Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed

Iwatch the mourners leave, and my patience slowly grows thinner. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at the club, looking for Chop and bringing him to justice, or at least dealing with something that might actually hold my attention. I don’t give a shit what Jessie said before I left.

This is gonna be a lame fucking job. One I’m convinced Prez put me on either as punishment for lying to him about Ella being watched by the Bastards, or to test my trust before he lets me patch into his Charter.

This huge fancy house out in the countryside is where the address in the envelope led me to, and it ain’t the worst place to carry out a kidnap. There ain’t another house in sight so once all these people clear out, the risk of witnesses is gonna be low.

All I have to do is wait.

I pass some time searching through the envelope Prez gave me. Familiarizing myself with my target by pulling out the photo and taking a good, hard look at her.

Of course, the girl would have to be fuckin’ attractive. Her long blonde hair and big green eyes standing out at me from her photo. Skin, flawless, the kind that your tongue begs to roll all over and taste. And then there's that damn fuckin’ mouth. Full and upturned into a seductive little smile that does a successful job of turning my dick hard.

I’m gonna have to shut all that shit the fuck down. She ain’t the first pretty girl I’ve seen, she won’t be the last… and if this girl has any sense about her, it’ll be something she knows how to work to her advantage. I gotta make myself immune to that kind of fuckery.

This is the reason Prez sent me. My stone-cold heart is the reason I’m sitting here waiting to take some preppy bitch from her house.

The photo looks like it’s been taken professionally, the way she’s angled toward the light is too perfect not to be intentional. She’s the main focus of the lens, the rest is slightly blurry with all the different greens from the trees in the background, merging together to match the emeralds of her eyes. I can’t remember ever taking so long to evaluate a damn photo, but I convince myself that I’m being thorough. Whatever this is, if it’s important to the club, then there’s no room for error on my part.

I watch a skinny middle-aged woman leave the house, get inside a Honda, and back off the driveway, then decide to give it another half an hour to make sure she’s the last of the guests. I distract myself by googling the other address Prez gave me. The one where I’ll be holding little miss fuckin’ perfect until he decides to get in touch. It’s in a remote area about thirty miles from here, so I memorize the route while I wait.

I glance up when the front door opens. And this time it ain’t a guest that steps outside, it’s her, looking even more fucking tempting in the flesh. Her blonde hair is so long it touches the top of her ass, and the black lace pencil dress she’s wearing shows off every curve her body has to offer.

I don’t know anything about her, I don’t even know her name, or how old she is, but I can tell, even from back here, that she’s gonna be trouble.

As I watch her, I can’t help wondering what the hell she’s done to deserve having a man like me lurking in her shadows, waiting to take her.

Maybe she’s innocent in all of this, just important to someone who Prez wants to hurt. Or perhaps I’ll be holding her for ransom.

Either way, this girl’s in a whole heap of shit and she doesn’t even know it yet.

She places the trash in the metal container and looks over her shoulder suspiciously, she can sense she’s being watched and her focus is drawn straight to my truck. When she squints her eyes, it confirms that I’m sheltered enough by the reflection of the sunset on my windscreen and the tree I’ve purposely parked beneath.

Eventually, she shakes her head and returns inside, and I wait a few more minutes before placing the photo back in the envelope and shoving it into the glove compartment.

I wonder if she’ll scream when I take her. A twisted little part of me wants her to just so I can silence her. If a girl can look that pretty smiling, I’ll bet she looks fucking beautiful petrified.

I decide not to wait any longer. It’s time to see how good that fear looks on her. Opening my door, I have to hold back when a shiny Mercedes draws up behind me, continuing toward the house and parking outside. The guy who gets out appears to be a little older than me. He’s average height and build, and looks like some kinda professional business man in the suit he’s wearing.

He walks with a touch of arrogance, as he strides up to the front door, and tries opening it. When he finds it locked, he shrugs and disappears through the side gate around the back of the house.

“Shit.” I slam the palm of my hand hard against the steering wheel. I’m so over this whole waiting-around crap now. I need to get the girl and then get the hell out of here. The longer I sit around, the more I risk being seen. Prez never mentioned no fuckin’ funeral party this morning. I came here expecting an in and out, not a goddamn stakeout.

Tapping my toes in the footwell, I let out some steady breaths while I wait some more. Of course, I could just storm on in, knock the bastard out cold, and take the girl from under his nose. But I think back to the conversation I had with Prez before I left the club, he’d really hammered in how important this job is, and he doesn’t want any mess left behind.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the guy to leave again, and with a cocky smirk on his lips, he gets back in his car and speeds off in the same direction that he came from, paying me no attention.

I check no one's around before I pull the truck up closer to the house. Once I’m out of the tuck, I cross the front lawn, quickly making my way through the side gate. The place is a fuckin’ maze of doors and windows and it takes me a while to locate a back door that’s unlocked.

The girl could be anywhere inside. I’ve been given no layout of the house, have no idea how many rooms there are, and I ain’t in no mood for a game of hide and fuckin’ seek.

I work as fast and quietly as possible, doing a quick search downstairs before I slowly take the stairs one by one, cautious of my boots squeaking on the polished marble floor. When I get to the top, I hear humming and running water and I follow the sound along the landing.

A fresh fruity scent fills the air, and that, combined with the innocent sound of the tune she’s making has me pausing in front of the door to take a deep breath. I know she’s the other side of it and all hell is gonna break loose as soon as I barge inside. I’ve been in hundreds of brawls, walked into more dangerous situations than I can remember. Usually, this kinda shit gets my blood pumping. Havoc is the only calm to all the anger inside me. So why, now, do I feel so on edge?

I know as soon as her instincts kick in, her tiny figure is going to fight against me. She’ll try running, she’ll thrash and struggle and I’ll have to use force to restrain her. The thought of it pushes the blood through my veins a little faster and makes my cock fucking twitchy.

Pressing my forehead to the door, I take another deep breath and remind myself why I’m here.

This is for the club. I trust Jimmer Carson. There will be a method behind this madness.

I’m not here to hurt her, when she goes for me, I can’t strike back.

I’ve been trained to deal with most outcomes, but not fuckin’ this one. Maybe Prez should have sent Jessie after all.

But he didn’t, he sent me and I gotta own that, so with that in mind, I slowly push open the door.

“That was quick, don’t tell me you forgot your wallet…” her voice trails off to nothing, her eyes widening when my face joins her reflection in the mirror.

All my concentration goes into taming my fucking cock when I see her up close, those blonde waves are piled high on her head now, a tight, pink top stretches over her chest, and her round ass is resting on a stool, covered by the flimsiest fuckin’ shorts I’ve ever seen. I watch her as she studies me, her eyes taking me in top to bottom through the pretty framed oval mirror she’s staring into. I lick my lips hoping it’ll stop them craving the taste of her, it’s a pathetic reaction to be having, and one that right now I could really do without.

Her focus pulls away from me and her desperate eyes begin to wonder. I know what she’s doing and I have to move fast. Launching my body at hers, my hand curls around her throat, and just before she manages to let out that scream I’m so desperate to hear, I smother my other hand over that pretty fuckin’ mouth.

I take a sick pleasure in watching her scared eyes grow wider for me through the mirror in front of us. And I feel a smirk form on my lips, one that ironically looks a lot like the one the guy who left here a few minutes ago wore. I guess it’s the effect she has. A reaction that no man is immune to, not even me.