Home > Books > Society of Psychos (Dead Men Walking #2)(53)

Society of Psychos (Dead Men Walking #2)(53)

Author:Caroline Peckham & Susanne Valenti

I climbed down next, my teeth sinking into my lip with the anticipation of swimming. I hadn’t quite got the hang of the flips and flaps yet, so the deepsy ends of the pool made me a little nervous.

“I got ya, lass.” Niall’s arms wound around me as I stepped off the ladder and he treaded water to keep us afloat. “Nice and quiet now.”

I nodded, kicking my legs to help propel us as we moved through the water, hugging the wall as Niall glanced at a camera pointing out towards the grounds. We were in another blind spot, approaching our prey like reapers come to collect a soul, and I couldn’t wait to send it to hell.

We made it into the indoor pool and Niall released me as my toes touched the floor, wading forward towards the ladder that led out into the conservatory, the glass windows climbing up around us.

The scent of chlorine and money filled the air and I followed Niall out onto the white marble floor with little veins of gold running through it, wondering what it would be like to live in a house like this where you could afford fancy things. If I had money, I’d buy a castle and announce myself as a lady. I’d hook speakers up in the grounds that made it sound like a monster prowled through the woods at night, and I’d make all the children of the local town fear that I was a witch who wanted to eat them. I’d even pay a few of them off to tell their friends they’d seen me feasting on the bones of a baby. It would be so much freaking fun.

Niall led the way forward, padding through to a sauna where the heat wafted around us, drying us off as he laid his bag down and unpacked it. He took out a dark pink dress which glittered with rhinestones, the thing full length and like a beautiful ball gown.

He handed it to me and I gaped at him as I looked at the incredible thing, unable to think of a single better outfit to kill in than this.

“Thank you,” I breathed as he took out a suit for himself, shrugging at me like it was nothing.

He turned his back on me as he changed and I stripped out of my wet bikini, letting myself air dry for a minute before pulling on the dress, having to go underwear free but not caring as the silken inside of the dress hugged my flesh.

I tried to do up the back, scrambling for the zip, my arms going backways and underways, but I just couldn’t do it.

Niall turned to me in his smart black trousers, the black shirt still hanging open to reveal his inked chest. He moved towards me, pushing his fingers into his hair and making me still as he circled me like a vulture and took hold of the zip, drawing it slowly up my spine until the whole bodice hugged my figure.

“Perfect,” he said close to my ear, making my breath hitch before he stepped away again, doing up the buttons of his shirt and rolling his sleeves back to reveal his muscular forearms. What was it about forearms that was so sexy? Especially when they were flexing and looking all powerful like that.

He tossed me some high heels and I slid them on, smiling to myself because I’d had a whole lesson on walking in these babies via facetime with Mel and I could seduce a badger from his den with a pair of these bad boys on now, so a man for the killing would be easy peasy. I watched as Niall put on his own shoes and slid a knife into his pocket, picking up the bag and shoving our wet swimwear into it. He tucked it out of sight under a bench and stood upright as I gave him a questioning look.

“Isn’t that…evidence?” I asked, going through the top three killer tips he’d given me.

Don’t be seen.

Make ‘em scream.

Don’t leave any evidence behind.

“Yup,” he said. “We’ll be back for it on our way out.”

He offered me his arm with a conspiratorial smile and I took it before he led me out of the sauna and deeper into the house.

The music thrummed through my body, the set of some tacky DJ drumming through the house. The more I saw of the place, the more I disliked it. There was stuff for the sake of stuff. If I was going to buy things, they’d mean something to me. But this stuff was all for show, like the owner cared more about what other people thought of it than he did. And that seemed like such a sad, sad way to live your life.

We finally found the centre of the party, the purple, blue and pink lights swinging about an enormous lounge, all the furniture arranged to the sides of it in nooks and crannies while a dance floor sat beneath a skylight shaped like the sun. The DJ was deep in his feels, his eyes shut, his hand on his headphones as he vibed out to the droning song while a bunch of people danced and swayed to the beat.

I hunted the room for the man we were here for as a waiter sailed by and Niall snatched two glasses of champagne from the tray, handing one to me. I swigged the fizzy bubbles then downed all of it, liking that a lot.

Niall drank his own in one gulp and I pushed my glass into a potted plant along with his, not wanting to hold it anymore. I worked to cover it up with a few leaves, losing my grip on Niall’s arm as I became preoccupied with the job, but a seductive, accented voice cut through the air and caught my attention.

“Niall! What in the world are you doing here?”

I swung around, finding a very blonde, very beautiful, very tight-waisted, very lippy woman there. And what was worse, so much fucking worse, was that I knew who she was in an instant, because her tits were pushed up and on display like two perfect cantaloups balanced there on her chest, barely concealed by a tight black dress with a slit between her cleavage that ran all the way down to her navel. Those tits were world class, and they were smirking, belittling every other tit in the room, especially mine. Because they knew, they fucking knew what they held over me. Niall. They had my Niall.

“Anastasia,” Niall said in surprise, shooting a glance at me before his eyes went firmly back to his fiancée as she reached out and took hold of his arm. The very same arm he’d offered to me not five minutes ago. And he didn’t even do anything to take it back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Anastasia’s painted red nails dug deeper into Niall’s arm. “You must come say hello to my friends. They’re dying to meet you.”

“Hello,” I blurted loudly, needing to be acknowledged, because with her there, it suddenly felt like I didn’t exist at all.

Anastasia’s eyes flicked to me and I realised my hands were still on the plant leaves I’d folded together to hide our glasses. I let them go, immediately exposing the champagne flutes and Anastasia looked to me with her nose wrinkling. Like I was a rat that had just scurried out of the bushes and dared to look her in the eye, this princess who was worth eighty-five of me and then some.

“Yes? Are you lost?” Anastasia asked curtly. Damn her accent was sexy. It was almost as hot as Mateo’s. Gah, fuck her. Fuck her right in the tits.

“No,” I said the same moment Niall said, “Yes.”

I looked to him in confusion as he waved me away like I was an errant fart blown in from across the room.

“Off ya go, lass. I’ll come find ya when I need you.” He turned his back on me and it felt like a punch in the face.

I stood there in horror as Anastasia gave me a cruel smile, drawing Niall away from me and giving me a look that told me to stay away.

My heart whined like a kicked puppy and I just stood there with my arms hanging at my sides like two useless lumps of meat. But then my gaze locked on the judge across the room and a vicious smile lifted my lips as I decided to defy Niall. I’d tear out my heart, stomp on it and leave it here on the floor while I went on my own killing spree. This was my kill anyway, not Niall’s. And while he was off canoodling with his fiancée, I was going to do what I’d come here for. Because I didn’t need him anyway. I was the Bully Butcher. The Pink Pussy. The Peen Piper. And I could do this murder all on my own.

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