Page 5

My gaze drifts around the room. The two men who came with him sit side by side, observing our exchange. I’m surprised the subservient couple isn’t taking notes.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it. It’s a beautiful spot. I’ve been to many cities, and this is by far the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”

Like all beasts of his nature, King enjoys the hunt. They never seem to outgrow that can’t-have-it-so-I-want-it syndrome. It’s only a matter of reeling him in.

“I don’t think so, but I really appreciate the offer. Maybe next time.”

The bartender hands him his drink, and I ask for the check. King’s eyes illuminate with a hint of rage as he plucks his glass from the bar. He leans close enough for his nose to brush my ear.

“Yeah, until next time, princess.” His abrupt departure makes his discontent clear.

Confidence fuels my stride as I stand to leave. My gaze drifts toward him once more, his eyes finding mine immediately. Giving him another coy smile, I awkwardly wave. He takes a sip of his drink, feigning disinterest. His fingers curl around the edge of the chair, though, while the veins of his arm pulse with vigor. A small weakness to his cool exterior. His wounded ego is the perfect motivation I need to get him to follow me.

King makes his way toward me as I adjust the strap of my purse while pretending to search for my keys. Come on. Good boy.

I push against the glass and step out onto the busy street. A large group of bar hoppers walk by, and I turn to merge with their drunk stragglers. After a block, I break from the group, turning down a side street that leads to the parking lot.

Unhurried footsteps sound behind me as I make my way down the dimly lit street. The staccato of the footsteps quickens as I turn the corner. Even his hunting skills lack imagination.

The scrape of grit beneath his shoes tells me he’s close enough. I spin and raise the syringe. His expression turns from predator to prey in a matter of moments. Too late.

The needle arcs through the air before sinking into the side of his neck. As I depress the plunger, his eyes flare wide. A small smile crosses my lips as he begins to stammer.

The drug has the desired effect. His face slackens as I remove the syringe. His hand flies up to his neck as he stumbles back into the stone wall. My brilliant mixture of valium and ketamine. In a few moments, I’ll be able to lead him to the car without issue. Almost sweet, really. Like they want to be punished.

Savoring the moment, I step back as the luster leaves his eyes. Gripping his cheeks, I shake his head from side to side. His glassy eyes wobble on their axis like the triangle of a Magic 8-Ball.

Vacant. So adorable.

I slip my arm under his upper body.

“King, do you know where you are?” I say, letting my satin-like tone soothe him.

He tries to shake his head but ends up looking like a dashboard bobblehead.

“N-n-noo…”

“That’s okay. You had too much to drink. Let me take you home, big boy,” I purr, running my hands along his rotund chin. The affectionate gesture makes me cringe inside. To accidental onlookers, I’m just a girl taking her drunk date home after a fun romp at the hotel.

He smiles lazily. Though, his lips look more like a blowfish blowing bubbles through the spit gathered between his lips.

I lead him to the passenger seat of the car, securing his seat belt in place. The last thing I need is his head hitting the dashboard and getting bruised. I have learned from my previous mistakes.

I walk around the front of the car and slide into the driver’s seat. My gaze shifts to check he’s in place for the drive. Satisfied by his delirious contentment, I drive.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the trailhead. There’s nothing quite like making art surrounded by nature. Connecting with it on a higher level while I work. I preen at the thought of the serenity I’ll be enjoying tonight.

Navigating the path with King is difficult. His unruly body threatens to collapse us both. The paths are always abandoned at night, giving me time to work, but my art will be found fairly quickly the following day, before the elements start to take their toll and my presentation is compromised. Nothing destroys the petals of my flowers quite like bloating. Presentation is important, after all.

King stares at his hands, apparently mesmerized at how his fingers move. The pathetic display confirms a second dose isn’t necessary.

My heels sink into the gravel as I step out of the car and open the trunk. As I reach for my bag and prepare to change clothes, I glance through the back window, just to make sure I won’t have any problems for the next few minutes.

King touches the glass before slowly dragging his finger across it. He pulls his hand back as if the window has shocked him and stares at his fingertip. I decidedly don’t need to worry about him for the moment.

I don’t bother to remove the wig. It’s uncomfortable as shit, but the fewer stray hairs, the better. I stuff my clothes and heels into the bag and grab my toolkit. Muscle memory has me momentarily reaching up to pull the door down. Rolling my eyes, I hit the button on the trunk door and wait for it to close. The door slowly descends…then stops. A series of clicks and beeps sound in an annoying arrhythmic pattern. Then it rises again.

Looking to the heavens, I sigh. Of course it’s not going to close. It’s always something with technology.