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“Or, better yet,” I rebut, holding up a finger. “You can come by my place this evening and meet them. That way you’re in control. You decide when you come, you decide when you leave.”
I hear what sounds like a growl. “Fine. What’s the address?” he grumbles, pushing off the desk and turning his back to me to retrieve a pen and sticky note.
I kill the smile before it forms on my face—I don’t want to appear too eager—and scribble my address, looking him in the eyes as I pass the notepad back. He meets my gaze and shows a flicker of hate mixed with arousal. There’s also a transference of power. It’s visible in the way his pupils dilate. I smell it in the pheromones that seep from his pores. And I can almost taste the victory on my tongue.
Benjamin Figueiredo thinks he’s in control. And, like most men who think they’re in control around me, he’s an idiot.
Because I’m the one who holds all the power. Both now, and tonight.
As well as the moment I drain the life from his body.
Chapter 6
I run my finger over the gold frame, looking at the fake photo of me with two kids who technically don’t exist.
“What time will Benny the Baby Snatcher be here?”
“Benny the Baby Snatcher?”
Rigger shrugs. “Rolls off the tongue better than Benny the Boner Killer.”
“If you say so. And …” I glance at the clock. “Half an hour.”
Rigger peers over my shoulder at the photo I’m holding. “Look okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” I reach behind me and hug his neck, then set the frame down on the coffee table.
Once again, my dude has come through for me. I don’t know how he does it but he can take a CGI image online and work wonders with it. I asked him once and he replied that he crops, adjusts, filters, smears, stretches, slaps, and I can’t remember what else he said.
This one is a photo of me from earlier this year. Devin used to be on my left but now her spot is filled with a couple of kids. Rigger asked me why I don’t just print off a few pictures I find online, but there’s no way I’m going to put photos of real kids in front of a pedophile. He seemed to understand when I put it like that.
“How do I look, by the way?” I hold my arms out and spin in a circle, showing Rigger the full three-sixty view of me in my spray-painted-on dress that shows every curve and all the skin that exists from the bottom of my ass down. The three-inch heelsmightbring me to chin level with Psycho Benny.
“Like you just got out of a relationship with a lesbian and are desperate for a man to rough you up.”
“Great. Just the look I was going for.”
“You don’t look like a serial killer if that’s what you’re worried about. And on that note, I should go ahead and take off.”
“I’m sure Benny won’t be early, but yeah. It’s probably good if you skedaddle.”
He grabs his cell off the bar. “Call me if you need anything. And be careful, Tove.”
I glance his way, take in the sharp look he’s tossing at me. “Always am. What are you doing later tonight?”
“No plans.”
“Maybe we could meet for a drink after he leaves?”
“You mean before you pick up the kids from the sitter’s house?”
I smile. “Yes. Unless you want me to bring them along.”
Rigger bobs his head. “Call me. We’ll see.”
I scrunch my face. “If you’re going to turn antisocial on me just because you’re single, this relationship won’t work.”
“I’m always antisocial,” he replies, voice deep and defensive.
