Sexual Deception (New Adult Interracial Romance, Bad for You Series Vol #1) (4 page)

“He scares me.”

I tensed. “Then stop working for him. I give you enough money weekly to do nothing but go to school and spend time with Hassan.”

“I'm saving your money.”

“For what?”

“A better life for Hassan and me. Somewhere out of Miami. Maybe in the mid-west. Houses are cheaper and there are much better schools. I've got three more years before Hassan starts kindergarten, and the schools here in Miami are crap.”

“I can take you wherever you need, when I retire.”

She laughed, but the joy didn't hit her eyes. Sadness pooled between her eyelids. “Kane, you won't even keep yourself alive long enough to retire.”

“I've made it this long.” I wagged my eyebrows at her. “I think I can figure this survival thing out.”

She swung her dreadlocks over her shoulder. “Watch yourself around Julio. He's crazier than usual.”

“Okay. I will. Now can you go back to teasing me?”

“I'm not teasing. I'm doing my job.” She played with the strings on her bikini top.

I took a couple hundreds out and set them on the table. “Take it off for me.”

“No.” She pushed the money back over to my way.

A bang sounded on my booth's wall. “Knock. Knock.”

I glanced over Teagan's shoulder. Julio's pudgy face greeted my eyes. Without me asking, Teagan gathered the money she earned, got off of me, and left.

Not even a goodbye, huh?

I swallowed down as much fury in me as I could. Several things battled in my skull. For one, I didn't appreciate the fact that Teagan was not naked and bouncing on my dick. And speaking of my little soldier, I didn't relish in him being so hard while I only had Julio to stare at.

“Women will be the death of you.” Julio entered and sat down. “That's why I don't mess with them. They make men weak.”

“You don't mess with them because you're gay.”

“Homosexual.”

“Sorry. I didn't realize your strip club was a place where politically correct terms were necessary.”

Sweat dripped down the sides of Julio's pudgy face. Acne coated his cheeks, red and angry little bumps that required a dermatologist or at least some dedicated face washing time.

In and out of the crime world, women considered my boss Miguel a sexy man. His face

decorated most Hispanic magazine covers, especially when he acted in a movie or did a play. However, his son Julio was an apple that fell nowhere close to his father's tree. He'd been a fat kid all of his life and grew up to be an obese adult.

As I sat next to him a funk emitted from the gold jacket he wore. His fingers shook each time he scratched his neck, and he did it repeatedly as if he could never get rid of his itch.
Not a good sign at
all.
Plus, it didn't help that Teagan's nervous words floated in my head.

“What do you want from me, Julio?”

He scratched under his chin. “I need you to kill someone for me.”

I threaded my fingers together and set them on the table. Anybody else would've died right in front of me, if they'd said something so blatant in such a public place. Even Miguel had the respect to use coded words, come to me on my own terms, and give me a sense of privacy. But not Julio. He thought he was above everything, due to who his father was.

“Why can't you do it yourself?” I asked.

“I've tried. Nothing has worked. Every time I send someone to do it. The person comes back dead.”

“Comes back?” I raised one eyebrow.

“Yeah. The body is delivered to my doorstep, clean with no fingerprints or anything. Not that I need to figure out who did it. I know. Half the time I don't even know how the motherfuckers died.

They're just laying in front of my door every fucking morning, in or out of their clothes and completely dead.”

The darkness in me perked up. People killed everyday, in sloppy ways, half-thought out methods—using a gun registered to themselves and placing it where the cops end up finding it, stabbing the person until the dead guy's blood decorated everything, even the killer, and my favorite idiot move, running someone over with the car they owned. Professionals took their time and planned it out, but even then, most resulted in mucked-up jobs. The few times someone took a life with precision and a cloak of mystery, I studied it for two reasons. One, I had to make sure the impressive mofo didn't get me. Two, although many considered me the best, there was always room to learn how to kill better.

“So, who is this person that needs to die?” I asked.

Coughing into one hand, Julio reached inside of his jacket with the other hand and pulled out a picture. “Here.”

Not desiring any of Julio's germs, I grabbed a napkin and used it to pick up the photo.

On the picture, Melody's pretty face stared back at me.

“I can give you all of her information.” Julio rubbed those shivering hands in front of him like he was cold. “She's a bad bitch, man. Bad.”

I heard.

Unease sat in my stomach at the realization that Melody coming by my gallery wasn't a

coincidence at all.

Did she guess that Julio would hire me to kill her?

“Why this person?”

“I have no idea. I'm not the one that even wanted her dead.” He pulled out a cigarette. It bobbed in his shaking fingers. “Dad asked me to kill her.”

“Your dad asked
you
?” I quirked my eyebrows. “Why would he ask you? No disrespect, but you're no killer.”

“None taken.” He waved my comment away with his hand. “I never tried to be one.”

Yeah, right.

He flicked his lighter on and lit his cigarette. “It's not like I asked Dad why he chose me, but I figured he did it as a test or something. You
are
retiring soon. I'll be over all of Miami once you're gone.”

“No. You'll just be in control of the Art District,” I corrected.

“To have the Art District is to have control of the whole drug trafficking center on the east coast.” He blew out smoke. “Either way, that's not the point. Dad asked me to kill this chick. He says into the phone, 'Julio, make sure one bullet goes into her head and the other right in her heart. I want to see evidence, Julio. Videotape. Picture. Anything. Just get it done and then show me.' I tell him okay, hang up the phone, and send two of my best men to the address where dad says she last used her credit card.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Last time I heard from them they called to tell me that they were going to her room. Next morning, both of their dead bodies are on my doorstep.”

“Does your father know she killed them?”

“Of course not.”

“When did she kill these two guys?”

“Last month. Every week after that, I send a guy and then he shows up dead on my doorstep the next morning. I have no idea where she's at right now, just that she's still using that credit card all over the city. When I send someone there, she's gone.”

I held in my laughter. “She's using that credit card to lure you out. If she was able to out-smart and destroy five of your men, then she's smart enough to know not to use that card.”

He exhaled smoke. “I thought of that.”

Sure, you did.

“Why does Miguel want her dead?” I asked.

“I don't know.” He averted his gaze away from me, which told me he did. “Dad also asked me not to get you into this hit, so I'm hoping you could do this for me and keep it quiet. I'm willing to give you anything.”

I watched a bouncer guide a blindfolded Teagan out of the lounge. “Anything?”

Chapter 4

Control of the Center

~Melody

Chess was easy.

It provided a large board with a set number of pieces, players, moves, and sequences. I studied the game like a biologist analyzed life. Top Chess Champion Bobby Fischer stated that in the game everything depended on that first move. Everything. It built a strong position right from the start and increased all chances of winning. Champs memorized many openings, could play out the whole game in their head from that first move, and knew the exact ending before anyone even sat down at the table and pulled out their pieces.

At times, the world served as my chess board and when that was true, I spent weeks studying the best first move.

Currently, I stood in Kane's office in a dress that matched my mood. Raging red hugged my body. Heels sharp as knives decorated my feet. I let my cleavage show because even with the threat of death men still ogled the girls. When they wasted those last seconds drooling over my breasts, that's the moment I focused the tip of my gun to the center of their skull and pulled.

Come on, Kane. Don't ruin my surprise by being late.

What he hadn't known was that when I left his office, I went into his gallery's restroom and remained inside the cleaning supply closet until the place closed. After I made sure everyone had left, I changed. Just in case Kane spotted me before I did him, I hoped he would think I came to him in a sexy dress because I was reconsidering the invitation to his bed and not for any other reason.

Yes. This is a good move.

Chess players devoted a lot of attention to the opening stages because at the beginning of any game, it was never clear which part of the board the pieces would be needed. So everyone raced for control of the center squares. Power of the middle allowed pieces to be moved to any section of the board with ease.

It also fucked with the opponent's head.

Wynwood Art District was the center of Miguel's and my game board. I still hadn't made an official first move yet, though it could be argued befriending Kane was it.

But Miguel doesn't know I've even talked to Kane yet, or he would be here. He probably thinks
everything is fine.

In my head, I switched to Julio's and my game board. My strongest pieces surrounded his king.

Any move he made would kill him.

Check mate.

I shifted to Kane's and my board. No moves had been made by him yet. Nevertheless, I hoped I could knock him out in three.

I need the confidence from that win.

My first move for Kane was the moment I caught his eye in his gallery. I'd been eager to go after him. Miguel bragged about Kane for years and boasted about every death he'd caused. Killing Miguel's top guy would be like taking out his knight. Kane had been the only black guy that Miguel ever worked with. Miguel called him Venom for that rich dark complexion. But that wasn't the only reason. I remembered the night Miguel explained the nickname.

“Mami, you should watch Kane when he kills.” Miguel held me close to him as we lay naked in
his bed. “He's just like the villain in those Spider-man comics.”

I ran my fingers down Miguel's muscular arm and stroked the four healed bullet holes under his
elbow. “Which Spider-man villain?”

“Venom.”

“Really?” I looked up at him and smiled. “How does Kane remind you of Venom?”

“He's fluid with his movements.”

I grinned. “But Venom was a symbiont.”

“What?” Miguel raised his brown eyebrows.

“Symbiont. He needed to bond with another in order to survive. That's what Venom would do.

He would link up with a guy and take over his body.”

“Well no one can survive on their own. We're all symbiont in some way.” He sucked on my
bottom lip and then released it. “I never knew you liked comic books.”

“I've been reading them lately.”

He clasped his fingers onto my chin and raised my view to his. “Are you studying me, Chica?”

“Me?” I climbed out of his hold and nudged him to get on his back.

Still with a suspicious expression, he rolled over. “You know I love comic books. Now all of a
sudden you're reading them?”

“I can't learn to like what you like?”

“Not if your goal is to try and use it against me.”

I climbed on top of him, searing my center to the one spot that made him go wild. “I don't need
to study a man that I've already caught.”

“You've caught me, Mami?”

I rubbed my throbbing clit along the tip of his cock. “Oh, I'm Mami now? What happened to
chica?”

He groaned. “When you're pussy is right here, you can be whatever you desire.”

I checked my watch and tightened my fingers around the butt of my gun. It had been several hours since Kane departed from Julio's club. I had paid two skate board kids hanging out in the empty parking lot across the street to call me when a guy like Kane entered or left the club. They'd called me when he left.

Now that you know I'm not who I said I was, what's your move, Kane? Kill or be killed.

My phone buzzed. Only one person called this phone. Miguel. Yet, to my surprise when I checked the screen an unknown number showed in bright white letters.

I placed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“I love red on you.” Kane's deep voice flowed like jazz over the line.

I'd disassembled all of his cameras in his office after I changed, but somehow he could still see me. I scanned the walls again. Anticipation burst through me as the game began.

“I guessed that you would like a woman in red,” I said.

“I do,” he purred. “But I'm not a fan of guns. Could you do me a favor and set that pretty piece on my desk?”

“No way. This gun matches my dress perfectly. By the way, how the hell did you get this number?”

“Those two boys that you paid outside of Night Pleasures. Everyone pays them for information.

I just happen to have the highest price.”

“I'll remember that.”

“By the way, are you hungry?” he asked.

I cleared my throat and treaded with caution. “No.”

“You should be. You've been in my gallery for several hours now. Not one of the camera feeds showed you eating. I'm worried for your health.”