Page 4 of From Hell

It takes me a second to realize Lance is talking to me, using the fake name I gave him earlier. “No, I’m good. Thank you,” I say, flustered.

See? I’m useless at this undercover stuff.

“…he your boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Henry tilts his head at Lance as the barman walks away. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No.” I force my lips to curl up, then take off my glasses. I make a show of rubbing the bridge of my nose before looking at Henry. I’m not a model, but I have an endearing smile and eyes that areso darn bluewhen in the right light. My mother used to say I would charm the cats from the jungle with them, even though their unique color is because of a rare eye condition I inherited from Dad.

If I could flutter my blue eyes at Henry now, I would, but I’ll have to settle for the brown contacts I have in.

When I have his full attention, I undo the clamp in my hair, letting loose the blonde waves of my wig to tumble around my face, and then shrug out of my cardigan. I’m wearing a lacy corset dress I borrowed from Sage that gives me ample cleavage.

Henry’s dark gaze roams over me, taking me in from top to toe, and then he smirks. It makes him somewhat attractive. I can see why the girls fall for him, if it weren’t for the predatory edge.

“Want to get out of this shithole?”

I raise my brows. “And go where?”

“Ever been to Berners House?”

Yes.

I shake my head. He smirks, pausing for effect like a wanker. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m a member.”

I pretend to look impressed. “What about your date?”

“Fuck her,” he drawls. “I’d rather do you.”

Charming. Irritation boils beneath my skin, but I keep my smile in place. This guy is unreal. “I like this place.” The truth slips easily off my tongue. Berners House is a swanky, exclusive clubhouse that anyone who is anyone would give their left arm to get into. His latest victim did one extra; she gave her life.

And the last time I was there, I nearly did too.

Every swallow is hard as a familiar stab rips through my heart. It happens whenever I think about what this bastard and his friends did and got away with….

What they’re still getting away with.

I need to be careful here.

With a tight chest as fear grips my body, turning it to stone, I give him a winning smile. “How about we go back to my place?”

Henry seems to mull over my suggestion, gulping down the last of his beer. “Why not? First, I need to take a piss. Order me another and don’t go anywhere.” He deserves to die just for being a prick. I can’t help but roll my eyes as he saunters off, disappearing around the corner.

Once he’s gone, I order him another beer from Lance. It’s only then that my heart kicks up a notch, somersaulting in my chest as I look around. No one is watching, and I don’t have much time.

It’s now or never.

Leaning forward, I cover what I’m doing with my body. I quickly take a packet from my pocket and add a powder to the drink I just bought—a mild sedative. It’s more of a relaxant, really; I don’t want him to pass out. Then I stir it with a straw from one of the dispensers on the bar and shove the empty packet in my pocket with one hand, running my fingers through my hair with the other.

A feeling of being watched slides up my spine.

The sensation is followed by mild panic.

I shoot my gaze around the bar, checking my surroundings. Everyone is wrapped up in their own boozy night out, and Lance is busy serving punters at the end of the bar. No one saw.

Letting out a breath, my pulse settles to its familiar thud in my neck, and I swallow the anxiety lodged in the back of my throat.