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I spat on him and turned to face Drake. He stood, naked and smeared with blood just like I was, a weird smile on his lips.
“That was amazing,” he said, whispering like a lover in the night.
The bloodlust fading, I suddenly felt embarrassed, dropping my eyes. “I, uh, kind of got into it.”
“That’s one fucking way of putting it. You are an astounding creature, Dahlia. I thought I was going to teach you things, but perhaps you have something to teach me instead.”
My cheeks grew warm as I looked up at him. “You think so?”
He nodded slowly and wiped blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. “I do, but now that the fun’s over, we need to hurry. The wife’s dinner reservation started about thirty minutes ago. At best, we have another two hours, at worst, an hour. It depends on how talkative her friends are. Let’s go.”
We quickly shoved the tools, used rope, and cut zip ties back into the backpack then found Marco’s bedroom where we both showered and redressed, moving faster than ever. At the back of my mind, a strange tick-tick-tick kept chiming. The clock was running down. Back in the lounge, Marco looked like the scraps left from a butchered animal. Drake reached into the backpack and pulled four water bottles out. Each was filled with gasoline.
“We cover our tracks with this.” He used a second scalpel to poke a hole in the plastic lid and began to squirt gas all around the room and across Marco’s body.
After that bottle was empty he used a second on the room, and made a trail to the hall. The third was used to soak the carpet leading to the bodyguard’s apartment, and before exiting, Drake poured the remains out all over the wooden table and furniture of the living area.
He went to the small stove set in the kitchen and pulled it back.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Without answering, he found the gas line leading to the stove and tore it from the wall.
He turned and grinned at me. “Making sure.”
The last thing he extracted from the backpack was a road flare. He dragged the cap across the top, lighting the flare and tossing it toward the gasoline-soaked table.
“Run,” he said, and hurried me out the door, closing it behind us.
Even before we were down the stairs, I could hear the roar of the fire behind us. I had time to glance at the dead bodyguard as we rushed toward the gate before the windows of the man’s former room burst out with a whoosh.
Drake and I sprinted out the gate and hurried back to our car, getting in and sitting, watching the flames take over the house. We didn’t pull away until the orange flickers of fire were visible through the tile roof. The inferno was too heavily involved for anyone to have any hope of extinguishing it. We pulled away, and already people were coming out of nearby houses to watch the blaze. In the distance, the strange sound of sirens began to wail and echo.
Drake looked at me from the driver seat and grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry again. It’s only ten. How about it?”
Rolling my window down, I stuck my hand out, feeling the wind twist through my fingers. “I did work up an appetite. I could eat.”
Chapter 9
Dahlia
The high of the evening’s activities had me wound tight. Driving away from Marco’s burning home, I laid my head back and enjoyed the wind rushing over me through the open window. Above us, the night sky was bright and shimmering with stars. I could still hear Marco’s screams, and they filled me with a warmth that almost nothing else on earth could match. I grinned to myself, remembering the way his face had looked when Drake’s cum had splattered across his face.
“What about this place?” Drake said.
He’d pointed out a small roadside restaurant.
“Sure. I could destroy a plate of pasta.”
Drake chuckled as he pulled the car into the tiny parking lot beside the restaurant. When we walked in, the crowd was rowdy and several folks were cheering and cursing at the two TVs set into the walls. A soccer match was ongoing. From what I could see, it looked like the Italian national team was playing another country, but I couldn’t recognize the opposing flag.
We took a seat near the large window that, in the daylight, would have overlooked the ocean a few hundred yards down the hill. I’d had nothing to drink, but the buzz of our activities had me in a happy daze, and I let Drake order for us while I gazed out the window at the stars above. If a fifteen-year-old me could see this now, she’d never believe it.
Food came as a platter of a dozen different items, along with cheeses, and toasted focaccia bread. I plucked an olive off the tray and popped it into my mouth, and lifted my wine glass. Sighing, contented, I swallowed and took a sip of my drink. I still wasn’t used to the expensive tastes Drake had. The wine was sweet, bursting with flavor on my tongue, and so rich it almost seemed thick. It was glorious.
“You look happy,” Drake said, munching on his own food.
“Happy that a piece of shit got what he deserved. You think his wife will get all his money now that he’s dead?” I said, keeping my voice low, though over the raucous yelling of the crowd, I could have shouted and no one would have heard me.
