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“I want to see you. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” Finally, he ends the call.
The plan was to wait—to take him to some secluded area so that his body wouldn’t be found for months—but after hearing their conversation, I’m pissed. After all the bullshit they’ve tried to come between Siân and me, and he’s still choosing this skank over her.
They have to go. I was going to spare Kyla, leave at least someone for Siân to have when we start our new life together, but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Even her life is disposable at this moment.
My anger gets the best of me, and before he can drive away, I pull the wire from my pocket and rise behind him. I wrap the string around each hand, then quickly drape it over his head and cinch it around his neck.
Taj fights against me, his head instantly pushing back into the seat as he claws at my hands. It’s a good thing I’m wearing gloves, something I never go without when I’m conducting business.
“Shhh,” I mutter to get his attention. “The more you fight, the harder I pull, and you’ll never make it out of this parking lot. There you go,” I say when he relaxes a little, though he doesn’t unhand the string that’s now cutting into his flesh.
“What do you want?” He struggles to get out, his breaths labored and shortened.
“For you to stay quiet and drive.”
At this moment, Taj glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Y-You.”
“Surprise, motherfucker. Now drive,” I bark.
Taj flinches and fumbles to reach the push to start button on his vehicle. The car hums to life, and with the tip of my chin, he places his hands on the wheel. “Please don’t do this. She’ll never forgive you.”
I laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong. She’s never going to find out.” Placing the wire in one hand, I lean forward and hit the screen on his dash. Pulling up the GPS, I select the marked location I know as Kyla’s. “Now drive.”
Taj nervously switches gears, and I watch his face in the rearview mirror as he maneuvers out of the parking lot. He’s smart. I’ll give him that because he doesn’t fight. It’s disappointing because the fight is the best part, but right now, I’m fine with anything that will make this pass sooner.
We pull into the driveway of the house Siân once shared with Kyla. I order him to put the car in park and kill the ignition.
“I told you she was mine.”
His eyes widen as we stare at each other through the mirror, and I tighten the string around his neck.
“I guess it doesn’t matter since you’ve chosen that slut over a goddess. You really are a fucking idiot, huh? I should have known by the way you fucked her. You couldn’t even be bothered to satisfy Siân before tucking your tiny dick and fucking another woman. That’s right. I watched you, and I know all about your little rendezvous with Kyla in there. Well beyond just tonight. You fucked Kyla before showing up at the club that night, the evening I destroyed your car, and about a week ago on the sofa in this very house.”
“It’s not what—”
“Shut up,” I bark, and he jumps in his seat.
“Please, man. You can have her. I’ll never bother her again.”
“I know you won’t,” I say before retrieving my blade and bringing it to his neck.
He tries to use the very moment when I released him for my knife to escape, but he’s not fast enough. His throat bobs against my touch, his pulse racing with each passing second. If I had the time I wanted, I’d draw this out, taking my time as I carve him to pieces. Time isn’t on my side, though. It has to be done so I can take my woman and return to Italy, where we belong.
“You’re fucking sick,” he gets out before I pin his head back with a hand on his forehead. Quickly, I run the blade across his throat, smiling as blood spurts from the wound and paints his windshield.
As his gags become nonexistent and his body stops twitching, I let go and slip out of the car. Glancing around, I find the neighborhood just as quiet and lifeless as it always is. Pitiful people, so oblivious to everything around them. The lights flicker on inside the house, and I hunch low to keep from being seen. A second later, Taj’s phone rings from inside the car. When I ignore it and look up at the house, I notice Kyla’s silhouette pacing the living room.
I stand upright, pull my shoulders back, and make my way to the rear of the house. Using the key I made months ago, I slip past the creaky porch, thankful Kyla is in the front room and unable to hear as I sneak in through the kitchen. Her back is to me as I inch through the foyer and past the table of pictures in the hall.
