Page 95 of His Wicked Revenge

“I just never thought I’d see the day you’d get hung up on a guy.” He laughs, causing me to roll my eyes.

Slater always knew I’d never be in a relationship. Late nights at the bar, when I was working, he would try to learn more about me. Not in an “I want to date you” kind of way, but to be friendly. I kept pouring him shots, ignoring his questions until I got fed up and informed him there would be no Mr. Rollins in the future.

I would have rather died than be tied down by a man.

If Slater knew my predicament with Leo, he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

“I’m not hung up on him.” Not Aiden. But Leo, yes. “He is my neighbor. He keeps hitting on me and is sketchy. I want to know who I’m living next to.”

“Okay, okay.” He finally backs down. There is typing on his end, no doubt searching for something on his laptop. “What’s his name?”

“Aiden Thomas.”

More typing, then humming. “There are a few men under that name. What does he look like?”

“30s, blonde hair,” I describe him. “Looks like he belongs to a country club.”

“Got him.” He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “This man is your neighbor?”

The obvious worry in his voice has me leaning forward on the couch. My elbows dig into my knees as my fingers play with my bottom lip. “Yeah…”

“Shit, Ronnie.” He sighs. “I know you can handle your own, but I’m afraid if you find out what he has done, you might kill him.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” I don’t hide the aggravation in my voice. Slater is the type of guy who builds suspense while telling a story.

“He’s been arrested a few times. Fighting with cops while intoxicated. Possession of drugs.” He stops speaking, likely reading more about him. “He did some time for assaulting a woman.” Another pause. “Scratch that. Multiple women.”

Why am I not surprised?

This might work out in my favor. “Does he have a history with weapons?”

“Uhh—” Slater types some more, and I hear his finger working the scroll wheel on the mouse. “Yeah. He owns a gun illegally. Pulled a knife on an officer once.”

“And he is still walking around like he owns the town.” A breathy laugh leaves me, and I relax back onto the couch. “This douchebag is free for the crimes he committed while I had to be locked away in the nuthouse.”

“To be fair, Ronnie, you killed someone.” It’s not shocking that he knows this information.

The man works with criminals, and even though my parents made sure that me killing my sister’s boyfriend wasn’t plastered all over the news, Slater must have heard through the grapevine.

“What I did should have been considered heroic. Aiden is a sleazeball who can’t keep his hands to himself.” The disgust rolls off my tongue, but then I smirk. Pushing myself from the couch, I walk towards Leo’s bedroom, looking at the purse. “He did kill someone, though.”

“He did?”

“Mhm. Killed a man last night.” I pick the purse up by the strap and walk it to the kitchen, dropping it on the counter. “Stabbed him seventeen times.”

“Veronica… please tell me he’s the one who did it.”

“He did.” My plan was to get rid of the knife by planting it on someone else, and Aiden is the perfect person. “That’s what the police will believe. Thanks, Slater. I now owe you a favor.”

“Veronica! Don’t do anything stu⁠—”

I hang up the phone before he can finish his sentence. Tipping the purse over, the knife topples onto the counter. The blood is dry, but if I’m going to do this, I need to get rid of my fingerprints. Hurrying to Leo’s bathroom, I search in the cabinet for rubbing alcohol.

When I find some, I sigh with relief. I take it to the kitchen and then look for tape. I’m grateful Leo has this useless stuff in his place. Well, it doesn’t seem to be useless anymore.

Tearing off a piece of tape, I carefully place it on the metal handle and then rip it away. I do this on every inch of the handle, using new pieces of tape, all while not touching the blade.

Once I have removed the fingerprints, I spin on my heel and tear a paper towel. Folding it into a square, I cover the rubbing alcohol opening and tip it over to saturate the paper. Then, I wipe down the handle, getting it squeaky clean.