PROLOGUE

 

She was a real piece of ass...

He could feel his arousal through tight jeans. He had been watching her, following her, getting to know her every move till it was time to do what had to be done.

He could have taken her any time he wanted, crushing her pretty skull between his strong, calloused hands, as easily as one might flatten a piece of dough. But it was more fun and stimulating to bide his time like a shark might before going after a helpless fish. Or even a human. He knew exactly where she was every minute of the day.

And night.

Why rush a good thing?

He considered killing a person a work of art. Like the Mona Lisa. It required skill, finesse, courage, determination, and a vision.

He had been born with these talents thirty-two years ago in East L.A.’s Latino community. Surviving the mean streets there had required every bit of his artistic skills, and then some. With his mama a whore and his daddy a wife-abusing heroin addict, he had literally been left to fend for himself as early as he could remember.

Joining a gang had allowed him to sharpen his skills. He imagined he had taken out or seriously injured maybe a dozen or more rival gang members by the time he was fifteen. He considered it all in a day’s work. It was either them or him. Which was a real no-brainer.

But he knew he was going nowhere fast in L.A.’s war zone. Between the rival Latino gangs and the black gang bangers fighting for territory, respect, or just for the hell of it, he saw no future there. Sooner or later he figured a bullet or blade would have his name written on it in blood—unless he quit while he was ahead.

Which was precisely why he had given up the hood and gang life and fled the city before he turned eighteen. He ended up in Northern California in a town called Eagles Landing. By comparison to the urban jungle he’d left behind, it was fairly laid back and boring as hell.

Still, he didn’t miss his homeboys one bit. No damned way!

He’d hooked up with distant relatives and was cool with a few dudes in Eagles Landing.

But even that was fleeting. It didn’t take long for him to realize he operated much better on his own, apart from keeping a roof over his head in living with a broad. This way he got to keep all the profits and pleasures from doing what he did best—killing people.

It was a rush like no other. Even better than getting off inside a bitch. Or the almost orgasmic feel of cocaine going into his veins. He killed for hire or just plain old desire. It made no difference to him. What counted most was that once he had targeted someone for death, it was just a matter of when, where, how, and sometimes how much.

He contemplated those very things as he studied the nice looking broad through the window of her fancy home. She was maybe thirty, slim, with a big ass and even bigger breasts. Her yellow hair was permed with fluffy curls and she had full red lips. He imagined kissing that mouth, then sticking his tongue inside. Or better yet, having that mouth go down on him and do its thing.

Before he gave her a taste of death.

She was sitting at the dining room table with her husband. He was a few years older than her, dark haired, and seemingly uncomfortable in her presence, as though he didn’t belong.

He looked away from the man back to his wife, watching a while longer, as he devised his strategy for her demise. A rush of adrenalin poured through him at the prospect, knowing the time was getting near to put the plan into action.

But first he wanted to allow her a bit more false sense of security. It was always that much more exhilarating when his victim realized that the perfect little world she or he had created was about to come crashing down around them and there wasn’t a damned thing that could be done to prevent it.

Except maybe hope you got run over by a bus first. Or dropped dead of a heart attack, sparing yourself from meeting up with him.

Short of that, the person was his for the taking. And he fully intended to do just that.

Only a matter of time.

Yes, let her feel secure in her comfortable house. With that husband of hers there to protect her. Wouldn’t do her one bit of good.

She would never live to see the light of day.