Vicious Lies (Lies 1)

I study him closer as he approaches her and then pulls her into an aggressively tight hug. He’s at least a decade older than her, his hair has speckles of gray in it, and he has more wrinkles around the eyes than any man our age.

The hairs on my arms stand up, and in my gut, I know this man isn’t a client.

Who is he?

His vile hand slips down from around her lower back, gripping her ass. His other hand tips her head back as his thumb strokes her carotid, like if she makes one wrong move, he’ll apply just the right amount of pressure to kill her and make it look like an accident. It’s a threatening move I’ve made too many times myself.

This is the man she is hunting.

This is the man she plans on killing tomorrow.

My gorgeous huntress, what trouble did you get into? What did he do to you to make you change your mind about killing men?

He had to have done more than just grope her inappropriately. Unfortunately, that’s something that she is used to. Men can’t control themselves around her—they turn into disgusting, rotten pigs who touch without asking.

Liesel knows how to handle men like that. I taught her in the fifth grade how to knee a man in the balls.

So I watch with a smirk, waiting for the moment when she’ll bring this asshole to his knees.

Her face tilts up with a smug smile. This is it—the moment she makes him pay for touching her without her permission.

She leans forward, closing the space between them as he plants a firm kiss on her lips.

I jump out of my car without thinking. My legs start moving toward them. He has no right to touch her! She didn’t ask him to touch her. She didn’t welcome his kiss. She didn’t—

The kiss ends, and I stop in my tracks as I watch her smile up at the man with more brightness than I knew existed in Liesel.

This man made her smile with a kiss.

That’s.

Not.

Possible.

Liesel doesn’t smile, not like that. She prowls and smirks and flashes seductive grins. But she doesn’t smile from true joy and happiness.

And yet, that’s exactly what she’s doing. She’s smiling up at a man a decade older.

Her hand is slipping into his, their fingers intertwining like they’ve done this a million times.

Her purse falls down her shoulder, and he takes it off and loops it over his shoulder, making her laugh.

She’s laughing.

I’m not close enough to hear it, but I’m close enough to see the sparks flying from her face.

Liesel is happy.

I never thought I’d see the day.

This isn’t the man she plans on killing tomorrow.

But he’s the man I want to kill for touching what’s mine.

5

Liesel