Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

My footsteps echo through the vast space, bouncing around the concrete walls, and fill the silence with something other than my pounding heartbeat. Hitting my fob, I pop the trunk, then drag my duffel bag toward me. Tonight, I won’t be driving. I need to be stealthy and smart. I remove the clothes I wear on these special occasions, along with the lone guitar string, Glock, and knife.

I drag my shirt over my head by the collar and toss it in the trunk, doing the same with my pants before slipping into the black sweatpants and hoodie I keep in my duffel. My car is parked at the back of the garage away from prying eyes, and at this time of night, most of the residents are locked safely inside their homes.

I pull the hood in place over my head, shove the guitar string and knife in the pocket, and tuck my Glock into the waist of my pants. Luckily, Taj is a creature of habit, so I know exactly where he’ll be. Walking out of the parking garage, I start north. The direction of his favorite watering hole, the same place I first laid eyes on my Siân.

Every evening is almost the same. He gets off work, has a drink with his friends or coworkers, then heads home for his evening jog before calling it a night. This bar seems to be a place of comfort for all of them, him included. It’s there where he feels safe—under the companionship of friends and the lone bartender who runs the joint—but tonight, he’ll realize familiarity and comfort don’t mean shit when someone wants you dead.

After trekking my way ten blocks, dodging traffic cams, and keeping my head down, I make it to the bar. I can see him through the window, shooting pool and laughing with his friends, and it makes me angry. I don’t want his last moments to be happy or fun. I want him to be fearful and realize fucking with—and around on—Siân was a mistake.

I want to take my time and torture him. Filet his skin from every inch of muscle and bone. Maybe even pin his eyes open with needles as I slice off his dick so he sees it. But I don’t have that kind of time tonight.

Crossing the street, I hit the back parking lot. When I spot his shiny blue Lexus, I take one last glance around, then pull out my knife. Shoving it between the weather stripping and metal of the door, I pop the lock with minimal damage. Not like it would matter if there were any. Taj is too fucking self-centered to notice.

Just like he couldn’t even tell when my woman wasn’t satisfied after throwing his sweaty body over hers and shoving his dick inside.

The thought alone has my anger brimming, but I don’t fight it. Not this time. Away from Siân, I’m on familiar ground. I can fight, murder, and obsess without judgment—without scaring her.

When I open the door, the alarm sounds. Moving quickly, I pop the hood, then round the front and slice the horn’s wires. Thankfully, the music and chatter inside are so overpowering, no one seems to notice.

Walking back to the front seat, I slip inside, close the door behind me, and lock it before crawling over the console and hiding in the back seat.

I wait for what seems like hours, my hot breath fogging the windows from the inside, and I’m worried it will put Taj on edge, but when the doors unlock automatically and he slides inside, I realize my earlier thought was spot-on.

“I know, baby. I miss you too. I’m about to leave now and head your way.” He starts the car, letting his Bluetooth connect, then Kyla’s voice flows through the speakers.

“Why are we still hiding, Taj?”

He slumps in his seat but holds his frustrations to himself. “We’ve talked about this, Kyla. Siân and I just ended things.”

“Exactly. Sneaking around was fine at first, fun even. But she’s obviously written us off. She’s with that Christian character, so why not just tell her about us?”

“Because it’s not the time. Yes, we’re over, she and I, but I still don’t trust this asshole. And telling her we’ve been fucking behind her back is only going to push her further away.”

“Then what are we doing, Taj. Do you still want to be with Siân?”

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Kyla, can we not do this tonight? I just want to come over and be with you and get some rest before work tomorrow. Can we just have a calm night? Unless you want to cancel, at which point I’ll head home now.”

“No,” she mutters.

“Hmm?”

He heard her loud and clear, but I see now he’s just a manipulative bastard. Is this how he convinced Siân to put up with him for so long?