“Not everyone, but it can make the rather drab job entertaining. Especially if they deserve it.”
He reached for my hand on his chest and slowly moved it toward his pants.
“How do you decide who deserves what?” I asked.
“Do you think I deserve it?” he asked.
“What? A hand job?” I took his cock in my hand and tightened around the base. “I mean, we did fight all day, but-”
He scoffed. “No, just- ignore me.” He then perked up, wiggling his eyebrows at me. He shot a glance at my hand. He grinned wide like a little kid asking for ice cream. I cocked an eyebrow in question, and he nodded. “Yes, please.”
36
No sooner had the night fallen than we were out of that hotel and on our way to the house of Charles Matheson.
Corrine had given me a photo of the man and their family home address.
“He’ll still be there. His family has been there for generations.” She assured me. So, on we went.
“What’s he look like again?” Scout asked me as we drove toward the neighborhood. I handed her the picture. It was a Polaroid from the nineties. The quality was shit. She offered it back, but I waved it off.
“I’ve got it memorized. You forget this is what I do for a living.” I gave her my best devilish grin, making sure to run my tongue across my fangs. She rolled her eyes.
“Are you going to use a card on him?” She was staring down at the photo. He was nothing remarkable. Just a blonde eternal twenty-seven-year-old with a mullet. I was sure his haircut had changed in the last thirty years, though.
“Maybe. Depends on his mouth. Usually, that’s what makes me pull them out. If I find them annoying, I want their pain to be prolonged.”
She looked over at me but said nothing. I noticed that the more comfortable I got telling her what I did for a living, the more she retreated into herself. Maybe it was better to keep the two separate. I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want. You can stay in the car. I have plenty of candy.”
I reached for the bag and offered her one. She shook her head. “I’m good. No, I want to go in. See how it’s done.” She grinned at me. “You keep saying you’re tough. I want to see it in action.”
“Cool. I’ll make sure to be on my A-game.” I reached for her hand again and threaded it through mine.
“So what did he do to get on Corrine’s shit list?” she asked, gazing down at the picture again.
I wasn’t sure if Corrine had wanted me to share what had been done to her with the world. It was too cruel what Charles had done. “That’s not my story to tell,” I said, knowing that it was cryptic and dark, but it was the truth.
We pulled onto the road where the Matheson estate sat at the far end of the drive. There weren’t any other houses around, so I presumed the family-owned this entire area. We parked behind some trees and continued our trek on foot.
“How am I the only poor vampire?” she asked when we reached the crest of the hill and spotted the mansion.
I snickered and grabbed her around the waist. “What are you doing?” She cried out as I latched on and threw us down the hill. I held on tight as we rolled down, laughing all the way.
When we reached the bottom, I let her go, and she playfully slapped me. “You are supposed to be a hitman for the vampire mafia. Is this what you do?”
“If I had a gorgeous partner with me every time, probably. Maybe with fewer clothes.” My eyes flicked down her body. She rolled her eyes and pointed with her thumb at the giant brick mansion twenty feet away.
“We heading in?”
“Hold on, we can’t just go charging through the front door. We gotta find the help’s quarters. That’ll be the best way in.” I dropped my silly attitude and shifted gears. “We have to be careful. This man is a monster. If either of us gets caught, it won’t be good. I just need to kill him and get out. Do you understand?”
She nodded, but I didn’t feel confident. “Scout, I cannot stress this enough. Please, don’t fuck this up.”
“I won’t! Stop. You’re making me self-conscious. Let’s go.”
Crouching, we started around the building, looking for ways in. I was familiar with the layout, and sure enough, there were doors in the back. “How do you know he’s even here?” she asked. I went up the few steps and tried the door, finding it unlocked.
“He doesn’t leave much. People come to him. I’ve done my research. He’s here.” I assured her. We went inside, and I put my finger to my lips. She flipped me off. We were in the kitchen, and it looked like a staged house. Which was unsurprising in a blood estate. My own family's kitchen looked similar. I looked around, finding a knife block. I grabbed the largest knife from it. Scout tried to grab one, but I smacked her hand away. She was just along for the ride. Nothing more.
