Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“The recommended optimum time for eliminating the mark was today, while he was occupied at the spa.”

A guy in front of me moves, stepping to the left and obstructing my view of the group. I grab a handful of hair at the back of his head and shove him to his previous spot. Roaring, he swivels around to come at me with a raised fist.

“Your advice has been rejected, Kruger,” I say and backhand the advancing bonehead. He ends up sprawled on the floor. “The target will be neutralized tomorrow evening. Make sure my payment is ready.”

Short silence reigns over the line, but I can still hear him breathing. I know he’s pissed. He’s been pissed for nearly ten years, ever since I demanded 50 percent of the fee for every kill, and insisted on picking and choosing what contract I want to take on. After that little tête-à-tête, he’s been fuming like a toxic sludge, trying to bring me to heel, but he can’t afford to openly oppose me or my methods. The man whom Kruger needs to be taken out has a small security army that follows him around wherever he goes. If I refuse the job, Kruger would need to dispatch one of his regular teams. And their mission success rate is a mere 63 percent.

“Where are you? Your GPS location has been turned off,” he grumbles.

“There’s no possibility of me ending up dead at the moment. If that changes, I’ll make sure to turn it back on so you can locate my body should my mission fail.”

Kruger continues yammering about God knows what, but I cut the call and creep along the wall, coming closer to Nera and her friends. I pick a spot in the corner and lean my shoulder on the wall so I can watch my girl.

The long purple dress she’s wearing hugs her curves like a second skin. It’s the dress her sister brought over a few months ago, and I nearly swallowed my tongue seeing her in it. And then, out of it. The dress has no back to it, just ties around her slender neck, leaving her gorgeous flesh exposed. I couldn’t help myself earlier—I had to feel her smooth skin. Couldn’t resist running my hand along her spine, inhaling that intoxicatingscent of her. Letting go of her again was torture. My only reprieve is continuing to watch her while she’s having fun.

One of the girls at Nera’s table says something, and the rest of the group falls into fits of laughter. My tiger cub is laughing too, creases appear at the corners of her eyes, and I find myself leaning forward as if I’m being pulled toward her by an invisible string. I want to feel some of that warm light she seems to be emitting. To soak it up and brighten my miserable soul. She reaches for her drink, smiling broadly, but suddenly looks up, her gaze narrowing right on the spot where I’m standing. I quickly take a step back. Retreating into the shadows where I belong, where I can simply watch her.

It was a mistake, to allow myself to get closer to her. Looking at Nera now as she laughs with her friends, makes everything so much clearer. I should stay away from her. For her sake.

The music changes to a slow tune, and the overhead lights dim. A few guys approach the table of Nera’s friends, speaking with the girls, and making them giggle. One of the newcomers—a guy in his early twenties, wearing a white shirt and khaki trousers—offers his hand to Nera. She shakes her head, but the woman to her right seems to be encouraging her to go, whispering into my girl’s ear. The guy’s hand wraps around Nera’s delicate fingers, and then he pulls her toward the dance floor.

Rage ignites inside my chest as I watch him slide his arm around her back, drawing her closer.

Mine!The voice in the back of my head roars, urging me to end the motherfucker who’s dared to touch her.

I’m halfway to them, on the dance floor, before I even realize I’ve moved. Seeing them this close-up, I come to a sudden halt. I can’t dismiss how they seem to fit together. Both young. Blond.The guy’s clothes appear to be of good quality, pricey. He might be a student, like her, on a path to becoming something great in life. A lawyer. Or maybe a doctor.

Not a man who kills people for money because it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

Like me.

My eyes remain glued to them as I take a step back.

I don’t fit. Not me.

Not a low-life scumbag who can barely read at grade school level.

Another step, then a few more, until I’m back at my spot in the corner, watching my tiger cub in the arms of another man. The fire inside me is still burning, right there in my chest, scorching everything in its way. And I let it. I let it incinerate the silly hope that took root there, that grew each time I came to see my cub, feeding me lies that I might have a chance at something good in my life. I guess I forgot that hope is a luxury doomed souls like me are not entitled to.

The music carries on, and I keep watching, imagining myself in the blond guy’s place.

“How about another dance?” the guy asks me after the song ends.

He seems nice and is rather handsome. I probably would have been attracted to him. Before. Now? I can’t even remember what name he used when he introduced himself. “Thank you, but I think I’ll head back to my friends now.”

“Why? Is there someone else?”

Yes. No. I sigh. I wish I knew the answer to that question. “Maybe.”

“Well, he’s not here, is he?” He shifts his hand to the small of my back, sliding lower.

“Remove your hand from my ass, please.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, I’ll punch you right in the face. I’m sure your friends will find that entertaining.”

“Fine.” He releases me while an evil smirk pulls at his lips. “Haughty bitch.”