Page 22 of Cursed Angels


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“No, sir, the place is clean of fingerprints, and no notes were left. They were trained though. They got in by picking the lock, and judging by the fact that the murder occurred in his bedroom, Dr. Hickson was sleeping when they captured him. He didn’t stand a chance, if you ask me.”

I stroke my stubbled chin. I hadn’t had time to shave before coming here. “A rival company?”

“We’ve had no threats recently. The Russians were interested a while back, but they have gone quiet recently.”

“Have someone check out their lead assassin’s movements last night.”

“Yes, sir.”

I lean closer to the body. The doctor has been well and truly carved up. He is barely recognizable as the man he once was. I shut my eyes and inhale. Amongst the stench of death there is something else. I can’t place it.

Again, it is familiar, but what is it?

Jasmine? A perfume?

I open my eyes and look at the body. I’m not a fool. I know Dr. Hickson’s methods. Many virgins have entered his surgeries and come out ripped apart. His cupboards are filled with contraptions that would tear even a seasoned whore apart. A revenge killing. But who?

“Did you find something?” Liam asks.

“No.” I stand back up. The lie hangs heavily on my lips. Why I said it, I don’t know. “Until we know what is going on, I want the guards around the children and the senior leaders doubled. Nobody is to leave the area without my permission. If anyone does, they are to be brought to me, and I will show them what happens if they defy my rule.”

“I’ll put the word out. What are we going to do with him?” Liam nods at the rotting corpse.

I take a final look at the good doctor. The feelings of satisfaction at his gruesome and obviously painful death resurface.

“Take anything of importance and bring it to my room. Anything of value you can share amongst yourselves for cigarettes and weed. Then burn the place to the ground.”

“Yes, sir.” Liam scuttles off, seeming satisfied in the knowledge that being first on the scene will have gained him some additional pocket money.

I spit on the doctor’s body and leave.

“Who did it?”

I’m standing before Rebekah’s desk. She’s wearing another one of those blouses that shows off the curve of her tits. I need to keep this professional, but my dick has other ideas and wants to come all over the displayed flesh.

“No idea at the moment. I’ve got someone checking out the Russians,” I tell her, taking a seat and bringing one of my legs up over the other.

“If it’s those bastards, I want their head doctor here so I can personally flay his skin from his body and send it back piece by piece.” She slams her fist into the table, my dick getting even harder.

“You’ll get him and a few extras. Don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to find a replacement for the best doctor we ever had.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a folder. On it is written Doctors. “Didn’t he even have CCTV?”

“Nope. We’re checking the wider area, but I don’t expect it to bring anything up.” I place my hand over hers. “Don’t worry about the doctor. Just promote his deputy. Throw some money his way, and you’ll get the best service possible.”

“You think it’s that simple?” She curls her lip up incredulously at me.

“I know it’s that simple.” I take the folder out of her hands and open it. There are contact details and qualifications for all the doctors The Factory employs. Dr. Hickson is at the top, and underneath is a man named Dr. Chamberland. “Is that his deputy?”

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes at me. It’s such a turn on when a woman does that.

“Up.”

“What?”

“Get up.” I place the folder down.

“I’m the boss here, Mr. King.”

“Up and over the table. You’re stressed, and it’s my job to alleviate that.”

“You’re very certain of yourself. Maybe last night was a one-time thing.” She purses her lips together and folds her arms across her chest.

“You came on my cock multiple times. I even heard you screaming my name. It’s not a one-time thing. I’ve planted an itch inside you that only I can scratch. Now, last chance. Over the desk, ass in the air.” I stand up and show her the tent in my trousers. After a pause, a battle of wills so to speak, she stands and places herself over the desk. The tight black skirt she’s wearing frames her ass perfectly. I lift the silky fabric and push it to her waist. The black G-string she’s wearing offers little resistance to my needs. With one hard tug, it’s ripped from her body to leave her bare to me. My trousers are undone in seconds. The next thing I know, I’m inside her, my hips moving.

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