Page 13 of Executing Malice

I know she loves it when I suck on one and tease the other. I know she likes it when I use just enough teeth to pinch. Her breasts are her pressure points, tender areas that get her wet. There’s also a spot just inside her knees that gets her going. But as a breast guy, I don’t waste the opportunity when I get it to taste them.

I shift in my seat and wince at the sharp prickle in my side. The raw burn still fresh beneath the flimsy square of gauze. The area itches, a persistent reminder of my devotion to the woman below. It’s no longer bleeding, but it had with every careful drag of the razorblade. Every curve in Leila’s name. I read somewhere once that the abdomen was the place that left the clearest scars so it made the most sense, even ifI nearly cracked every tooth in my head trying to stifle the agony. Blood had welled and trickled along the plains of my abdomen, making my fingers slick around the blade. Droplets hit the countertops and rained across the tiles. I nearly lost a finger slipping the blade into the soft flesh of the apple. It wasn’t nearly as easy as one would assume.

It was worse bending and moving to clean my mess. Couldn’t have Leila come home to that. It’s wiser not to leave blatant evidence all over the place.

Like the candy apple.

I didn’t think she’d call the sheriff or that he would actually do anything — wouldn’t have mattered if he had — but I’m not stupid and I’m not taking that risk. Our games have only just started and I’m not ready to show her my hand. We still have eleven days before the big reveal.

Beneath my bare feet, a phone rings. Obviously, not mine. I don’t even keep mine on. Not that I have anyone who would call me, but just in case.

My attention pivots to Leila as she turns away from the mirror and hurries to her nightstand where she’d plugged her phone in earlier. The device is disconnected, and her thumb brushes the talk button.

“Hey.”

Even without the murmur of her sweet voice pouring through the headphones clamped over my ears, her words carry up through the floorboards.

“Not much. Just getting ready for bed.”

Curiosity has my head cocking to one side as Leila spins on the heels of her feet in the direction of the camera hidden over her vanity. The adorable, playful grin on her face has my eyes narrowing.

Who the fuck...?

I know she’s not seeing anyone. I made sure the second I arrived in town. I went through the entire house, followed her for weeks, prepared to commit murder if necessary, but Leila has always been a creature of habit. Work and home. The only man she associates with is the non-brother, but he never calls this late at night because he knows she goes to bed at this time.

So, who has her smiling?

“I don’t believe you. You’re just a tease who likes getting me excited just to leave me hanging.”

Okay, I am no longer amused.

My fingers curl around the mouse and I drag up my connecting program. I set it up several weeks back on a whim but haven’t had a reason to use it. Sure as fuck have a reason now as I link my system to her phone and tap in.

“When have I teased you?”the male voice drawls lazily into the receiver.

A slick heat prickles under my skin.

The kind that makes my knuckles itch to drive into the owner’s face until even dental records can’t identify him.

Whoever he is, his voice is deep, a primal rumble that comes with confidence and the comfort of speaking to someone familiar. There’s a smirk in his tone that grates my nerves. It gives the image of a square-jawed douche reclined on some leather armchair, feet kicked up, one hand curled around a whiskey tumbler.

Meanwhile, Leila’s smiling like it’s okay for her to talk to some other guy while standing naked in her bedroom. Talk to him like she’s hoping he’ll tell her to fall back on the bed and cum for him. Her grinning mouth is making my temples pound.

“Uh, just last week when you were supposed to come over,” she sasses back as she stalks to the dresser and yanks open the third drawer. “This is the exact promise you used then, too.”

She was supposed to have some guy over last week?

Why can’t I think? Maybe because every alarm bell in my head is screamingmine, mine, mineso loud it’s drowning out all other reason. Maybe because I can taste the bitter tang of my own blood as it fills my mouth.

My fingers twitch towards the keyboard and fly over the plastic buttons. One command and I could torch his entire worldto the ground. I can erase his entire existence. Wipe his socials. Wipe his bank account. I can hack into his fucking computer and download enough weird porn to get him committed. It wouldn’t take much. I can trace his phone, zero in on his location, and show up in the night with a carving knife. I could cut out his eyes, the ones he used to look at my Leila, put them in a jar of his own piss and gift them to his mother.

I’m already shaking as I drive my fingers across the board, pulling up program after program, booting up my tracking software while he chuckles in Leila’s ear and promises her he hadn’t meant to break their date.

Their date.

I suck in a slow, barely controlled breath.

I’m going to find him.