Dark Vengeance Kristi Belcamino (read me a book .txt) 📖

He spent two days at all the plasma buying centers around the city, scraped up his last few dollars and went to buy some fancy running shorts and shoes. Then he splurged on a haircut and shave and had a manicure and pedicure. Then, he checked the forecast and waited for the next warm day.

Right when she was expected, he pulled up short near the bench and ripped off his shirt, breathing heavily. That was his trump card, his advantage—he had an amazing body under his baggy clothing. And he cleaned up nice. In fact, his looks had never been his problem with women, or anything else. It had been his sociopathic tendencies. But he’d learned over the past few years how to fake empathy and emotion with the best of them.

At the time, he used his $58 Lululemon shirt to swipe at his brow and pretended to accidentally meet her eyes. And locked his gaze onto hers. Then, putting every ounce of charm into it, he flashed his best smile. She actually stopped walking and appeared stunned.

He came closer and then said, “Do you mind if I pet your dog? We had this same dog when I was growing up.”

He waited until she gave a mute nod before he crouched.

At first the dog gave a slight growl, but then he offered the tiny piece of meat he’d had tucked into his palm. The dog went fucking nuts. It was whining and wagging its tail and licking his hand. He laughed and looked up.

She was laughing, too. “I’ve never seen Oscar take to someone so quickly.”

He stood up. At this point, their faces were only inches apart. He was glad he’d used extra mouthwash, but quickly realized that she hadn’t.

He didn’t flinch, though, and said, “I’ve always thought dogs were great judges of character.” He said it in his low, deep voice. The one that women in college had told him made them wet their panties.

Her lips trembled and her eyes widened, but then she bit her lip and seemed to gather the courage to speak. “I’ve always thought so, too,” she said in a soft voice.

Boom. A done deal.

After that point, she couldn’t resist him.

He smiled to himself in the bath now, remembering how she had just been the first. He’d perfected his technique on her. And then moved on.

But she would always hold a special place in his heart.

She was the one who first got to know the newborn X. She had fed him and nurtured him with her lust and futile love.

That’s what X realized what was missing from his life now: he missed the art of the hunt. It made him feel more alive than anything else. It wasn’t the sex; it wasn’t the money. It was the thrill of the chase.

 It was about time he got back into the game. He was ready.

His thoughts drifted to a woman he’d met in Padang last month. As soon as he thought of her, he grew ramrod hard. Again, not because he was imagining fucking her.

He would fuck her. But only because that was how the game was played.

She would be perfect in all ways. She was perfectly fuckable. A rich bitch. Lonely. And, best of all, in a foreign country where nearly anything goes.

Her blonde iciness was definitely attractive to him, as well. When his mother was young, she’d also had that color blonde hair. Bonus.

He wasn’t sure what color her eyes were. He hadn’t been able to get that close to her yet. He’d only done reconnaissance. He hadn’t actually opened the game yet. This was still the observation and research stage. But it was getting close. He mentally went over everything he knew about her. Her address. Her daily routines. Her favorite shops and restaurants.

She was older, maybe even older than he was. And she was slightly overweight. She had beady eyes but sensual lips and big billowy breasts where he wanted to bury his face. But her biggest attraction to him was her money. X loved women with money. He wooed them and then stole every last penny from them before disappearing.

Money turned him on more than any tits or ass ever could.

This one lived in a penthouse high above the city. She drove a Mercedes. She wore Gucci and had fingers covered in expensive rings.

He couldn’t wait to see the fear on her face when she realized what he really was. He didn’t care for the killing part itself, just the terror he invoked was enough. In fact, he found the killing incredibly distasteful. But he’d learned his lesson. By keeping his victims alive after he was done with them, he’d put a price on his head.

Although he had grown complacent and no longer lived in daily fear of the CIA showing up at his front door, he still had to remain in hiding and be careful.

Look what had happened recently.

Now, he was at the mercy of some asshole who had figured out who he was.

It was bullshit.

He sighed, stepping out of the bath, his hard- on now gone, thinking about the voice on the other end of the phone.

Time to play nice.

And then once he was done, he’d pay a visit to Ms. Mercedes and see what other goodies she had in her penthouse.

8

Back in the village, I bought some food and water to bring back to the surf camp, filling up my backpack and paying for two cheap plastic tote bags to carry everything.

The market was deserted except for a middle-age woman, with her hair pulled back severely in a bun and a heavily wrinkled tan face, running the cash register. I wandered the few aisles with canned goods and then stood in front of the deli area. There were whole roasted pigs staring at me and other delicacies I didn’t recognize. Off to the side was another area more like a café with cooked items in a display case. The clerk