky ridge. It’s a cliff, but it’s manageable to get down without falling completely forward. Easy way down, easy way up.

“Boone.” Ronan shifts to him and Boone nods, tucking his AK-47 and running off into the wooded area.

Ronan now faces me. His face is blank and emotionless. “And you are with me.”

I would feel disappointed, but I can’t. His mood has shifted since the scene in the foyer, and I’m good with it because we need to focus solely on the mission. His touches and stares are getting to me, as much as I don’t want to admit it. It’s affecting me, and I don’t need to fuck up on this mission.

“How fun,” I state, my tone bland. Before we descend, a vibrating sound comes out and Ronan quickly grabs his pocket, looking at the screen. He becomes visibly angry, the white, luminous glare from the phone shining on his hard features. His jaw clenches before clicking the vibration off, flicking through the screen with his thumb and placing it back in his pocket.

“Let’s go.” He brushes past me, taking his anger with him.

He walks off, heading down the hill. I trail behind him, right on his toes. Excitement is purging through me like a faucet when I picture my finger jamming into someone’s eyes. They deserve it for being such terrible people. I don’t care much for the job Ronan does, but just the thought of them kidnapping people and doing inexplicable things to them only for money leaves a sour taste in my mouth. They don’t deserve that. No one does.

Ronan hops off the last rock and extends his hand out to help me down. I look at it and choose to ignore his hand. For petty reasons.

I hop down, and he stands there for a second before proceeding. Walking a few steps ahead of him, I look over to see if the two men are exactly where we assumed.

They are.

Coming up beside me, we both bend down in sync behind the bushes that stand approximately sixty-five feet in between the front home and the yard. It’s a large yard filled with green grass, no secured fence and no neighbors. Are these people crazy? They must want a death wish.

“Ready?” Ronan looks over at me and I return his stare. My heart is thudding against my chest, and I’m more than ready.

“Of course.”

A smile now creeps on his lips, his callous act dissipating. “And no tripping.”

A flush rises in my cheeks. “You’re never forgetting that, are you?” For some reason, I want to match his smile. I hold it in.

“Do you forget to breathe air?” He winks. “Now let’s go.” He ascends from the bushes. The two men in front don’t see us yet until we are twenty feet from them. Before they can extend their weapons and yell for backup, we both shoot at the same time, aiming directly at their heads. We have suppressors on our guns, so no one will hear a sound—besides their bodies dropping to the floor. Then I aim at the cameras extending in the corners of the front door while Ronan bends to grab the weapons.

He extends his hand with the dead man’s weapon, and I grab at it as he moves ahead of me.

It’s a code at the front of the door with numbers and letters. Ronan instantly clicks the pad a few times and grabs a tiny screw from his pants. “It’s like a baby toy. Easy to break,” he mumbles to himself, still working his magic.

I don’t forget that growing up, Ronan was the spectacular billionaire tech genius along with my brother. Creating gadgets and different inventions. And, of course, I remember the surveillance security system he and Carter created just for the fun of it. Well, it came in handy, that’s for sure.

The pad blinks green, and Ronan turns the handle on the door. A thickness clots my throat, and my heart begins to drum against my ribs. My eyes narrow with a throbbing beat. I’m nervous like always. The idea of possibly not coming back out of this house or from a mission is always something to think about. But right now, I’m nervous because I’m anticipating the moment where I stand in front of the man who tortured my brother.

Also, this is my first time going on a mission with Ronan. Will he have my six? Is he the type to run off and have me fend for myself? He doesn’t seem uncoordinated, but you never know until you are smack in the center of a shoot off.

Can I trust him?

My chest beats harder.

Is he unbalanced?

Shit. Did I make the wrong choice?