Page 28 of Lovely Venom

Or killhim.

“What is your plan for me to kill Connor?”

“There is a fundraiser for the Governor’s re-election campaign this weekend. Men of money, power, and politics will be there,” Valdrin says with a hint of jealousy in his voice. “The Quinlans are very tight with the mayor.Connorwill be making a rare appearance. He doesn’t like those things.”

Something pings in my chest. I don’t like those things either. Connor sounds like my kind of guy. Too bad I have to kill him.

Fear snaking down my spine, I ask, “Am I killing him at a fundraiser?”

“No,” Valdrin answers sharply. “You will meet him. Make him like you. Make him trust you so you can get close enough to strike at a later date.”

“How well have you been studying him?”

“While he’s heavily protected by the enforcer team, he doesn’t have a personal guard like his two brothers.”

“What does this guy do for female fun?”

“We don’t know. We’ve never seen him with a woman,” Valdrin grouses.

“Interesting.” I don’t bother asking if he’s gay. I can give him the girlfriend experience or the gal pal one. I just have to be close to him. “Where does he live?”

“We don’t know. But he operates out of a private tunnel where he and his team interrogate and kill people, Raina.He’sthe bad guy here. Not Noel.”

I think about that. All mafia families have enforcers and black sites. I’m sure Noel does, too. But I don’t bother asking.

“What does Connor look like?” Although I can guess. Irish, sickly pale, thin, greasy hair, and scrawny.

Valdrin takes out his phone, and after swiping, he hands it to me. “Here.”

I glance at the phone, and my sight goes offline along with my heart.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’m staring at rich mahogany hair, sparkling blue eyes, and glowing skin belonging to my one-night stand. Arguably, the greatest night of my life. I think. I was drunk, but we fucked so many times, he banged the drunk right out of me. He enjoyed me even more when I sobered up. He was gentle between the rough sex.

Connor’s expression is so severe, so seductive that I forget where I am. He’s stunning in a way that makes butterflies in my stomach hatch in droves.

His hair is shorter in the back and longer in the front. His cut jawline, cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood, and a nose that had been broken at least once only make him more gorgeous. Not the other way around.

Damn, he looks dangerous.

Did I not see all these details that night two months ago? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

I can’t look at that photo anymore and stare into the eyes I have to snuff out. Yet, just thinking that in my head has the butterflies protesting, like those sticky, spindly black legs are collectively kicking my stomach from the inside.

I also can’t give away that I know my mark. This assignment just got easier. I’m not exactly a stranger. And we had a great night together.

We’ve never seen him with a woman.

That comment hits differently now. They didn’t see himwith me.

“Do you own a gown?” Valdrin asks, knocking mefrom my meltdown.

I tilt my head. “Of course, I don’t own a gown.”

Exhaling, he makes a call and then gives me an address to shop for one. I reluctantly write it down.

“And I suggest you wear a thigh holster.”