Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
The target is Nathaniel Moretti. He’s actually a regular at Black Velvet and nothing more than a trust-fund brat.
He’s the second youngest son of one of the wealthiest families in the country, and up until now, it was believed that he was the perfect golden boy. But everybody has their secrets, and when it comes to billionaires, I’m starting to realize that dirty secrets are just part of the job description.
The second Hunter gave me just a snippet of the details, I already knew who I was looking for, and not because I have a relationship with Nathaniel that allows me to know his deep, dark secrets, but because I make it my business to know everything about every last person who lives in and around Onyx Heights.
He’s stupid and greedy, exactly the type of man who would end up on a hit list. He’s collateral damage, and once you fuck with Daddy’s money, it’s time to go.
This kill will be big news come morning. No mistakes can be made.
When Nathaniel isn’t wasted at my bar, he can generally be found on the outskirts of Onyx Heights, in a club called Madam, and yes, it’s exactly that kind of club. The kind of club that gives you anything you could possibly want if the price is right, and where Nathaniel is concerned, money is no issue.
I umm and ahh over heading that way. Considering the curfew within the city limits, Madam is currently one of the only clubs with their doors open. Not that they would have obliged by the curfew had their establishment been built two miles to the west. Buuuuuut, beating Hunter and Maddox at their own game is just too great of an opportunity to pass up.
I arrive at Madam, and after silently creeping up on the back door security and knocking him out cold, I slip through the back entrance while taking everything in.
The club is impeccable, but that’s no surprise with the type of clientele they’re bringing in every night. I came here once out of professional curiosity before I started the layout and design concepts for Black Velvet. I wanted my bar to be original. I wanted customers to walk in and feel as though they’d never been anywhere like it before, and with that in mind, I went around to all the local bars and clubs and checked out what they had going on, and just as it’s doing now, Madam blew me away.
There’s a sophisticated sexiness to it. An elegant appeal that you just don’t get with normal clubs. It screams money and class. Only for high society clientele who are dressed the part and have the money to splurge.
Moving through the club, I stick to the shadows, keeping myself concealed as I scan the floor, searching through the groups of men, who even late at night on a Saturday, are still wearing designer business suits.
Slowly wandering through the club, I keep searching until I finally spot him, leaning against the bar and barking orders into his phone, pretending he isn’t currently bleeding millions of dollars from his family’s empire.
I watch him for a moment, trying to figure out my best game plan. A shot through the back of the head would be easy. So would a quick flick of my wrist with a blade. But both those options are going to leave a bloody scene. People will notice, and then people will scream, which generally will result in a mass exodus from the club, making me have to scramble out of here, which isn’t my vibe. I like to take my time. I like to be at ease and in control.
In order to do that, this kill needs to fit in with the atmosphere, and what better way to pull that off than by faking an accidental overdose? After all, that’s what people come here to do. Alcohol, sex, and drugs. This place reports an overdose every few months, so what’s one more to add to the pile?
Slipping my hand into the small hidden pocket inside my corseted top, I pull out a bag of white powder and give myself a moment to glance around. There’s no sign of Hunter or Maddox, and I can’t help but wonder if they’d gotten their information wrong. Maybe they had bad intel, or knowing Maddox, he demanded they stop for burgers. Either way, I’m going to take their hit tonight. I just wish they could be here so I could see the look on their faces when they realize the red-haired assassin has beaten them at their own game. Again.
Nathaniel ends his call and orders a drink that’s delivered to him within seconds, and as his fingers wrap around the glass, one of the women approaches him. She’s beautiful, tall, blond, and dressed in designer lingerie. Exactly Nathaniel’s type.