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Sinner's Revenge(8)

By:Kim Jones


Before I can answer, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and Diem is forgotten as I push past her and take the call from Nationals.

“I need some information,” Chaps, our national enforcer, tells me.

“And I’ll get it,” I respond, grabbing a pack of Gatorade as I round the corner.

“Ever heard of a guy named Fin?”

I search my brain, then remember Fin is the sergeant at arms for Death Mob. He’d given Rookie some shit once in Houston, but I haven’t seen him since then.

“I know who he is,” I growl, remembering how disrespectful he was and how badly I’d wanted to kill him.

“Get me everything you got on him. We’ve heard a rumor that he might be building an army.” Stupid fucker. Did Death Mob really think they could fight us and win?

“I’ll have it to you tonight.” Hanging up, I see Diem at the end of the aisle bending over to grab something from the bottom shelf. Her round ass is barely concealed by her shorts and I’m practically salivating at the sight.

I usually like long legs, but there’s something about her small, toned ones that send my dick into overdrive. They’re petite, but perfectly proportional. Even her ankles are sexy. Damn. I need to get laid. I’d kissed her twice, so we were halfway there already. I had work to do tonight, so dinner was out of the question. But maybe she’s up for a quick fuck in the parking lot.

Walking up behind her, I see her still struggling with whatever it is she’s trying to get. All I would have to do is wrap my hands around her waist and lift her just a little to have her centered on my cock. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I squat down beside her.

“Lose something?” I ask, and she jumps at the sound of my voice.

Glaring at me, I can see her pulse beating rapidly against her throat. “You scared the shit outta me,” she hisses, grabbing her chest dramatically.

Rolling my eyes, I duck my head and peer into the bottom shelf. We’re so close I can smell the blue raspberry on her breath. My cock becomes aware of her too, and I mentally tell him to back the fuck down.

“It’s stuck on that thingy,” she says, pointing to the last fifty-pound bag of sugar shoved all the way to the back of the shelf.

“What the fuck do you need with fifty pounds of sugar?” I mumble, attempting to grab the bag while she stays in my personal space. I turn to look at her, our lips a little too close for comfort. “Well, sweetheart, if you’ll move, I’ll unhook it from the thingy.”

She backs away and I give the bag a jerk. It releases, and I effortlessly pull it from the shelf and set it in her cart. Dusting the granules from my hand, I brush them down the front of my jeans. I feel her eyes on me and glance up from beneath my cap to find her staring at my arms in appreciation. Maybe we’ll be having parking lot sex after all.

Giving her my best panty-dropping smile, I pretend to wipe something from her lip that really isn’t there. “Need anything else?” I ask, praying like hell she’s picking up what I’m putting down.

Snapping back to reality, her back straightens. It’s hard for her to look intimidating and like a Smurf at the same time, but I give her an E for effort. “No, I’m good.” I bet she is.

“See you around, Diem.” I start to walk away, but I want to remind her just how good I really am. And that I don’t need to pay anyone for information. “Let me know how that spaghetti turns out.” I wink, feeling a sense of satisfaction when I notice the look of shock on her face. And I’m pretty sure she’s a little turned on too. She’ll probably be moaning Zeke’s name tonight while she touches herself.

“Sure will, Zack.”

Or maybe she won’t.


* * *

As soon as I’m home, I gather all the information on Fin I can find and send it to Cleft, who is heading up my job while I’m away. I instruct him to give it to Nationals and to call me if he has any questions. Then, I invite Rookie over for dinner. He declines because Carrie, his longtime girlfriend, is in town, so me and my Fruity Pebbles are left all alone.

My thoughts keep going to Diem, even though I try to think about anything else. She couldn’t even remember my fucking name. When was the last time a woman had forgotten me? I must be losing my game. I’d have to fly back to Jackpot this week and visit the club. Surely the women there remembered who I was. If I couldn’t fuck Diem, I might as well fuck her out of my system.


* * *

Things in the club were going smoothly. My help wasn’t needed, so I spent the next two weeks living like a caveman—pouring over all my research to perfect my next kill. When the walls started to close in, I decided it was time for a break. So, I’m in Concord at some upscale restaurant that promises me the best lobster on the East Coast, when I’m approached by a beautiful woman with skin the color of dark chocolate and legs longer than my own. I drag my eyes up her body, lingering longer on her cleavage than any gentleman ever would.